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diff --git a/42085-0.txt b/42085-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..731ebd6 --- /dev/null +++ b/42085-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14347 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42085 *** + +A BACHELOR HUSBAND + +BY + +RUBY M. AYRES + +AUTHOR OF "RICHARD CHATTERTON," ETC. + + +Frontispiece by + + +PAUL STAHR + + + +New York + + +W. J. Watt & Company + + +PUBLISHERS + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY + + + +W. J. WATT & COMPANY + + + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + + +TO + +FEATHERS + + + +CHAPTER I + + + + "Ah, then, was it all spring weather? + Nay! but we were young--and together." + + + +SHE had always adored him. From the first moment he came to the +house--an overgrown, good-looking schoolboy, and had started to +bully and domineer over her, Marie Chester had thought him the most +wonderful person in all the world. She waited on him hand and foot, +she was his willing bondslave; she did not mind at all when once, +in an unusual fit of eloquence, she had confided in him that she +thought it was the loveliest thing on earth to have a brother, +young Christopher answered almost brutally that she "talked rot, +anyway, and that sisters were a bally nuisance!" + +He looked at her with a sort of contempt for a moment, then added: +"Besides, we're not brother and sister, really!" + +They were not; but their fathers had been lifelong friends, and +when George Chester's wife inconsiderately--or so her husband +thought--died without presenting him with a son, and almost at the +same time young Christopher Lawless was left an orphan, George +Chester promptly adopted him. + +"It will do Marie good to have a brother," he maintained, when his +sister. Miss Chester, who kept house for him, raised an objection. +"She's spoilt--shockingly spoilt--and a boy about the place will +knock off some of her airs and graces." + +Young Christopher certainly did that much, if no more, for in a +fortnight he had turned Marie, who was naturally rather shy and +reserved, into a tomboy who climbed trees with him regardless of +injury to life and limb, who rode a cob barebacked round the +paddock, who did, in fact, everything he dared or ordered her to +do. + +Miss Chester protested to Marie's father in vain. + +"Christopher is ruining her; I can do nothing with her now! She is +quite a different child since he came to the house." + +Marie's father chuckled. He was not a particularly refined man, and +the daintiness and shyness of his little daughter had rather +embarrassed him. He was pleased to think that under Christopher's +guiding hand she was what he chose to call "improving." + +"Do her good!" he said bluntly. "Where's the harm? They're only +children." + +But the climax came rather violently when one afternoon Marie fell +out of the loft into the yard below, and broke her arm. + +One of the grooms went running to the rescue and picked her up, a +forlorn little heap with a face as white as her frock. + +"I fell out myself!" she said with quivering lips. "I fell out all +my own self." + +Young Christopher, who had clambered down the ladder from the loft, +broke in violently: + +"She didn't! It was my fault! She made me wild, and I pushed her. I +didn't think she'd be so silly as to fall, though," he added, with +an angry look at her. "And don't you trouble to tell lies about +me." + +The groom said afterwards that she had not shed a tear till then, +but at the angry words she broke down suddenly into bitter sobbing. + +She did not mind her broken arm, but she minded having offended +Christopher. It was the greatest trouble she had ever known when-- +as a consequence of the accident--Christopher was sent away to a +boarding school. + +Hereafter she only saw him by fits and starts during the holidays, +and then he seemed somehow quite different. + +He took but little notice of her, and he generally brought a friend +home with him from school. He was getting beyond the "boy" stage, +and developing a wholesome contempt for girls as a whole! + +When--later--he went to a public school, he forgot to ignore her, +and took to patronizing her instead. She wasn't such a bad little +thing, he told her, and next term if she liked she might knit him a +tie. + +Marie knitted him two--which he never wore! She would have blacked +his boots for him if he had expressed the slightest wish for her to +do so. + +Then, later still, he went to Cambridge and forgot all about her. +He hardly ever came home during vacation save for week-ends; he had +so many friends, it seemed, and was in great demand amongst them +all. + +Marie could quite believe it. She was bitterly jealous of these +unknown friends, and incidentally of the sisters which she was sure +some of them must have! + +She was still at school herself, and her soft brown hair was tied +in a pigtail with a large bow at the end. + +"You'll soon have to put your hair up if you grow so fast, Marie," +Miss Chester said to her rather sadly, when at the end of one term +she came home. + +Marie glanced at herself in the glass. She was tall and slim for +her age, which was not quite seventeen, and as she was entirely +free from conceit she could see no beauty in her pale face and dark +eyes, which, together with her name of Marie Celeste, she had +inherited from her French mother. + +"Am I like mother, Auntie Madge?" she asked, and Miss Chester +smiled as she answered: + +"You have your mother's eyes." + +Marie looked at her reflection again. + +"Mother was very pretty, wasn't she?" she asked, and Miss Chester +said: "Yes--she was, very pretty." + +Marie sighed. "Of course, I can't be like her, then," she said, +resignedly, and turned away. + +Presently: "Is Chris coming these holidays?" she asked. + +Miss Chester shook her head. + +"He did not think so. He wrote that he should go to Scotland with +the Knights." + +Marie flushed. "I hate the Knights," she said pettishly. She had +never seen them, but on principle she hated everyone and everything +who took Christopher from her. + +The following year she was sent to a finishing school in Paris, and +while she was there her father died suddenly. + +A wire came from England late one night and Marie was packed off +home the following morning. + +Her father's death was no great grief to her, though in a placid +sort of way she had been fond of him. She had written to him +regularly every Sunday, and was grateful for all that she knew he +had done for her, but any deep love she might have borne for him +had long ago gone to Chris. He was the beginning and end of her +girlish dreams--the center of her whole life. + +As she sat in the stuffy cabin on the cross-Channel boat and +listened to the waves outside her chief thought was, should she see +Chris? Had they wired for him to come home from wherever he was? + +He had left Cambridge now, she knew, but what he was doing or how +he spent his time she did not know. All the way up in the train +from Dover she was thinking of him, wondering how soon she would +see him, but she never dreamed that he would meet the train, and +the wild color flew to her face as she saw him coming down the +crowded platform. + +He looked very tall and very much of a man, she thought, as she +gave him a trembling hand to shake. She felt herself very childish +and insignificant beside his magnificence as she walked with him to +the waiting car, for the house in the country had long since been +given up, and George Chester had lived in London for some years +before his death. + +"Have you got your ticket?" Christopher asked, very much as he +might have asked a child, and Marie fumbled in her pocket with +fingers that shook. + +"I nearly lost it once," she volunteered, and Chris smiled as he +answered: "Yes, that's the sort of thing you would do." He looked +down at her. "You haven't altered much," he said condescendingly. +"You're still just a kid." + +Marie did not answer, but her heart swelled with disappointment. +She was eighteen, and she knew that he was but six years older. + +Years ago that six years had not seemed much of a gap, but now, +looking up at him, she felt it to be an insuperable gulf. + +He was a man and she was only a school girl with short skirts and +her hair down her back. + +They sat opposite one another in the car, and Chris looked at her +consideringly. "It's a long time since I saw you," he said. + +"Yes, eight months," she answered readily. She could have told him +the date and the month and almost the hour of their last meeting +had she chosen, but somehow she did not think he would be greatly +interested. + +"It's rough luck--about Uncle George," he said awkwardly, and Marie +nodded. + +"Yes." + +She wondered if he thought she ought to be crying. She would have +been amazed if she could have known that he was hoping with all his +heart and soul that she would not. + +He changed the subject abruptly. + +"Aunt Madge would have come to meet you, but there is so much to +see to. She sent her love and told me to say she was sorry not to +be able to come." + +"I don't mind," said Marie. She would infinitely rather have been +met by Chris. Her dark eyes searched his face with shy adoration. + +She was quite sure there had never been anybody so good-looking as +he in all the world; that there had never been eyes so blue, or +with such a twinkle; that nobody had ever had such a wonderful +smile or such a cheery laugh; that there was not a man in the whole +of London who dressed so well or looked so splendid. + +As a matter of fact, Christopher was rather a fine looking man, and +perfectly well aware of the fact. He had more friends than he knew +what to do with, and they all, more or less, spoilt him. + +He was generally good-tempered, and always good company. He was run +after by all the women with marriageable daughters though, to do +him justice, so far he evinced very little interest in the opposite +sex. + +He looked now at Marie, and thought what a child she was! He would +have been amazed could he have known that beneath her black coat +her heart was beating with love for him, deep and sincere. + +Faithfulness was a failing with Marie, if it can ever be called a +failing! There was something doglike in her devotion that made +change impossible. Her best friend at school had been unkind to her +many times, but Marie's affection had never swerved, and all the +tyranny and bullying she had received from Christopher in the past +had only deepened her adoration. In her eyes he was perfect. + +There were many things she wanted to say to him, but she was +tongue-tied and shy. It seemed all too soon that they reached home +and Christopher handed her over to Miss Chester. + +Miss Chester took Marie upstairs and kissed her and made much of +her. She took it for granted that the girl was broken-hearted at +the death of her father. She was a sweet, old-fashioned woman who +always took it for granted that people would do the right thing, +and she thought it was the right thing for any daughter to grieve +at the loss of a parent. + +"You grow so fast," she said, as she said every time the girl came +home. "You will have to put your hair up." + +Marie turned eagerly. "Oh, auntie! To-night, may I?" + +Miss Chester did not think it would matter, and so presently a very +self-conscious little figure in black crept downstairs through the +silent house and into the dining-room, where Christopher was +waiting impatiently for his dinner. + +He turned quickly as Marie and her aunt entered. He was a man who +hated being kept waiting a moment, though if it pleased him he +broke appointments without the slightest hesitation. + +Conversation was intermittent during dinner. Naturally there was a +gloom over the house. It was only as they were leaving the table +that Miss Chester said, smiling faintly: "Do you notice that Marie +has grown up, Chris?" + +"Grown up!" he echoed. He looked at Marie's flushing face. + +"She has put her hair up," said Miss Chester. + +Christopher looked away indifferently. "Oh, had she? I didn't +notice." + +The tears started to Marie's eyes. She felt like a disappointed +child. + + + +CHAPTER II + + + + "All men kill the thing they love + By all let this be heard. + The coward does it with a kiss. . . ." + + + +THERE followed a terribly dull week, during which Marie hardly went +out. Miss Chester believed in seven days' unbroken mourning, and +she kept the girl to it rigorously. + +Christopher came and went. He seemed very busy, and was constantly +shut up in the library with men whom Miss Chester said were +"lawyers." + +"There are a great many things to settle, you know," she told +Marie. "Your father had large properties and much money to leave." + +Marie said, "Oh, had he?" and lost interest. As yet money had not +much significance for her, but she watched the closed library door +with anxious eyes. Would it never open? + +It was quite late that evening before she saw Chris again, and then +he came into the drawing-room, where she was trying to read and +trying not to listen for his step, and, crossing to where she sat, +stood looking down at her. + +It was getting dark--the June evening was drawing to a close--and +she could not see his face very distinctly, though she felt in some +curious way that there was a different note in his voice when he +spoke to her. + +"How old are you, Marie?" + +She looked up amazed. Surely he ought to know her age when they had +grown up together? But she answered at once: "I was eighteen last +May." + +"And a kid for your age, too," he said abruptly. + +She closed her book, a faint sense of hurt dignity in her heart. + +"I knew a girl who was married at eighteen," she said. + +Christopher laughed. "I can't imagine you married, all the same." +he said. + +"Why not? I don't see why not," she objected, offendedly. + +He stood for a moment looking down at her. She could feel his eyes +upon her. Then he said, irrelevantly, it seemed: "After all, we've +known each other most of our lives, haven't we?" + +"Yes." She was mystified. She could not understand him. + +"And got on well--eh?" he pursued. + +She smiled ever so faintly. "Oh, yes," she said, with heartfelt +fervor. + +Chris laughed. "Well--I'll take you for a ride in the car to-morrow, +if you like," he said, casually. + +Marie could not have explained why, but she felt sure that this was +not what he had originally intended to say to her, but she answered +at once: "Yes, I should love it!" + +It was the first ride of many, the first of many blissful days that +followed, for Christopher no longer went out and about with his +friends. He stayed at home with Marie and Miss Chester. + +Sometimes he seemed a little restless and impatient, Marie thought. +Often she caught him yawning and looking at the clock as if he were +anxiously waiting for something, or for time to pass, but she was +too happy to be critical. He was with her often, and that was all +that mattered. + +And then--quite suddenly--the miracle happened! + +It was one Sunday evening--a golden Sunday in June, when London +seemed sunbaked and breathless, and one instinctively longed for +the sea or the country. + +Miss Chester had had friends to tea, but they had gone now, and Chris +was prowling round the drawing-room, with its heavy, old-fashioned +furniture, hands in pockets, as if he did not know what to do with +himself. + +Half a dozen times he looked at Marie--half a dozen times he took a +step towards the door and came back again. There was an oddly +nervous expression in his blue eyes, and his careless lips no +longer smiled. + +Miss Chester had been very silent, too, since the visitors left, +and presently, with a little murmured excuse, she gathered up her +work and went out of the room. + +Chris swallowed hard and ran a finger round his collar, as if he +suddenly found it too tight, and his voice sounded all strangled +and jerky, when suddenly he said: + +"Put on your hat and come out, Marie Celeste! I can't breathe--it's +stifling indoors." + +He had always called Marie "Marie Celeste" since their childhood. +It had been his boy's way of pretending to scorn her French name, +but Marie liked it, as she liked everything he chose to do or say. + +She rose now with alacrity. She was ready in a few minutes, and +they went out together into the deserted streets. + +It was very hot still, and Chris suggested they should go down to +the Embankment. + +"There'll be a breeze," he said. + +It was a very silent walk, though Marie did not notice it She was +perfectly happy; she was sure that every woman they passed must be +envying her for walking with such a companion. Now and then she +looked up at him with adoring eyes. + +They walked along the Embankment, and away from it towards +Westminster Abbey. There was a service going on inside, and through +the open doors they could hear the wonderful strains of the organ. + +Marie stopped to listen--she loved music, and Chris stopped, too, +though he fidgeted restlessly, and drew patterns with his stick on +the dusty path at his feet. + +When they walked on again he said abruptly: + +"We've got on very well since you came home--eh, Marie Celeste?" + +Her dark eyes were raised to his face. + +"Oh, Chris! Of course!" + +He frowned a little. + +"I mean--do you think we should always get on as well?" he asked, +with an effort. + +She was miles away from understanding his meaning, but something in +his voice set her heart beating fast. When she tried to answer, her +voice died away helplessly. + +Christopher looked down at her, then he said with a rush: "The fact +is--I mean--will you marry me?" + +Marie stopped dead. All power of movement had deserted her. A wave +of crimson surged over her face, rushing away again and leaving her +as white as the little rose which she wore in her black frock. + +Chris slipped a hand through her arm. He was afraid that she was +going to faint. He was feeling pretty bad himself. + +"Well, is it so dreadful to think about?" he asked with a mirthless +laugh. + +"Dreadful!" She found her voice with a gasp. The sudden rapture +that flooded her heart was almost unbearable. But for his arm in +hers, she was sure she would have fallen. + +There was a seat close by, and Chris made her sit down. He sat +beside her and stared at his feet while she recovered a little, +then he looked up with a strained smile. + +"Well, do you think you could put up with me for the rest of your +life?" he asked. + +Marie's face was radiant. Nobody could ever have said then that she +was not pretty. Her eyes were like stars. She seemed to have +blossomed all at once into perfect womanhood. + +She wanted to say so many things to him, but no words would come. +She just gave him her hand, and his fingers closed hard about it. + +For a little they sat without speaking, while through the open +doors of the cathedral came the wonderful strains of the organ. +Then suddenly it ceased, and Chris took his hand away as if the +spell that had been laid upon them was broken. + +He rose to his feet, looking a little abashed. + +"Well, then--we can tell Aunt Madge that we're engaged?" he said. + +"Yes." + +But even then she could not believe it She dreaded lest with every +moment she would wake and find it all a dream. + +But it was still a reality when they got back home, and Aunt Madge +pretended to be surprised, and cried and kissed them both, and said +she had never been so glad about anything. + +She wanted them to have a glass of wine to celebrate the occasion, +though, as a rule, she was a staunch teetotaler, but Chris said no, +he could not stay--he had an appointment. He went off in a great +hurry, hardly saying good-night, and promising to be round early in +the morning. + +At the doorway he stopped and looked back at the two women. + +"I'll--er--you must have a ring, Marie Celeste," he said. "I'll-- +er--I'll tell them to send some round," and he was gone. + +It was a strange wooing altogether, but to Marie there was nothing +amiss. She was in the seventh heaven of happiness. When she went to +bed she looked out at the starry sky, and wished she were clever +enough to write a poem about this most wonderful of nights. + +She saw nothing wrong with the days that followed either. To be +awkwardly kissed by Chris--even on the cheek--was a delirious +happiness; to wear his ring, joy unspeakable; to be out and about +with him, all that she asked of life. + +The wedding was to be soon. There was nothing to wait for, so Chris +and Aunt Madge agreed. They also agreed that it must of necessity +be quiet, owing to their mourning. Marie Celeste agreed to +everything--she was still living in the clouds. She could hardly +come down to earth sufficiently to choose frocks and look at +petticoats and silk stockings. + +Aston Knight, a friend of Christopher's, was to be best man, and +Marie's special school chum, Dorothy Webber, was to be maid of +honor. + +"I hope you won't mind such a quiet wedding, my dear child." Miss +Chester said anxiously to Marie. "But if one starts to invite +people, Chris has so many friends, it will be difficult to know +where to stop. So I thought if Mr. Knight and Dorothy came, and +just your father's lawyer and myself . . ." + +"I don't mind--arrange it as you like," Marie said. She would not +have minded going off with Chris alone to church in her oldest +frock if it had to come to that. There was not a cloud in her sky. + +The wedding was fixed for a Friday. + +"Oh, not Friday," Miss Chester demurred. "It's such an unlucky day! +Surely Thursday will do just as well." + +"I'm not superstitious," Chris answered. "Are you, Marie Celeste? I +think Friday is a good day. We can get away then for the week-end." + +Marie laughed. She thought Friday was the best day in all the week +she said--of course, she was not superstitious! + +But his Friday proved unkind, for, though it was the end of July, +it rained hard when Marie woke in the morning and there was a chill +wind blowing. + +She sat up in bed and stared at the window, down which the +raindrops were pouring, with incredulous eyes. + +How could the weather possibly be so bad on such a day! It was the +first faint shadow across her happiness. + +The second came in the shape of a wire from Dorothy Webber, to say +she could not possibly come after all. Her mother was ill, and she +was wanted at home. Marie was bitterly disappointed, but she was +young and in love; the world lay at her feet, and long before she +was dressed to go to church her spirits had risen again and she was +ready to laugh at Aunt Madge, who showed signs of tears. + +"If you cry I shall take it as a bad omen," she told the old lady, +kissing her. "What is there to cry for, when I am going to be so +happy?" + +Miss Chester put her arms round the girl and looked into her face +with misty eyes. + +"Darling--are you sure, quite sure, that you love Chris?" + +"Do I love him?" The brown eyes opened wide with amazement. "Why, I +have always loved him," she said simply. + +But she held Miss Chester's hand very tightly as they drove to +church in the closed car, and for the first time her child's face +was a little grave. Perhaps it was the dismal day that oppressed +her, or perhaps at last she was beginning to realize that she was +taking a serious step by her marriage with Chris. + +"It's for all your life, remember," a little warning voice seemed +to whisper, and she raised her head proudly a her heart made +answer: "I know--and there could be no greater happiness." + +It was raining still when they reached the church, and the +chauffeur held an umbrella over Marie as she stepped from the car +into the porch. She wore a little traveling frock of palest gray, +and little gray shoes and stockings, and a wide-brimmed hat with a +sweeping feather. + +Though she had never felt more grown-up in her life, she had never +looked such a child, and for a moment a queer pang touched the +heart of young Lawless as he turned at the chancel steps and looked +at her as she came up the aisle with Miss Chester. + +But Marie's face was quite happy beneath the wide-brimmed hat, and +her brown eyes met his with such complete love and trust that for a +moment he wavered, and the color rushed to his cheeks. + +But the parson was already there, and the service had begun, and in +less than ten minutes little Marie Celeste was the wife of the man +she had adored all her life, and was signing her maiden name for +the last time with a trembling hand. + +And then they were driving away together in the car, to which Aston +Knight, with a sentimental remembrance of other weddings, had tied +an old shoe, and it flopped and dangled dejectedly in the mud and +rain behind as the car sped homewards. + +And Christopher looked at his wife and said: + +"Well, we couldn't have had a worse day, could we?" + +Marie smiled. "What does it matter about the Weather?" + +Christopher thought it mattered the deuce of a lot, but then he was +a man, and a man--even a bridegroom--never sees things through the +same rose-colored glasses as a woman. + +It was such a little way from the church to the house that there +was no time to say much more, and then they were home, and Miss +Chester, who had followed hard on their heels in another car, was +crying over Marie and kissing her again, and Marie woke to the fact +that she was really a married woman! + +There was a sumptuous lunch, to which nobody but Aston Knight +and the lawyer did justice, and then Marie went upstairs and +changed her frock, because it was still pouring with rain, and +wrapped her small self into a warm coat, and there were many kisses +and good-byes, and at last it was all over and she and Chris were +speeding away together. + +Perhaps it is sometimes a merciful dispensation of Providence that +the eyes of love are blind, for Marie never saw the strained look +on Christopher's face or the way in which his eyes avoided hers. +She never thought it odd when in the train he provided her with a +heap of magazines and the largest box of chocolates she had ever +seen in her life, and unfolded a newspaper for his own amusement. + +She ate a chocolate and looked at him with shy adoration. He was +her husband--she was to live with him for the rest of her life! + +There would be no more partings--no more dreary months and weeks +during which she would never see him. He was her very own--forever! + +He seemed conscious of her gaze, for he looked up. + +"Tired?" he asked + +"No." + +"Hungry, then? You ate no lunch." + +"Oh, I did. I had ever such a lot." + +"We'll have a good dinner to-night, and some champagne." he said. + +"Yes." Marie had never tasted champagne until her wedding lunch +to-day, and she did not like it, but to please Chris she would have +drunk a whole bottleful uncomplainingly. + +For their honeymoon they were going to a seaside town on the East +Coast. + +"Wouldn't it be nicer in Devonshire or at the lakes, Chris?" Miss +Chester had asked timidly, but Chris had answered: + +"Good lord, no! There's nothing to do there. We must go somewhere +lively." + +So he had chosen the liveliest town on the East Coast and the +liveliest hotel in the town--a hotel at which he had stayed many +times before, and was well known. + +He was the kind of man who knew scores of people wherever he went, +and in his heart he was hoping that he would meet scores of them +now. + +He gave an unconscious sigh of relief when, later, he saw Marie +carried up to her room in the lift in the company of an attentive +chambermaid, who knew that they were newly married. He went off to +the buffet and ordered himself the strongest brandy he could get; +while upstairs Marie was looking out her prettiest dinner frock and +trembling with excitement at the thought of this new life into +which she had so suddenly been plunged. + +She was just ready when Chris came knocking at her door. He had +changed into evening clothes, and was very immaculate altogether. + +"Ready?" he asked. His blue eyes wandered over her dainty person. + +"You look like a fairy," he said. + +"Do I?" she smiled happily. "Do you like my frock?" + +She turned and twisted for his admiration. + +Chris said it was topping. They went downstairs together, the best +of friends. + +"I met some fellows just now that I know," he said, as they sat +down to table. "I'll introduce you later. They're stopping here." + +She flushed sensitively. "Did you? Did they know you were married?" +she asked. + +"I told them." + +"Were they very surprised?" + +"Well, they were--rather," he admitted, and frowned, recalling the +very downright criticism which he had received from at least one of +them. + +At dinner Marie obediently drank one glass of champagne, and got a +headache. She was rather glad to be left to herself for a little +afterwards in the coolness of the lounge outside, while Chris went +in search of his friends. She chose a chair that was not prominent, +and sat down with closed eyes. + +She had never stayed in a hotel before, and the noise and bustle of +it all rather confused her. She was wondering how she would ever +find her way through all the corridors to her room again, when she +caught the mention of her husband's name. + +It was spoken in a man's voice and spoken with a little laugh that +sounded rather contemptuous, she thought. + +She sat up instantly, headache forgotten. Probably this was one of +the friends of whom Chris had spoken to her before dinner. She +leaned a little forward, trying to see the speaker, but a group of +ornamental palms and flowers successfully obscured him. + +The man, whoever he was, was talking to another, for presently +Marie heard a laugh and a second voice say: "Chris Lawless! Oh, +yes, I know him! Is he really married?" + +"Yes--married a girl he's known all his life. Quite a child, so +they say." + +"How romantic!" + +"Romantic!" The man echoed the word rather cynically. "There's not +much romance in it from all accounts--just a business arrangement, +I should call it." + +Marie sat quite still. She was not conscious of listening, but +there seemed no other sound in all the world than this man's rather +hard voice as he went on: + +"Lawless was old Chester's adopted son, you know, and the girl was +Chester's daughter. There was a stack of money to leave, it seems, +and when the old man died he left it in his will that they were to +have half each on condition they married--but if they didn't, the +whole lot went to the girl! Well, you know what Lawless is? He +wasn't going to let a good thing like that escape him, you bet! So +he just made up to the girl and married her. They're down here on +their honeymoon." + +"You mean--he's not keen on the girl?" + +"Of course he's not! He's not the sort. Never cared for women! Have +you ever heard of him being mixed up with one? I never have! Of +course, I don't know what the girl's like--I'm rather curious to +meet her, I admit--but from what I know of Chris, and his way of +living, I'm dashed sorry for her! She'll find she's married a +bachelor husband, and no mistake." + +Marie sat perfectly still, her eyes fixed on her white slippers as +if she saw them now for the first time; her hands loosely clasped +in her lap, her new wedding ring shining in the light above her +head. + +It was strange that she never for one moment questioned the truth +of what that voice had said. In her heart she knew that she had +always thought her happiness too great to last. She drew a long, +hard breath, as if it hurt her. The end had come sooner than she +had expected, that was all! + +"Don't think I'm running him down, you know," the voice went on +emphatically. "I think he's the best old chap in the world; but +some men are made like that, you know! Born bachelors." + +Marie smiled faintly. Poor old Chris! What an awful position for +him. She shut her eyes tightly with a quick feeling of giddiness. + +What could she do now? What could she say to him? Ought she to tell +him? + +She tried to think, but somehow her brain felt woolly and would not +work. There was a queer little pain in her hand, and looking down +blankly, she saw that her nails had cut deeply into her flesh, +their clasp of one another had been so cruel. + +"The money was left between them on condition they married-- +otherwise she got it all." + +The words beat against her brain as if daring her to forget them. + +Poor Chris! He had always been fond of money. He had never had +enough to spend! She could remember when he first went to Oxford, +how often he wrote home for extra money. + +It had never been refused, either. She knew that her father had +always preferred him to herself, strange as it might seem, and had +encouraged him in his extravagances. + +Incidents out of the past flitted before her like panoramic +pictures; Chris as a long-legged schoolboy as she had first seen +him, Chris in cricketing flannels, making her do all the bowling +and fielding while he had the bat, Chris in his first silk hat, +daring her to laugh at him--and, last of all, Chris as he had +looked at her that day outside Westminster Abbey when he asked her +to marry him. + +She could remember that he had said, "Well, is the idea too +dreadful?" and she supposed now he had said that because the idea +had been dreadful to him. + +A bachelor husband! It seemed so completely to sum up the +situation, and before her eyes rose a dreadful picture of the +future in which Chris would be nothing more to her than he had been +during the past five years. + +He would never want to be with her. He would still go his own way. +He would make his own friends and his own amusements, and she--what +could she do with the rest of her life? + +"He's on his honeymoon here, you know," the voice went on with just +a shade of amusement in it. "Fancy a honeymoon in this hotel! He +didn't mean to be dull, did he? I suppose he knew he was morally +certain to meet half his pals down here." + +Marie's hands were tearing a little lace handkerchief she carried-- +it had been her wedding handkerchief--Aunt Madge had given it to +her just before they started for church, and had told her that her +mother had carried it at her wedding. + +"But I hope you will be much, much happier than your mother, +darling child," so Aunt Madge had said as she kissed her. + +Poor Aunt Madge! And poor mother! Maria knew that her mother's +marriage had been anything but happy, and she was glad when she saw +that unconsciously she had torn the little lace handkerchief to +rags. At least now it could not be handed on to any other poor +little bride as an omen of ill-luck. + +"What about that game of billiards?" the voice asked with a yawn, +and there was a movement on the other side of the bank of ferns +which hid the speaker from Marie. + +She could not see him as he moved away, and she sat on, numbed and +cold, until presently Chris came looking for her and found her out. + +"Here you are then! I thought you were in the drawing-room. I want +to introduce you to Dakers, Marie Celeste!" He seemed conscious all +at once of her pallor. "Don't you feel well?" he asked. + +She rose to her feet, forcing a smile. + +"My head aches a little. I think it was the champagne." + +Chris laughed. + +"Silly kid! It will do you good." + +He slipped a careless hand through her arm and led her across the +lounge to where a group of men stood chatting and laughing +together. + +He touched one of them on the shoulder. + +"Dakers--I want to introduce you to my wife----" + +He rushed the last two words nervously. "Marie, this is Dakers-- +otherwise Feathers. I hope you'll be friends." + +Marie gave him her hand. Was this the man who had brought her +castle tumbling down? she wondered and her brown eyes were full of +unconscious pathos as she raised them to his face. + +What an ugly man, she thought, with a sudden feeling of aversion, +with blunt, roughly-cut features, and a skin burnt almost black by +constant exposure to wind and weather, but his face when he smiled +was kindly, and involuntarily she returned the pressure of his +fingers. + +And then he spoke, and she recognized his voice instantly as the +voice of the man who, with careless indifference, had blasted her +happiness. + +"Delighted to meet you," he said. "I know your old rascal of a +husband well, Mrs. Lawless. Many a good time we've had together in +the past." + +"And shall have in the future," Chris struck in casually. "Don't +put it so definitely in the past." + +He turned to a boyish-looking youth who had been standing looking +on rather sheepishly. "Marie, this is Atkins." + +The boy blushed and grinned. He gripped Marie's hand with bearlike +fervency. + +"Awfully pleased to meet you," he said. "Shall we go and look on? +Chris and Feathers are going to play pills." + +Marie raised dazed eyes to him. + +"Feathers--who is Feathers?" she asked helplessly. + +"I'm Feathers," Dakers explained casually. "So-called on account of +my hair--which invariably stands up on end. You may have noticed." + +He passed a big hand over his shaggy head, and Marie smiled. + +"Anyway, I don't know what the game of pills is," she said. + +The boy Atkins began to explain. + +"It's billiards. They're rotten players, both of them, and we shall +get some fun out of watching them. I'll find you a good seat." + +Chris looked at his wife dubiously. + +"If you're tired--if you'd rather I didn't play," he began +diffidently, but the girl shook her head. + +"Oh, no, please! I should love to watch." + +Whatever he had done, she never for one moment lost sight of the +fact that she loved him--that he was everything in the world to +her, and though as yet she could not realize the full enormity of +what she had just discovered, her one dread was lest she should +still further alienate him. She knew that Chris was so easily bored +and annoyed; she knew that he hated headachy people. He liked a +woman to be a pal to him--that was, when he considered the sex at +all. + +It was odd that during the last half-hour the relationship which +she had imagined had existed between them since the moment when he +asked her to marry him had been utterly wiped out of her mind. He +was once again just the Chris whom she had always blindly adored, +without hope of reciprocity; the Chris who occasionally +condescended to be kind to her--as a man might occasionally be kind +to a lost dog which has attached itself to him. + +She went with young Atkins to the billiard room and sat beside him +on a high leather couch, and tried to listen while he explained the +game, but it all sounded like double Dutch. The smoke of the many +cigars and cigarettes of the men around her made her eyes smart, +and the subdued light made her feel giddy. She did her best to be +interested, but it was difficult. + +Chris had taken off his coat to be more free to play, and he looked +a fine figure of a man in his shirt-sleeves, she thought, as he +stood chalking his cue and laughing with Feathers. + +He never once glanced at his wife. She supposed he thought that she +was quite happy and entertained by young Atkins. + +And this was the first night of her honeymoon? She realized it in a +pitying sort of way, as if she were considering the case of some +girl other than herself. It seemed dreadfully sad, she thought, and +then smiled, realizing that she was the little wife whom she was +pitying, and that the tall man over the other side of the room, so +engrossed in his game, was her husband. + +What other wife in the world had spent the first evening of her +married life watching a game of billiards she wondered? And a +little helpless laugh escaped her. + +Young Atkins looked down quickly. + +"I beg your pardon. What did you say?" + +"Nothing--I only laughed." + +She bit her lip to prevent the laugh from coming again. How stupid +she was, because nothing amusing had happened. + +Only once Chris came across to her. + +"Would you like some coffee?" he asked. + +"No, thank you." + +"Do your head good." he said, but without looking at her. His eyes +were watching the table the whole time, and without waiting for her +to speak again he went off back to the game. + +"Chris really plays a thumping good game," Atkins confided to her. +"I always tell him he's a rotten player, but he isn't a rotten +player at anything, really! Fine sportsman, you know." + +Marie nodded. She knew everything there was to know about Chris. At +home she had a scrapbook, her most treasured possession, carefully +pasted up with every little newspaper cutting that had ever been +printed about him, from the first long jump he had won at a local +school to an account of a wedding a few months back at which he had +been best man. + +She had whispered to Aunt Madge as they kissed good-by, to be sure +to cut the announcement of their wedding from the newspapers so +that she could add it to her collection, and Aunt Madge had +promised. Somehow it made her feel sick now to think of it! Such a +farcical wedding--no real wedding at all! No wonder they had wanted +it quiet! + +Though she hardly looked at the table before her she seemed to see +nothing but those smooth, ivory balls, and the only sound in the +world was their monotonous click, click! + +Chris was winning, young Atkins whispered to her. Poor old Feathers +was not in the running at all. He bent a little closer to her. + +"Have you seen Chris play tennis?" he asked. "Gad! He can serve! As +good as any Wimbledon 'pro'! I'll bet my boots . . . I say, what's +the matter? Here, Chris!" + +He called sharply across the room to Chris, but it was too late, +for Marie had slipped fainting from the high leather couch. + + + +CHAPTER III + + + + ". . . the leaves are curled apart. + Still red as from the broken heart, + And here's the naked stem of thorns." + + + +THE game stopped abruptly, and between them Chris and Feathers +carried Marie from the room. "It was the smoke, and the heat!" +Atkins kept saying in distress. He felt angry with himself for not +having noticed how pale she looked. "It was jolly hot! It was the +smoke and stuffiness. It's only an ordinary faint, isn't it?" + +Nobody took any notice of him, or answered him, but he kept on +talking all the same. He was young and impressionable, and he +thought Marie was altogether charming. He was thankful when at last +her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes. + +Feathers, who was bending over her, moved away, and Chris came +forward. + +"Better?" he asked. "It was the hot room; I'll take you upstairs. +It's all right, you only fainted." + +Only fainted! Years afterwards he remembered the passionate look in +her brown eyes as she raised them to his face, and wondered what +her thoughts had been. Perhaps he would have understood a great +deal of what she was suffering if he had known that the wild words +trembling on her lips were: + +"I wish I could have died! I would like to have died!" + +Feathers picked up her gloves and fan, which had fallen to the +floor. His ugly face was commiserating as he looked at her. + +"The room was very stuffy. It was inconsiderate of us to let you be +there, Mrs. Lawless. I am afraid it was my fault!" + +His fault. Everything was his fault, she told herself bitterly, as +she turned away. And yet--surely it was better to know now the true +facts of her marriage than to learn them later on--when it was too +late. + +A bachelor husband. How infinitely funny it was! She looked at +Chris as he walked with her to the stairs. His eyes were concerned, +but as he had said, she had "only fainted," and a faint was +nothing. She wondered if he would have cared had she been dead. + +He slipped a hand through her arm to steady her. + +"I am afraid it was all my fault," he said. "You told me you were +tired. I'm sorry, Marie Celeste." + +Her lip quivered at the sound of the two little names. Nobody but +Chris ever called her that, and she turned her head away. + +"I'll fetch one of the maids to look after you," he said, as they +reached her room. He turned away, but she called him back. + +"Chris, I want to speak to you." + +"Well?" He followed her into the room. A pretty room it was the +best in the hotel, and the very new silver brushes and trinkets +which Aunt Madge had given her for a wedding present were laid out +on the dressing-table. + +When she had dressed there for dinner only two hours ago she had +been the happiest girl in the world, but now . . . a long, +shuddering sigh broke from her lips. + +Chris was looking at her anxiously. He was worried by her pallor, +and sorry she had fainted, but he quite realized that there was +nothing serious in a faint. Some women made it a habit, he +believed, and he was anxious to get back and finish that game of +billiards! + +"What do you want to say to me?" he asked. "Won't it do presently?" + +She shook her head. + +"No." + +She was standing by the dressing-table, nervously fingering a +little silver box, and for a moment she could not speak, then she +said in desperation: + +"Chris--I want to tell you--I know all about our Wedding!" + +He echoed her words blankly. + +"You know all about it. You funny kid! I suppose you do. Why---" + +He stopped, struck by something in her eyes. + +"What do you mean, Marie Celeste?" + +She turned round and faced him squarely. "I mean--I know why you +married me," she said. + +"Why?" The hot blood rushed to his face. "Who told you?" he asked +sharply. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Does that matter? I--just found out. And I--I wanted to say that . . . +that it doesn't matter. I--I think it was quite right of you." + +He looked rather puzzled, then he smiled. + +"Oh, well--if you think it's right." He hesitated, and drew a step +nearer to her. "Who told you, Marie?" he asked. "Aunt Madge agreed +with me that there was no need for you to know." + +She pushed the soft hair back from her forehead. So Aunt Madge had +been willing to deceive her as well. That hurt. Somehow she had +always believed in Aunt Madge. + +She managed a smile. + +"What does it matter? I only thought it was better we should start +by--by not having any secrets. We--we've always been good friends, +haven't we?" Friends! When she adored him. + +"Of course!" He gave his agreement readily, and a sharp pain +touched her heart. It was only friendship, then--on his side, at +least. She knew how much she had longed for him to wipe out that +word and substitute another. + +There was a little silence, then Chris said again: "Marie--is there +anything the matter? You look--somehow you look--different!" + +He walked up to her, and laid his hands on her shoulders. + +"Look at me," he said. + +She raised her eyes obediently. + +"Now tell me what is the matter!" he demanded. "There is something +you are keeping from me! I haven't known you all these years for +nothing, you know, Marie Celeste." + +There was a little laughing note of tenderness in his voice, and +for a moment the girl swayed in his grasp. + +If only she could put her arms round his neck and lay her head on +his breast and tell him the truth, the whole wretched truth of what +she had heard! Even if he did not love her, it would be such +exquisite relief to unburden her heart to him, but she did not +dare! + +Chris had always hated what he called "scenes." Years ago, when +they were both children, tears had been the last means whereby to +win his sympathy or admiration. He liked a girl to be a "sport"; he +had always been nicest to her when she could take a knock without +flinching under the pain. + +She remembered that now--forced herself to remember it, and nothing +else, as she raised her eyes to his. + +"Yes--what is it?" he urged. "Don't be afraid! It's all right, +whatever it is, I promise you." + +Twice her lips moved, but no words would come, and then with a rush +of desperation she faltered: + +"It's only--it's only . . . you said just now--we had always been +good friends . . ." + +"Did I?" he laughed. "I was rather under the impression that it was +you who said that, but never mind. Go on!" + +"Well--well . . . Can't we go on . . . just being good friends?-- +just _only_ being good friends, I mean." + +He did not answer, though it was not possible to mistake her +meaning, and in the silence that followed it seemed to Marie that +every hope she had cherished was throbbing away with each agonized +heart beat. Then his hands fell slowly from her shoulders. + +"You mean--that you don't care for me?" + +She almost cried out at the tone of his voice. That he tried to +make it property hurt and amazed, she knew, but her heart told her +that his one great emotion was an overwhelming relief. That he had +no intention of even paying her the compliment of discussion. + +Her lips felt like ice as she answered him in a whisper. + +"No--" And the silence came again before Chris said constrainedly: + +"Very well--it shall be as you wish--of course!" + +He waited a moment, but she did not speak, and he turned to the +door. "Good-night, Marie Celeste." + +"Good-night." + +The door opened, and after a moment she heard it shut again softly, +and the sound of his footsteps dying away down the corridor. + +That nobody should know, that nobody should ever guess, was the one +feverish thought in Marie's brain as she lay awake through the long +night, listening to the sound of the waves on the shore, and trying +to make some sort of plans for the future. + +To behave as if nothing were the matter, as if she were quite +happy. An impossible task it seemed, and yet she meant to do it. +She would not further alienate Chris by scenes and tears. + +If he did not care for her she would not let him think that it +worried her. Surely, if she were brave and turned a smiling face to +a world that had suddenly grown so empty something good would come +out of it all. Some small reward would creep out of the blackness +that enveloped her. + +Though she knew it was unjust in her heart she laid all the trouble +at Dakers' door--"Feathers," as Chris and young Atkins called him. +She thought of his ugly, kindly face as she lay there in the +darkness, and silently hated him. She would never be able to like +him, she would never be able to forgive him. But for him and his +carelessly spoken words . . . and then she hid her face in the +pillow, and for the first time the tears came. What was the use of +blaming him when the blame was not his? How could he help it that +Chris did not love her? What was it to do with him if Chris had +seen fit to marry her in order to get her father's money? + +It was fate, that was all. A cruel fate that had drawn a line +through her happiness almost before the word had been written. + +It hurt unbearably to think that Aunt Madge had known all the time. +Marie clenched her hands as she recalled the old lady's whispered +good-by: + +"God bless you and make you very happy!" + +How could she have said such a thing--knowing what she knew? + +"I will be happy, I will," the girl told herself over and over +again. After all, there were other things in the world besides +love. + +She got up early, long before the other people in the hotel were +astir, and went out and down to the sands. + +It was a lovely morning, warm and sunny, and the tide was out, +leaving a long wet stretch of golden sand behind. + +A boy with bare, brown legs was pushing his way through the little +waves with a shrimping net, and further along a man was strolling +by the water's edge, idly picking up pebbles and throwing them into +the sea. + +Marie walked on, the fresh breeze blowing through her hair and +fanning her tired face. + +Only two months ago and she had been a girl at school, with her +hair down her back and not a care in the world save an occasional +heartache when she thought of Chris. Only two months! She felt as +if she had taken a great spring across the gulf dividing girlhood +from womanhood, and was looking back across it now with regretful +eyes. + +Why had she been in such a hurry to grow up? She understood for the +first time what Aunt Madge and other grown-up people meant when +they said that they looked upon their school days as the happiest +of their lives. + +"Are mine going to be the happiest?" Marie thought. Even they had +not been very happy. She had never been very popular at school, and +she had never been clever. Her lessons had always worried her, and +she never quite got over het first feeling of homesickness as the +other girls did. + +"You're too sentimental, too romantic!" so her best friend, Dorothy +Webber, had often told her. "If you don't cure yourself, my dear, +you'll find a lot of trouble waiting for you in the future." + +She had found it already, sooner even than Dorothy had dreamed. + +She looked down at her hand with its new wedding ring, and a little +blush rose to her pale cheeks. + +"He's mine, at any rate," she told herself fiercely. "Even if he +doesn't love me, he is my husband, and nobody else can have him." + +It was some sort of comfort to know that the adored Chris was hers. +The knowledge sent some streak of sunshine across the blackness of +last night. + +She strolled along restlessly, blind to the beauty of the sea and +sky, lost in her own bruised, bewildered thoughts. She had passed +the boy with the shrimping net, and had come abreast with the man +sauntering at the water's edge without noticing it, until he spoke +to her. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Lawless." + +She started, flushing painfully as her eyes met the kindly +quizzical gaze of "Feathers." + +He looked uglier than ever in the morning sunshine, was her first +bitter thought, and he wore a loose, collarless shirt which was +open at the neck and showed his thick, muscular throat. + +His big feet were thrust into not over-clean white canvas shoes, +and a damp towel and bathing costume hung inelegantly over one +shoulder. + +"Good morning," said Marie. "I thought I was the first one up," she +added resentfully. + +He laughed carelessly. + +"I'm always up with the lark--or aren't there any larks at a place +like this? I've had a dip--I like the sea to myself, before it's +crowded with flappers and fat old ladies." + +"Perhaps they prefer it, too," said Marie. The words had escaped +her almost before she was aware of it, and she flushed hotly, +ashamed of her rudeness. + +But "Feathers" only laughed. + +"I knew you didn't like me," he said in friendly fashion. "I could +read it in your eyes last night." + +She was nonplussed by his frankness. + +"I can't like you or dislike you," she said after a moment. "I +don't know anything about you." + +"I know you don't," he agreed calmly. "But you think you do! And +that's where you are mistaken! If you take my advice, Mrs. Lawless, +you'll make a friend of me." + +She stared at him with growing indignation. + +"Why, whatever for?" she asked blankly. She had never been spoken +to in such a manner before. + +Feathers laughed again, and ran his fingers through his unruly +hair. + +"Well, for one thing, I'm your husband's best friend," he said +sententiously. "And I always think it's policy for a woman to keep +in with her husband's best friend. What do you think?" + +There was nothing but friendliness in his voice and words, but they +angered Marie. + +"My husband's friends don't interest me in the least," she said +untruthfully. + +Feathers stooped and picked up another smooth pebble, with which he +skillfully skimmed the surface of the sea half a dozen times. + +"That's a pity," he said. "And sounds as if you are very young." He +looked down at her. "How old are you?" he asked interestedly. + +She ignored the last question. Her eyes were indignant as she +answered: "It may sound as if I am very young, but it also sounds +as if you are very rude and inquisitive." + +His dark face flushed. + +"I beg your pardon. I hadn't the least intention of being either +rude or inquisitive," he said hastily. "I should like to be friends +with you. As a rule, I've no use for women any more than . . ." He +stopped abruptly, biting his lip, but Marie knew that he had been +going to add, "Any more than Chris has." + +There was a little silence. + +"Have you got any brothers?" he asked abruptly. "No, of course, I +know you haven't. Well, why not look upon me as a sort of big +brother?" His eyes were upon her again; kind eyes they were beneath +their shaggy brows. + +Marie gave a forced little laugh. + +"Thank you; I don't want a brother." + +"Not now, of course," he agreed. "But we never know what we may +want in this queer old world, and brothers can be very useful +things at times, you know." + +She did not answer. She thought he was the strangest man she had +ever met. + +"We ought to be turning back," he said presently, "It's nearly nine +o'clock, and we're some way from the hotel." + +She walked reluctantly beside him. + +Suddenly she asked a question. + +"If you are Chris' best friend, why weren't you his best man at--at +our wedding?" + +She looked up at him as she spoke, and saw the quick frown that +crossed his face. + +"Am I to answer that question?" he asked. + +"Of course. I should like to know." + +"Very well, then, as you insist--Chris asked me to be best man, or +whatever you call it, and I refused." + +"Why?" She was really interested now. + +"Why? Well, because--before I saw you--I disliked the idea of Chris +being married. Marriage spoils most friendships between men." + +Marie looked out over the sea with wistful eyes. + +"I don't think marriage will spoil Chris' friendships," she said, +with faint bitterness. + +"No," he agreed, "I am afraid it will not." + +There was a queer, hard note of disapproval in his voice, and Marie +looked at him in bewilderment. + +"I don't think I understand you," she said angrily. "I don't think +I understand a bit what you mean." + +"Perhaps I don't understand myself." he answered. "Let's leave it +at that, shall we, and forget all the nonsense I've been talking?" + +They went up to the hotel silently. There were several people about +now and a smartly-dressed woman with red hair, to whom Feathers +bowed formally, stared at Marie rather insolently as they passed. + +"Is that one of Chris' friends?" Marie asked with an effort when +they were out of hearing. + +"Chris knows her," was the reply. "She is a Mrs. Heriot." + +"She is very smart," Marie said wistfully. + +"Smart!" Feathers stopped and looked back at the woman +deliberately. "Do you call her smart?" he asked, mildly amazed. "I +think she looks a sight; but, then, so do most of the women in this +hotel. I suppose it's their way of attracting attention--all others +failing." + +Marie smiled faintly. + +"You don't like women," she said. + +He shook his shaggy head. + +"I do not," he agreed. + +"And yet--just now, you told me I should be wise to make a friend +of you." + +"I did--and I still mean it, and hope some day that you will do so +. . . Here is Chris." + +Chris came towards them with a batch of newspapers in his hands. He +looked at his wife with faint embarrassment. + +"Early birds!" he said, and then, as Feathers moved away. "Is your +head better, Marie Celeste?" + +She smiled nervously. + +"Oh, yes, it's quite gone! I got up early and had a long walk along +the sands, and I met Mr. Dakers and he came back with me." + +"Call him 'Feathers,'" said Chris. "Everybody does." + +"Do they? But I hardly know him!" + +"You soon will." He looked at her doubtfully. "Do you think you +will manage to have a good time here, Marie?" + +"Oh, yes, with . . . " "With you," she had been going to add, but +stopped. She felt instinctively that she would not be allowed to +have much of her husband's undivided attention. There were so many +people in the hotel who were friends of his. + +"There is a Mrs. Heriot here who knows you," she said, more for +something to say than for any other reason, and she was surprised +at the way Chris suddenly flushed. + +"Yes, I know," he said. "I saw her last night." + +They went in to breakfast together. Marie thought she had never +seen such a big room. She kept close to Chris, conscious that all +eyes were upon her. + +Feathers and young Atkins occupied a table a little way from +theirs, and Atkins got up as soon as he saw Marie, and came over to +ask how she was. + +"I'm quite well, thank you, and isn't it a lovely morning?" + +"Ripping! I say, can you swim?" + +"Yes." + +Chris looked up. "Can you?" he asked in surprise, then laughed and +colored, realizing how very little he really knew about Marie and +her accomplishments. + +"I wish people wouldn't stare at me so," she said to him nervously, +when breakfast was over and they were out in the lounge once more. +"Is there anything funny-looking about me, Chris?" + +He cast a casual eye over her daintiness. + +"You look all right," he said, without much enthusiasm. "Probably +they know we're newly married." he added. + +Marie said nothing, but she turned away from him and looked out +over the sea, a little wintry smile on her quivering lips. + +He was quite indifferent to her, she knew! And in her passionate +pain and bitterness she almost wished for his hatred. Anything, +anything rather than this terrible feeling that she was nothing at +all in his life! + +Young Atkins joined them almost immediately and attached himself to +Marie. + +"We're going to bathe presently." he said. "You'll come, too, won't +you?" + +Marie looked at her husband, but he was talking to someone else, +and she answered hurriedly. + +"Oh, yes, I'll come, of course! What time are you going?" + +"We generally go about half-past ten--before the crowd gets down. +We'll take a boat out if you're sure you can swim." + +She laughed. "Why, of course, I can!" + +"Let your breakfast settle first, my boy," said Feathers, looking +up from his newspaper. "There's no hurry, is there?" + +"Oh, shut up!" said young Atkins lightly. "You're always such an +old croaker." + +At half-past ten he sought Marie out again. + +"Are you coming?" he asked. "It'll be topping this Morning." + +"I know--Chris has gone to phone to someone. I wonder if I ought to +wait . . ." + +"Of course not! He'll be all right! Leave a message." + +"Very well." It would be a good opportunity to show him that she +did not depend on him for her amusement she thought desperately. +She went off through the sunshine with young Atkins chattering +nineteen to the dozen beside her. + +It was a perfect morning! Marie stood for a moment on the steps of +the bathing machine in her blue and white costume, and looked up at +the sun! It might be such a perfect world if only things were a +little different! She wondered if there was always something in +life to prevent people being too happy. + +Young Atkins called to her from a diving stage a little distance +out, and she dived into the water and swam out to him. + +"Ripping, isn't it!" he said as she clambered up to sit beside him +in the sun "Look here! I'll race you round that buoy and back. Will +you?" + +"Yes--I'll bet you a box of cigarettes I win." + +"Right! Bet you a box of chocolates you don't. Now then--one, two, +three! Go!" They dived from the staging together, laughing and full +of excitement. They were both good swimmers, and for a little they +kept abreast, then slowly but surely young Atkins forged ahead. + +Marie felt rather tired. They were swimming towards the sun and its +brightness blinded her. Her headache had returned, too; she had +almost forgotten it until a little stabbing pain in her temples +made her close her eyes. + +She thought it must be because she had not slept all night! That +would account for her feeling of weakness and lassitude. She ought +not to have come out so far--sudden panic closed about her heart-- +she tried to call to the boy ahead of her, but a little wave broke +in her face and carried her voice away. She thought that she +screamed--she was quite sure that she screamed aloud in terror +before someone put out the sunshine and blotted out the world, +leaving only miles and miles of clear, green water, into which she +sank slowly down . . . + + + +CHAPTER IV + + + + "Thy friend will come to thee unsought + With nothing can his love be bought; + Trust him greatly and for aye, + A true friend comes but once your way." + + + +CHRIS LAWLESS came back into the hotel lounge almost as soon as his +wife and young Atkins had left it. He looked quickly round for +Marie. + +His conscience had begun to prick him a little. He had noticed the +pallor of Marie's face at breakfast time, and the something +strained in her determined cheeriness, and, good fellow as he +really was at heart, he felt unhappy. + +He had meant to do the right thing by her when he married her. He +had always prided himself upon being a sportsman. He had no +intention of allowing people to say that he neglected his wife, or +that his marriage had turned out a failure. He liked everything he +undertook to be a success. + +And he was fond of Marie! He had always been fond of her in his own +way. There was no earthly reason that he could see why they should +not get on ideally well together. + +But Marie was not in the lounge. He looked round with a slight +frown, and his gaze fell upon Feathers, yawning behind his paper. + +Chris went up to him. + +"Where's Marie?" + +"She went out just now with Atkins. I heard them say something +about a swim." + +Chris looked annoyed. + +"She ought to have waited for me," he said shortly. "Atkins takes +too much upon himself." + +Feathers rose and threw down his paper. + +"They've only just gone," he said. "We can catch them up if you +come now." + +But Chris was thoroughly out of temper. He had letters to write, he +said, and no doubt Marie would be back before long. He turned away +and Feathers strolled out into the sunshine alone. + +He knew to which beach Marie and Atkins had gone, and he sauntered +slowly along in that direction. + +It was a glorious morning, and the sea front was crowded. The hot +sun beat down on his uncovered head and dark face, and one or two +women looked after him interestedly. + +Feathers was not just merely ugly to all women. Some of them +realized the strength and character in his face, and with true +femininity wondered what his wife was like! + +But Feathers was unmarried, and fully intended to remain so. He had +spent a roving life, and always declared that he was not going to +put on a clean collar or wash his hands unless he felt inclined to +for any woman's sake. + +"Not that any woman is ever likely to interest herself either in my +hands or collars," he added ruefully. + +Chris had sworn eternal bachelorhood also, which partly accounted +for Feathers' disgust when he wrote to him of his intended +marriage. + +He had written back a sarcastic letter which Chris had carefully +destroyed without showing it to Marie. + +"I never thought you were a petticoat follower . . . What in the +name of all that's holy has made you change your mind? Is it money, +brains, or merely a pretty face? No, I will not be your best man--I +won't even come to your beastly wedding. If you choose to get into +a tangle like this you can do so without my assistance, and later +on, if you want to get out of it, don't come crying to me for help +either. I wash my hands of you!" + +He had been quite prepared to dislike Marie, and was surprised +because he did not; but then--so he argued to himself--how could +anybody dislike such a child? And his sentiments veered right round +the other way, until he decided that in all probability she would +need protecting from Chris, though why, or in what way, he had not +the smallest idea. + +But he had offered her his friendship in all good faith, and was +feeling a little sore at the manner of her refusal as he strolled +along now in the sunshine through the crowds of holiday-makers, +keeping a careless look-out for young Atkins. + +There were a great many people bathing, and he stopped for a +moment, one foot on the low railing that divided the promenade from +the beach, scanning the water. + +There was a good deal of laughter and chattering and screaming +going on amongst the girls and women in the water, and he watched +them with a sort of amused contempt. Why did they bathe if they +found it so cold, and what fun could there be in standing in a few +inches of water shivering and screaming? + +And then all at once a change came over the whole scene. From +light-hearted frivolity it seemed to turn to panic and fear. People +left their seats on the parade and crowded down to the sands. A +man's voice, frantic and agonized, raised itself above all the +chatter and noise. + +Feathers knew instinctively what had happened. He vaulted the low +railing and ran across the sands, tearing off his coat as he went. + +He kicked off his shoes at the water's edge and dashed into the +sea, wading until the depths took him off his feet, and then +swimming strongly. + +A boat was circling round and round helplessly some way beyond the +diving board. A youth in a wet bathing suit, white as a ghost and +shivering with fright, was bending low over its bow, searching the +smooth water with terrified eyes; when he caught sight of Feathers +he broke into agonized words: + +"Feathers! For God's sake! She's gone! Mrs. Lawless! She screamed +and I tried to get to her . . . I was too late, and she went down . . . +It must have been cramp--she was all right a moment before. . . Oh, +for God's sake!" + +He dived from the boat to his friend's side but Feathers shook him +off. + +"Get away . . . you fool! Can't you see you're hampering me?" + +He dived again and again, desperately swimming under water in a +vain search for the drowning girl. + +Young Atkins had clambered back to the boat. He sat there in the +hot sunshine, his face in his hands, sobbing like a woman. + +He felt that it was all his fault He knew he could never be able to +face Chris again. Over and over in his mind rang the tragic words: +"And she was only married yesterday! Only married yesterday!" + +At that moment he would gladly have given his life for hers. He +felt that he would not go on living if she had gone. + +And then a sudden wild shout went up from the crowds on the beach. +Young Atkins looked up, not daring to hope, and there in the sea, +only a few yards from the boat, the rough dark head of Feathers +appeared above the smooth water, swimming strongly with one arm and +supporting a small, helpless object with the other. + +He seemed to have forgotten the boat, for he made straight for the +shore, and though eager men waded out to his help, and a dozen +pairs of arms were stretched out to take his burden from him, he +shook his head and held her jealously. + +"Beauty and the beast!" someone whispered as the tall, ugly man +waded ashore with the girl's limp body in his arms. + +Perhaps he heard, for at any rate a faint, grim smile crossed his +dark face as he laid her down on the warm sands. + +There was a doctor amongst the crowd, and a little group closed +about her, chafing her limbs, working her arms up and down, +frantically trying to beat life back into the inert little body. + +Feathers stood by breathing hard, the water dripping from him. + +He kept his eyes fixed on Marie's deathly face. + +A woman in the crowd began to cry, "Poor child! Poor child!" For +Marie Celeste looked only a child as she lay there, her wet hair +tumbled all around her. + +"It's too late, she's gone!" someone else said, hopelessly, and +Feathers turned like a lion. + +"It's not too late," he thundered. He went down on his knees beside +her, exhausted as he was, and worked like a giant to save her, and +all the time he was wondering what Chris would do, what Chris would +say, and if he would be expected to break the news to him. + +And then, after a long time, a little shell-like tinge of color +crept back to the marble whiteness of Marie's face--the doctor gave +a little exclamation, and went on with his work harder than before. + +Feathers asked him a harsh question: + +"Can we save her?" + +"I think so--yes! . . ." + +Each moment seemed an eternity, until, with labored, choking +breaths and little gasping cries, Marie struggled back to life and +the golden summer morning. + +Feathers rose to his feet. "I'll go on and tell her husband. You're +sure she's out of danger?" + +The doctor smiled, well pleased. + +"Oh, she's all right now." He turned to the stretcher upon which +they had laid the girl, and Feathers started to walk away, but the +crowd would not have this. They surged round him, slapping him on +the back and cheering him to the echo. They were only too eager and +willing to give praise where it was due, and at last, in +desperation, Feathers broke into a run and eluded them. + +He went into the hotel across the garden, and through a side door, +his dripping clothes leaving little wet marks all the way. He met +one of the porters in the passage. The man stopped with a gasp of +dismay. + +"Good heavens, sir! Has there been an accident?" + +"Yes, one of the ladies here, a Mrs. Lawless, but she's all +right now. Can you find her husband for me? He's probably in +the writing-room. Do you know him?" + +"Oh, yes, sir, but . . ." + +"Well, clear off and fetch him, then! I'm all right--don't make a +fuss. They're bringing her here. Hurry, man, hurry!" + +He was back in a moment with Chris, looking greatly mystified and +not at all upset, for the porter had been afraid to tell him the +truth of what had happened, and had merely said he was wanted. + +Feathers explained in a few words. + +"Mrs. Lawless got out of her depths or got cramp or something, but +she's all right. She had a nasty scare, though. It's all right; +they're bringing her along." + +Chris went dreadfully white. He clutched his friend's arm. "You're +not lying to me!" he said, hoarsely. "She's not--dead!" + +Feathers laughed. "Good lord, man, no! I tell you it's all right. +She got a bit of a ducking. She's probably back in the hotel by +this time; you'd better go and see for yourself." + +But Chris had gone before he had finished speaking, and Feathers +crept away up to his room and peeled off his sodden clothes. + +He felt very exhausted now it was all over. It had been a ghastly +five minutes when he dived again and again into that still green +water. He felt that he would never care for the sea in the same way +any more. + +Supposing she had been drowned! Although he knew that she was safe +and well, and to-morrow would probably be none the worse for her +accident. Feathers involuntarily echoed the words of the woman in +the crowd who had wept. + +"Poor child! poor child!" + +He laughed at himself directly afterwards, as he got into a dry +suit, tried to reduce some sort of order to his unruly hair, and +went downstairs. + +He was a simple sort of fellow, and thought so little of his own +action that it gave him a positive shock when the visitors in the +lounge insisted on giving him a cheer as he went through. The news +of what had occurred had spread like wildfire and, red faced and +frowning angrily. Feathers had to submit to being made a hero. + +Mrs. Heriot, who had hitherto deliberately avoided him, insisted on +shaking hands, and gushed that she was 80 proud of him, so +delighted to know such a brave man. + +Feathers turned on her almost fiercely. + +"It's all rubbish," he declared. "I happened to be the nearest, +that was all! For heaven's sake, Mrs. Heriot, say no more!" + +He went without his lunch because he could not bear the battery of +eyes which he knew would be upon him all the time. He sat up in his +own room reading until Atkins, still pale and shaken, came knocking +at the door. + +Feathers said, "Come in," not very pleasantly, and the boy went +across to him and held out an unsteady hand. + +"I say, you're a ripping sport!" he said in heartfelt tones. "If +she'd gone I should have jumped in and drowned myself; I swear I +should." + +"And a lot of good that would have done," Feathers said dryly. "For +heaven's sake, it, young 'un, and talk about something we can +all enjoy." + +But Atkins apparently could talk of nothing else, and he kept +harping on the same subject until in desperation Feathers took him +by the shoulders and put him outside. + +Even then there was no peace, for almost directly Chris himself +arrived. + +"They tell me you saved her life," he said agitatedly. "I ought to +have guessed! It's the kind of thing you would do. I can't--can't +tell you how grateful I am. If anything had happened to her . . ." + +Feathers chucked the book he was reading across the room with +violence. + +"Well, nothing has happened to her," he said crossly. "So, for the +love of Mike, shut up!" He walked over to the window. "I suppose +she is all right?" he asked casually. + +"She's weak, of course, but the doctor says she'll be quite herself +in a day or two." Chris hesitated. "She'd like to see you, +Feathers." + +Feathers ran a distracted hand across his hair. + +"More heroics!" he said savagely. "Well, I refuse! I absolutely +refuse! I hate this tommyrot, I tell you!" + +Chris looked offended. "I think she'll be hurt if you don't go." he +said diffidently. + +There was a little silence. + +"Oh, all right!" Feathers turned resignedly to the door. "Do I go +now, and do you come with me?" + +"Yes." + +They went out of the room together and along the corridor. + +Marie was lying on a sofa by the window, wrapped in a blue woolly +gown. Her dark hair was spread over the pillow behind her, and she +looked very frail and wan. + +She held out her hand to Feathers, smiling faintly. + +"I know you'll hate it," she said weakly, "but--I want to thank +you. They tell me "--her brown eyes went past him to where her +husband stood--"Chris tells me that you saved my life." + +Feathers managed a laugh. + +"Chris exaggerates," he said uncomfortably. "I happened to be lucky +enough to pull you out--that was all. I hope you'll soon feel +yourself again." + +"Thank you, yes." He was still holding her hand, and, suddenly +realizing it, he let it go abruptly. + +Chris had gone to the door with the doctor, and for a moment Marie +and Feathers were alone. + +"Mr. Dakers," she said hesitatingly. + +"Yes." + +Her brown eyes were raised to his ugly face appealingly. + +"I was horrid to you this morning, I know! It was--hateful of me! +But there was a reason . . . some day I'll tell you." + +He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Lawless; it's all +right." + +"Yes, but it isn't," she insisted weakly. "And I want to say that-- +that if you would still like me to look upon you as--as a sort of +big brother" . . . she smiled tremulously. + +Feathers frowned so heavily that his eyes almost vanished beneath +their shaggy brows. + +"All this because I pulled you out of two feet of water?" he +growled. + +Tears swam into her eyes. + +"It was a good deal more than two feet of water, and you know it +was! And--and--it isn't anything to do with that at all! It's just +you--you yourself! I should like to have you for a friend." + +There was a little silence, then Feathers held out his hand. + + + +CHAPTER V + + + "For all the world to my fond heart means you, + And there is nothing left when you are gone." + + +MARIE'S narrow escape from death did her one good turn--it sealed +her friendship with Feathers, and in the days that followed she +owed almost everything to him. + +Chris did his best. He really thought he was playing the part of a +model husband; he loaded her with sweets which she could not eat +and presents which she did not want. He was in and out of her room +ceaselessly--a little too ceaselessly, thought the doctor, who soon +discovered that her husband's presence did not have a very soothing +effect upon his patient. + +She always seemed nervous and restless when Chris was around, and +after a little hesitation the doctor told Chris frankly that it +would be better if Marie was not allowed so many visitors. + +Chris opened his handsome eyes wide. + +"Visitors! Why, she doesn't have any except me, and occasionally +Atkins and Feathers--Dakers, I mean." + +"I know--but I think she should not be disturbed during the +afternoon at all--not even by you," he added with a deprecating +smile. "She is not at all strong, and this unfortunate accident has +been a severe shock to her system. It will be months before she +properly recovers." + +Chris was not in the least offended, but it worried him to think +that possibly Marie was going to be more or less of an invalid. He +had never had a day's sickness himself, and, like most men, he was +impatient and over-anxious when it overtook anybody immediately +connected with himself. + +"Do you think I ought to take her back to London?" he asked. +"Perhaps she would be better looked after at home." + +"She is far better here than in London," was the emphatic reply. +"This East Coast air is just what is needed to brace her up. No; if +she is allowed to rest she will be all right." + +Chris told Marie what the doctor had said. + +"I am not to worry you--I am in and out of your room too often." He +looked at her anxiously. "What do you think, Marie Celeste?" + +She smiled faintly. "I suppose the doctor knows best." + +"Yes, I suppose he does," Chris agreed, but he felt slightly +irritated. If she wanted him to stay with her, why on earth didn't +she say so? It never occurred to him that since her accident Marie +had suffered agonies because she feared that he was wearied by her +helplessness and unutterably bored because he was more or less +chained to her side. + +She had a vivid recollection of a day, years ago, when, as a child, +she had fallen from the stable loft, and Chris had come to see her +when she was in bed. + +He had stood in the doorway, red-faced and awkward, hands thrust +into his pockets, staring at her with half-angry, half-sympathetic +eyes. + +She had thanked him profusely for condescending to come at all, and +he had asked gruffly by way of graceful acknowledgment, "How long +have you got to stick in bed? When will they let you get up and +come out again?" + +Tears had filled her eyes as she answered him, "I don't know-- +weeks, I suppose!" + +Chris said "Humph!" and stared at his boots. "It's topping out of +doors!" he said unkindly. "I'm going blackberrying this afternoon." + +That was the one and only visit he had paid her during the weeks of +her illness, and afterwards he had told her that he hated sick +rooms, and that he supposed women were always more or less ailing. + +So now she made every effort to get well and strong. She made too +much effort, the doctor told her. + +"There's plenty of time." he said. "Why be in such a hurry?" + +And at last, in desperation, she told him. "Doctor, it must be +awful for Chris--having to wait about here just because of me. It +can't be much of a holiday for him." + +He looked at her with kindly eyes. "Well, and what about you?" he +asked. "It's worse for you, I suppose?" + +Marie shook her head. "I--oh, no! He's a man, you see, and he's +different." + +Dr. Carey said: "Oh, I see," rather drily. He walked away from her +and came back, "You've been married--how long?" he asked. + +"Only a week." + +"Well, it's not long enough for that husband of yours to have got +tired of dancing attendance on you, anyway," he answered. "No, you +will not be allowed downstairs till Saturday." + +"It must be awfully dull for Chris," she sighed. + +She said the same thing to Feathers when he looked in that evening +for a few seconds. + +Feathers never brought her flowers or sweets, or presents, for +which she was thankful, and he never stayed more than about five +minutes, but he always managed to bring a cheeriness into the room +with him and leave her with a smile in her brown eyes. + +"Dull! Chris!" he said, echoing her words bluntly. "Not he. Don't +you worry, Mrs. Lawless. Chris knows how to look after himself." + +He did not tell her that between his spasmodic visits to her Chris +was thoroughly enjoying himself. + +He played bridge with Mrs. Heriot and her little crowd when there +was nothing better to do. He played billiards with anybody who +would take him on, and that afternoon he had been out golfing. + +"What did he do this afternoon?" Marie asked wistfully. + +"This afternoon! Oh, let me see! Well, I believe he played golf-- +yes, he did!" + +"I'm glad--I'm so glad he doesn't stay indoors all day," said +Marie. + +Feathers frowned + +"Don't you worry about him. I'll look after him," he promised. "You +make haste and get well and go and play golf with him." + +"I can't play golf!" + +"Well, then, you must learn--I'll teach you! Can you play bridge?" + +"No, I have tried, but Chris says I'm no good at cards." + +"Rubbish! You could play all right with practice!" He looked away +from her out of the window where a radiant sunset was spreading +rays of gorgeous coloring across the sea. + +"Chris is the sort of man who likes a woman to be sporting," he +said, after a moment, speaking rather carefully, as if choosing his +words. "I mean to say that he is a man who would like his wife to +be able to join him in his own sports! Do you understand?" + +"Yes." Her eyes were fixed anxiously on his averted face, and then +she asked suddenly: "And do you ever think I could be that sort of +wife, Mr. Dakers?" + +Feathers cleared his throat loudly. + +"Do I! Of course, I do!" he said, but his voice sounded as If he +were as anxious to convince himself as he was to convince her. +"You're the sort of woman who could do anything if you set your +mind to it." + +She did not speak for a moment, then she said sadly, "It's kind of +you to say so, but in your heart, you know it isn't true." + +He swung round, his face red with distress. "What do you mean, Mrs. +Lawless?" + +"I mean that you know I couldn't ever be that sort of wife. I'm not +made that way. Dorothy used to say that I should have been an ideal +wife for a man in early Victorian days; that I was cut out to stay +at home and make jams and bread and jangle keys on my chatelaine, +and tie up the linen in lavender bags, and look after the babies +. . ." She broke off, laughing and flushing a little. + +"And who is 'Dorothy,' may I ask?" Feathers demanded. + +"She was my best friend at school, and she was ever such a sport! +She could beat all the other girls at games, and she could ride +horse-back, and--oh, lots of things like that!" + +"She sounds rather a masculine young lady." + +"Oh, no, she isn't! Not a bit! I think you would like her!" A faint +smile stole into her eyes. "She was another person who was asked to +my wedding and did not come," she added teasingly. + +Feathers laughed. "And now I suppose if I stay any longer Chris +will be on my track and say that I'm tiring you out." + +"Does he say that?" she asked, and a little gleam of eagerness +crossed her face. She loved to hear that Chris was anxious about +her, or that he made it his business to see she was not overtired. + +"As a matter of fact, I think it was the doctor who said it," +Feathers answered innocently. + +"Oh!" said Marie disappointedly. . . . + +She persuaded Dr. Carey to allow her downstairs the following day, +and Chris carried her out into the garden and propped her up in a +deck chair with cushions and rugs. + +"I'm not an invalid really, you know," she said, looking up at him +shyly. "I could have walked quite well." + +She felt bound to say it, and yet not for worlds would she have +forgone being carried in his arms. The distance had seemed all too +short. Just for a little she had been quite, quite happy. + +Young Atkins was fussing around. He had an enormous bunch of roses +in one hand and all the newest magazines in the other. He could not +do enough for her. As soon as Chris moved away he dragged a chair up +and sat down beside her. + +"You look heaps better." he declared fervently. He always said the +same thing every time he saw her. "You do feel better, don't you?" + +She laughed at his eagerness. + +"I really feel quite well, but they will persist that I'm an +invalid." + +She looked around for Chris, but he had strolled away, and she gave +a little sigh. + +"I've got to go back to town to-morrow," young Atkins said +presently. He spoke rather lugubriously. + +"Rotten, isn't it? And, I say, Mrs. Lawless, I may come and see you +when you get back, mayn't I?" + +"If you want to--of course!" + +"Of course I want to?" He had never been in love before, but he was +fully persuaded that he was in love now, and he never lost an +opportunity to scowl at Chris--when his back was turned! + +He moved a little closer to Marie, and looked down at her +earnestly. + +"If ever there's anything you want done, never be afraid to ask me +to do it!" he said. "You'll remember that, won't you?" + +Marie did not take him seriously. She was not used to being made +love to. She just looked upon him as a boy. + +"Why, of course I will! And there's something you can do for me +now, if you will--see if there are any letters." + +"Of course!" He was off in an instant, and Marie looked across the +garden, hoping desperately that Chris would see she was alone and +return. + +But he was laughing and talking with Mrs. Heriot and an elderly man +and a little chill feeling of unwantedness stole into her heart. + +Would life always be like this? she asked herself, and closed her +eyes with a sudden feeling of dread. + +Supposing she had been drowned! Supposing Feathers had not been in +time after all! + +She tried to believe that Chris would have been brokenhearted, but +she knew the folly of such a belief. He would have been sorry, of +course, for they had known one another so long--been such pals, in +the past, at any rate! + +"A penny for your thoughts," said Feathers beside her, and she +looked up with a little half-sigh. + +"You will be angry with me if I tell you." + +"I shall not! Am I ever angry with you?" + +"I think you could be," she answered, seriously. + +He sat down in the chair young Atkins had left. "Tell me, and see," +he suggested, half in fun. + +Marie looked across at her husband, and then back at the man beside +her. + +"I was wondering," she said, "what would have happened if you had +not pulled me out of the sea?" + +"What would have happened?" He echoed her words with mock +seriousness. "Well, you would have been drowned, of course." + +"I know I--I don't mean that I--I mean, what would have happened +to--to Chris--and everyone else." + +Feathers did not answer. He vaguely felt that there was some +serious question at the back of her words, but his experience of +women was so small that he was unable to understand. + +"We don't want to think of such things," he said briskly after a +moment, "You are alive and well. Isn't that all that matters?" + +She did not answer, and looking at her curiously, he was struck by +the sadness of her face, by the downward curves of her pretty mouth +and the wistfulness of her eyes, and suddenly he realized that he +had inadvertently stumbled across a secret which he had never +suspected, and it was--that this girl was unhappy! + +Whose fault? The question clamored at his brain. Chris' fault or +her own? He was conscious of anger against his friend. + +Chris was sauntering back to them through the sunshine. He looked +very careless and debonair, and was whistling as he came. + +Feathers rose. "Take this chair." he said curtly. + +"No, don't you get up." But Feathers insisted, and as soon as Chris +was seated he walked off to the hotel. + +He went into the lounge and aimlessly took up a paper, but he did +not read a word. + +Fond as he was of Chris, he knew all his faults and limitations, +knew just how selfish he could be, and a vague fear for Marie grew +in his heart. + +A little distance from him Mrs. Heriot and another woman were +talking. It was quiet in the lounge, and Feathers could hear what +they were saying, without the smallest effort on his part to +listen. + +The newspaper screened his face, and he could only suppose +afterwards that they were unconscious of his presence, for Mrs. +Heriot said with a rather cynical laugh: + +"Did you see our heroine on the lawn, with her cavaliers? Very +amusing, isn't it? I don't suppose she has ever had so much +attention in her life? They say that he married her straight from +the schoolroom." + +"Really! She looks only a child!" the other woman answered +interestedly. "By the way, which is her husband? The big, ugly man, +or the good-looking one?" + +Mrs. Heriot laughed. "My dear! Do you mean to say you don't know! +Why, the good-looking one, of course!" + +"Perhaps it was stupid of me, but I thought--I really quite thought +that it was the other one. There is something in the way he looks +at her . . . I can't explain! But if you hadn't told me, I should +certainly have said that he was the one who was in love with her." + +Feathers' big hands gripped the paper with sudden tension. + +What cackling, sentimental fools women were! In love! He! Why, he +had never looked at a woman in his life. + +He flung the paper down, and, rising, stalked out of the lounge. + +The two women looked after him in blank dismay. + +"My dear, do you think he heard?" the younger one whispered. + +Mrs. Heriot laughed spitefully. + +"I hope he did! It will do him good! He's never even commonly civil +to a woman." she said. "But it's really rather droll, you thinking +he was the husband! How he will hate it!" + + + +CHAPTER VI + + + + "What shall I be at fifty. + Should nature keep me alive + If I find the world so bitter + When I am but twenty-five?" + + + +AT THE end of the week Dr. Carey ceased his visits, "You won't need +me any more," he assured Marie. "Take care of yourself, that is +all, and no more bathing this season." + +Marie shivered, "No, I promise that." + +She was feeling quite herself again, though she got tired easily. +She had written to Aunt Madge, making light of her accident, and +assuring her that there was no need to worry. + +"And I am ever so happy," she wrote, with desolation in her heart +"And I like the hotel, and there are nice people here, and everyone +is very kind to me. I will let you know when we are coming home." + +Chris came and stood behind her as she was writing and caught sight +of the first sentence. + +"Is that true?" he asked. He pointed to the words: "I am ever so +happy." + +Marie laughed, but she was glad that he could not see her face. + +"Of course, it's true," she said. "I have never had such a good +time in my life." + +A more observant man would have heard the flatness of her voice, +but Chris only heard what he wanted to hear, and it gave him a +sense of relief. If she was happy, that was all right. He thought +things had arranged themselves admirably. Marriage was not going to +be the tie he had dreaded, after all. + +"Mrs. Heriot wants me to play a round of golf with her this +afternoon." he said after a moment. "Do you mind?" + +"Of course not. Please go. I shall be all right; I am going to take +my book down on the sands." + +"Very well--don't overtire yourself." He laid his hand on her +shoulder for a moment and then walked away. + +Marie sat staring at the finished letter before her. Would Aunt +Madge be as blind as Chris, she wondered. She thrust it into an +envelope and took it to the post. + +The weather was still holding fine. The days were hot and sunny and +the nights moonlit. + +Last night at dinner she had asked Chris to take her for a walk. It +was the first time she had asked anything of him since their +marriage, but she had peeped at the moonlit sands and sea from her +window as she was dressing for dinner and a sudden longing to walk +through its silvery radiance with Chris had seized upon her. + +"Come out with you? Why, of course!" Chris said in quick response. +"I promised to play Feathers a hundred up at half-past eight, but +that won't take long, and we can go afterwards." + +But it had taken over an hour, and afterwards another man who had +watched the game had challenged Chris to another, and quite +unintentionally Chris had forgotten all about his promise to Marie, +and she had crept off to bed at ten o'clock without seeing him +again. + +"I shall get used to it, of course I shall," she told herself as +she lay awake with the moonlight pouring through the open window. +"Other women with husbands like Chris get used to it, and so shall +I." + +She never shed tears about him; all her tears seemed to have been +dried up. Her only longing was that he should be happy, and that +she should never bore him or prove a tie to his freedom. + +She loved him with complete unselfishness--with complete +foolishness, too, perhaps an unkind critic might have said. + +His was a nature so easily spoilt. If anybody offered him his own +way he took it without demur. He liked things to go smoothly. If he +was having a good time himself he took it for granted that +everybody else was, too. + +He went off to his golf quite happily. He told Mrs. Heriot that +Marie had taken a book down to the sands. + +"Alone?" Mrs. Heriot laughed. "How queer! Doesn't she find it +dull?" + +"She loves reading--she'll be quite happy." + +And Chris really believed what he was saying. + +He did not care a jot for Mrs. Heriot, but she played golf +magnificently, and she was never tired. She could be out on the +links all day and dance all night, and still look as fresh as +paint--perhaps because she owed most of her freshness to paint and +powder. + +As she and Chris were leaving the hotel they encountered Feathers. + +Feathers stopped dead in front of his friend, blocking the way. + +"Where are you going?" he asked uncompromisingly. + +"Where are we going?" Chris echoed with sarcasm. "Where do you +think we are going? Hunting?" + +Mrs. Heriot laughed immoderately. She did not like Feathers, and +she knew that he did not like her or approve of her friendship with +Chris, and it pleased her to read the annoyance in his ugly face. + +"We're going golfing, Mr. Dakers," she said. "Don't you recognize +the clubs? I thought you were a golfer." + +"He hates me, you know," she explained to Chris as they went on +down the road. + +"He doesn't like any women," Chris said easily. + +"You really think so?" she asked, raising her brows. + +"I am sure of it." He seemed struck by her silence, and turned his +head sharply. "What do you mean?" + +"Only that I thought he seemed rather friendly with your little +wife," she explained. + +"Oh, with Marie!" Chris laughed. "Yes, I'm glad to say he is. They +get on very well together. He saved her life, you know." + +"Of course! How stupid of me!" She pretended that she had +forgotten, and Chris frowned. + +"Why on earth can't the woman be natural?" he was thinking +impatiently. He had quite missed her venomous little shaft with +regard to his wife and Feathers. His was a most unsuspicious +nature, and he cared too little for Marie to feel the slightest +jealousy. + +He had laughed at Atkins' devotion to her. Atkins was a young +idiot, but he had been pleased that she and Feathers had taken such +a liking to one another. It argued well for a future in which Chris +could see himself wanting to knock about town with Feathers as he +had done before he was married. + +They played a round of golf, and Mrs. Heriot beat him. + +"What a triumph!" she said mockingly, when they sat down to rest on +a grassy slope. "You're not playing well to-day, Chris." + +She had always called him by his Christian name. She was one of +those women who call all men by their Christian names without first +being invited to do so. + +She was a widow with a large income, and a spiteful nature. She did +not actually wish to re-marry, because if she did so she would lose +the money left her by her husband, but all the same, she did not +like to see her men friends monopolized and married by other women. + +She was thinking of her husband now, as she sat, chin on hand, +staring down at Chris, sprawled beside her on the grass. + +Duncan Heriot had died in India while his wife was in England, and +he had died of too much drink and an enlarged liver. As she looked +at Chris, with his handsome face and long, lithe figure, she was +mentally contrasting him with the short, stubby man whom she had +married solely for his money. + +She liked Chris for the same reason that he liked her. They had +many tastes in common and seldom bored one another. + +She was a year or two older than he, but she was still a young +woman, and had it not been for the money question she would have +done her best to marry him; but she knew that Chris had no money, +and life without money was to Mrs. Heriot very much as a motor-car +would be without its engine. So she had launched the craft of Plato +between them, and comforted herself with the thought that he was +not a marrying man. + +It had been a real shock to her to hear of his wedding. She had +been very anxious to meet his wife and find out for herself why he +had so suddenly changed his mind. + +Her quick eyes had already discovered that it had not been for +love! She had made a life study of the opposite sex, and she knew +without any telling that there was another reason for which she +must seek. + +"You know," she said, abruptly, "I was ever so surprised to hear +that you were married?" + +"Were you?" Christ tilted his hat further over his eyes. "Most +people were, I think. Poor old Feathers was absolutely disgusted." + +"It was very sudden, wasn't it?" she pursued. "Quite romantic, from +all accounts." + +"Oh, I don't know. I've known her all my life--we were brought up +together." + +"Really!" She opened her eyes wide. "Cousins or something?" she +hazarded. + +"No. Marie's father adopted me." + +Chris rose to his feet and yawned. He knew that he was being +pumped. + +"Shall we play another round?" he asked. + +"Of course." She was a little chagrined. She had imagined that +their friendship was on too secure a basis to permit of such a +decided snubbing. She played badly, as she always did when she was +annoyed, and Chris won easily. + +"You threw that away deliberately," he challenged her. + +She laughed. "Did I? Perhaps I did. You annoyed me." + +"In what way?" + +"I thought we were friends, and when I ventured to be interested in +your marriage you snubbed me abominably." + +Her eyes were plaintive as they met his, and, manlike, Chris felt +slightly flattered. + +Mrs. Heriot was a much-sought-after woman and he knew that she had +always shown a distinct preference for his society. + +"I did not think you would be interested." he said lamely. "And +there is nothing to tell if you are looking for a romance." + +"That is what you say." she declared. "But that is so like a man-- +never will admit it when he cares for a woman." + +Chris colored a little. He could not imagine what it was she wanted +him to say. + +"You've always been such a confirmed bachelor." she went on. "I am +beginning to think that your wife must be a very wonderful woman to +have so completely metamorphosed you." + +Chris frowned. He resented this cross-examination even while he was +half inclined to think it unreasonable of him to do so. After all, +he had known Mrs. Heriot some considerable time, and, as she said, +they had always been good friends. + +"I can tell you one thing," he said half seriously. "And that is, +that my wife is the only woman in the world for whom I would have +given up my bachelor freedom! There, will that satisfy you?" + +Mrs. Heriot smiled sweetly. She always smiled sweetly when she was +feeling particularly vixenish. + +"How sweet of you! How very sweet!" she murmured. "Of course, I +have always said what a particularly charming girl she is--so +unspoilt, so unsophisticated! I suppose it is just another case of +like attracting unlike." + +"I suppose it is," said Chris bluntly. He wished to goodness she +would talk about something else. He was shrewd enough to detect the +sting beneath her sugary words, and all his pride, if nothing more, +rose in defense of Marie. He thought of her with a little glow of +affectionate warmth. + +"She's the most unselfish child I've ever met." he said +impulsively. + +She was still a child to him. It was odd that he still could not +dissociate her in his mind from the little girl with the pigtail +and wistful eyes who had waited on him hand and foot all his life. +Perhaps if he could have realized that Marie was a woman, at least +in heart and thoughts, there might have been a better understanding +between them; but as it was--well, everything was all right, and +Marie had written to Aunt Madge that she was "ever so happy." + +It was just as they reached the hotel again that Mrs. Heriot said +with a sentimental sigh: "Perfect, perfect weather, isn't it? +Glorious days, and--oh, did you notice the moon last night?" + +Chris stood quite still. With a shock of guilt he remembered +Marie's little request to him and his own forgetfulness. The angry +blood rushed to his face. He hated to feel that perhaps he had +disappointed her. + +He left Mrs. Heriot in the lounge and went straight up to his +wife's room. She was not there, but a book which he knew she had +been reading was lying open on her dressing-table and a little pair +of white shoes stood neatly together on the rug. + +Chris rubbed the back of his head with a curiously boyish look of +embarrassment. It seemed odd to think that he and little Marie +Celeste were really husband and wife! He cast a furtive look at +himself in her mirror. He did not look much like a married man, he +thought, and laughed as he took up the book which Marie had been +reading. It was a book of poems, and Chris made a little grimace. +He had never read a poem in his life, but his eyes fell now on some +of the lines which had been faintly underscored with a pencil: + + + + "What shall I be at fifty, + + Should nature keep me alive-- + + If I find the world so bitter + + When I am but twenty-five?" + + + +He read the words through twice with a vague sense of discomfort. + +Had Marie underlined them--and if so, why? They did not convey a +tremendous deal to Chris, though he had a faintly uncomfortable +feeling that they might to a woman. + +Marie was not twenty-five either, she was only nineteen! And anyway +it was absurd to imagine that she was finding the world bitter when +she had just written home to Aunt Madge that she was quite happy. + +He had still got the book in his hand when the door opened and +Marie came in. She caught her breath when she saw her husband. + +"You, Chris!" + +"Yes, I thought you were in." He turned round, holding out the +book. "Are you reading this?" + +"Yes." She tried to take it from him, but he avoided her. "Did you +underline that verse?" + +He saw the color flicker into her face, but she laughed as she bent +over the book and read the words he indicated. + +"Did I? Of course not. It's a pretty poem. It's Tennyson's 'Maud,' +you know." Chris knew nothing about Tennyson's "Maud," but he was +relieved to hear the natural way in which his wife spoke. He shut +the book and threw it down carelessly. + +"I came to say that I'm sorry about last night--about forgetting +to take you out, I mean. I clean forgot all about it. We'll go +to-night, shall we?" There was the smallest hesitation before she +answered. She was taking off her hat at the wardrobe so he could +not see her face. + +"Mr. Dakers has two tickets for a concert," she said at last, "I +almost promised him I would go." She waited. "If you don't mind," +she added. + +"Of course, I don't mind. Go by all means. I dare say you'll enjoy +it. I shall be all right--I can have a game at billiards with +someone. I suppose it's time to dress?" + +"Yes, I think so." + +"See you downstairs, then?" + +"Yes." + +Chris went off whistling. He was quite happy again. Somebody else +had marked that verse. He ought to have known Marie Celeste would +not be so foolish--and they were stupid lines anyway. He could not +imagine why anybody ever wanted to read poetry. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + + + "When the links of love are parted, + Strength is gone . . ." + + + +DIRECTLY Chris had gone Marie opened her door, which he had shut +after him, and ran downstairs. + +The lounge was almost deserted. Most of the visitors were dressing +for dinner, but Feathers was lounging against the open swing door +which led into the garden. + +His hands were deep thrust into his pockets and he was looking out +over the sea with moody eyes. + +Marie ran up to him breathlessly. "Mr. Dakers---" + +He turned at once. "Yes." He noticed the flushed agitation of her +face. "Is anything the matter?" he asked in swift concern. + +"Yes! I mean no! Oh, it's nothing much, at any rate, but--but I +told Chris you were going to take me to a concert to-night, that +you had got two tickets . . ." She broke off agitatedly, only to +rush on again. "Of course, I know you're not! I only just said it, +but--but if he asks you--oh, you wouldn't mind not telling him, +would you?" + +Feathers looked utterly mystified, but she was too much in earnest +for him to smile, so he said quietly: + +"There is rather a good show on the pier, so I'm told, I'll get +some tickets and we'll go." + +She flushed all over her face and her lips quivered. + +"I know it's horrid of me, and I can't explain; there isn't any +need for you to take me at all, really, but . . . but I knew Chris +wanted to play billiards---" She broke off, she had said more than +she intended. + +Feathers laughed. "Chris is a goth! I like music, and I'm sure you +do, so we'll snap our fingers at him and go to the concert." + +"You don't really want to! You wouldn't have thought of it, if I +hadn't said anything," she stammered. + +"I've often thought of it," he maintained quietly. "If the truth +must be told, I'm very fond of music, so it will be a kindness if +you will let me pretend that I'm only going to please you." + +There was a little silence, then Marie slipped her hand into his +with a long sigh of relief. + +"Oh, you are a dear," she said, and fled away before he could +answer. + +She went up to her own room and hurried with her dressing. She did +not want to go to the concert in the very least. It had cost her a +great deal to refuse Chris' offer of that moonlit walk, but in her +heart she knew that he had only suggested it as reparation for his +forgetfulness of last night, and her pride would not allow her to +accept. + +If he had wished to go with her he would not have forgotten. She +knew Chris well enough to know that he never forgot a thing that he +wished to remember, and there was a little choking lump of misery +in her throat as she hurriedly changed her frock. + +Chris was very punctilious about dressing for dinner. It was one of +his pet snobberies, so Feathers declared, for Feathers himself had +a fine disregard of appearances and of what people thought. + +But to-night even he struggled into a dinner jacket, and +half-strangled himself in a high collar in honor of Marie. At dinner +Chris chaffed him mercilessly across the space that divided their +tables. + +"You'll be putting brilliantine on your hair next," he said. "Not +that it would be much use!" he added dryly. + +"I think his hair looks very nice," said Marie Celeste. She did +not think so, but she was so grateful to him for haying rushed +into the breach for her to-night that she looked upon him through +rose-tinted glasses. + +Feathers smiled grimly, meeting her eyes. + +"Mrs. Lawless, may you be forgiven!" he said solemnly. "And may I +also remind you that if you want to be in time for the show, you'll +have to go without the water ice which I see they promise us as the +final tit-bit on the menu." + +"I hate water ices," Marie declared. "And I'm quite ready when you +are." She looked at her husband. + +"Don't wait for me, my child," said Chris. "Run away and amuse +yourself." + +Marie rose from the table quietly. + +"I'll just get my coat," she said to Feathers. She walked down the +room between the crowded tables, the eyes of both men following +her. + +She made a pathetic little figure, so Feathers thought, and was +angry with himself for the thought. He did not want to think of her +as unhappy. He could not imagine why he always read sadness in her +face. + +He turned to Chris. "Why don't you come with us?" he asked +abruptly. + +Chris opened his eyes in faint astonishment. + +"What! Be penned up in a stuffy concert hall all the evening?" he +said. + +"My dear chap, it's no worse than the billiard room." Feathers +answered irascibly. "You spend too much of your time there." + +Chris looked at him in utter amazement; then he laughed. + +"Is it a joke or what?" he asked helplessly. + +Feathers pushed back his chair rather violently and rose. + +"Think it over," he said curtly, and walked out of the room. + +Chris did think it over. He went out on to the sea front, and +stared at the sea, and wondered what on earth his friend had +been driving at. He did not at all like the way in which Feathers +had looked at him or the tone of voice in which he had spoken. +As a rule, everyone looked upon Chris with approval. He threw his +half-smoked cigarette over the sea wall on to the sand, and with +morose eyes, watched it consume away. + +He was not going to be lectured by Feathers, old friends as they +were! He began to feel himself distinctly ill-used. + +Now he came to think of it it was pretty cool of him to take Marie +Celeste off to a concert and leave him to shift for himself. He was +not at all sure that he was being fairly treated. + +"A penny for your thoughts." said Mrs. Heriot beside him, and he +started from his reverie and laughed. + +"Nothing. I was just wondering about something, that's all." + +He was really rather glad to see her. It was dusk out there on the +sea front, and Mrs. Heriot always looked her best in a half-light, +as do most women who take the tint of their hair and complexion out +of a box. + +She was dressed in black, too. It suited her admirably, and there +was a fluffy white fur round her throat and shoulders which rather +appealed to Chris. + +Feathers had knocked a corner off his complacency, and he was just +in a mood to accept the soothing flattery which Mrs. Heriot knew to +a nicety how to administer. + +"I've never seen you look so cross before," she challenged him. +"What is the matter and where is Mrs. Lawless?" + +"She's gone to a concert." + +"Oh, yes, with Mr. Dakers! I saw them going along the road together +Just now." She paused. "You don't care for music, I suppose?" + +"Not particularly." + +"Neither do I. I don't think people who are very keen on games are +ever fond of music and artistic things like that, do you?" + +"Perhaps not," he agreed. + +She drew the feathery wrap closer round her throat. + +"Isn't it a heavenly night? What shall we do?" + +Chris laughed rather grimly. "I've nothing to do. I'm quite at your +service." + +"Really?" Her eyes were bright it the half-light. "Well, then, +shall we take a boat and row out to meet the moon?" + +"Meet the moon!" Chris echoed blankly. + +She laughed. "Yes, isn't that what romantic people do? I know I'm +not a romantic person, but I'm going to pretend to be, just for one +night---" + +She laid her hand on his arm. "Do! It will be such fun." + +Her excitement was rather infectious, and after the smallest +hesitation Chris yielded. + +"Oh, all right. Can we get a boat?" + +"Of course we can." She kept her hand through his arm as they went +down the sands to look for an old boatman from whom Mrs. Heriot +declared she had often hired boats before. + +"Do ye want me to come along with yer?" he asked, as he dragged a +skiff down to the water's edge. + +Mrs. Heriot laughed and looked at Chris. + +"Do we want Charon to row us on the Styx?" she asked. + +Chris made a wry little face. + +"I think we might be able to manage without his help," he said. + +He gave her his hand and followed her into the skiff. + +It was a perfect night. There was hardly a ripple on the water, and +the moon was rising in a gleam half-circle above the horizon. + +Mrs. Heriot dabbled her hand in the cool water, and her diamond +rings glittered like sparks of fire. + +"Now, isn't this better than that horrid, stuffy old billiard +room?" she asked presently. + +Chris frowned, and his friend's words, which he had forgotten for +the moment, came back with worrying insistence. + +"It's no worse than the billiard room. . . . You spend too much of +your time there. . . ." + +What the deuce had Feathers meant? + +"Did you hear what I said?" Mrs. Heriot demanded, and he roused +himself with an effort. + +"I heard--yes!" + +"And don't you agree?" + +Chris temporized. "Well, there's more air out here," he said. + +She laughed lightly. "How you do hate to agree with anyone," she +said. She leaned back and looked up at the sky. + +"This reminds me of the nights in India," she said suddenly. + +Chris made no comment, and she went on. + +"It seems as if my life out there must all have been in another +world." + +"Time passes so quickly, doesn't it?" said Chris absently. + +He had never seen her in this mood before, and it rather bored him. + +"I went out as soon as I was married," she went on, taking it for +granted that he was interested. "I was--oh, so young--younger than +Mrs. Lawless, I should think!" She laughed rather bitterly. "I +thought I was going to be 'happy ever after,' as the story books +have it, when I got married." She shrugged her shoulders. "That's +what comes of marrying for money." + +"You are very candid," Chris said amusedly. + +"I am; I think it always pays, don't you?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"I haven't thought about it." + +"I have! And I know that people don't like me because I always say +what I think." + +"Don't they!" He drew in the sculls a little and, resting on them, +fumbled for his cigarette case. + +There was a little smile on his face. Mrs. Heriot was amusing him +now, though unconsciously. + +She stretched out a white hand. "Give me a cigarette." Chris handed +her his case, but she waved it away. "Don't be so ungallant! Light +it for me." + +He did as she asked. + +"Does your wife smoke?" she asked abruptly. + +"No." He bent to the sculls again. "I'm afraid she's not very +modern." + +She caught up the word quickly. "Afraid!" + +Chris frowned. "I should have said 'glad,' perhaps." He corrected +himself rather shortly. + +Mrs. Heriot looked at him in silence for a moment, then she said, +energetically: "Don't let marriage turn you into a bore, Chris!" + +"A bore!" He was so amazed that he dropped his cigarette. "Yes." +She smiled teasingly. "It does that with most men, you know." + +"I think I can promise you it will not do that with me," he said +rather warmly. "I have always loathed the idea of ordinary married +life, staying at home night after night, tied to a woman's apron +strings, dropping all one's pals . . ." He broke off, coloring +warmly. He had said a great deal more than he had intended, and he +knew that she had purposely led him on to do so. "Don't you think +we had better be getting back?" he asked rather curtly. + +"What, already?" she laughed, and, bending forward, looked at a +small jewelled watch on her wrist. "Why, it's not nine!" She turned +and looked out over the smooth sea. "Let's row out to that boat," +she said suddenly. She indicated a small anchored fishing smack +with furled sails that looked like a fairy ship in the path of the +moonlight. + +"We can get on board if there is nobody there. Do! It will be such +fun!" + +Chris had the uncomfortable feeling that she expected him to +refuse, and because he made it a rule never to do what he knew was +expected of him he agreed. He pulled the little skiff about and +made for the anchored boat. + +There was a light on her mast and a lantern tied to her bow, but +apparently she was deserted. + +Mrs. Heriot made a cup of her hands and called a long "Coo-ee." + +"There's nobody on board," she said. "Go closer to her, Chris." + +When they were near enough she stretched out her hand and caught at +a rope hanging loosely at the side of the ship. + +"It's a ladder!" she said excitedly. "Oh, we must go on board. It's +so romantic!" + +"It's a fishing smack--it will be horribly dirty probably," Chris +objected. + +She was standing up, holding to its side. + +"Of course it won't be." She looked around at him. "I believe you +don't want to come," she said laughing. + +Chris drew in the sculls without another word and stood up. + +"If you're so bent on trespassing," he said, and held out his hand. + +They scrambled on board together and looked round. The ship was +quite deserted and rocking gently on the smooth water. Mrs. Heriot +clapped her hands like a delighted child. She was quite a good +actress when she was in the mood and given the right environment. + +"Isn't this lovely? It reminds me of the days when we used to hide +in ruined castles when we were children." + +She spoke as if ruined castles were to be met with in every street +of every suburban town. + +"There's not much of a ruined castle about this," said Chris. He +was not at all amused. He thought the whole adventure silly, which +merely showed that he was not with the right woman and not +interested in the woman he was with. + +The moon was high in the sky, and the twinkling lights of the town +looked a long way off, though very faintly in the distance they +could hear the sound of the band playing on the pier. + +Chris listened apathetically, then suddenly he spoke. + +"It must be late. They're playing 'God Save the King.'" + +He looked at his watch--it was half-past ten. + +"It's time we went back," he said. He wondered uncomfortably what +Feathers would say if he could see him now. + +He went back to the side of the fishing smack where he had left the +skiff, then he stifled an oath, for the painter he had fastened +loosely to the rope-ladder had come untied and the skiff had +drifted away. + +Mrs. Heriot uttered a shrill scream when she saw what had happened. +She was really not in the least frightened; she loved sensation and +what she was pleased to call "thrills"; and it was rather exciting +to find herself in such a predicament with a man as good-looking +and difficult as Christopher Lawless. + +"Whatever shall we do?" she demanded in horror, and then, with a +quick glance at his face: "Oh, you don't think that I let the boat +go on purpose?" + +She had not done so, but probably would have done had it occurred +to her. Chris answered vehemently that such an idea had never +entered his head, which was the truth. He was far too indifferent +and unsuspecting to credit her with such an action. + +"But what on earth are we to do?" she asked again, and Chris +laughed rather mirthlessly. + +"I must swim out and bring it back, of course," + +He took off his coat as he spoke and Mrs. Heriot screamed afresh. + +"You might be drowned! The water looks awful in the moonlight! What +will become of me here alone if anything happens to you?" + +"Nothing will happen to me or you," said Chris impatiently, "and we +can't stay here all night, can we?" + +He shook off her detaining hand and clambered up the ship's side. + +Mrs. Heriot hid her face. + +"I shall go mad if anything happens to you," she said hysterically. + +Chris dived without answering. + +He came up breathless and spluttering. The water was very cold, and +he was hampered by his clothes, but he got hold of the skiff and +dragged it back to the ship's side, clambering up again by the rope +ladder. + +"You'll take your death of cold," said Mrs. Heriot tragically, but +she did not attempt to touch him again. In his drenched condition +he did not look very romantic with his collar as limp as muslin and +his hair plastered down on his forehead. + +"It was so brave of you," she murmured. + +"It was folly ever to have come," Chris said. He steadied the skiff +while she climbed back into it, then he followed and pushed off. + +"What in the world will people say?" Mrs. Heriot asked +hysterically. + +Chris looked at her; his teeth were chattering a little. + +"What can they say? It was an accident." + +"I know, but they won't believe it. People are so uncharitable." + +His face darkened. + +"I don't understand you." + +She looked a little ashamed. + +"It is so late, and for you and I--to be out here alone . . ." + +Chris pulled harder at the sculls; he knew there was something in +what she said, but he answered doggedly: + +"They must believe what they choose, that's all." + +She covered her face with her hands. + +"I can't face it," she whispered. "I've always hated scandal. And . . . +oh, what will your wife think, Chris?" + +Chris bit his lip; he had forgotten Marie. + +"She will believe what I tell her," he answered at last quietly. +"And if you prefer it I can land you further down the beach away +from the hotel, so that nobody will know we were together. I dare +say I can get in and change my things without being seen." + +She broke out into gushing thanks. + +"I never thought of that! Of course, it will be all Right! Nobody +saw us come out together. I can go in through the garden door." + +"Very well." He did not speak again until they were close in shore. +Then he said: "I can beach her here--you will not mind going back +to the hotel alone?" + +"Oh, no--but, Chris . . . you can't, you simply mustn't tell your +wife." + +He looked up at her with cold eyes. + +"I don't understand you," + +"I know you don't, because you're so nice, so straight. But can't +you see--on your honeymoon! It will look so bad, and I'm sure she +will be jealous. People with dark eyes like hers are always +dreadfully jealous." Her eyes fell before his steady gaze. "She +will hate me," she whispered. "And I don't deserve it--you know +that." + +There was a little silence, then--- + +"Very well," said Chris shortly. "I will not tell her." He waited +till she was safely up the beach, then he pulled out to sea again, +and came ashore lower down. The owner of the boat was not to be +seen, and Chris tied it up securely and ran for the hotel. If only +it had been a dark night, he thought as he ran. The cursed moon +made everything so light; but he got into the garden without being +seen, by keeping well in the shadow of trees and bushes, and had +almost reached the door when he ran right into Feathers. + +Chris swore under his breath. He would have gone on without +speaking, but Feathers caught his arm. + +"Hullo!" And then: "Good Lord, Chris, you're soaking wet. Not +another accident, surely? Who have you pulled out--this time?" + +"Myself. I went out in a skiff and the damned thing upset." + +He told the lie badly and, conscious of the fact, he went on +hurriedly: "Here, I want to change. I'm as cold as blazes. You +needn't say anything to Marie--it will only upset her." + +Feathers stood aside silently and Chris went up to his room. + +He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He had a hot bath +before he got into dry clothes. + +Moonlight might be romantic, and all the rest of it, he told +himself, but a moonlight bath was not exactly pleasant. + +He cursed Mrs. Heriot under his breath and his own folly; he could +not imagine what had possessed him to go out with her; he +congratulated himself for having bluffed Feathers, for he knew +Feathers hated Mrs. Heriot. + +He rang for a hot whisky and went to Marie's room. He could hear +her moving about inside, and tapped at the door. + +"Come in!" + +He turned the handle. He wondered if he could explain things to her +as effectually as he had done to Feathers; somehow he rather +doubted it--Marie had a way of looking into his very soul. + +She still wore the frock she had worn at dinner that night, and was +sitting at the window looking out at the moonlight. + +Chris went forward. + +"Did you think I'd got lost?" he asked lightly. He stood beside +her, leaning his shoulder against the window-frame. + +"Did you play billiards, after all?" Marie asked. She did not +answer his question. + +She was sitting with her back to the light, or he might have seen +the tear-stains on her face. + +"No." He looked away from her and up at the moon with vindictive +eyes. "I took a skiff out and got upset" He laughed awkwardly. + +"Got upset!" Her voice was full of alarm. "Oh, Chris, you might +have been drowned!" + +"When I was born to be hanged?" he queried. "Never, my child; but +it was a cold bath I can tell you. I had to change and make myself +presentable before I came to you. Well--how did you enjoy the +concert?" + +"Very much." She told him a little about it; she had not enjoyed it +a bit; her thoughts had been with him all the time, but she would +have died rather than let him guess it. + +His handsome eyes searched her face; she looked wonderfully sweet +and dainty in the moonlight, and with sudden impulse he stooped and +took her hand. + +"It's a queer sort of honeymoon, Marie Celeste," he said rather +hoarsely. + +He felt the little hand tremble in his and then suddenly lie very +still, but she did not speak, and he went on with an effort to get +away from the something tragic of which he was vaguely conscious. + +"Are you sorry yet that you married me?" + +She shook her head, "Of course not." + +He let her hand go, chilled by her words. + +"There are heaps of other fellows in the world--better than I, who +would have made you happier," he said. + +She laughed at that; a little broken laugh of amusement. + +"There is nobody else I would have married," she said faintly. + +"You say that now, but you're such a kid! In a year or so you'll +think very differently." + +"Perhaps you will, too," she told him with trembling lips. + +Chris laughed scornfully. + +"I! I've never been a woman's man, you know that." + +She did know it, and was glad to know it. It was the one small ray +of hope in her darkness that if he did not love her at least he had +never loved anybody else. + +She gave a long sigh of weariness. + +"You're tired," said Chris, quickly. "I'll go. Don't sit by the +window any more. It's getting cold, and you've got to be careful, +you know." + +"Very well," she said, as she rose obediently, and he drew the +window down. They looked at one another silently, then Chris said: + +"Good-night, Marie Celeste." + +"Good-night." Her voice was almost inaudible, and, moved by some +impulse he could not explain, Chris laid his hands on her +shoulders. + +"Kiss me--will you?" + +She turned her face away sharply. + +"I'd--I'd rather not." + +"Very well. Good-night." + +He went out of the room without another word, and Marie stood where +he had left her, staring helplessly at the closed door. + +He had asked her to kiss him and she had refused--refused, though +her whole heart and soul had longed to say "yes." + +Had she been wrong? She did not know. She had tried so hard all +along to do only the best thing for his happiness, and yet she had +been miserably conscious of the hurt in his face as she turned her +own away. + +Should she go after him and ask him to come back? She longed, yet +feared to go. Perhaps he would only kiss her in the old careless +way as a brother might have done, and it was not that sort of kiss +she wanted. + +Half a loaf is better than no bread! The old proverb floated +mockingly before her. But half a loaf was no good to her, starving +for love as she was; better die, she thought passionately, than +have anything less than all. + +Twice she went to the door and turned the handle, but each time she +came back again to pace the room restlessly. + +He had not really wanted to kiss her, or he would not have asked. +He would have taken it without waiting for so poor a thing as her +permission. Her cheeks burned as she thought of this humiliating +fortnight which people were calling her "honeymoon." + +She had hardly seen Chris--it was Feathers who had been her chief +companion--good, kind Feathers, with his ugly face and his heart of +gold. Did he know, she wondered, what sort of a marriage hers was? +If so, he had never let her guess by word or look that he knew, and +once more she fell back on her old desperate hope. + +"I shall get used to it--I must get used to it." + +She had been married a fortnight now--only fourteen days--but they +seemed like years. The pain had not lessened, and the weary, aching +disappointment was still as keen. + +And sudden revolt rose in her mind. She had as much right to her +happiness as anyone else. After all, what was the use of straining +after the unattainable? Why not take what the gods gave and be +thankful? + +She opened the door again and looked out on to the landing; she +knew that Chris' room was the one next to hers, with a +communicating door which she had locked on her side. + +The outer door was not quite closed now, and she could see a thin +streak of light through the opening. + +She drew the door of her room to behind her and stood there in the +subdued light of the passage, her heart beating fast, her lips +quivering nervously. + +She had put out her hand tremblingly to knock at his door when +suddenly she heard his voice from within, speaking angrily: + +"Look here. I'm not going to be lectured by you and that's final! +The Lord only knows why you've suddenly climbed into the pulpit +like this. If you say you saw me with Mrs. Heriot it's no use +denying it, but it's nothing to do with you, and I'll thank you to +mind your own confounded business. It was an accident that the +skiff drifted away, I tell you! And it's a darned lucky thing I +could swim, or we should have been left on that infernal boat all +night! And then you would have had something to talk about, but as +it is . . ." he broke off, and there followed the angry slamming of +a drawer. + +Then Feathers spoke, quite quietly, and without any anger. + +"It's no use losing your temper, Chris. It was the merest chance +that I happened to see you. As you say, it's no business of mine, +but as Mrs. Heriot is the class of woman she is, I say that you +ought to tell your wife the truth. You can't trust Mrs. Heriot-- +she'll make the devil's own mischief one of these days." + +Chris said "Rot!" with violence. "What do you mean, 'the class of +woman Mrs. Heriot is'?--she's a friend of mine." + +He did not care in the least what Feathers said of Mrs. Heriot, but +the sheer "cussedness" of his nature drove him to defend her; if +Feathers had adopted the other attitude Chris would have veered +round instantly. + +But for once Feathers forgot to be tactful. He was burning with +anger against his friend, more for Marie's sake than for any other +reason; he could not understand the circumstances of this marriage +at all, though little by little he was beginning to see that there +was nothing of real affection about it. + +He said again vehemently: "It's your duty to tell Mrs. Lawless the +truth! Supposing somebody else saw you besides myself? A nice +garbled version of it she might hear! It could be worked up +properly, I can tell you--moonlight night, and you two out there on +an empty yacht, or smack, or whatever it was." + +He laughed cynically. "What the devil you want to knock about with +that woman for, beats me! She's made up, she's bad form, she's +everything objectionable." + +Chris laughed defiantly. He was furious at being hauled over the +coals in such a manner, more especially as Feathers had never made +the slightest attempt to do such a thing before. + +"She amuses me, anyway," he said, violently. "She doesn't bore me +to death, as the rest of her sex do, and you can put that in your +pipe and smoke it." + +The rest of her sex. The words hammered themselves into the numbed +brain of poor little Marie Celeste as she stood there in the +passage, not daring to move. + +The rest of her sex. That included her then--that must include her! +Oh, how could he be so cruel! How could he, when she loved him with +every beat of her heart? + +She crept back into her room, feeling as if her husband's harsh +words had been actual whips, beating her and bruising her. + +He not only did not love her, but he preferred Mrs. Heriot! He had +been out there with her on the moonlit sea, while she . . . Marie +Celeste fell face downwards on the bed, crushing her face into the +pillow so that her broken-hearted sobbing might not penetrate the +locked door and reach her husband's ears. He hated tears so much! +Scenes always made him so angry. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + + + "The new is older than the old + The newest friend is oldest friend in this, + That waiting him we longest grieved to miss + One thing we sought" + + + +MARIE woke in the morning with a bad headache. She would have liked +to stay in bed, but not for the world would she have allowed Mrs. +Heriot the satisfaction of her absence. + +Since her accident she had always had breakfast in her room, but +she dressed early this morning and went downstairs before the first +gong had sounded. + +She had carefully bathed the tear stains from her eyes and powdered +her face; she had put on her prettiest frock and taken great pains +with her hair. Tender-hearted and loyal as she was, Marie was +tremendously proud, and she made up her mind that, if the effort +killed her, she would not allow Mrs. Heriot to imagine that the +incident of last night had made any difference or hurt her in any +way. + +She went in to breakfast before Chris arrived, and he looked at her +in blank astonishment when he sauntered up to the table. + +"Down to breakfast! Couldn't you sleep, Marie?" + +The words were playful, but they hurt his wife inexpressibly, for +they showed that he had not been to her room, as he generally did, +to see how she was. + +She answered him with a little smile. + +"Yes; I'm tired of being an invalid. I've thrown the last bottle of +medicine away." She forced herself to eat a good breakfast, though +she was not in the least hungry, and smiled her sweetest at Mrs. +Heriot, who came in very late. + +Mrs. Heriot's eyes narrowed a little as she returned Marie's +greeting, and a soon as the meal was ended she followed the girl +into the lounge and sat down beside her. + +"Dear Mrs. Lawless, how nice to see you up early again! I do hope +it means that you are stronger!" + +"I think I'm quite well," Marie answered. "And I think it's time I +looked after my husband a little. Poor Chris! I am afraid he has +been very dull." + +She was not afraid of anything of the sort. She knew only too well +that Chris had not missed her in the least, but it gave her a +little throb of satisfaction to see the faint look of annoyance +that crossed Mrs. Heriot's face, as she leaned back in her chair +and twisted the long gold chain with its bunch of dangling charms +which she wore round her neck. Was this chit of a girl going to +attempt to cross swords with her? + +Chris came into the lounge at the moment. + +"Well, what's the programme for to-day?" he asked, cheerily. He was +quite at his ease; he believed that last night's foolishness had +been swept into the rag bag of the past and forgotten; he did not +know enough about women to suspect Mrs. Heriot of malice, or Marie +of capability to deceive him. + +It was Mrs. Heriot who answered. + +"Personally, I'm too worn out to do anything but lounge about," she +said. "And you . . . you look awfully tired yourself, Chris." + +Marie raised her eyes. + +"Well, he had rather a nasty adventure last night, didn't he?" she +said quietly. "What a fortunate thing for you both that he could +swim, wasn't it, Mrs. Heriot?" + +She spoke quite simply and naturally and with just the right shade +of concern in her voice, but her heart was racing at her own +daring. + +Chris turned scarlet to the roots of his hair, and for a moment +there was an embarrassed silence. + +Then Mrs. Heriot said with a little uncertain laugh: "So he told +you! How brave of him! I advised him not to, you know. I thought +after your own dreadful accident it would only unnerve you again." + +Marie laughed. + +"I thought it was a most exciting adventure." she said. "But it +would have been horrid if you had had to stay out there all night, +wouldn't it?" She rose with a little yawn, as if the subject no +longer interested her, and walked over to the open doorway which +led into the garden. + +Chris stood irresolute; he knew that Mrs. Heriot's eyes were upon +him, and he was furious because his crimson flush would not die +down. Mrs. Heriot laughed softly. + +"So you told her then," she said. + +Chris turned on his heel without answering, and followed his wife +into the garden; there were some children playing ball in the +sunshine and Marie was standing watching them with unseeing eyes. + +She knew she had scored, but she felt no triumph--only a dull sort +of misery at having humiliated the man she loved. + +"Marie!" She turned round, the mask of indifference falling once +more upon her face. + +"Yes, what is it?" + +"Who told you about last night?" + +She shook her head. "Nobody." + +But he persisted. "Did Feathers tell you?" + +"Feathers!" she echoed, with quiet scorn. "Do you think that I +should discuss you with him?" + +"Somebody must have told you," he said doggedly. + +Her brown eyes met his sorrowfully. + +"You ought to have told me," she said. + +The color rushed again to his handsome face. + +"I know. I was a fool. I don't know why I went out with her. I hate +the woman. . ." He really thought he did at the moment. "But you +had gone off with Feathers, and it was rottenly dull alone." + +She interrupted very gently. + +"I thought you would prefer to be left alone; you could have come +had you chosen." + +"I know, but . . . oh, dash it all, there isn't any excuse for me, +I know, and you behaved like a brick just now, Marie--letting her +think that you didn't care." + +There was an eloquent silence; then Marie said: "I only let her +think what was the truth! I don't care at all! You are quite free +to do as you like. We agreed that, didn't we? But I think, for your +own sake, it would be better to tell me next time anything like +that happens. I hate Mrs. Heriot to think that you have a secret +with her and from me--it looks bad, Chris." + +He gave an angry exclamation. + +"Secret! It was no secret! You exaggerate when you say that." + +"Do I? Well, I'm sorry." She turned to move away, but he followed. + +"I hope you'll forgive me?" he asked with humility new to him. + +Poor little Marie Celeste! The tears swam traitorously into her +eyes, and she bit her lip. + +"There isn't anything to forgive," she said. "I think, perhaps, we +have both rather exaggerated things." + +They walked along the sea front together, Chris silent and morose, +with a little frown between his eyes. + +Only once before had Marie made him feel ashamed, and that was +years and years ago when he had pushed her out of the loft, and she +had taken the blame and declared that she had fallen through her +own carelessness. + +Chris hated to feel ashamed, and after a moment he broke out again +violently. + +"I should have told you myself, only Mrs. Heriot did not wish it. +She said that people in the hotel would talk, and that she could +not face the scandal. So what could I do?" + +Marie looked at him in utter amazement. Was he as ignorant of women +as all this? But she did not say what was in her mind--that she +believed Mrs. Heriot would welcome notoriety of any sort. + +"We won't talk about it any more," she said, hopelessly. "After +all, you've got a perfect right to choose your own friends." + +"Mrs. Heriot is not a friend. I play golf with her and bridge--that +is all. I never make friends of women." + +She did not contradict him, and they walked on a little way without +speaking; then Marie said suddenly: + +"Chris, don't you think we could go home at the end of the week?" + +"Go home!" he echoed sharply. "You mean--to Aunt Madge?" + +"Yes; I think I'm rather tired of the sea." + +"We'll go to-morrow if you like; I shan't be sorry to leave the +place myself." + +He would have gone that morning in order to escape meeting Mrs. +Heriot again. He was more angry with himself than he was with her, +for it was slowly dawning upon him that he had allowed himself to +be made a fool of, and the feeling was unpleasant. + +"I think it will do if we go at the end of the week," Marie said +quietly. "I will write to Aunt Madge, so that she will be ready for +us." + +Chris frowned. + +"We can't live with Aunt Madge indefinitely," he said at last. "We +shall have to get a place of our own some-where." + +"I know, but for the present she would like to have us." There was +a note of anxiety in Marie's voice. Just now there was nothing she +dreaded more than the thought of living somewhere alone with Chris. + +Once it had seemed the height of bliss. + +"There'll be plenty of money, fortunately," Chris went on. "We +ought to manage to have quite a good time between us, don't you +think?" + +"Yes, I think so." + +"You don't sound very enthusiastic," he complained. "I suppose +you're still thinking about that rotten business last night." + +She did not deny it. + +"Supposing it had been me," she said, after a moment "Supposing I +had gone out there with--with Mr. Dakers, for instance; and the +same thing had happened. What would you have thought?" + +Chris laughed unaffectedly. + +"With old Feathers! Good Lord, you'd have been safe enough with +him!" + +Her face quivered. Would there never be anything she could do or +say that would move him in the slightest? + +"Perhaps that's how I felt about you and Mrs. Heriot," she said +sharply. + +Chris laughed again. + +"Well, I never thought you'd be jealous of her, certainly," he +said. + +She turned on him with flashing eyes. + +"I'm not jealous of her! How dare you say such a thing!" + +"My dear girl"--Chris was utterly amazed--"isn't that what I've +just said--that I didn't think you were jealous of her? What a +little spitfire you are!" + +She had never looked at him like that before, and he was rather +interested to discover that she had got it in her to flare out. + +"What would you like to do to-day?" he asked presently. "We don't +seem to have gone about much, though we've been here nearly three +weeks." + +"I'm quite happy as I am, and it's rather hot to go sight-seeing, +isn't it?" Her voice sounded weary. + +Chris looked at her sharply. + +"You're not feeling so well as you'd like me to believe," he said +suspiciously. + +Marie frowned. + +"If only you wouldn't persist in making me an invalid," she +complained. + +Chris was offended. + +"Oh, very well! It was only for your own good." His face changed a +little. "Here comes Feathers," he added. + +He had not seen his friend that morning, and he was not sure what +sort of a reception he was going to receive, but Feathers behaved +as if nothing had happened. He remarked that it was a lovely +morning and that the sea was warmer than it had been for a month. + +"Have you been in?" Chris asked eagerly. + +"Yes--just come out." + +Chris looked at the sea. + +"I wouldn't mind a dip," he said sententiously. + +"I should have it then," Marie said. "I can stay with Mr. Dakers if +he has nothing better to do." + +Chris looked at his friend. + +"Will you look after her?" he asked, dubiously. + +"Delighted." + +"Right-oh! I shan't be long." Chris turned away. + +Feathers found an empty seat in the shade, and he and Marie sat +down. + +"And we are quite-well-thank-you to-day, I suppose, eh?" he asked +smilingly. "I heard you were down to breakfast, though I did not +see you." + +"Yes--I'm tired of being lazy. Did Mrs. Heriot tell you?" + +"I believe she did." + +Marie smiled. + +"Mrs. Heriot is very angry with me," she said. + +"Why, on earth?" + +"Because of last night." + +"Last night!" He looked away from her guiltily. + +"Yes--about Mrs. Heriot and Chris going out to that fishing boat, I +mean." Her eyes wandered out to sea, to where a group of small +craft bobbed at anchor in the sunlight. + +"Oh! Chris told you, of course." Feathers sounded infinitely +relieved. + +Marie shook her head. + +"No--I heard you quarrelling with him; my room is next to his, you +know! I suppose I ought not to have listened, but . . . well, I +did! It's quite true that listeners never hear anything pleasant, +isn't it? That's the second time I've had it happen to me." + +Feathers tilted his hat over his eyes, and the rest of his ugly +face looked rather grim. + +"I am sorry you overheard," he said constrainedly. "I did get up in +the pulpit a bit, I know! And there was no harm in what had +happened, really." + +She did not speak, and he repeated firmly: + +"There was no harm in it at all, Mrs. Lawless." + +Marie raised her eyes and laughed with a little hysterical catch in +her voice. + +"Oh, surely you're not one of those people who think I am jealous +of Mrs. Heriot?" she asked. + +"Good Lord, no!" He sat up with sudden energy. "Jealous! Of that +woman!" + +Marie gave a long sigh. + +"She thinks I ought to be," she said drearily. "I wonder if she is +right?" + +Feathers looked angry. + +"Of course not. What rubbish! Chris doesn't care for women--I know +for a fact that he's never cared for a woman in his life." + +She nodded; his words were truer than he thought, she told herself, +seeing that Chris did not even care for her. + +"We're going back to London on Saturday," she said, abruptly +changing the subject. + +"Really? That sounds as if you were rather glad." + +"So I am--very glad. I hate this place and everybody in it!" Her +voice, which had risen passionately, broke off, and she turned her +eyes to his face. "No, that is not true," she said impulsively. "I +don't hate you--the only reason I am sorry to be going is because +it will mean leaving you." + +She spoke with unaffected sincerity, and without realizing what her +words might imply, but Feathers' big hands were suddenly clenched +into fists, and there was a curiously strained look about his eyes +as he stared down at the asphalt path. + +"You are very kind," he said, formally. + +"No, it is you who have been kind," she answered. "I don't know +what I should have done without you--" She spread her hands and +laughed. "Yes, I do know; I should have been drowned." + +"I wish you would try and forget all about that." + +"I do try, but I can't! Sometimes I dream about it, and I wake up +crying and struggling, just as if it had all happened again. . . ." +She shivered sensitively, drawing a long breath. + +"Then Chris should have taken you away from the sea long ago," +Feathers said decidedly. + +"He doesn't know . . ." + +"Not know!" Feathers echoed blankly. + +"No . . ." she rushed on, painfully conscious of what he was +thinking. "But we're going on Friday, and then I hope I shall +forget all about it; I think I am sure to, when we are back in +London." + +"Where are you going to stay?" + +"With my aunt; you know her, don't you?" + +"Oh, yes, very well." + +But his voice sounded absent, as if his thoughts were far away. + +"You will come and see us, won't you?" Marie asked anxiously. "You +will come and stay with us when you are back in town, won't you?" + +He looked up with a faint smile. + +"It is kind of you to ask me, but I am not very good company, you +know--I am not an amusing chap like Chris." + +She did not answer, though she could truthfully have said that he +had done more to pass the dreary hours of the last three weeks than +ever Chris had attempted to do. + +"I heard from young Atkins this morning," Feathers said presently. +"He asked very anxiously after you; he is a nice boy." + +"Yes, I liked him; he has written to me once or twice." + +"Really! What does Chris say to that?" + +If the question was asked deliberately it was entirely successful, +for Marie gave a scornful little laugh as she answered: "Oh, he +doesn't know," and once again Feathers echoed her words blankly. + +"Doesn't know, Mrs. Lawless!" + +"No! Oh, I hope you are not one of those old-fashioned people who +think husband and wife should have no secrets from one another," +she broke out with shrill nervousness. "Chris and I are going to be +entirely modern--we agreed that from the first; each to go our own +way, and no questions asked." + +There was a profound silence, then Feathers said rather painfully: + +"That is different from what you told me that morning on the sands, +and again after your accident--you said you were sure that you +could never be a modern wife, that your friend had told you you +ought to have lived in early Victorian days." + +Marie gave a little sigh. + +"You have a good memory," she said hopelessly. "But I suppose we +can all change our minds if we wish!" + +"There is no law against it certainly, but it seems a pity to +change it, and not for the better." + +"You don't like the modern woman?" + +"I despise her," said Feathers vehemently. "Look at the women in +this hotel! They think of nothing but clothes and amusement and +flirtations--there is not one I would cross the room to look at." + +"Present company always excepted, I hope," said Marie with a little +whimsical smile. + +"I don't class you with that sort of woman at all," Feathers said +stolidly. + +"Thank you, Mr. Dakers." + +He moved restlessly, almost as if the conversation bored him, and +Marie rose with nervous haste. + +"I'm afraid I've been talking a lot of nonsense," she said +apologetically. "I wonder if Chris is out of the sea yet." + +They walked to the railings and looked down on to the sands. + +"Shall you stay here long?" she asked, suddenly. "After we have +gone, I mean." + +"I don't know; I haven't made any plans; I'm one of those people +who drift with the tide, and if a wave casts me up on the shore, as +it did when I came here, I just stay until another one comes along +and washes me off again." + +She looked up at him interestedly. + +"I have so often wondered why you came here." she said suddenly. +"You don't like the hotel, or the people, or even the place very +much, do you?" + +"I came here to see you." + +"To see me!" + +"Yes--I wanted to see what sort of a woman Chris had married." + +"And were you very disappointed?" She asked her question with +wistful anxiety, very sure that if he answered it at all it would +be with the truth. + +"Yes, I was disappointed--but agreeably!" he said, smiling. "I +somehow imagined you would be empty-headed and golden-haired-- +perhaps a little older than Chris. I am afraid I thought you would +be the type of woman that Mrs. Heriot is." + +"That is not much of a compliment to him." + +"Perhaps not, but that is what I thought." + +"Are you always as candid as this to everyone, Mr. Dakers?" + +"I am told so--that is partly why I am so unpopular; that and +another reason." + +"What other reason?" + +He smiled grimly, looking down at her. + +"My ugly face," he said. + +She gave an indignant cry of protest. "Oh, you are not ugly! I will +not allow you to say such a thing." + +And she wondered why she had ever thought him ugly when they first +met, and then again, why she no longer thought so. + +"The morning I pulled you out of the water," Feathers said +unemotionally, his eyes fixed on the sea, "a woman in the crowd +made a remark which I shall always remember. What do you think it +was?" + +"How can I guess?" + +"She said 'Beauty and the Beast.'" Feathers laughed. "I suppose I +did look rather like an old man of the sea--wet clothes are not +becoming--to anyone," he added, with an amused memory of the object +Chris had looked in his saturated dress suit. + +"It was a horrible thing to have said!" Marie cried hotly. "She +must have been a detestable woman." + +"Oh, I don't know--I think I rather liked it." + +"Did you? How queer! Why?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Because I am a queer sort of chap, I suppose. I remember a woman +once telling me that I wore the ugliest clothes she had ever seen." +He glanced down at his baggy tweed suit. "Do you know that pleased +me more than it would have done had she told me I was the smartest +man in London." + +Marie laughed. + +"In the story of 'Beauty and the Beast,'" she said, "the Beast +turned out to be a Fairy Prince, you know." + +Feathers moved away from the railings and stood looking down the +crowded promenade. + +"That is a feat beyond me, I am afraid," he said, quietly. "Shall +we go on? Chris will be coming directly." + +They met him almost at once, and turned back to the hotel together. + +"Had a topping bath," Chris said breezily. He looked very fresh and +sunburnt, and his hair had crinkled up into little waves with the +salt water. As a rule he kept it smooth with brilliantine. + +"What have you two been doing?" he asked, looking at his wife. + +"Talking! I have been telling Mr. Dakers that we are going back to +London on Friday." + +"Yes, Marie's had enough of this place and so have I," Chris said. +"Why not come along with us and stay for a bit. Feathers?" + +Feathers was lighting a cigarette, which perhaps was why he did not +answer immediately. + +"Afraid I can't just now, thanks all the same," he said rather +curtly. "Later on, if you'll ask me again, I shall be delisted." + +"Always glad to see you," Chris said. He had quite forgotten the +little upset of last night; unpleasantnesses passed over his head +very quickly, perhaps because real trouble had never knocked at his +door. + +"I tell Marie we shall have to look about for a house," he went on. +"Or perhaps a flat would be better, as it's not such a tie, and I +like going away for week-ends." + +"You'll have to stay at home now you're a married man, old son," +said Feathers chaffingly, though his eyes were serious. "I thought +all Benedicts buried the latchkey before they went to church." + +Chris laughed shortly. + +"You thought wrong then; we're not like ordinary humdrum married +people, are we, Marie Celeste?" he asked, rather maliciously, with +sudden bitter memory of the kiss she had refused him last night. + +She shook her head. + +"No, indeed, we are not, and I hope you haven't buried the +latchkey, because I shall want one, too," she added with an effort. + +Chris laughed and looked triumphantly at his friend. + +"How's that for an up-to-date wife, my boy?" he asked. + +"And a bachelor husband," Marie added deliberately. + +"I should have thought the old way would have been good enough," +Feathers said bluntly. "Excuse me, there's a man I want to speak +to." He struck off across the hotel grounds and left them. + +Chris looked at his wife and laughed. + +"Queer old stick, isn't he?" he asked. + +"He's been very kind to me," Marie answered. + +"He's kind to everybody," Chris agreed. "I hope I shall not lose +sight of him just because I am married." + +"Why should you?" + +"Because he's a confirmed bachelor, and he thought I was; he was +furious with me for getting married." + +"Was he?" + +"Yes, we always knocked about together, you see, and I suppose he +thinks everything will be different now." + +"It need not be," said Marie. + +"No, that's what I tell him," Chris agreed, eagerly. "I told him +you were not an exacting woman; I told him that we had known one +another all our lives." + +There was a little silence. + +"Did you tell him why you married me?" Marie asked. + +Chris flushed. + +"What do you mean? Is it likely?" + +"I thought you might, as--as it was only just a sort of business +arrangement." + +Chris stood still and looked down at her. + +"Do you know that you have altered a great deal lately, Marie +Celeste?" he said. + +She forced herself to look at him. + +"Do you mean my face?" + +He frowned. "Your face--no! I mean in yourself! I was only thinking +this morning that you seem absolutely different to--to the girl you +were that day outside Westminster Abbey?" + +She turned sharply away. + +"Perhaps I am; a great deal has happened since then." + +Chris seemed to be considering the point. + +"Years ago," he said suddenly, "I used to flatter myself that you +were rather fond of me, Marie Celeste." + +She caught her breath, but made no answer, and he persisted, "You +were, weren't you?" + +"Yes--of course I was!" she said desperately. + +"Even up to that last time you went back to Paris I thought the +same," he went on. "You had a funny little way of looking at me, +Marie Celeste--a way I rather liked, I remember." + +"And that made you think I was desperately in love with you?" she +asked, in a hard voice. + +"Well, not desperately in love, perhaps, but I used to think you +had a sort of sneaking affection for me--I was a conceited donkey, +I suppose." + +"I married you--anyway!" she said breathlessly. + +"Yes, and what a marriage," he ejaculated. + +Marie put her hand to her throat as if she were choking. + +"I thought we were getting along well together." + +"Did you? That all depends what you mean by well! I suppose it's +all right, if it suits you." + +She gave a queer little laugh. + +"Chris, you are not trying to pretend that you're in love with me!" +The words seemed forced from her and her heart beat to suffocation +as she waited for his reply. + +It came without a second's hesitation. + +"I suppose I've never been in love with any woman, but if there +ever has been anyone it's been you, Marie Celeste." + +A poor little grain of comfort, and yet it was comfort to know that +nobody else came before her. + +She felt almost happy for the rest of the day; even Feathers +noticed that her eyes were brighter and that there was more color +in her cheeks. + +"This place is doing you good at last, Mrs. Lawless," he said to +her during the evening. "It's the first time I've seen you with a +color." + +She put up her hands to her cheeks, laughingly. + +"And it's my own," she said, "and not out of the box." + +His grave eyes searched her face. + +"Ignoramus as I am, I could have told you that," he answered. + +Mrs. Heriot came rustling up to them; she wore a beautiful evening +gown, cut rather unnecessarily low, and a diamond star glittered on +her white neck. + +"What are you two laughing about?" she demanded. "Mr. Dakers, I +must compliment you. You always seem to be able to make Mrs. +Lawless laugh, and she's such a serious little person as a rule." + +She sat down between them; she always liked to be the center of a +conversation. + +"There'll be no moon to-night," she said suddenly. "It's clouded +over; I think we shall have some rain." + +"It must be badly needed," Feathers said sententiously. + +She made a little grimace. + +"The crops and the farmers want it, I suppose you mean! Do you know +that I've no interest in either of them?" + +"You surprise me," said Feathers gravely. + +She held out her white hand. + +"Give me a cigarette, Mr. Dakers!" She glanced round the lounge. + +"Where is everyone to-night?" she asked plaintively. + +"I think most of the men are in the billiard room," Marie said +hesitatingly; she knew that Chris was--he had asked her permission +first, and the little attention had pleased her, though she knew +quite well that he would have gone, anyway, had he desired to go. + +"I think Mr. Dakers is simply splendid, you know," Mrs. Heriot said +with enthusiasm, when presently he had walked away. "He makes such +a wonderful friend, doesn't he?" + +"He is very kind," Marie agreed frigidly. + +"How you will miss him!" the elder woman went on sympathetically. +"Or is he going back to town with you?" + +"No, he is not going back with us," Marie said. + +Her eyes went across the lounge, to where Feathers stood talking to +some people, and her heart contracted with a sudden fear. + +Yes, she would miss him, she knew! She was afraid to think how +much. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + + + "Time keeps no measure when two friends are parted." + + + +MARIE woke on the Friday morning with the vague feeling that +something unpleasant was going to happen. + +She lay for a moment looking round the room with sleepy eyes, then +suddenly she remembered--they were going back to London! + +She sat up in bed, her dark hair falling about her shoulders, and +stared at her half-packed luggage. + +This was the end of her honeymoon! Nearly a month since she had +been married--a month of bitterness and disappointments, with only +one bright memory attaching to it--her friendship with Feathers. + +And now she was leaving even that behind! She was conscious of a +little shrinking fear as she thought of it. + +Who would help her through the long days when he was not at hand? +She fell back helplessly on her old futile hope. + +"I shall be used to it soon! I must get used to living like this +soon, surely!" + +There would be Aunt Madge, too; It was comforting to think of her, +but Marie did not realize that when she married Chris she had burnt +her boats behind her, and would never again find happiness or +contentment in the simple things that had pleased her before. + +Her heart was heavy as she went downstairs; it was a particularly +beautiful morning, and her eyes were misty with tears as she looked +at the blue sea and the sunlight and realized that to-morrow she +would open her eyes on bricks and mortar and smoky London. + +Yet it had been her own wish to return. She could have stayed on +had she chosen. + +"Good morning," said Feathers beside her. + +She turned quickly, her eyes brightening. + +"Am I down before you? It's generally the other way about?" + +"Yes, I overslept myself. Where's Chris?" + +"I don't think he's up yet." + +There was a little silence. + +"Are you going by the morning train?" Feathers asked presently. + +"No, after lunch, I think; we shall be home about five." + +She looked up at him wistfully. "Have you got a headache?" she +asked in concern. "You look as if you have." + +He laughed. + +"No. I don't indulge in such luxuries, but I didn't sleep +particularly well last night." + +"A guilty conscience?" Marie said, teasingly. + +"Probably." He stepped out into the sunny garden. "Shall we go for +a stroll, as it's your last morning?" + +She followed at once. + +"That sounded so horrid," she said, with a half sigh. "My last +morning! It sounds as if I were going to be executed or something." + +"The last of happy days here, I should have said," Feathers +corrected himself gravely. "I hope it will also be the first of +many and much happier days to come." + +"Thank you." Suddenly she laughed. "Why, it's Friday! I always seem +to choose unlucky days to go to places or do important things. I +was married on Friday, and I came home from Paris after father died +on Friday." + +"Well, it's as good a day as any other." + +She shook her head. + +"Not for me," she said, unthinkingly, then laughed to cover the +admission of her words. + +"I'm superstitious, you see." + +"Absurd!" + +"I know it is, and I never used to be." + +"I don't believe you are now." he declared. + +"What are you looking at?" Marie had stood suddenly still, and was +looking down on the sands. + +The tide was out, and a man and woman were walking along together +close to the water's edge. + +"It's Chris and Mrs. Heriot," Feathers said quietly. "Shall we go +and meet them?" + +He turned towards the steps leading down to the shore, but Marie +did not move. She was very pale, and the look in her eyes cut him +to the heart when he looked at her. + +"I don't think I will--I'd rather go back--they haven't seen us," +she answered. + +She would have turned back the way they had come, but Feathers +resolutely barred the way. + +"Mrs. Lawless, don't you think it would be much wiser to come along +and meet them?" he asked deliberately. + +She raised her troubled eyes to his. + +"I don't want to . . . why need I? Oh, do you think I must?" + +He tried to laugh, as if it were a subject of no importance. + +"Why not? They have probably seen us." + +He could see refusal in her face; then all at once she gave in. + +"Very well." But her steps dragged as she followed him down to the +sands, and her face had not regained its color. + +Feathers was racking his brains for means whereby to disperse the +suspicion which he knew was in her mind. He was cursing Chris with +all his heart, even while he was level-headed enough to guess that +in all probability his friend's meeting with Mrs. Heriot was +entirely one of chance. When they were near enough he called out to +them cheerily: + +"Now, then, you two, it's breakfast time, so hurry! Mrs. Lawless +and I have been right along to the headland." + +It was not the truth, but Marie hardly noticed what he said; she +was trying desperately to recover her composure and face Mrs. +Heriot with a smile. + +They walked back to the hotel, the two men behind. + +"I am so sorry we are leaving, now it has really come to the +point," Marie said. She kept her hands clenched in the pockets of +the little woolly coat she wore; she wondered if the elder woman +could hear the hardness of her voice. + +"I'm ever so sorry, too," Mrs. Heriot said gushingly. "It's the +worst of an hotel, isn't it? As soon as one gets to like people +they leave." + +"One can always meet them again," Marie said deliberately. She was +wondering desperately if Chris had already made some such +arrangement with this woman. + +Mrs. Heriot smiled enigmatically. + +"It so seldom happens, though," she said. "Life is so like that +book, 'Ships that pass in the night,' don't you think?" + +"I haven't read it," Marie said bluntly. + +She hated Mrs. Heriot, hated everything about her--her voice, her +smile, even her clothes--she hated them all; she went straight in +to breakfast without waiting for Chris, and when he joined her she +was quite well aware that his eyes were turned to her again and +again anxiously. + +Directly breakfast was over she turned to go upstairs, but he +Followed. + +"Where are you going, Marie Celeste?" He tried hard to speak +naturally, but he had never felt more uncomfortable in his life; he +knew what Marie must be thinking, and he realized that the only +explanation he could offer of his early walk with Mrs. Heriot was a +very thin one indeed. + +She answered without stopping or looking round. + +"I am going to finish packing." + +"I'll come with you." + +She did not answer, and he followed her up to her room. + +"Why don't you go and have a swim?" she asked then. "It's a pity to +waste the last morning indoors." + +"I will go if you will come with me," he said at once. + +She shook her head. + +"No, thank you; I haven't got the nerve." + +"You'll be perfectly safe with me; I'll look after you." + +She shook her head again. + +"No, thank you." + +She began walking about the room, folding up the few things she had +not already packed and ramming them anyhow into the open trunk. + +Chris watched her for a moment with morose eyes; then all at once +he blurted out: + +"Hang it all! I know what you're thinking, so why don't you say +it?" + +"I don't know what you mean." + +"You do know. Marie, stop walking about and come here." + +"I can't; there's a lot to do, and I'm busy." + +Chris strode across to her, tore the little frock she was folding +from her hands and threw it down on the bed. + +"I hate being treated like this!" he said passionately. "I won't +have it! If you think I arranged to meet that infernal woman, why +the devil can't you say so and have done with it?" + +"I don't care if you arranged to meet her or not." + +He laughed. "You do! I could see in your face at once that you were +angry about it. Come, Marie Celeste, own up!" + +He laid his hand on her arm carelessly, but she flung him off; his +touch seemed to rouse all her pent-up passion and bitterness; her +eyes blazed as she turned and faced him. + +"How many more times am I to tell you that I don't care what you do +or who you spend your time with? You can go out with Mrs. Heriot +all day and every day for all I care. I should stay down here +longer, if I were you; there's no need for you to come home." + +She was trembling in every limb; she leaned against the end of the +bed to steady herself. + +Chris had flushed up to his eyes; he had a hot temper once it was +aroused, as Marie knew, and something in the way in which she +looked at him had roused it now. + +He answered as angrily as she that he should choose his own +friends, and spend his time as he liked; if she thought he was +going to be tied to her apron strings for the rest of his life she +was mistaken; he had been used to having his own way, and he was +going to continue to have it. Having relieved himself of a few more +violent remarks, he calmed down a little, strode over to the window +and flung it wide. + +"Dash it all," he went on presently, more quietly. "It's no worse +than you walking about the whole time with Feathers. I might just +as well cut up rough and forbid you to speak to him, but I'm not +such a fool; I hope I can trust you." He liked the sound of that +last phrase; he thought it exceedingly tactful; he looked round at +his wife with a faint smile. + +He thought he knew her so well--thought he had sounded every depth +and shallow of her nature. All their lives they had had these +little breezes, which had blown over almost at once and been +forgotten. + +He was horrified, therefore, to see Marie standing with her face +buried in her hands, her whole slim body shaking with sobs. + +Chris stood staring at her helplessly. Marie so seldom cried, it +gave him a bad shock to see her so upset--he must have said a great +deal more than he had intended. He flushed with angry shame. + +"Marie--for heaven's sake!" He went to her and put his arms round +her, clumsily, but still with something comforting in their clasp. + +"Don't cry, for God's sake!" he begged agitatedly. "What did I say? +Whatever it was, I didn't mean it--you know that!" He pressed her +head down against his shoulder, keeping his hand on her soft hair. + +"Sorry, Marie Celeste!" he said humbly. "I was a brute; it shall +never happen again." + +She pushed him gently from her, walking away to try and recover +herself. + +"It's all right," she said presently with an effort, her voice +broken by little sobbing breaths. "It's all right. Please go away +and leave me alone." + +She was bitterly ashamed to have broken down before him--he who so +hated tears and a scene. + +She dried her eyes fiercely and tried to laugh. + +"I don't often--cry, you know," she defended herself. + +"I know you don't." Chris ran agitated fingers through his hair. +"It was my fault. I hope you'll forgive me." He followed her and +put an arm round her shoulders. + +"Forgive me and forget it, Marie Celeste, will you?" + +"It's all forgotten." + +He laughed ruefully. + +"You say that, but you don't mean it. And really it wasn't my fault +this morning. I went out early and met Mrs. Heriot on the sands--I +thought she never got up early. I swear to you that it was no fault +of mine. I don't care for the woman. I've told you so, haven't I?" + +"Yes." She could not explain that it was not ordinary jealousy of +Mrs. Heriot that was breaking her heart, but jealousy of the fact +that this woman could prove an amusing companion to him, whereas +she herself was such a failure. The tears came again in spite of +her efforts, and she pressed her hands hard over her eyes in a vain +effort to restrain them. "Oh, if you would only go away!" she +faltered wildly. + +Chris turned away with an impatient sigh; he felt at fault because +of his inability to comfort her; he went downstairs and hunted up +Feathers. + +"Come on out for a walk," he said gruffly. + +Feathers looked up from his paper, saw the frown on his friend's +face and rose. + +"Right-oh! Where is Mrs. Lawless?" + +"Packing." + +"It seems a pity for her not to get all the air she can, as it's +her last morning." + +"I asked her to come out, and she refused." + +They went out together. + +Chris walked along, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched +dejectedly. Feathers was perfectly well aware that something was +wrong, but asked no questions, and presently Chris broke out +wrathfully. + +"What the devil a man wants to get mixed up with women for I'm +hanged if I know." + +Feathers was looking out at the sea, and his face changed a little +as he asked carelessly: + +"Well, who has been getting mixed up with them?" + +"No one in particular that I know of! I simply made a remark." + +"Oh, I see." + +There was a faint sneer in Feathers' voice, and his eyes looked +grim; he knew that if he waited Chris would presently explode +again, and he was right. + +"Marriage," said Chris, with the air of one who has suddenly +lighted upon a great and original discovery, "is a damned awful +gamble, and that's a fact." + +Feathers stopped to knock the ashes from his pipe against a wooden +post. + +"It's not compulsory, anyway," he said quietly. "After all, men +marry to please themselves." + +"Or to please someone else," said Chris with a growl. + +There was a little silence. + +"Or for money," said Feathers deliberately. + +Chris stopped to kick a pebble off the promenade to the sands +below, and he answered his friend gloomily: + +"Nobody but a fool would marry a woman for her money." + +Feathers stared. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it +again with a little snap. + +After all, what use was it to raise an argument? He did not want to +quarrel with Chris, and yet he knew that he had never had a better +reason for so doing. + +"When are you coming back to town?" Chris asked after a moment. + +"Don't know; haven't made up my mind yet." Feathers looked at Chris +quizzically. "Suppose you'll rather drop out of things now, eh?" he +asked. + +Chris stared. + +"Drop out? Good Lord, no!" he flushed angrily. "What do you mean-- +because I happen to have got married?" + +"It generally makes a difference." Feathers said lightly. + +"Not in my case. Marie's a sensible girl--dash it! I've known her +all my life." + +"Yes, that's the trouble." + +"What the deuce do you mean?" + +"I mean that you're rather apt to lose sight of the fact that she's +no longer a kind of sister to you, but a wife," Feathers said +quietly. "Also, I suppose that when you were kids together she +spoilt you like the devil, and it looks as if she means to go on +spoiling you." + +Chris laughed in amusement. + +"Spoils me--Marie spoils me! That's good!" He really thought it +was. Like most men whose chief ambition it is to see that they get +their own way no matter at what inconvenience to others, he was +quite unconscious of the fact; he really thought he was rather an +unselfish man; he certainly considered that perhaps with the +exception of the little scene this morning when he had lost his +temper he had treated Marie rather well. + +"You don't understand women, my dear chap," he said cheerily. + +Feathers looked at him squarely. + +"Do you?" he asked. + +Chris looked rather nonplussed. + +"Well, perhaps I don't," he admitted. "And perhaps I don't want to. +I prefer a man's company any day to a woman's, you know that-- +except Marie's, of course," he added hastily. + +There was a little silence. + +"What do you think of my wife, anyway?" he asked, with a rather +forlorn attempt at jocularity. + +"What do I think of her?" Feathers echoed. "Well--she's all +right," he added lamely. He stopped, and bared his head to the cool +sea breeze. "Hadn't we better turn back?" he asked. + +They strolled back to the hotel together; a perspiring porter was +staggering across the lounge with Marie's luggage. Chris' +portmanteau and suit-case stood already by the door. + +"We're not going till after lunch," Chris said, "They turn you out +of your rooms in a hurry, don't they? I wonder where Marie is?" + +"She's sitting over there in the window." Feathers answered. + +He had seen Marie as soon as they entered the lounge--seen +something in her face, too, that pierced his heart like a knife as +he turned deliberately and walked away from her. + +He had been prepared to dislike Christopher's wife, because he had +thought she would rob him of his friend, but in the last three +weeks something seemed to have played pitch and toss with all his +preconceived ideas of marriage and women. + +He went out into the garden, and stayed there until he knew that +lunch must be almost finished, then he strolled in. + +Chris and his wife were in the lounge, dressed for traveling. Marie +was looking anxiously towards the door as he came slowly forward +and her wistful face lightened as she saw him. + +"Where have you been?" Chris demanded. "We're just off, you old +rotter." + +"I didn't know it was so late." He looked at Marie. "I hope you'll +have a pleasant journey back," he said. The words sounded absurdly +formal and unlike him, and the girl's face flushed in faint +perplexity. + +"Thank you, I hope we shall." + +There was a taxi at the door, piled with luggage; Mrs. Heriot was +close by, dressed in a very smart tweed costume, and with her golf +clubs slung over her shoulder. + +She looked at Chris commiseratingly. + +"You poor dear, going back to smoky old London! Don't you wish you +were coming out on the downs with me?" + +Chris laughed, and held out his hand. + +"Good-by, Mrs. Heriot. Good-by and--what do people say?--until our +next merry meeting!" + +She shook hands with Marie. + +"Good-by, you dear thing, and I'm so glad you're so much better." + +Feathers was standing by the door of the taxi, his rather shabby +slouch hat tilted over his eyes, his hands thrust into his pockets. + +Marie turned to him. + +"Good-by, Mr. Dakers." + +"Good-by, Mrs. Lawless." He shook her hand in his big paw, squeezed +it and let it go, standing back to make room for Chris. + +Several of the hotel visitors who had been rather friendly with +Chris came clustering for a last word. + +"See you in town, old chap--cherio! Don't forget to look me up! +You've got my address." + +The taxi-driver interposed. + +"You ain't got too much time for the train, sir." + +"Right-oh! Good-by." The taxicab wheeled about and out into the +road. A sudden mist blurred Marie's eyes as she turned in her seat +for a last look. She had been unhappy here, and yet--something +within her shrank from the thought of leaving it all behind. She +had grown to dread the future. In her nervous, apprehensive state +she had no hope that this fresh step would be for the better, and +she shrank from further pain and disappointment. + +When the cab had vanished down the road Mrs. Heriot turned to +Feathers. + +"You haven't had any lunch," she said. + +"No, no, I'm not hungry," he said absently. + +He walked away from the door and into the hotel. The lounge was +crowded with people, laughing and chattering together, and as he +passed the inquiry desk he heard one of the clerks say: + +"We shan't have a room vacant for three weeks. I don't remember +when we were so full." + +Was the hotel full! Feathers turned and looked round the crowded +lounge as he went slowly up the stairs to his room; strange that it +seemed more empty and deserted to him than ever before. + + + * * * * * + + +As the train drew slowly out of the station, Chris looked across at +his wife with a rather nervous smile. + +"Well, that's the end of our honeymoon," he said grimly. + +"Yes"--Marie had quite recovered from her breakdown of the morning +and she answered quietly enough--"we've had a good time, haven't +we?" + +"Have we? Opinions differ, I suppose." + +She took no notice. + +"I've never stayed in an hotel before," she went on, "so I suppose +that's why I enjoyed everything so much. It will seem very quiet +with Aunt Madge, won't it?" + +"We need not stay with her." + +"I think we must for a week or two, till something can be +arranged." + +Chris threw down a magazine he had picked up. + +"What sort of arrangement would you like?" he asked. "I want you to +please yourself in every way without considering me." He paused. + +"I've got some rooms at Knightsbridge, you know," he went on +casually. "I'm not at all sure that it wouldn't be a good idea to +keep them on for a while." + +Marie caught her breath with a little stifled sound. + +"Keep them on?" she echoed. + +"Yes--they're only bachelor rooms, but I've had some pretty good +times there, and they might be handy until we can find something +better." + +"Yes." + +"So I don't want you to feel tied at all," he went on. "I want you +to do as you like, you know--have your own friends, and go about! +There isn't any need to worry about money--there's plenty." + +"Yes," she said again stupidly; then, "I suppose father left a +great deal?" + +"He did, yes. I didn't bother you about the will--it wasn't +necessary; but, of course, everything has been properly drawn up." + +"Yes." She was not interested; what did mere money matter? It could +not buy for her the only thing she wanted in the world. + +They seemed to have left the sunshine behind them with the sea, for +as they neared London the sky grew overcast and large raindrops +splashed down and against the windows. + +Marie looked at Chris; the last time she had traveled this way was +when she was summoned from Paris at her father's death. + +So much had happened since then, and yet Chris looked exactly the +same, no older, no sadder, though she felt that she herself was +both. + +"I hope Mr. Dakers will come and see us soon," she said +impulsively. + +Chris laughed + +"I don't suppose he will--he likes a free-and-easy life; he'd hate +it if Aunt Madge expected him to get into dress togs every +evening." + +"Would he?" She felt despondent; she supposed that she could not +expect anyone to wish to come and visit her. + +She thought of her friend, Dorothy Webber, with envy. If only she +had been like Dorothy, full of go and a great sportswoman, Chris +would at least have been pleased to be with her for the sake of +mutual tastes and agreeable companionship. + +It was raining fast when they got to London; a crowd of people had +come up on their train, and it was difficult to get a taxi. + +Chris began to get irritable. + +"Didn't you tell Aunt Madge what time we should arrive?" he asked. +"She might have sent the car." + +"I didn't know what time--you hadn't decided when I wrote," Marie +answered anxiously. "I am sure she would have sent the car if she +had known." + +Chris looked inclined to be sulky. + +"I shall buy one of my own, and be independent." he said with a +frown. + +But they secured a taxi in the end, and Chris slammed the door and +sat down beside his wife with a sigh of relief. + +"I loathe traveling," he said. + +She looked at him in surprise. + +"I thought you liked it; you used to do a great deal before--before +we were married." + +He laughed. + +"Oh, well, a bachelor's travels are rather different to taking a +wife and half a dozen trunks along. It's the luggage that's such a +bother." He sat up with sudden energy. "Marie Celeste, what are you +going to tell Aunt Madge?" + +"What do you mean?" But she knew quite well. + +He avoided her eyes. + +"You know what I mean. I don't want to talk about it, but it's just +as well for us both to tell the same story, or at least not to +contradict one another." + +"I see. Well--I wasn't going to tell her anything. Why should I? +It's nothing to do with Aunt Madge." + +He colored a little. + +"Very well, if that is your wish; and--Marie Celeste?" + +"Yes." + +"I hope you've forgotten about this morning. I lost my temper; I +ought not to have spoken to you as I did." + +"It's all quite forgotten," she assured him steadily. + +His face cleared. + +"That's good; I don't want the old lady to think things are wrong +already." + +Marie almost laughed. Wrong already! He spoke as if the scene in +her room that morning had been the first storm to mar a honeymoon +of otherwise complete happiness. + +Chris let down the window with a run and looked out. + +"Here we are!" he said cheerily. "And there she is at the window." + +He waved his hand to Miss Chester, and turned to see about the +luggage. Marie went on into the house. + +"My darling child!" She was clasped in Miss Chester's arms and +fervently kissed. "How glad I am to see you again! And have you had +a happy time?" + +"Of course we have!" Marie bent to kiss her again to end further +questioning, and they went into the drawing-room together. + +Marie looked round her with sad eyes. It seemed such an eternity +since she was here--such an eternity since that Sunday afternoon +when Chris had asked her to go for a walk with him and the walk had +ended in that never-to-be-forgotten moment outside Westminster +Abbey. + +Then she had looked forward to radiant days of happiness, but she +felt now that ever since she had been going backwards, retreating +from the golden hopes that for a little while had dazzled her eyes. + +Miss Chester was pouring out tea and talking all the time. + +"I have had your rooms all redecorated, Marie, because--though of +course I know you will get a house of your own before long--I like +to think that you will often come here, you and Chris." + +"Yes, dear, thank you." + +Marie tried to speak enthusiastically, but it was a poor little +failure, and Miss Chester looked up quickly, struck by some new +tone in the girl's voice. + +But she made no comment until later on when she and Chris were +alone for a moment, and then she said anxiously: + +"Chris, I don't think you ever told me how very ill Marie was after +that accident in the sea?" + +"How ill?" he echoed. "She wasn't very ill; she had to stay in her +room for a few days of course, but she wasn't really ill. Aunt +Madge. What do you mean?" + +"My dear boy! When she is such a shadow! Why, there is nothing of +her, and her poor little face is all eyes! She looks to me as if +she is recovering from a terrible illness." + +Chris smiled rather uneasily. + +"You're over-anxious," he said. "The doctor assured me that she was +all right, and I think she is. Has she complained about not feeling +well to you?" + +"Oh, no, nothing, but I haven't seen her for a month, and perhaps I +notice the change more than you do. Chris---" He had turned to go, +but stopped when she spoke his name. + +"Yes, Aunt Madge." + +"Come here, Chris." + +He came back reluctantly, and Miss Chester rose from her chair, +and, laying her hands on his shoulders, looked earnestly into his +eyes. + +"There isn't anything wrong, Chris? You're both quite happy?" + +"Of course!" But he, too, bent and kissed her as Marie Celeste had +done to avoid further questioning. + + + +CHAPTER X + + + + "The hour which might have been, yet might not be. + Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore. + Yet whereof life was barren, on what shore + Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea?" + + + +MARIE had only been back in London two days when she realized that, +as far as Chris was concerned, she need expect nothing more than +the casual affection which he had always bestowed upon her. + +He was just the Chris she had always known--selfish and +irresponsible and wholly charming. + +Sometimes she despised herself because, no matter how indifferent +he might be to her, her love in no way lessened. She felt that it +would be much more for her happiness and much more sensible if she +could grow as indifferent to him as he was to her. + +Time after time she told herself that she would not care, that she +would not let him hurt her, but it was useless. The first cold +glance, the first small act of neglect, and the old wound ached +afresh. + +Her greatest fear was that Miss Chester would know the real state +of things. When she was present Marie always exerted every nerve to +appear bright and happy; she went out of her way to talk to Chris. +She was determined that the old lady should believe they had had a +thoroughly good time and were perfectly happy. + +She did not understand that eyes that appear woefully blind can +often see the clearest. Miss Chester had long ago discovered for +herself that this marriage, like many others she had seen during +her life, was turning out a failure. + +She was too wise to let either of them know of her discovery, but +she shed many tears over it in secret and lay awake night after +night wondering what she could do to help and put things right, but +realizing that she could do absolutely nothing. + +Interference would make things worse. She understood thoroughly the +different temperaments with which she had to contend; she knew just +how proud Marie was, just how obstinate Chris could be. She could +only wait and hope with a trembling heart. + +Chris seemed to have drifted back to his bachelor days; he came and +went as he chose, and he said no more about looking for a house +wherein he and Marie might make their home. + +Miss Chester spoke of it once to Marie. + +"My dear, don't you think you should be looking about for a house +of your own? I love you to be with me, but I am sure that Chris +must want his own home--it's only natural." + +"I think Chris is quite happy, Aunt Madge," Marie answered, in the +too quiet voice in which she always spoke to Miss Chester. + +"Quite happy! But what about you?" the old lady asked indignantly. +"Every wife wants her own home; it's only natural, and there's +plenty of money for you to have a delightful home." + +"Money again!" Marie thought wearily. What great store everyone +seemed to set by it! + +Chris had opened a banking account for her, and told her to draw +what she wanted and amuse herself; but Marie had not yet learnt the +value of money, and beyond spending a few pounds on clothes and +odds and ends she had not touched it. + +He had given her a diamond engagement ring and another beautiful +ring when they were married. One afternoon when they were lunching +alone. Miss Chester being absent, he said to Marie suddenly: + +"Wouldn't you like a pearl necklace or something?" The vagueness of +the question made her smile; there was something so boyish about +it, so very like the Chris she had known years ago. + +"I should if you think I ought to have one," she answered. + +"I don't know about 'ought to,'" he said, dubiously. "But other +women have trinkets and things, and pearls would suit you, you're +so dark! We'll go out this afternoon and look at some, shall we?" + +She flushed with pleasure; it was so seldom that Chris suggested +taking her anywhere. She ran upstairs to dress, feeling almost +happy; she was so easily influenced by Chris--a kind word or +thought from him kept her content for days, just as a cross word or +an act of indifference carried her down to the depths of despair. + +It was a sunny afternoon, and a heavy shower of rain overnight had +washed the smoky face of London clean and left it with a wonderful +touch of brightness. + +"Are we going in the car?" Marie asked, and was glad when Chris +said that he would rather walk if she did not mind. + +They set off together happily enough. It was on occasions like this +that Marie tried to cheat herself into the belief that Chris did +care for her a little after all, and that it was only his awkward +self-consciousness that prevented him from letting her know of it-- +a happy illusion while it lasted! + +It was after they had bought the necklace--a charming double row of +beautiful pearls--and were having tea that Chris said suddenly: +"Marie Celeste, why don't you go about more and enjoy yourself?" + +She looked up with startled eyes. + +"Go about!" she echoed quietly. "Do you mean by myself?" + +He did not seem to hear the underlying imputation, and answered +quite naturally: "No, can't you make friends or ask some people to +stay with you? You must have friends." + +The color rushed to her face. + +"I had some friends at school," she answered, "but not many. I +don't think I was very popular. There's Dorothy Webber---" + +"Well, why not ask her to stay with you?" + +There was a little silence. + +"I don't think I want her," Marie said slowly. Dorothy Webber and +Mrs. Heriot had always somehow gone together in her mind; they were +both essentially men's women--very gay and companionable--and +though she would not have admitted it for the world, Marie did not +want Chris to meet Dorothy Webber. + +"Oh, well, if you don't want her, of course that alters things," he +said with a shrug. "But it seems a pity not to have a better time, +Marie Celeste! Most women with your money would be setting the +Thames on fire." + +"Would they? What would they do?" + +He looked nonplussed. + +"Well, they'd go to theatres and dances, and play cards, and things +like that," he explained vaguely. "I don't know much about women, +but I do know that not many of them stay at home as much as you +do." + +She sat silent for a moment, then she said: "You mean that it would +please you if--if I was more like other women?" + +He laughed apologetically. "Well, I should feel happier about you," +he admitted awkwardly. "It's not natural for a girl of your age to +stick at home so much. Time enough in another thirty years." + +"Yes." Marie remembered with a little ache the kindly warning which +Feathers had several times tried to give her. + +"Chris wants a woman who can be a pal to him--to go in for things +that he likes--and you could, if you chose to try!" He had said +just those words to her many times, and though in her heart she had +always known that the first part of them was true, she felt herself +utterly incapable of following his advice. + +If she had loved Chris less it would have been far easier for her, +but as it was, she was always fearful of annoying him, or of +wearying him with her attempts to be what he wanted. + +"There's no need to stay in town all the autumn, either," Chris +went on, after a moment. "Why not go down to the country, or to +somewhere you've never been? There must be heaps of places you know +nothing about, Marie Celeste." + +She laughed at that. + +"Why, I've never been anywhere, except to school in France, and to +Brighton or Bournemouth for summer holidays." + +Chris lit a cigarette. + +"If you could get a friend to go with you, there's no reason why +you shouldn't go to Wales or Ireland," he said, his eyes bent on +his task. + +Marie stared at him; she could feel the color receding from her +cheeks. So he did not mean to take her himself! + +She became conscious that she had been sitting there dumbly for +many minutes; she roused herself with an effort. + +"Perhaps I will--later on," she said. + +The pearl necklace of which she had been so proud a moment ago felt +like a leaden weight on her throat. She wondered hopelessly what he +was going to say next, and once again the little streak of +happiness that had touched her heart faded and died away. + +And then all at once she seemed to understand; perhaps the steady +way in which he kept his eyes averted from her told her a good +deal, or perhaps little Marie Celeste was growing wise, for she +leaned towards him and said rather breathlessly trying to smile: + +"You are very anxious to dispose of me! Why don't you find a friend +and go away for the autumn too?" + +She waited in an agony for his reply, and it seemed a lifetime till +it came. + +"Well, Aston Knight said something about it when I saw him last +night. You remember Aston Knight?" + +Marie nodded; she remembered him, as she remembered everything else +to do with her fateful wedding. He had been best man because +Feathers had refused. + +"What did he say?" she asked with dry lips. + +"Oh, nothing!" Chris spoke as if it were a matter of no +consequence. "We haven't arranged anything, but he asked me to run +up to St. Andrews with him later on for some golf. You don't care +for golf, I know, and I shouldn't care to go unless you were having +a good time somewhere, too . . ." + +She did not care for golf. It was clever of him to put it that way, +she thought, as she answered bravely: + +"Well, why don't you go? You would enjoy it." + +He looked at her for the first time, and there was a vague sort of +discomfort in his handsome eyes. + +"You're sure you don't mind?" + +"Mind!" Marie almost laughed. What difference would it make if she +told him that she hated the idea of his going away from her more +than anything in the world. "Of course I don't mind; I should +certainly arrange to go. I thought we agreed that we were each to +go our own way?" + +"I know we did, but I thought . . . well, if you are quite sure you +don't mind." + +"Quite sure." There was a little pause. "Perhaps Mr. Dakers will +go, too," she hazarded. + +"Yes, probably, I should think. I heard from him this morning." + +"And is he still away?" + +"Yes; he asked if we had made any plans for the autumn." + +She noticed the little pronoun, and her heart warmed; she knew that +Feathers at least--with all his contempt for women and marriage-- +would not leave her out of a scheme of things that concerned Chris. + +She looked at her husband, and her throat ached with tears, which +she had kept pent up in her heart for so long now. + +She was sure that Chris could always tell when she had been crying, +and she was sure that it made him a little colder to her, a little +less considerate. + +She loved him so much! Even the little line between his brows, +which was the result of his habit of frowning, was beautiful to +her; she still thought him the handsomest man in the world. + +She would have loved to go to St. Andrews with him; she knew Chris +had been before for golf many times, and the very name conjured up +visions of his old tweed coat and the thick low-heeled shoes he +always wore when he played, and she wished with all her heart that +she had the courage to ask him to take her. + +She had never been to Scotland, but the very mention of it seemed +to speak of wide stretches of moorland and purple heather and the +cool fresh mountain air. + +She moved restlessly, and Chris looked up. + +"Shall we go?" + +"Yes, I am ready." + +They went out into the street Marie knew now why he had brought her +out this afternoon, why he had suggested that pearl necklace; it +was a kind of offering in exchange for his freedom for the next few +weeks. + +She supposed that most women would have acted differently; would +have refused to be left at home--would have cried and made a scene; +but the heart of Marie Celeste felt like a well from which all the +tears have been drawn. + +Let him go! What use to try and keep him an unwilling prisoner? + +She passed a sleepless night turning things over in her tired mind, +trying to find a way out of the entanglement which seemed to grow +with every passing day. + +Surely there must be some way out that was not too unhappy! Surely +there must be women in the world sufficiently clever to do what +hitherto she had failed to do! + +In the end she decided to write to Dorothy Webber. After all, they +had been good friends, and it would be pleasant to see her again. +She wrote the following morning, and asked Dorothy to come to +London. "Chris is going away," she wrote. "So I would love to have +you for company. Shall we go to Wales or Ireland for a little +trip?" + +She asked the question, parrot-like, in obedience to her husband's +suggestion, not in the very least because she wished to leave +London, or to visit any place. Wales or Ireland might have been +Timbuctoo or Honolulu for all she cared. + +She told Miss Chester what she had done. + +"I knew you would not mind, dear," she added. + +Miss Chester was pleased, and said so. + +"I have often thought how well Chris and Dorothy would get on +together," she said innocently. "They are very much alike in their +love of sport." + +Marie bit her lip. + +"Chris is going away to Scotland," she said, "golfing with Aston +Knight and Mr. Dakers." + +Miss Chester dropped her knitting. + +"Then, my dear child, pray go with him! Mountain air is just what +you want to put some color into those pale cheeks. If it is for my +sake that you are staying I beg of you to go; I will speak to Chris +myself." + +Marie laughed nervously. + +"I don't want to go--I hate long railway journeys. You know I do. I +would much rather stay here. Auntie, it's really the truth!" + +Miss Chester took a good deal of persuading, but finally gave in. +"I don't like the idea of husband and wife being separated when +there is no need for it," she said in a troubled voice, but Marie +only laughed as she bent and kissed her. + +"You need not worry about that," she said. "Think how pleased we +shall be to see him when he comes home." + +She waited anxiously for Dorothy's reply to her letter, which came +two days later. + +"I should have loved to come," so she wrote, "but only the day +before I got your letter I accepted another invitation, but if you +will ask me again later on, Marie, I'll be there like a bird." + +Marie's first feeling was one of relief that Chris would not meet +her, after all, but the next moment she was despising herself for +the thought. How could she be so petty and jealous? And, besides, +it would have been less lonely--Dorothy was always good company. + +She told Chris of Dorothy's letter, but he seemed unimpressed. + +"Well, I should ask her later on," he said casually. + +"Yes, I will. Have you fixed anything up yet?" + +"Yes--at least, Knight is doing all the arranging. Feathers is +coming along, and another man, and that boy Atkins wanted to butt +in, but I shall choke him off. He's such a kid, and besides"--he +looked at her with his little frown--"I've not forgotten that he +nearly drowned you." + +"How absurd!" But the pleased color flew to her cheeks. Perhaps he +had cared, after all, when he so nearly lost her. + +"And--when are you going?" she asked hesitatingly. + +Chris yawned. + +"At the end of the week, I think--Friday." + +Friday again! A little shiver of apprehension swept through Marie's +heart. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + + + "You went away-- + The sun was warm--the world was gay; + My heart was sad, because although + I bade you stay you did not so! + But went away . . ." + + + +CHRIS went on the Friday, and for days beforehand he was like a +schoolboy going off for an unexpected holiday. + +He packed his things long before they would be needed, and unpacked +them again because he wanted to use them; he took stacks of clothes +and golf sticks and a brand-new fishing-rod, which he put together +for Marie's benefit, showing her how perfectly it was made and +telling her what sport he hoped to have with it. + +Marie tried to be enthusiastic and failed; once long ago she had +stood on a river bank with Chris and watched him play a trout, +finally landing the silvery thing on the grassy bank, where it lay +and gasped in the burning sunshine before he mercifully killed it +with a stone. + +She had hated the sport ever since--it had seemed so cruel, she +thought. + +In a moment of bravado she had once dared to say so to him, and had +never forgotten the stony look of disapproval with which he +regarded her. + +"Cruel!" he echoed scathingly. "How In the world do you suppose +fish are caught, then? You seem to like them for breakfast, +anyway." + +She knew that was true enough, but to see them served up cooked and +inanimate was one thing, and to see them dragged from the clear +depths of a river to gasp life away on the bank quite another. + +Chris put the new rod away rather offendedly. + +"Of course, you don't care for sport," he said, "I forgot." + +That hurt more than anything, especially as she knew that either +Dorothy Webber or Mrs. Heriot would have thoroughly entered into a +discussion with him upon the merits of bait and the various catches +he had successfully landed. + +Marie did her best during those last few days, but all her efforts +went singularly unrewarded. + +Chris was too engrossed in his preparations to take much notice of +her, though once he brought her the old tweed coat to have a button +sewn on, and once he asked diffidently if she would mind marking +some new handkerchiefs for him. + +Marie did both little services with passionate gratitude to him for +having asked her. During the last day she followed him round the +house just as she had been wont to do when they were both children +and he had come home for the holidays. + +She ran errands for him, and did all the odd jobs which he did not +want to do for himself, and at the last, when his fattest +portmanteau would not close, she sat on the top of it to try and +coax it to behave. + +Chris was kneeling on the floor in his shirt sleeves, tugging at +the straps and swearing under his breath. He looked up at her once +to say what a pity it was she did not weigh more, but there was a +smile in his eyes. "You're such a kid," he said affectionately. + +But he managed to fasten the bag at last, and stood up, hot and +perspiring. + +"You've got my address, haven't you?" he asked, looking round his +dismantled room. "Write if you want anything, and I'll send you +some postcards. You've got plenty of money in the bank, and there's +heaps more when that's gone. Have a good time." + +"Yes," said Marie, and wondered if he would be very contemptuous if +she told him that it felt like dying to know that he was going away +and that she was to be left behind. + +He had a last hurried lunch with her and Miss Chester, during +which he looked at his watch almost every minute, and hoped that +the taxi would not forget to come. + +"You could have had the car, Chris," Miss Chester said, but Chris +replied that it was not worth while and that a taxi would do. + +He went out in the hall to have a last look at his luggage and make +sure that nothing was forgotten, and Marie ran up to her room. + +She stood there with clenched hands and lips firmly set; she was +dreadfully afraid that she was going to cry and disgrace herself +forever, and then what a memory Chris would have of her to carry +away with him! She heard the taxi come up to the door, and the +sound of the luggage being taken out, then Chris came running +upstairs calling to her. + +"Yes--here I am." + +He came into the room in his overcoat; she had not seen him look so +young or happy for weeks, and it gave her another pang to realize +that he was quite pleased to be leaving her behind. + +"I'm just off," he said. He came up to her and put his arm round +her waist "Take care of yourself, Marie Celeste." + +"Oh, yes." He turned her face upwards with a careless hand and +kissed her cheek. "I'll send you a wire as soon as we get there." + +"Yes." She stood quite impassively beside him, and then as he would +have moved away she suddenly turned and put her arms round his +neck. + +"I hope you will have a very good time, Chris," she said, and for +the first time since their marriage kissed him of her own accord. + +The hot color flew to Chris' face; she had always been so cold and +unemotional that this impulsive embrace embarrassed him. + +For a moment he looked at her wonderingly, then he asked: + +"Why did you do that, Marie Celeste?" + +She forced a little laugh. + +"Because you're going away, of course." + +"Oh, I see--well, good-by." + +"Good-by." But still he hesitated before he turned to the door, but +she did not speak, and he went on and downstairs again. + +Marie went over to the window. There were tears in her eyes, but it +did not matter now that Chris had gone. She pulled the curtain +aside and looked down into the street. + +What a heap of luggage he had taken! And she remembered how he had +once said that he disliked traveling with a woman because she +always took such quantities of baggage! + +Then Chris came out of the house and got into the taxi. He slammed +the door, and she heard him speak to the driver, and the next +moment the taxicab had wheeled about and gone. + +She let the curtain fall and looked round the room. How quickly +things happened! A moment ago and she had stood here with his arms +about her, and now he had gone--for how long she did not know. + +When she had asked him he had answered vaguely that it all depended +on the weather, but that he would let her know. + +"A fortnight?" she hazarded timidly, and he had answered, "About +that, I expect." + +She went through the dividing door to his deserted room. It was all +upside down as he had left it, and strewn with things he had +discarded at the last moment. + +It almost seemed as if he had died and would never come back, she +thought drearily, then tried to laugh. + +After all, there was nothing so strange in his going away for a +holiday with his friends; she knew she would not have minded at all +had things been all right between them. It was just this dreadful +feeling that, although she was his wife, she held no place in his +life, that made trivialities a tragedy. She did not count--he could +give her a careless kiss just as he had done years ago when he came +home from Cambridge or went back again, and walk out of the house +without a single regret. + +She wondered what Feathers thought about it all, and her heart +warmed at the memory of him--kind, ugly Feathers! She wished she +could see him again. + +She did her best to be cheerful during the days that followed, but +it was uphill work. After the first telegram she heard but seldom +from Chris. The weather was topping--so he wrote on a postcard, and +they were having splendid golf. + +He never mentioned Feathers, or spoke of coming home, and it seemed +to Marie as if he and she were in different worlds. + +That he could enjoy himself and be quite happy without her seemed +an impossibility when she was so miserable and restless. + +Then one morning she ran across young Atkins in Regent Street. She +would have passed him without recognition but that he stopped and +spoke her name. + +"Mrs. Lawless!" He was unfeignedly delighted to see her. He +insisted on her lunching with him. + +"I've thought about you ever since we said good-by," he declared. +"I've often longed to call, but did not like to." + +She laughed at his eagerness. + +"Why ever not? I gave you my address. I should have been awfully +pleased to see you." + +"Really! It's topping of you to say so, but I don't think Chris +would have been exactly tickled to death! He never forgave me for +nearly drowning you, you know." + +"Nonsense! And, besides, you didn't nearly drown me. It was my own +fault," she laughed suddenly. "You know I never gave you that +promised box of cigarettes. Don't you remember that we had a bet of +a box of chocolates against a box of cigarettes? Well--you won." + +She was delighted to see him again; he was very young and cheerful, +and quite open in his adoration of her. + +Nobody had ever looked at Marie with quite such worshipful eyes, +and though she knew it was just a boy's absurd fancy, she was +grateful to him for it. + +They had a merry lunch together, and afterwards Marie took him back +to see Miss Chester. + +"I thought you were going to Scotland with Chris and Mr. Dakers," +she said as they walked home. + +"So I wanted to, but they didn't seem exactly keen, and besides--I +don't care about Aston Knight, you know--awful ass, I think." + +"I don't think I like him very much, either," Marie admitted +reluctantly. "And anyway I'm glad you didn't go---" She smiled into +his beaming face. "Perhaps we could go to some theatres together." + +"Could we? By jove, that would be ripping! I say, it's an awful +piece of luck running across you like this, you know." + +Miss Chester liked young Atkins. She thought him a very charming +boy, she told Marie when, at last, he took a reluctant departure, +arranging to call again next day. + +"He is a friend of Chris', you say?" + +"Yes--we met him when we were away." + +"A very nice boy--a thorough gentleman," Miss Chester said +complacently. "I hope he will call often." + +Marie laughed. + +"I am sure he will with the least encouragement." she said. + +He had done her good, and she quite looked forward to seeing him +again. She wrote to Chris that night and told him of their meeting. + +"It was quite by chance, but I was very pleased to see him, and we +are going to a theater together to-morrow." + +She knew that all her letters to Chris were stiff and +uninteresting, but she was in constant dread of letting him read +between the lines and guess how unhappy she was. For his benefit +she often manufactured stories of things she was supposed to have +done and entertainments she had visited. + +He should not think she was moping or wanted him back. She would do +without him if he could do without her. + +Young Atkins got tickets for the most absurd farce in town, and he +and Marie laughed till they cried over it. + +Marie had only been to the theater half a dozen times in her life, +and then always to performances of Shakespeare or some other +classic. She told him quite frankly that she did not know when she +had enjoyed herself so much. They went on to Bond Street together +afterwards and ate an enormous tea. + +Although she was reluctant to admit it to herself, Marie knew that +she had enjoyed herself far more with young Atkins than she had +done that afternoon with Chris when he bought the pearls. She put +up her hand with a little feeling of guilt to the necklace, which +she was wearing. Young Atkins noticed the little gesture. + +"Are they real?" he asked. + +"Yes, Chris gave them to me." + +"Mind you, don't lose them--they must be worth an awful lot. + +"They are, rather a lot." + +She assented listlessly, knowing that their value was nothing to +her. + +He drew his chair a little nearer to hers. + +"When shall we go out together again?" + +"When you like--I can go on Saturday if you care about it." + +He pulled a long face. + +"Saturday! Why, that's another three days." + +"Well, we can't go every day," she protested, laughing. "Besides, +don't you have to work?" + +"Yes, I'm in the guv'nor's office, but he's away to-day, so I took +French leave." + +"What will he say?" + +"He won't know, and I don't care if he does; it's been worth it!" + +He was silent for a moment, then broke out again: "My guv'nor's an +old pig, you know; he's worth pots of money, but he won't do a +thing for me. I hate an indoor job; I wanted to go to sea, but no! +He drove me into his beastly office, and I loathe it." + +"What a shame!" + +"Yes." He laughed with his old lightheartedness. "I don't see why +we're bound to have fathers," he submitted comically. + +"Well--we'll go to another theater on Saturday," Marie consoled +him. "Saturday is a half-day holiday for everybody, isn't it?" + +"Yes--till Saturday, then." + +He wrung her hand so hard at parting that her fingers felt quite +dead for some seconds afterwards, but she had really enjoyed +herself, and looked after young Atkins gratefully as he strode off +down the street. + +"There's a letter from Chris," Miss Chester said, as Marie entered +the room. Her quick eyes noticed the color that rushed to her +niece's cheeks. "Over there on the mantelshelf." + +Marie took the treasure upstairs to read. She sat down on the side +of the bed and broke open the envelope with trembling hands. She +had not heard from him now for three days; she wondered if this was +to say that he was coming home. + +"Dear Marie Celeste,--Hope you are well--I have had no letter from +you since the end of last week. The weather has changed a bit up +here, and we have had some rain. Feathers sent you a box of heather +this morning; I don't suppose you'll care much for it, but he +insisted on sending it. By the way, a curious thing happened +yesterday. We were at the third hole, and there were some girls on +the green in front of us. One of them had lost a ball and I found +it, so we talked, and who do you think she turned out to be? Why, +your friend, Dorothy Webber! It's a coincidence, isn't it? You +never told me she was such a fine player. I've got a match with her +this afternoon. She sent her love to you. I hope you are having a +good time. I've got as brown as coffee since I came up here--being +out-of-doors all day, I suppose. By the way, if you look in my room +you'll find a box of new golf balls. You might send them up to me. +I will write again soon.--Yours affectionately, Chris." + +So he had met Dorothy Webber after all. Marie Celeste's heart felt +as cold as a stone as she sat there with Chris' scrappy letter in +her hand. + +He was up there in Scotland, amongst the heather and the mountains, +quite happy and contented, whilst she . . . Her eyes fell again to +his hurried scribble. + +". . . Feathers sent you a box of heather this morning . . ." + +Kind, ugly Feathers! He, at least, had not forgotten her. + +During the days that followed Marie suffered tortures of jealousy. +Her overstrained imagination exaggerated things cruelly. She began +to sleep badly, and a defiant look grew in her brown eyes. She +encouraged young Atkins so openly that at last even Miss Chester +was moved to remonstrate gently. + +"My dear, I am afraid that nice boy is getting a little too fond of +you?" + +"Is he?" Marie laughed. "He's only a boy," she said carelessly. + +Miss Chester looked pained. + +"Boys have hearts as well as grown men," she said gently. + +"More, sometimes," Marie answered flippantly. + +But she knew that Miss Chester was right. She knew that lately +there was a different light in young Atkins' eyes and a strange +quality in his voice whenever he spoke to her. + +Sometimes she was sorry--sometimes she told herself that she did +not care! Why should she be the only one to suffer? + +"He can't love me--really," she told herself fretfully, when +conscience spoke more loudly than usual, reproaching her. "He has +always known I am married--he would never be so silly as to fall in +love with a married woman." Then she would shed bitter tears as she +thought of the farce her marriage had been, and long with all her +soul for someone to love her--not a boy, as young Atkins was, but a +man to whom she could look up, a man who would see that the +pathways ran as smoothly as possible for her tired feet. + +Often the temptation came to her to write and ask Chris to come +home. He had been away three weeks now, and she knew that Miss +Chester was wondering about it all and worrying silently. + +After all, she was his wife, and it was his duty to be with her! So +Marie argued sometimes, knowing all the time that she would rather +die than ask anything of him which he would only grant unwillingly. + +The big box of heather had arrived from Feathers, and as Marie +buried her face in it and closed her eyes she seemed to breathe the +keen mountain air that had swept it on the Scotch moors and feel +the soft, springy turf beneath her feet. + +Oh, to be there with Chris!--to pass the long hours of the fading +summer days with him and be happy! + +She wrote a little note to Feathers and thanked him. + +"It was kind of you to think of me. I have never been to Scotland, +but the smell of the heather seemed to show it to me as plainly as +if I could really see it all. You have never found any white +heather, I suppose? If you do, please send me a little piece for +luck." + +She had no real belief in luck--it had long since passed her by, +she was sure--but a day or so later a tiny parcel arrived +containing a little bunch of white heather, smelling strongly of +cigarettes--for a cigarette box had been the only one Feathers +could find in which to pack it. + +He had got up with the dawn the day after her note reached him and +searched the country for miles to find the thing for which she had +asked him. + +Marie slept with it under her pillow and carried it in her frock by +day; a sort of shyness prevented her from showing it to Miss +Chester, though once she asked her about it. + +"Aunt Madge, are you superstitious?" + +Miss Chester looked up and smiled. + +"I used to be years ago," she admitted. "I used to bow to every +sweep I met and refuse to sit down thirteen at a table." + +"Is that all?" Marie asked. + +Miss Chester stifled a little sigh. + +"Well, I once wore a piece of white heather round my neck night and +day for two years," she said after a moment. "It was given to me by +the man I should have married if he had lived. But the white +heather brought me no luck, for he was drowned at sea when he was +on his way home for our wedding." + +Marie's face hardened a little. + +"There is no such thing as luck." she said. + +"I know a better word for it." Miss Chester answered gently. "I +mean Fate. I think each one of us has his or her fate mapped out, +and that it always happens for the best, though we may not think +so." + +There was a little silence. + +"I wonder!" Marie said sadly. + +But she still wore the white heather. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + + + "When two friends meet in adverse hour, + 'Tis like a sunbeam through a shower, + A watery ray an instant seen + And darkly closing clouds between." + + + +MARIE was alone at home one afternoon when young Atkins called. + +It was Sunday, and Miss Chester had motored out into the country to +see a friend who was sick. + +Perhaps young Atkins knew this, for, at any rate there was a look +of determination about him as he walked into the drawing-room, +where Marie was pretending to read and trying to prevent herself +from writing to Chris. + +A moment ago she had been feeling desperately lonely, and longing +for someone to come in, but a queer sort of fear came to her as she +looked into young Atkins' eyes. + +He was rather pale, and this afternoon the boyishness seemed to +have been wiped out of his face by an older, graver look. + +"Won't you have some tea?" she asked him. "I've had mine, but we +will soon get some more for you." + +No, he would not have tea. He sat down only to get up again +immediately and walk restlessly about the room. + +Marie watched him nervously. + +"Shall we go for a walk?" she asked with sudden inspiration. "I +have not been out all day. Do let us go for a walk." + +He hardly seemed to hear. He had taken up a cigarette case +belonging to Chris, and was opening and shutting it with nervous +aimlessness. + +Suddenly he asked abruptly: + +"When is Chris coming home?" + +Marie caught her breath sharply. + +"I was never good at riddles," she said in a hard voice. + +There was a moment's silence, then he flung the cigarette case +down, and, turning, came over to where she stood and caught her in +his arms--such strong young arms they were, which there was no +resisting. + +"I love you," he said desperately. "I think I've always loved you, +and I can't bear it any longer. If Chris doesn't care for you, what +did he want to marry you for? It was cheating some other poor devil +out of Paradise . . . Marie--I know you think I'm only a boy, but +I'd die for you this minute if it would make you happy; I'd . . . +oh, my darling, don't cry." + +Marie had made no attempt to free herself from his clasp. She was +standing in the circle of his arms, her head averted, and the big +tears running slowly down her cheeks. + +She put up her hand to brush them away when she heard the distress +in his voice. + +"I'm all right--oh, please, if you wouldn't!" for he had caught her +hand and was kissing it passionately. + +He went on pleading, praying, imploring, in his boy's voice; for he +was very sincere, and he had suffered more for her sake and the +neglect which he knew she was receiving from Chris than from the +hopelessness of his own cause. + +He would make her so happy, he said; they would go away together +abroad somewhere. He hadn't got any money--at least, only a little-- +but he'd work like the very deuce if he had her to work for. + +She put her hand over his lips then to silence him. + +"Tommy, dear, don't!" + +His name was not Tommy, but everybody had called him Tommy for so +long because it seemed to go naturally with his surname that now he +had almost forgotten what he had really been christened, but it +sounded sweet from Marie's lips, and he kissed passionately the +little hand that would have silenced his pleading. + +"I love you--I love you!" he said again. + +She shook her head. She knew that she ought to have been angry with +him, but there was something very comforting to her sore heart in +this boy's love. + +"It's no good. Tommy," she said gently, "and you know it isn't. +Even if I cared for you--and I don't, not in that way--you're so +young, and . . . and I'm married . . ." And then, with a very real +burst of emotion, she added: "We were such good friends, and now +you've gone and spoilt it all." + +"I couldn't help it--it had to come--and I'm glad. I've never felt +like a friend to you. I thought you knew it, but if you want me to +I'll go on being your friend all my life," he added inconsequently. + +Her tears came again at that, and Tommy got out his handkerchief--a +nice, soft silk one which he had faintly scented for the occasion-- +and wiped her eyes for her, and reproached himself, and comforted +her all in a breath, till she looked up and smiled again. + +"And now we've been thoroughly foolish," she said with a little +sob, "please be a dear, and take me for a walk." + +"It hasn't been foolishness," he answered, with a new manliness +that surprised her and made her feel a little ashamed. "I love you, +and I shall always love you, but if you only want me for a friend-- +well, that's all there is to be said." + +She took his hand and held it hard for a moment. + +"You're a kind boy, Tommy." + +He looked away from her because he was afraid to trust himself. +"What about that walk?" he asked gruffly. + +They went for the walk--a very silent walk it was, for neither of +them felt inclined to talk, and later, when they parted outside the +house, young Atkins asked anxiously: + +"It's all right, isn't it? I mean--everything is just the same as +it was before . . . before I told you?" + +"Yes--of course." But she knew that it was not, that it never could +be, though during the next day or two they both struggled valiantly +to get back to the old happy plane of friendship. + +And one evening Tommy said abruptly as they were driving home +together from a theater: + +"Marie--I'm not coming any more," and then, as she did not answer, +he went on desperately: "I just--can't!" + +Marie sat quite still, her hands clasped in her lap, her brown eyes +fixed on a little pale moon that was climbing the dark sky outside. + +She had thought a great deal of this boy's friendship and now she +knew that she was to lose it. + +She tried to think of Chris, but somehow it seemed difficult; it +was so long since she had seen him, and he was so far away. + +If only she did not still love him! If only she could fill the +place he had occupied all these years of her life with something +else--even someone else. + +Then she looked at young Atkins. He was only a boy! Young as she +was herself, she felt years and years older than he, and there was +something motherly in her voice as she said gently: + +"Very well. Tommy--I understand." + +He laughed hoarsely. + +"Do you? I don't think you do," he said. + +They parted with just an ordinary handshake, and with no more +words, but Marie stood for a long time at the door after it had +been opened to her, watching young Atkins walk away down the +street. + +He was going out of her life, she knew, and for a moment she was +cruelly tempted to recall him. + +Why not? Chris had his own friends, and did not trouble about her. +She wondered what he was doing now, and if he, too, was somewhere +out in the moonlight with . . . with somebody who was more to him +than she was. + +The thought brought a tide of jealousy rushing to her heart. She +ran down the steps again to the path below. She would call Tommy +back. Why should she have no happiness? Boy as he was, he loved +her, and his love would be something snatched from the ruins of her +life. + +But after the first impulsive step she stood still with a sense of +utter futility. What was the good? What was the use of trying to +deceive herself? + +There was only one man in the world for her--nothing could ever +change that; she turned and went back into the house. + +"Tommy isn't coming any more." she told Miss Chester the next +morning. + +She smiled as her eyes met the old lady's. + +"No, I didn't send him away, dear," she added. "He just said he +shouldn't come any more." + +Miss Chester paused for a moment in her knitting. She was always +knitting--a shawl that never seemed to be finished. + +"I always said he was a thorough gentleman," was her only comment. + +But Marie missed him during the days that followed. She had no +scrap of love for him, but his friendship had meant a great deal to +her, and left to herself she drifted back once again to restless +depression. + +Then at last a letter came from Chris. + +"Knight is going back to London, so I may come with him. I hope you +are all right, Marie Celeste. The time has simply flown up here; I +was horrified yesterday to discover that I've been away a month." + +There was no mention of Dorothy Webber or of Feathers. + +Marie's spirits rose like mercury. She was so excited she could +hardly sleep or eat, but all the time she tried to check her joy +with the warning that he might not come, that he might change his +mind at the last moment. She bought herself some new frocks and +went to bed early to try and drive the shadows from her eyes and +bring back the color to her pale cheeks. + +Then came a postcard--a picture postcard of mountains in the +background and a very modern-looking clubhouse in the foreground, +with a scribbled message from Chris at the corner. + +"Shall be home Thursday night to dinner." + +The day after to-morrow! Marie's heart fluttered into her throat as +she read the words; she was afraid to go and tell Miss Chester +because she knew the wild happiness and excitement in her eyes. The +day after to-morrow! What an eternity it would seem. She did not +know how she could live through the hours. + +She forgave him all his neglect and indifference; he was coming +home--she would see him again and hear his voice. Nothing else +mattered. + +And then, just an hour later, came a telegram. She opened it with +trembling hands. She was sure it was to say that he was coming +sooner. For a moment the scribbled message danced before her eyes: + +"Plans altered; don't expect me. Letter follows." + +She dismissed the waiting maid mechanically, and read the message +again. She was glad that she had not told Aunt Madge after all--it +would have been such a disappointment. She screwed the telegram up +and threw it into the grate. + +For the moment she hated him--she wished passionately that she +could make him suffer. She had sacrificed everything by her +marriage with him--all hope of real happiness and a man's genuine +love--even her friendship with young Atkins; while he--what +difference had that mock ceremony made to Chris? + +And the old despair came leaping back. + +"I wish I could die! I wish they had let me drown." + +Someone tapped at the door, and with an effort she pulled herself +together to answer. + +"Yes, what is it?" + +"Mr. Dakers has called, if you please, ma'am." + +"Feathers!" In her delight at seeing Dakers again Marie never knew +that she had called him by his nickname. She ran across the room, +her cheeks like roses and both hands outstretched. + +"Oh, how nice! When did you come? Oh, I am glad to see you!" + +He was just as ugly as she had remembered him--just as ungainly-- +and his skin more deeply tanned and more rugged than ever, but the +grip of his hand was wonderful in its strength, and his gruff voice +when he spoke sent her heart fluttering into her throat with sheer +delight. + +"Oh, I am so glad to see you again!" she said once more. + +Feathers laughed. + +"It's the best welcome I've ever had in my life," he said. + +He let her hands go and stood back a pace. "Have you grown?" he +asked, in a puzzled sort of way. + +She shook her head. + +"No; but I've got thin--at least, Aunt Madge says I have." + +They looked at one another silently for a moment, and the thought +of Chris was in both their minds, though it was Feathers who spoke +of him. + +"So Chris will be home on Thursday?" + +She shook her head; for a moment she could not trust her voice. +Then she said lightly: + +"He's not coming after all. I've just this minute had a wire." She +went over to the grate, picked up the crumpled telegram and handed +it to him. "It's just come," she said again faintly. + +Feathers read it without comment, and Marie rushed on: + +"I suppose you've all had such a good time you don't want to come +back to smoky old London--is that it?" + +"We did have a good time, certainly, but I came back on Monday, and +I understood that Knight and Chris were following on Thursday." + +"Yes." + +Feathers dragged up a chair and sat down. + +"And what have you been doing?" he asked. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"I don't know; nothing very much. I went to one or two theaters +with Mr. Atkins." + +"Atkins!" + +"Yes. Why not? I like him; he's such a nice boy." + +"Nice enough," Feathers admitted grudgingly. + +"I shall expect you to take me now you've come home," Marie went +on, hardly knowing what she was saying. "I'm so tired of being a +grass widow." she added desperately. + +She was longing to ask about Chris, what he was doing and who was +up there with him, but she was afraid. + +"I'm not keen on theaters," Feathers said slowly. "But I shall be +delighted to take you if you would care for it." + +"Of course!" There was a burning flush in her cheeks that made her +look as if she were feverish, and her voice was shrill and excited +as she went on: "I think this must be one of the occasions when I +want a big brother, and--oh, you did offer, you know!" she added +forlornly. + +Feathers looked up quickly and smiled. + +"Well, here I am," he said. + +Miss Chester came into the room at that moment. She knew Feathers +well; Chris had brought him to the house several times before, it +appeared, when Marie was still at school in France and she was not +slow in demanding news. + +"When is Chris coming home? Why didn't you bring him with you, Mr. +Dakers? He has been away quite long enough; he ought to come home +and look after his wife---" + +"Oh, Auntie!" Marie cried, distressed. + +"So he ought to, my dear," the old lady insisted. "You want a +change of air yourself. Isn't she pale, Mr. Dakers?" + +Feathers glanced quickly at Marie and away again. + +"I think Chris will be home soon," he said quietly. "I am afraid +golf is a very selfish game, Miss Chester." + +"And Dorothy Webber--is she still up there?" Miss Chester asked +presently. + +Marie held her breath; it was the question she had longed and +dreaded to ask. + +"She was there when I left," Feathers said reluctantly. "She is a +very fine golfer." + +Marie broke in in a high-pitched voice: + +"I asked her to come and stay with me, you know, but she had +already accepted this invitation to Scotland. Wasn't it queer the +way Chris met her?" + +"Very queer." + +"I was at school with her; she was my best friend." + +"Yes, so she told me, but I knew already--from you." + +Marie's too-bright eyes met his. + +"And do you like her?" she asked. "I said I thought you would, if +you remember, and you were not sure." + +He raised his shaggy brows. + +"Like her? Well--I hardly know. She's good company." + +Good company--the very thing that Marie had dreaded to hear. + +"I'm not very fond of sporting women," Feathers went on. "They're +so restless. Don't you agree, Miss Chester?" + +"They were certainly unheard of when I was a girl," she answered +severely. "We never wore short skirts and played strenuous games. I +think croquet was the fashion when I was Marie's age! I can +remember playing in a private tournament with your mother, Marie." + +Marie bent and kissed her, laughing. + +"That is where I get my stay-at-home, early Victorian instincts +from, perhaps," she said rather bitterly. + +She went into the hall with Feathers when he left. + +"It was so kind of you to send me that white heather," she told +him, shyly. "I always wear a piece of it for luck." + +A dull flush deepened the bronze of his ugly face. + +"I hope it will live up to its reputation," he said. He held out +his hand. "When may I see you again? I am staying in London for a +week or so, and I haven't anything particular to do." + +"Any time--I shall be so glad to see you. Will tomorrow be too +soon?" She made the suggestion diffidently. Chris' indifference had +made her apprehensive and uncertain of herself. She was terribly +afraid of forcing her company where it was not wanted. + +"To-morrow by all means!" he answered readily, "Shall we have a day +in the country?" + +"Oh, how lovely!" Her eyes lit up with delight. + +"I'll bring my car." he said. "It's a bit of a bone-shaker, not a +first-class affair like yours Mrs. Lawless, but it runs well. What +time?" + +"Any time; as early as you like." + +"Ten o'clock then?" + +"Yes." + +"Good-night." + +"Good-night, Mr. Dakers," + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + + + "I was a sailor, sailing on sweet seas, + Trading in singing birds and humming bees. + But now I sail no more before the breeze. + You were a pirate met me on the sea; + You spoke, with life behind you, suddenly; + You stepped upon my ship, and spoke to me: + And while you took my hand and kissed my lips, + You sank my ships, you sank my sailing ships." + + + +MARIE sang a little snatch of song as she went back to Miss +Chester; she had not felt so lighthearted for many a day. + +"I'm going into the country with Mr. Dakers to-morrow." she said. +"Think of it--a whole day in the country! Won't it be lovely?" + +Miss Chester looked up with shrewd eyes. + +"You talk as if you have never had the opportunity before," she +said. "The car is always here--you might spend all your time in the +country if you chose, Marie." + +"I know--I suppose it never occurred to me." + +Miss Chester knitted a row without speaking, then she said gently: + +"Dear child, do you think Chris would be quite pleased if he knew +you were running about London with his friends like this?" + +Marie swung round as if she had been struck. + +"What do you mean. Aunt Madge?" Her voice was defiant, but the old +lady went on insistently without raising her eyes: + +"I know things have progressed since I was a girl, but if I were a +man I should not care for my wife to have men friends, as you seem +to have." + +"Chris does not care," said Marie, and she laughed. + +"I suppose you are still thinking about Mr. Atkins, Aunt Madge. He +was only a boy." + +"Do you call Mr. Dakers a boy, too?" Miss Chester asked quietly. + +"Of course not." Marie frowned; then all at once she broke into a +laugh of sheer amusement. "Aunt Madge, you're not suggesting that +Mr. Dakers, too, is fond of me? Why, don't you know that he hates +women?" + +Miss Chester stooped for her ball of wool, which had fallen to the +floor. "As a rule, Marie, men are rather selfish, and I cannot +imagine a man going out of his way to take any woman whom he hated +for a day in the country." + +Marie laughed again. + +"Oh, don't be silly, dear!" she protested. + +She went behind Miss Chester's chair and clasped her arms loosely +round the old lady's neck, standing so that she could not be seen. + +"I've only ever loved one man," she said in a hard voice. "And you +know who that is, don't you?" + +Miss Chester put her wrinkled hand over Marie's. + +"My old eyes see a great many things I am supposed to be unable to +see," she said sadly. + +There was a little silence; then Marie whispered: + +"Yes--I knew that." + +"And so that is why I say be careful, dear child," the old lady +went on. "But I know you will." + +Marie bent and kissed her. + +"Poor Mr. Dakers!" she said, with a little grimace. "He would run +away forever and ever if he could hear what we have been saying." + +Miss Chester did not answer. + +Marie slept dreamlessly that night, and for the first time since +her marriage woke with the feeling that there was something +pleasant to look forward to. + +The sun was shining and there was not a cloud in the sky as she +flung the window wide. + +Across the rows of houses and crowded chimney-pots she seemed to +hear the voice of the country calling to her--seemed to hear the +wind in the trees and smell the magic of the hay. + +"And they will be making the hay." she told herself delightedly, as +she waited for Feathers to come. "I wonder if they will let us +help!" + +She had almost forgotten that there might be a letter from Chris +that morning. It gave her a little shock to see it lying on the +breakfast-table. It was as if for a space she had forgotten how to +suffer and grieve, and now the sight of his handwriting had dragged +her back to it once again. + +Chris had written in a tearing hurry--or so he said. He had packed +up to come home, and then a friend of his had asked him to play in +a golf tournament, and after a lot of persuasion he had given in, +and he was going to play with Dorothy Webber for a partner, so he +thought they stood a good chance of carrying off a prize. + +Marie read it apathetically. Her heart felt as hard as a stone. The +letter told her nothing she had not already guessed. She crushed it +into her coat pocket and tried to forget it. + +He had put the importance of a stupid golf handicap before her! +Well, if she cried herself blind it would not alter things or +change him. + +"I suppose Mrs. Heriot didn't turn up in Scotland," she said +cynically to Feathers as they drove away. + +He kept his eyes steadily before him as he answered: + +"If she did I did not see her." + +Marie laughed hysterically. + +"I thought you might have done so." + +There was a little silence, then Feathers said quietly: + +"Mrs. Lawless, why do you talk like that? You know quite well you +never thought anything of the sort." + +She flushed hotly at the rebuke in his words and answered sharply: + +"I forgot that you were Chris' friend. Of course, you are bound to +defend him. I wonder why men always defend one another?" + +Feathers smiled rather grimly. + +"Perhaps it's a case of thieves hanging together," he said. "But +you do him an injustice if you think that women have the least +attraction for him--you do, indeed! And, as to being his friend . . ." +he hesitated, "I think, perhaps, I am more your friend than his." + +"And yet you hated it when he married me," she said impulsively. + +"Perhaps I am still unreconciled to that," he said. + +"What do you mean?" + +He looked down at her from beneath his shaggy brows. "I am going to +answer that question by asking another. Why did you take such a +violent dislike to me the first night we met?" + +The color rushed to her face. The memory of that night was still +bitter and unforgettable. Her first impulse was to refuse to tell +him. Then suddenly she changed her mind. + +Why should she spare Chris, or try any longer to defend him when he +was undefendable? + +"You said that you would tell me some day," Feathers reminded her. + +"I know." But it was some minutes before she told him. + +"I was sitting in the lounge that night after dinner, and heard you +telling someone that Chris had only married me for my money." + +The driving-wheel jerked furiously beneath Feathers' hand, and for +an instant the car swerved dangerously. Then he jammed the brakes +home and brought it to a standstill at the roadside. + +They were in the country now, with hedge-topped banks on either +side, and it was all so still and silent that they might have been +the only two in the world. + +Feathers half-turned in his seat. His face was white and horrified, +and for a moment he stared at her, his lips twitching as if he were +trying to speak and could find no words. + +Marie looked at him with misty eyes, and, seeing the pain and shame +in his face, laid her hand gently on his arm. + +"Please don't look like that. It hurt at first, but afterwards I +was glad that I knew--really glad!" + +"No wonder you hated me." + +"That was because I did not know you," she said quickly. "I don't +hate you now, do I?" + +He looked away from her. + +"So it's all my fault," he said harshly. + +She echoed his words: + +"All your fault? What do you mean?" + +"That you and Chris are not happy . . ." + +Her face quivered sensitively, then she said very gently: + +"You mustn't think that--please! All you did was to let me know a +little sooner than I should have done if I hadn't overheard what +you said. And I'm glad, really glad, about it now! It would have +hurt much more if I'd not found out for some time afterwards. You +see"--she paused a moment to steady her voice--"you see, Chris +never really loved me, and that's all about it." + +"No wonder you hate me," he said again heavily. + +"I don't hate you--in fact, I should like to tell you something, +Mr. Dakers, then perhaps you won't feel so badly about it. May I?" + +"Well?" The monosyllable came gruffly. + +"It's just that the one good thing that has happened to me since-- +since I married Chris--is having met you! I shall always be glad of +that, no matter what happens, for you've been such a kind friend. +Please believe me." + +Dakers looked down at the hand resting on his arm. + +"Do you believe in friendship between a man and woman, Mrs. +Lawless?" he asked, in a queer voice. + +"Oh, yes!" said Marie, fervently. "Don't you?" + +"I am not sure." + +She looked up in dismay. + +"But you said--I thought you said . . ." + +He broke in abruptly. + +"Look at the view on your left." She turned her head obediently and +gave a little exclamation of delight. The high hedge had suddenly +ended, leaving only a wide expanse of meadows that sloped down to a +river flowing at the bottom of a high wooded hill. + +Some women in picturesque cotton frocks were tossing the hay in one +of the meadows, and the scent of it was wafted through the +sunshine. + +Marie clasped her hands like a delighted child. + +"I did so hope we should see them making hay," she said. "Oh, do +you think we might go and help?" + +She had forgotten their previous serious conversation, to Feathers' +infinite relief. He laughed as he answered that he did not think +they could very well suggest giving any assistance. + +"I want to take you much further, too," he said. "I know an inn +where we can get a lunch fit for a king, and any amount of cream +and things like that." + +"I love cream," said Marie. + +She leaned back beside him contentedly, and fell into a day dream. +The easy droning of the engine was very soothing, and the soft air +on her face seemed to blow away all the cobwebs and perplexities +that had worried her during the past two months. For a little time +she gave herself up to the restfulness of it all and the simple +enjoyment. + +Feathers let her alone. He was not a talkative man, and he only +spoke now and again to point out some exquisite bit of scenery or +tell her something of the surrounding country. + +"You know it well, then?" she asked, and he said that he and Chris +had often motored that way together. + +Her husband's name gave Marie a stab of pain. For a little while +she had resolutely pushed him into the background of her thoughts. +She sat up when Feathers spoke of him, and the look of quiet +contentment faded from her eyes. + +What was Chris doing now? And why was he not here beside her +instead of this man? Then she looked at Feathers' kind, ugly face +and remorse smote her. + +He was such a good friend. She knew she ought to be grateful to him +for the unobtrusive help he had tried to give her. + +But she could not resist one question: "You and Chris used to go +about together a great deal?" + +"Yes; nearly always." + +"And now--I suppose I have spoilt it all. Have I?" + +Feathers' face hardened. "I wish I could be sure that you had," was +the answer that rose to his lips, but he checked it, and only said: + +"I have told you you must not talk nonsense." He pointed ahead. + +"That is the inn. I hope you are hungry." + +He ran the car into a queer, cobble-stoned yard, and drew up at the +door of the inn. + +It was a very old house, with sloping roofs, on which lichen +grew in short, thick clumps, and a straggly vine covered its +weather-beaten face. + +"I wired we were coming," Feathers said. "The people here know me." + +He led the way into the parlor. It was bare-boarded with a trestle +table running its full length, and wooden benches on either side, +but everything was spotlessly clean, and Marie was delighted. + +She had never seen an old fireplace with chimney corners like the +one in this room. She had never seen such wonderful copper as the +old shining pots and pans that hung on the walls. + +The landlady was stout and smiling, with a face that shone with a +generous application of soap, and she wore long amber earrings. + +She seemed very pleased to see Feathers. + +"It's a long time since you came to visit us, sir! And the other +gentleman--Mr. Lawless--I hope he is well." + +"I've just left him in Scotland," Feathers explained. "I dare say +you will see him before long. He's been getting married, you know." + +"Indeed, sir! I'm sure I wish him luck." She looked at Marie, and +Feathers said hastily: "This is Mrs. Lawless." + +He had a vivid recollection of another occasion when somebody had +asked if he were Marie's husband, and he was not risking a +repetition of it. + +"Many people staying here, Mrs. Costin?" he asked. + +"No, sir--only two ladies at present, but we expect to be full for +the week-end." She looked at Marie. "There are fine golf links +close to us," she explained. + +"I seem to be hopelessly out of fashion because I don't play golf," +Marie said when she and Feathers were alone again. "I think I am +beginning to hate the very name of it." + +"You must let me teach you to play." + +Marie sighed and looked out of the window to the narrow country +road. "I think I'm too tired to learn anything," she said +despondently. + +Feathers frowned; he thought she looked very frail, and in spite of +his words he could not picture her swinging a club and ploughing +through all weathers as Dorothy Webber had done in Scotland. + +"You've no right to be tired," he said angrily. "A child like you!" + +She looked up, the ready tears coming to her eyes. + +"Do you think I'm such a child?" she asked. "That's what Chris +always says--a kid, he calls me! And yet I don't feel so very +young, you know." + +"I should like to be as young," Feathers said. + +She leaned her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. + +"How old are you?" she asked. + +"Thirty-eight next birthday--as you insist." + +She did not seem surprised. + +"I wonder what I shall be like when I'm thirty-eight?" she +hazarded. + +Feathers did not answer; he was doing a rapid calculation in +his mind; he knew that she, nineteen now, was nineteen years +his junior. That meant that when she was thirty-six he would +be fifty-five! + +His mouth twisted into a grim smile. Life was a queer thing. He +wondered what he would have said had anyone told him three months +ago that he would be lunching here with Christopher's wife--quite +contentedly. + +There were voices in the cobble-stoned yard outside, and Marie +looked towards the window. + +"Two people coming in," she said. "I suppose that's who the other +places are laid for." She indicated the further end of the table. + +"The two people Mrs. Costin mentioned, I suppose," Feathers said. +"Won't you have some more cream? I always think . . ." he broke off +as the door opened and Mrs. Heriot walked into the room. + +There was a moment of blank surprise, then he rose to his feet. + +"The world is a small place; how do you do?" he said calmly. + +Mrs. Heriot found her voice, of which sheer astonishment had robbed +her; she broke out volubly. + +"Mr. Dakers, of all people! And Mrs. Lawless too! Who on earth +would have dreamed of meeting you here? That must be your car in +the yard!" + +She shook hands with Marie. "The world is a small place, isn't it?" + +"Are you staying here?" Marie asked. She did not care in the least, +but it was something to say. + +"Yes--with my sister. It's dull, but at week-ends we have quite a +good time. You must come down," she added, turning to Feathers. "And +how is Chris?" + +"I left him in Scotland--golfing," Feathers said. "He is coming up +to town this week." + +"Really! How delightful! Bring him down, and we'll have a foursome. +You don't play, do you, Mrs. Lawless? What a pity! Don't you care +for the game?" + +"I've never played." + +"Well, you must begin. Get Mr. Dakers to teach you." She turned as +her sister entered. "Lena, I've just run into two friends. Isn't it +queer? May I introduce my sister, Mrs. Rendle--Mrs. Lawless, and +Mr. Dakers." + +Mrs. Rendle looked Marie up and down critically and nodded. She was +very like her sister, only older and less smart. + +"You've just finished lunch, I see," Mrs. Heriot said. "What a +pity! We might have all had it together." + +"We're not staying--we're going on," Feathers said hurriedly. "I'm +taking Mrs. Lawless down to see some friends at Wendover." + +"Really! How perfectly delightful!" She drew Feathers a little away +from her sister and Marie. "Has she been ill again?" she asked, +with assumed concern. "I never saw anyone age as she has." + +"Really!" Feathers looked at her stonily. "Mrs. Lawless looks just +the same to me." He had always hated Mrs. Heriot and he hated her +now more than ever. He made some pretext and went out to the car. + +"Be sure to tell Chris that we are here," Mrs. Heriot said to +Marie. "It's a nine hole course, but quite good! Send him down for +a week-end." + +"I won't forget," Marie promised. + +She was thankful when Feathers came to say it was time to start. +She gave a little sigh of relief as they drove away. + +Feathers glanced down at her sympathetically. + +"Cat!" he said eloquently. + +"I am afraid I do rather hate her," Marie faltered. + +"The sister is a give-away," Feathers said. "One can see now what +Mrs. Heriot will be like in another ten years." + +Marie could not help laughing. + +"Oh, but how unkind!" she said. A little mischievous sparkle lit +her brown eyes. "And we're not really going to see any friends at +Wendover, are we?" + +"No," he laughed with her. "I'd tell that woman anything," he said, +with a sort of savagery. + +They stopped again for tea at a cottage, and the woman who owned it +gave Marie a big bunch of flowers to carry away. + +"Now I really took as if I've been for a day in the country," she +said laughingly to Feathers. "People always trail home with bunches +of flowers, don't they?" + +"I suppose they do." He touched the bunch lying in her lap. "May I +have one?" + +"Of course!" She picked them up quickly. "Which one?" + +He indicated a blue flower. + +"Don't you think that would rather suit my style of beauty?" he +asked grimly. + +She drew it from the bunch. + +"It's called 'love-in-a-mist,'" she said. "Shall I put it in your +coat?" + +"Please." + +He had been starting the engine, and he came to the door of the car +and stooped for her to fasten the flower in his button-hole. + +"Will that do?" she asked. + +"Thank you." He got in beside her and they drove on. + +"Which way shall we go home?" he asked. + +"Any way--I don't mind. I don't know the roads, but I should like +to pass those hayfields again." + +"Very well. You're not cold, are you?" + +"Oh, no." + +"If you are, there is my coat." + +It was getting dusk rapidly, the moon stood out like a golden +sickle against the darkening sky, and there was a faint breath of +autumn in the air. + +Marie drew the rug more closely about her. She felt gloriously +sleepy, and the scent of the big bunch of flowers on her lap was +almost like an anaesthetic with its intoxicating mixture of +perfume. + +When they came to the hayfields which they had passed early in the +morning Feathers stopped the car and spoke: + +"Are you asleep? You are so quiet." + +"No; I was just thinking." + +She sat up and looked at the view, more beautiful now in the +subdued light and shadow of evening. + +The world seemed filled with the scent of the warm hay, and once +again, with a swift pang, her thoughts flew to Chris. + +Where was he? Oh, where was he? Her heart seemed to stretch out to +him with a great cry of longing, but her little face was quiet +enough when presently she looked up at Feathers. + +"Shall we go on now?" + +He drove on silently. + +"It's been such a lovely day," Marie said. "I have enjoyed it. +Thank you so much for bringing me." + +"That's like a little girl coming home from a party," Feathers +said. "We can have another run out any time you like." + +"It's been perfectly lovely! I was so tired when we started, but +it's been a beautiful rest, and I'm not tired any more." + +But, all the same, when next he spoke to her she did not answer, +and, looking v quickly down at her, he saw that she was asleep. + +Her head had drooped forward uncomfortably, and he could see the +dark lashes down-pointed on her cheek. + +He slowed down a little, and slipping an arm behind her, and drew +her gently back until her head rested against his shoulder. + +Mrs. Heriot had said that Marie looked years older, and in his +heart Feathers knew she was right, but the kindly hand of sleep +seemed to have wiped the lines and shadows from her face, and it +was just a child who rested there against his shoulder. + +What was to become of her, he asked himself wretchedly, and what +was to be the end of this mistaken marriage? + +He could almost find it in his heart to hate Chris as he drove +grimly on through the gathering night, with the slight pressure of +Marie's head on his shoulder. + +Only nineteen! Only a child still! And a passionate longing to +shield her and secure her happiness rose in his heart. He had led a +queer life, a selfish life, he supposed, pleasing himself and going +his own way in very much the same fashion as Chris Lawless had +always done and was still doing, but then he had had no woman to +love him or to love--until now, and now . . . Feathers looked down +at the delicate little face that lay like a white flower against +his rough coat in the moonlight, and he knew with a grim pain that +yet was almost welcome to his queer nature that he would give +everything in the world if only her happiness could be assured. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + + + "And I remember that I sat me down + Upon the slope with her, and thought the world + Must be all over, or had never been, + We seemed there so alone." + + + +MARIE did not answer the letter from Chris, and he wrote again two +days later, much to her surprise: + +"Dear Marie Celeste,--I hope you are not disappointed because I did +not turn up the other night. I really wish I had now, as the +weather has broken, and we've been having downpours of rain every +day, so the handicap has been postponed. If it was not that there +are several good bridge players in the hotel I don't know how the +deuce we should pass the time. Have you seen Feathers? He said he +should look you up, but I don't expect he has, the old blighter! +Let me know how you are. I am sending you a cairngorm brooch with +diamonds, and hope you will like it.--Yours affectionately, Chris." + +Marie waited till the arrival of the brooch before she wrote: + +"Dear Chris,--Thank you for your letter and the brooch, which is +very uncommon. I am sorry the weather is so bad for you; it's quite +good here. Yes, Mr. Dakers came to see us. I think he looks very +well. Don't hurry home on my account. I am quite all right.--Yours +affectionately, Marie Celeste." + +What a letter, she thought, as she read it through--the sort of +letter one might write to an acquaintance, certainly not to a man +one loved best in the world! + +She showed the brooch to Feathers. + +"Yes, it's rather pretty," he agreed. "Everybody seems to wear that +stone in Scotland. Does Chris say when he is coming home?" + +"No--he says the weather is bad." + +"He'll soon be home then." + +A flicker of eagerness crossed her eyes, + +"Oh, do you think so?" + +"He will, if it's really bad! You've no idea what it can be like up +there once it starts to be wet." + +Marie and Feathers had motored together a great deal since that +first day. + +"There'll be time enough for theatres when the winter comes," +Feathers said. "I don't suppose you've seen much of the country, +have you?" + +"No." + +"Then we'll have a run to the New Forest some day." + +Marie looked up hesitatingly. + +"Would you mind if Aunt Madge came?" + +During the last few days she had been vaguely conscious of Miss +Chester's silent disapproval. + +"I shall be delighted if Miss Chester will come," Feathers said +readily. + +But Miss Chester refused. She did not mind a short run, she said, +but it was too far into Hampshire, so they must go without her. + +She watched them drive away, and then sat down to write to Chris. +She marked the letter "Private," and underlined the word twice to +draw attention to it. She wrote: + +"My dear Chris,--Don't you think it's time you came home? Soon it +will be five weeks since you went away, and it is a little hard on +Marie, though she has not said one word of complaint to me. Mr. +Dakers is very kind, taking her for drives, and looking in to cheer +us up, but the child must want her own husband, and you have been +married such a little time. She does not know I am writing to you, +and she would be very angry if she ever discovered it but take an +old woman's advice, my dear boy, and come back." + +She felt much happier when the letter had been despatched; she went +back to her knitting quite happily to wait events. + +But events came sooner than she had anticipated, for the morning +post brought a letter, which had evidently crossed hers, to say +that Chris was already on his way home, but was breaking the +journey at Windermere for a few days to stay with friends. + +"So he cannot have had my letter!" Miss Chester thought in dismay. +She hoped it would eventually reach him. + +If she had been uneasy about young Atkins, she was much more +perturbed about Feathers. She fully recognized the strength of the +man and the attraction he would undoubtedly have for some women, +and she knew that he was already too interested in Marie. + +"Chris ought never to have gone away alone," was her distressed +thought. "If he had taken Marie with him, it would have been all +right." + +And down in the Hampshire woods Marie was just then saying to +Feathers: "I do wish Aunt Madge had come! Wouldn't she have loved +it?" + +"I think she would. Perhaps she will come some other time." + +They had brought their own lunch and had camped at the foot of a +mossy bank on the shady side of the road. + +It was very peaceful--the silence was hardly broken save for the +occasional flutter of wings in the trees overhead or the distant +sound of a motor horn from the main road. + +Feathers was lounging on the grass beside Marie, his hat thrown off +and his hair rumpled up anyhow. + +There was a little silence, then Marie said: + +"I don't think I've ever seen anything so lovely. I wonder why +Chris didn't came to a place like this, instead of---" She broke +off, realizing that she was speaking her thoughts aloud. + +"Instead of to that Tower of Babel by the sea, eh?" Feathers asked +casually. + +"Yes, that is what I meant." + +"I suppose he thought you would find it more amusing." + +"Or that he would," said Marie bitterly. + +Feathers did not answer. He was clumsily threading bits of grass +through the ribbon of Marie's hat, which lay beside him. + +"What's become of young Atkins?" he asked abruptly. + +The unexpectedness of the question sent the color to Marie's face. +"I don't know," she said guiltily. "He hasn't been around lately. I +liked him so much," she added wistfully. + +She looked down at Feathers with thoughtful eyes. He was a big, +clumsy figure lying there, and she smiled as she watched him busily +tucking the blades of grass into the ribbon of her hat. + +"Do you think you are improving it?" she asked suddenly. + +He looked up, and their eyes met. + +Feathers did not answer. He was clumsily threading up with sudden +energy. + +"Shall we go on?" he asked, "or would you prefer to stay here?" + +"We might stay a little while, don't you think?" + +"For ever, if you like!" + +She made a little grimace. + +"We should hate it if it began to rain." + +He looked up at the thick branches above their heads. + +"Rain would not easily get through here. Chris and I camped +somewhere near this place a couple of years ago." + +"It must have been lovely." + +"It wasn't so bad. We slept out in the open air on warm nights." + +Marie leaned back against the great trunk of the tree under which +they had lunched, and looked away into the avenue of green arches +before them. + +During the last day or two she had not thought so often of Chris, +and to-day the mention of him had not brought that little stab of +pain to her heart. Neither did she wish for him so passionately, +nor think what happiness it would be to have him beside her instead +of Feathers. + +She was always glad to be with Feathers. His strong, ugly face had +lost all its ugliness for her. She only saw his kindliness and +heard the gentleness of his voice. + +Her eyes dwelt on him seriously. Some woman was losing a kind +husband, she thought, and impulsively she said: + +"Mr. Dakers--I should like to see you married." + +He turned his head slowly and looked at her, and she wondered if it +was just her imagination that his face paled beneath all its tan as +he answered: + +"That is very kind of you, Mrs. Lawless. I am afraid I shan't be +able to oblige you though." + +She laughed a little. + +"It's just prejudice," she declared. "_Some_ marriages must be very +happy, surely?" + +"Let us hope so, at any rate," said Feathers dryly, then he smiled. +"I don't think there are many women in the world who would care to +take me for a husband." + +"They would if they knew how kind you can be." + +Feathers rolled over, resting his elbows on the grass and his chin +in his hands. + +"It pleases your ladyship to flatter me," he said. + +"I never flatter anyone," Marie answered. "And I wish you would +take me seriously sometimes," she added, a trifle offendedly. + +Feathers was absently piling up a little heap of tiny twigs and +last year's leaves. + +"I might be rather a monster if I were serious," he said. + +Marie shook her head. + +"I don't think so! I think I should like you better! Sometimes now +I've got the feeling that you're not really natural with me. No, +no, I don't think I quite mean that either! It's so difficult to +explain, but sometimes it seems as if--almost as if you were--were +trying to keep me at arm's length," she explained haltingly. + +"You imagine things," Feathers said. + +"I don't think so," she answered quietly. "I know I'm not much of a +judge of character or anything like that, but since we've been such +friends I've thought about you a good deal, and---" + +"I am indeed honored." + +She flushed sensitively. + +"There! That's what I mean--when you say things like that! It isn't +really you that's saying it, is it? I mean--you're not saying what +you would really like to say." She laughed nervously. "I explain +myself very badly, don't I? But I know in my heart what I mean, +really I do." + +There was a little silence, then Feathers said gently: + +"Don't trouble about me, Mrs. Lawless! I'm not at all a mysterious +person, as you seem to be imagining. I'm just an ordinary man--as +selfish as most of 'em, and no better than the worst; but . . . but +I'm very grateful that you've taken me for a friend." + +"Chris asked in his last letter if I'd seen you." + +"Did he?" + +"Yes, he said you had promised to call, but that he did not think +you would. He has told me so often that you don't like women." + +"I don't like them." + +"Perhaps you haven't met the right sort," she hazarded. + +"Or perhaps I have," he answered grimly. He laughed, meeting her +sympathetic eyes. "No! I'm not one of those romantic chaps with a +love story in the past done up with blue ribbons and lavender. If +you're trying to pity me on that score I'm sorry--but I don't +deserve it." + +She looked at him steadily. + +"Are you laughing at me, Mr. Dakers?" she asked, in a hurt voice. + +Feathers' hand fell over hers as it lay half-buried in the soft +grass, and for a moment his fingers closed about it in a grip that +hurt; then he got to his feet. + +"Laughing at you! Don't you know me better than that?" + +He went over to the car and busied himself at the engine for a +moment, and Marie watched him, with chagrined eyes. + +She liked him so much, but she understood him so little. She rose +reluctantly when presently he called to her that it was time to +make a start. She went over and stood beside him. + +"You're not angry with me, are you?" she asked hesitatingly. + +She thought at first he had not heard, until he said brusquely: + +"I'm never angry with you--only with myself." + +He picked up her coat from the grass. "Put this on--you mustn't +take cold." + +But he made no attempt to help her into it, and there was a little +hurt look on her face as she turned away. + +She was sure that she had somehow annoyed him, but could not +understand in what way. She supposed it must be just her stupidity! + +"And where shall we go next time?" she asked, as they neared London +on the way home. "Can't we go out again to-morrow, if you are not +engaged?" + +Feathers did not answer at once; then he said rather stiffly: +"Chris may be home." + +Marie laughed cynically. + +"I don't think that is very likely to happen." + +There was a moment's silence, then Feathers said, almost fiercely: + +"He ought to come home! It is his duty to come home!" + +She did not answer--did not know how to answer. She was conscious +of a little feeling of perplexity, but she asked no more questions, +and when they were home again she held out her hand. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Dakers, and thank you so much." + +His deep eyes met hers rather defiantly. + +"And what about to-morrow?" he asked. + +She flushed sensitively. + +"I thought you did not care about it," she stammered. "I thought +perhaps you did not want to take me out any more--that there were +other things you would rather do. Oh, I don't want to take up all +your time." + +He answered flintily: + +"There is nothing else I would rather do. What time may I call?" + +"I promised to go shopping with Aunt Madge in the morning, but +after lunch---" She looked at him hesitatingly. + +"I will call at half-past two." he said. "Good-bye, Mrs. Lawless." + +He raised his hat and drove away without a backward look, and Marie +went slowly into the house. + +Miss Chester was in the drawing-room, patiently knitting as usual. +She looked up with an anxious little smile as the girl entered. + +As a rule Marie's first question was, "Any letters for me?" but +to-day she did not ask. She looked a little flushed and preoccupied, +and answered absently when Miss Chester spoke to her. + +"Did you have a nice run, dear?" + +"Lovely. I think the New Forest is the most beautiful place I have +ever seen." + +There was a little silence only broken by the click of the old +lady's knitting needles, then she said quietly: + +"I have had a letter from Chris. He is on his way home." + +Marie did not answer--her lips had fallen a little apart +incredulously. + +"He is staying a few days at Windermere with some friends," Miss +Chester went on. "But he is on his way home, and will be here in a +few days." + +She looked up at her niece. + +"I thought you would be so pleased," she said rather piteously. + +"So I am, dear, of course! But--well, he has been coming home +several times before, hasn't he? And we've always been +disappointed." + +She went upstairs to her room. Chris was coming home! She looked at +herself in the glass and wondered why there was no radiance in her +eyes. A week ago she had been nearly wild with delight at the +thought of seeing him, but this time somehow it was different. + +"I've been disappointed so often, that is it," she thought. "I am +not going to think about it at all." + +But she could think of nothing else. Would he have changed? What +would he be like? Had she got to go back to the old weariness and +jealousy when once again she saw him every day? Lately she seemed +to have freed herself a little from the shackles of pain and she +dreaded feeling their merciless grip upon her afresh. + +"Perhaps he won't come," was her last thought, as she fell asleep +that night, and for the first time since her marriage she felt that +in a way it would be a relief if something happened again to +postpone his return. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + + + "I sat with Love upon a woodside well. + Leaning across the water, I and he; + Nor ever did he speak, or look at me, + But touched his lute wherein was audible, + The certain secret thing he had to tell." + + + +FEATHERS walked around the following afternoon. "I've left the car +to be tuned up," he explained as he and Marie shook hands. "And +I've got a brilliant idea for to-morrow!" He looked round the room. +"Where is Miss Chester?" + +"Lying down. The sun this morning gave her a headache." + +"Well, do you care to go on the river to-morrow?" + +Marie's eyes sparkled. + +"Oh, I should love it! In a punt?" + +"We can have a punt, if you like; I'll wire to-day for it, and we +can drive down and take our lunch. Do you know the river?" + +She laughed. + +"I've seen it at London Bridge and once at Putney--that's all." + +"You've never seen Wargrave?" + +"No." + +"Good! We'll go there---" Feathers hesitated. "Do you think your +aunt would care to come?" He tried to put enthusiasm into the +question, but not very successfully. Marie shook her head. + +"I am sure she would not. She does not like the river, and she is +horribly afraid of small boats. She thinks they are bound to +upset." + +"They are all right if you know how to manage them. It's all fixed +up, then? I'll order the lunch---" + +She interrupted quickly: "Oh, I can do that; you don't want to have +all the bother." + +"It's no bother to me; I was always chief cook and bottle washer +when Chris and I camped out together. As a matter of fact, lunch is +ordered already." + +"You were so sure I would come?" + +"I hoped you would." + +She gave a little sigh of eager anticipation. + +"Oh, I should love it." + +"Let's hope it will keep fine." Feathers glanced towards the +window. "It looks promising. Wear something that won't spoil--the +river ruins good clothes." + +He took up his hat. + +"Oh, won't you stay to tea?" Marie asked disappointedly. "It will +be here in a moment." + +He hesitated, then sat down again. + +"Well--I did not mean to, but as I've been asked----" + +Marie laughed. + +"Do you always do as you're asked?" + +"It depends on who asks me." + +She rang the bell for tea. + +"And please tell my aunt that Mr. Dakers is here," she said to the +maid. + +She was always very punctilious about telling Miss Chester whenever +Feathers called. + +"Have you heard from Chris?" Feathers asked suddenly. + +"Yes--last night. He is at Windermere--on his way home." + +Feathers looked up quickly. + +"Then he may be here at any time?" + +Marie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't expect him yet," she said in +rather a hard voice. "If he likes Windermere, I dare say he will +stay for a week or so." + +There was a little silence. + +"Of course if he should turn up to-morrow, our little outing must +be postponed," Feathers said quietly. + +Marie did not answer, and he repeated his words. + +"Yes, of course," she agreed then. + +She looked at him critically. Had he begun to dress better since he +came back to London? Or was it just that she was getting used to +him, she wondered? She would have been surprised if she had known +the time and trouble Feathers spent on his appearance each morning +before he came to see her, and how he cursed his ugliness and +ungainliness every time he caught sight of himself in a glass. + +He turned up in white flannels the following morning, with a light +dust coat and a soft felt hat. + +Miss Chester refused to come, as Marie had prophesied. + +"I detest the river," she said strenuously, "And after your +dreadful experience, Marie, I wonder you have the pluck to go near +water again." + +"I shall be quite safe with Mr. Dakers," Marie answered, "and it's +such a lovely day! Do change your mind and come, dear." + +But Miss Chester would not be persuaded. + +"And don't be late home," was her last injunction. "I shall be +nervous and unhappy about you till you are safely back again." + +"I am going to enjoy myself," Marie said. "I am quite sure we are +going to have a lovely day." She ran upstairs to put on her hat. +She had carried out Feathers' instructions by choosing a white +linen frock and a Panama hat, and white shoes and stockings. She +looked very young and dainty. Feathers thought, as she came running +down the stairs. + +"You will want a coat," he said quietly. "It may rain." + +"Rain!" she echoed, scornfully. She made a little grimace at him. +"Why, there isn't a cloud in the sky." But she went back obediently +for the coat, and to say good-bye to Miss Chester. + +"And, oh, my dear, do be careful!" the old lady urged anxiously. +"Whatever shall I say to Chris if anything happens?" + +"Nothing will happen," said Marie, "except that we shall thoroughly +enjoy ourselves." + +She shut the drawing-room door behind her, and stopped for a moment +in the hall to peep at herself in the glass. + +She had not looked so well for a long time. She turned away with a +little sigh of contentment, and at that moment a telegraph boy ran +up the steps to the front door. + +Seeing Marie, he did not ring the bell, but handed her the yellow +envelope. It was addressed to "Lawless," and Marie tore it open +apprehensively. + +"Home this afternoon--Chris." + +Marie's heart gave a great leap, then seemed to stand still. + +"No answer," she said mechanically. + +She watched the boy go down the steps and mount his bicycle at the +curb, then she read the short message again. + +"Home this afternoon--Chris." + +This meant that she could not have her day on the river--that she +must tell Feathers she could not go with him. + +He was outside in the road, tinkering with the car, and had not +seen the telegram delivered. With a sudden impulse Marie thrust it +into her frock. Why should she stay at home just because after all +these weeks Chris chose to come back? Why should she give up a +day's enjoyment with a man who really enjoyed her society just to +be hurt and ignored and made to suffer afresh? + +Feather called to her from the road: "Are you ready, Mrs. Lawless?" + +"Yes, coming now." She ran down the steps, her cheeks flushed with +a defiant sense of guilt. It was the first time in her life that +she had done anything mean or shabby, but her heart had grown hard +during the past days, and it no longer seemed a dreadful matter +that she should not trouble to be present when Chris came home. + +There was a large picnic basket strapped to the back of the car, +and Feathers told her laughingly that he had brought a magnum of +champagne. + +Marie opened her brown eyes wide. + +"Gracious! Who do you think will drink it all?" + +"Oh, I think we can, between us, quite easily. We've got all day +before us, you know." + +Marie leaned back luxuriously. She had resolutely pushed all +thought of Chris from her mind and she did not mean to think of him +till they got back home again. + +"I'm going to enjoy myself, and not worry about anything," she said +recklessly. + +Feathers looked down at her. "Do you worry about things?" he asked +gently. "Don't do it, Mrs. Lawless! It brings wrinkles and chases +away smiles." + +"Does it? How do you know?" + +"I suppose I have eyes like other people," he answered. + +"Aunt Madge would not come, you see; I was sure she would not," +Marie said presently. "And she has quite made up her mind that I am +going to be drowned and that she will never see me any more." + +"I don't think she need worry." + +"That's what I told her; I said I knew I should be quite safe with +you." + +"Thank you." She looked up, surprised by the gravity of his voice, +but he was not looking at her, and his ugly profile was a little +hard and stern. + +It was a silent drive, but Marie gave a little cry of delight, when +at last a curve in the road brought them within sight of the river. + +"There's an inn further down the road where we can leave the car +and get a punt," Feathers said. "Then well get up in the backwater +and have lunch." + +Marie's face was glowing and she looked like a child who has +unexpectedly come across an illuminated Christmas tree. + +"I never knew there were such lovely places in the world," she +said. When Feathers had run the car into the yard adjoining the inn +she went down to the river, and stood on the small, rough wooden +landing-stage, looking down at the silently flowing water with +dreamy eyes. + +It was so peaceful, so restful, with the soft sound of the breeze +in the trees and tall rushes, and the sensuous lap of the water +against the boats moored to the landing-stage. + +And again the thought went through her mind--what a lovely world it +would be if one could only have things just a little, little bit +different! + +Feathers brought an armful of cushions from the boathouse, put the +luncheon hamper on board, and stripped off his coat preparatory to +starting business. + +He pushed off from the landing-stage, and let the punt drift down +stream. He was a square, strong figure standing up against the +cloudless sky, and a thought that had often crossed Marie's mind +came again as she looked at him: What a kind man he could be to +some woman, and how happy some woman could be with him! + +After all, what did a handsome face matter when it came down to the +difficult business of every-day life? It was kindness that counted +and sympathy and gentleness and understanding. Her brown eyes grew +wistful as she watched his ugly, preoccupied face. + +Here was a man who disliked all women even as Chris did, and yet he +had found it possible to be kind to her, to befriend her in her +loneliness and perplexity. She felt that she could not be +sufficiently grateful to him. + +Feathers did not speak till they had left the main stream and +slipped into the wonderful backwater that lies between Wargrave and +Henley. Marie had never seen anything like it in her life. She held +her breath in sheer delight as she lay back amongst the cushions +and looked up at the canopy of leaves overhead. + +There were very few people about. Now and then a laugh reached them +across the water or the sound of row-locks, and once a big water +rat scurried past them along the margin of rushes and reeds, +staring at them for a second with dark, bright eyes before it +plunged and disappeared. + +Feathers drew in the punt pole and took a paddle. + +"Well, how do you like it?" he asked. + +Her brown eyes shone. + +"I never knew there was anything so lovely in England," she said. + +"That is the mistake so many people make," he answered. "They rush +off abroad with a party of dreadful tourists and tire themselves +out in order to see some musty old museum or cathedral, and never +trouble to see the beauty spots of their own country. Look behind +you now!" + +Marie turned her head obediently. They were nearing an old bridge, +built so low down to the water that it was only possible for a boat +to pass beneath it if the occupants bent their heads. + +"We'll go through and tie up on the other side," Feathers said. +"Mind your head." He guided the boat skillfully through and out on +the other side. + +Marie laughed and raised her head. Her soft hair was all roughened +by the cushions, and one long strand had tumbled down over her +shoulder. + +"How old did you tell me you were?" Feathers asked rather grimly. +"Nineteen or nine?" + +"Nearly twenty," Marie said indignantly. + +"I refuse to believe it," he answered. "You are only just out of +the schoolroom with that curl hanging down." He indicated the +fallen lock of hair and Marie laughed and blushed as she hurriedly +fastened it up. + +They tied up to a bank, and Feathers set out the lunch. + +Marie wanted to do it, but he said no, it was her holiday, and she +was not to work at all. + +"Look upon me as a sort of serf, or vassal!" he said, laughingly. +"Order me about; put your foot on my neck, for to-day I am your +humble servant." + +"But only for to-day!" said Marie, with a quick little sigh. + +He looked up sharply. + +"What do you mean?" + +She answered quite innocently: + +"I only meant that I wish good things did not last such a little +while. I've never been so happy as I am now." + +"Never, Mrs. Lawless? Isn't that rather a big order?" + +She sat up, leaning her chin in the palm of her hand. + +"It's true," she said quietly. "I used to dream about a lot of +silly things that could never really come true, but this"--she +looked at the beauty of the peaceful scene surrounding them. + +"I never thought I could be so--so peacefully happy as I am now." + +Feathers had been opening a tin of tongue, and the knife slipped +suddenly, cutting deeply into his hand. + +He gave a little exclamation of annoyance, and Marie started up. +"Oh, you have hurt yourself." + +"Nothing, nothing at all." He dipped his hand into the water and +hurriedly bound it round with a handkerchief. "Heavens, don't look +so scared! It's nothing to what has happened when we've been +camping out! The tent we were sleeping in collapsed on us one +night, and we were nearly smothered. I should have been, but for +Chris--he hauled me out." + +"Did he?" her face grew wistful. "Chris is very fond of you," she +said. + +Feathers shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, we get on very well together." + +He went on preparing the luncheon, and when it was ready he rose to +his feet and made her a salaam. + +"The feast is served, fair lady!" + +He had tied the champagne bottle to the side of the boat, letting +it dangle in the water, and he drew it carefully up and released +the cork, letting it fly up into the trees overhead with a +tremendous report. + +Marie laughed like a child; she was so happy to-day that everything +pleased and amused her. + +Feathers filled two glasses and handed one to her, holding out his +own in a toast. + +"To your future happiness," he said gravely. + +Marie flushed a little. + +"To yours," she said tremulously. "And--and to many happy returns +of this very happy day." + +Feathers winced as if she had hurt him, but he answered lightly: + +"Well, why not? We can come again to-morrow if you like? Wise +people take advantage of the sunshine in this country." + +Her face paled; she put the glass down untouched. Then abruptly she +drew the crumpled telegram from her frock and gave it to him. + +"Mr. Dakers, this came this morning." + +He took it wonderingly; read it, and handed it back. + +"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. She did not answer, and he went +on almost angrily: "You should have stayed at home. Mrs. Lawless, +why didn't you tell me? We could easily have cancelled our +arrangements." + +She answered him then, in a little shamed whisper: + +"Because--because I wanted to come with you." + +And there followed a long silence, unbroken save for the soft +cooing of a wood pigeon in the trees overhead. + +Feathers was kneeling on the grassy bank to which the punt was +moored, his head a little downbent, his brows furiously frowning. + +All her life Marie remembered him as he looked then, such a big, +very masculine man, with his great shoulders and ugly head, his jaw +thrust out in an obstinate line, and yet--there seemed to be +something strangely helpless about him, something that seemed to +contradict the angry tone in which he had just spoken. + +Then, quite suddenly he looked up and their eyes met, Marie's hot +and ashamed, though she could not have explained why, and his +trying so hard not to betray the agitation that was rending him. + +"Are you angry with me?" she faltered. "Oh, don't be angry with +me." And, covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears. + +Feathers got up abruptly and stood with averted head staring down +stream. + +The river was flowing swiftly just there, and it was carrying with +it a little toy boat which someone had twisted out of a newspaper. + +Feathers followed its passage mechanically. It seemed symbolical of +his life during the past ten years, during which he had just +allowed himself to drift helplessly with the tide, until now, when +he stood face to face with the disaster of the hidden rock of a +girl's simplicity and desperate unhappiness. + +Feathers was no fool, and he knew quite well that Marie's tears +were the outcome of all she had suffered since her marriage. + +She had looked for love and happiness, and had found neither. She +had been flung back on herself and his friendship, and in her +gratitude for the little he had done to try and cheer her she had +magnified her affection for him. + +He did some swift thinking as he stood there, his face resolutely +turned from her as she sat crying desolately. + +Every instinct of his manhood was to take her in his arms and +comfort her, but he knew that such happiness was not for him--could +never be for him. + +After a moment he went back to the deserted lunch. His face was +white, but he made a desperate effort to speak cheerily. + +"And this is the day we were going to enjoy so much! You will never +come out with me any more now I have been such a brute. Mrs. +Lawless, won't you have some of this jam sandwich before the wasps +consume it all?" + +Marie dried her tears, and laughed and cried again. + +"I'm so sorry; I don't know why I was such a baby. No; don't look +at me; I'm so ashamed." + +She leaned over the side of the punt and bathed her eyes in the +cool water, drying them on Feathers' silk handkerchief, which he +put within her reach. + +He went on calmly serving out the lunch and talking about anything +that came into his head. + +"Last time I was here, it came on to pour cats and dogs just as +we'd started lunch! There was lobster mayonnaise, I remember, and a +fine mess it was in. We're luckier to-day. There isn't a cloud. Do +you like cream? Yes, I remember you said you did when we lunched at +Mrs. Costin's inn." + +He gave Marie plenty of time to recover herself. A great sigh of +relief escaped him when at last she looked up and smiled. + +"All right now?" + +"Yes." + +"And I'm quite forgiven?" + +"It wasn't your fault! You know it wasn't." + +"Well, we won't argue! Mrs. Lawless, if you don't drink that +champagne I shall have to come and make you." + +Marie drank some of it, and it did her good. The color stole slowly +back to her cheeks. + +They talked trivialities for the remainder of the meal, and then +Feathers gravely washed up and stowed the remains of the feast away +in the hamper. + +"We'll go on to Henley for tea," he said, "and you'll see the +houseboats. I came down to one three years ago with a house party. +Chris and Atkins were there as well. By the way, I had a note from +Atkins last night." + +"Did you?" Marie flushed. "I should like to see him again," she +said. + +"Well, why not? Now Chris is home we must make up some dinner +parties and theatre parties." + +She looked away. "He's not home yet." + +"No; but he will be. You'll find him looking for you when we get +back, and ready to break my head for having taken you out." + +"Do you think so?" Her voice was coldly contemptuous, and Feathers +hurriedly tried another subject. + +"The thing to do in a punt is to go to sleep. Have you ever slept +in a punt in a backwater like this? No? Then you've missed half the +joys of life. Come out on the bank a minute and let me arrange +those cushions." + +He held his hand to her, but she avoided it, and stood watching +silently as he made a great business of plumping up the cushions +and spreading his coat for her to lie on. + +"There you are! Isn't that great? Mind, you'll upset the whole +show!" + +He tightened the moorings a little and looked down at her with a +strained smile. + +Marie had gone back to the punt and dragged a cushion beneath her +dark head. + +Feathers sat down on the grass, his back to a tree, and produced a +pipe which he gravely lit. + +"I've had this pipe four years," he said. "Chris says it's a +disgrace to civilization, but I like it! You don't mind if I +smoke?" + +"No, please do." + +She closed her eyes, not from any wish to sleep, but to avoid +talking. There was a little fear at the back of her mind which she +could not capture or recognize. + +Why had she cried? Why was it now that when Chris was on his way +home--perhaps was already in London--there was no joy in her heart, +only dread? + +It was very still there in the backwater. Now and then a bird +darted down from the trees overhead and skimmed the clear water +with a flash of brown wings; or some little creature stirred in the +rushes, splashing the water and sending out ever-widening circles +to the opposite bank. + +Feathers sat motionless, his arms folded, puffing at his pipe, his +eyes fixed on Marie's face. + +Such a child! Such a child! That was always his compassionate +thought of her; and yet--those tears she had shed just now had not +been a child's tears, but a woman's. + +He was afraid to question himself, afraid to read the answer which +he knew was there in his heart, but his eyes searched the soft +contours of her face with passionate longing. + +Was she asleep? Somehow he did not think she was. And yet he was +glad of these moments in which he might look at her without having +to hold the mask before his face--for this little time in which she +seemed to be his own. + +He had long known that he loved her and had accepted the fact as +philosophically as he had accepted the many other ironies and +disappointments of his life. + +It was meant to be! He could not have helped or prevented it, even +had he wished. She was his friend's wife, and there was not one +disloyal thought in Feathers' heart at he sat there and let his +pipe grow cold and dreamed with his eyes on little Marie Celeste. + +There was a gramophone playing somewhere in the distance, and the +water between lent it a softness and melody that was undeserved. It +grew clearer and clearer as the boat carrying it came up stream, +and presently Feathers could distinguish the words of the song: + + + + I dream of the day I met you; + + I dream of the light divine + + That shone in your tender eyes, love. + + When first they looked in mine, + + I dream of the rose you gave me, + + I dream of our last farewell, + + I dream of the silent longing + + That only the heart can tell . . . + + + +Feathers had a healthy scorn for all things sentimental, but he +found himself listening till the boat had passed on and the song +vanished again into silence. + +He looked at his watch then--it was four o'clock. If they started +at once they could not possibly get home before half-past seven or +eight, he knew, and recklessness closed down upon him. + +It was his last day! Why not snatch all the hours possible? What +could it matter to Chris if he lost a little of his wife's company? + +So he let Marie sleep on, and sat there without moving, torturing +himself with thoughts of the future, till presently she roused and +opened her eyes. + +She lay for a moment looking at him unrecognizingly, then she +started up, rubbing her eyes in confusion. + +"Have I been asleep? Why didn't you wake me? What is the time?" + +"I am afraid I dozed off myself. It's the heat, I expect." He made +a great business of yawning and stretching his arms, though he had +not once closed his eyes. "It's nearly six--I am afraid we shall +not have time to go on to Henley." + +"It doesn't matter," she said quickly. "We can go another day." + +"Yes, we can go another day," he echoed, with the full knowledge +that for him there would never be another day. + +The sun was sinking down behind the trees and pastureland and a +cool breeze had risen. + +Marie shivered, and Feathers picked up her coat and gave it to her +silently. + +"I'm not really cold," she said, but she put it on. + +"Have we got to go back now?" she asked, as he began to untie the +rope that held them to the bank. + +"Yes, I think we ought. We have to get to London, you know." + +"Yes." + +It was getting quite dark in the backwater. One punt which passed +them carried Chinese lanterns that glowed like magic eyes through +the September evening. + +"Mr. Dakers," Marie said suddenly. + +"Yes." He was intent on the paddle and did not look up. + +"There is something I want to ask you before--be-fore we go home." + +"Yes." His voice sounded a little jerky. + +"It's only . . . you will still come and see me, won't you?--I mean +even--even if Chris has come home?" + +"Of course. Why shouldn't I?" + +"I don't know--I only thought perhaps . . ." Her voice faltered, +only to break out again passionately: "Oh, if you knew how I hate +the thought of the future," and then, with shamed realization of +what her words might convey, she tried to laugh as she went on: "I +don't exactly mean that, but--but, oh, you know I'm not the sort of +wife Chris ought to have married! It's kind of you to try and +pretend that you think I am, but I'm not so blind as I used to be, +and I know now! And I can't even make myself different--I suppose +because I'm too stupid . . . If only I were more like Mrs. Heriot +or Dorothy Webber . . ." + +Feathers broke in harshly: "For God's sake, don't compare yourself +with them." + +"But it's true--you know it's true," she insisted. "I don't want +you to think I'm blaming Chris; I've never blamed him in all my +life, and I want him to be happy, but . . ." Her voice trailed +hopelessly way, only to recover again with a pathetic effort. + +"I'm not the sort of girl ever to make him happy. At first I hoped-- +oh, I hoped so hard that things would come right, but lately--just +during the last few days, I think, I seem to have seen that it can +never be. I suppose I ought not to say all this to you--you're his +friend, and I am glad you are." + +"I am your friend, too," said Feathers, quietly. + +"I know; that's why I'm telling you. It's--it's dreadful to have no +one I can talk to--no one to understand and help me." + +"I am afraid it's beyond me to help you," Feathers said hoarsely. +"I can only tell you to be patient and try and stick it out. +Pluck's everything you know, Mrs. Lawless---" + +As if she had not been plucky! He gritted his teeth at his temerity +in daring to preach such a doctrine to her, and yet it was the best +he could do. To offer her the sympathy and tenderness that was +tearing his heart with longing would be to ruin their friendship +once and for all. + +He looked back at her with hot eyes. He could only see her face +dimly through the dusk, but he heard the little despondent sigh she +gave as she answered him: "Yes; I suppose you are right. I will try +again--thank you." + +"There's nothing to thank me for." + +She laughed with soft scorn. + +"How can you say that! Why, you've been kinder to me than anyone in +the world." + +"My selfishness probably." He was making a desperate effort to get +back to platitudes, but it was difficult on such a perfect night +and in the company of the one woman in the world who had ever +touched his heart. + +"I haven't drowned you, you see," Feathers said, as they reached +the boathouse again. + +"No--and it's been such a lovely day." + +He went off to get the car ready. Every moment was precious now, +and there were so few left. He thought jealously of the short drive +back to London, and wished that its end lay on the other side of +infinity. + +"It's been such a lovely day!" Marie said again, as they started. +"I have enjoyed it--tremendously!" + +The last word was a sigh. + +"So have I." + +There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but his tongue +was awkward and unable to find the words. He wanted to tell her +that always, whatever happened, he was her devoted friend, that his +one desire in life was for her happiness, but mile after mile +slipped by and the tender thoughts could get no further than his +sad heart. + +And then they were home . . . + +Feathers' face was grim as he stopped the car at Miss Chester's +gate and looked down at Marie. + +"I hope you are not very tired, Mrs. Lawless," he said, and smiled +grimly to himself in the gray night at the contrast of the banal +inquiry and the passionate words that were almost choking him. + +"No, I am not very tired," she said, and she gave him a little pale +smile as they went up the steps together. "You will--will wait and +see if Chris has come?" + +"Yes." + +She asked the maid who admitted them, "Has Mr. Lawless come home?" +but she knew before the girl answered, for Chris' big traveling +coat hung in the hall and there was a smell of cigarette smoke in +the house which had been absent during the past weeks. + +She felt a little giddy, and her heart was beating wildly. How +could she bear to meet him and hear his casual "Hullo, Marie +Celeste?" + +"Mr. Lawless came home this afternoon quite early," the maid +answered. "He had dinner with Miss Chester and went out: he said he +should not be in till late." + +There was a little silence. + +"I won't stay then, Mrs. Lawless," Feathers said quietly. +"Good-night." + +"Good-night." Her fingers fluttered in his big grasp for a moment, +then he turned away and the front door shut heavily behind him. + +Marie went into the drawing-room to Miss Chester. She felt very +tired, and her footsteps dragged. + +"We've got back," she said. + +"Yes." Miss Chester looked up. "I thought I heard Mr. Dakers' +voice," she added. + +"So you did, but he would not stay when he heard that Chris had +gone out." + +Miss Chester's kindly gaze wavered a little. + +"Chris seemed very disappointed not to find you at home," she said. +"He could not understand it. He said that he wired he should be +home this afternoon." + +"So he did, and I got the wire, but as he is always so uncertain I +did not think it worth while to stay at home." + +There was a little silence. The distressed color rushed to Miss +Chester's thin face, and she laid down her knitting. + +"Marie!" she said, aghast. + +Marie smiled. + +"Well, dear, he has wired before, and written before, and not +come," she said. "And I did so want to go on the river." + +She took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair. Her +nerves felt all on edge. She was afraid that at any moment the door +would open and Chris walk in. She wondered desperately what she +should say to him. It frightened her, because there was none of the +ecstasy in her heart, which had once been such a joy and a torment. + +"Chris was hungry, so we did not wait dinner. Have you had yours?" +Miss Chester asked. + +"Yes; no, I mean. I am not hungry; we had such a big lunch." + +Marie wandered restlessly down the room. A sporting paper lay on +one of the tables amongst the silver trinkets and queer little +Victorian boxes which had belonged to her mother. Chris had thrown +it down there, she knew--and there was cigarette ash in one of the +fern pots. + +"He looks splendidly well." Miss Chester went on, attacking her +shawl once more. "So brown! I never saw anyone with such a brown +skin." + +Marie could picture him quite well--knew how startlingly blue his +eyes would look against that weather-tanned face. She stopped in +front of a photograph of him, and stared at it with a curious +expression in her eyes. + +It had been taken when he was at Cambridge and showed him on the +river in boating flannels. She remembered so well when he had sent +that photograph home--it had been during the one short period of +her life when for a little while she had almost forgotten him. + +She had not seen him for weeks, and a fresh school had made new +interests for her that had pushed him into the background of her +thoughts. Then that photograph came, and she could remember as +plainly as though it had been yesterday the sudden revulsion of +feeling that had flooded her heart, bringing back all the old +longing ache and worshipful love, even causing her to despise +herself because just for a little she had forgotten her idol. + +As she stood staring at it now, she was conscious of a wish that +was almost a prayer for some such metamorphosis to happen again. +She would have welcomed the old biting jealousy and disappointment +if she could have driven this new feeling of cold indifference from +her heart. + +"He brought me some lovely lace," Miss Chester went on. "There is +one thing about Chris, he never forgets to bring us presents when +he has been away. He is always most generous." + +Marie echoed the words flatly. + +"Yes, he is always most generous." And, for the first time since +she had overheard what Feathers had said in the hotel on the night +of her wedding, the bitter thought awoke in her heart that, after +all, it was only her money with which Chris was being generous--the +price he had paid for his freedom. + +"If Chris is going to be late home," she said restlessly, "I will +go to bed. I really am tired. It's the river, I suppose. Mr. Dakers +says it is supposed to make people sleepy." + +She had crossed to Miss Chester to kiss her good-night, when the +door opened and Chris walked into the room. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + + + "It is the little rift within the lute. + Which, widening ever, make the music mute." + + + +MARIE had stopped dead, the blood rushing to her face, her hands +nervously clutching the brim of the hat she had taken off when she +entered. + +Chris was almost as embarrassed as she. He colored to the roots of +his hair and laughed awkwardly. + + +"So you've got back, Marie Celeste." + +"Yes." And the dreadful pause fell again. + +They both knew quite well that Miss Chester was watching them, but +for the life of her Marie could not have moved a step towards him. + +Then, at last, Chris said, "Well, aren't you going to give me a +kiss?" + +He was terribly nervous, which partially accounted for the +lightness of the words, but Marie read no meaning into them, except +the old dreaded indifference, and she turned her face away when he +bent towards her, so that his kiss fell on her cheek. + +"You look very well," he said, because it was the exact opposite to +what he was thinking, and Marie said, "So do you," as she moved +over to Miss Chester as if for protection, and sat down on the arm +of her chair. + +Chris lounged against the mantelshelf and stared up at the ceiling. + +"Did you have a good time with Feathers?" he asked, bringing his +eyes down to his wife's pale face. + +"Yes--I'd never been before. We went up to Wargrave. It was +lovely!" + +She answered mechanically, in little jerky sentences. + +"We had some good times camping out years ago," Chris said. "It's +all right if the weather holds." + +"Yes," said Marie. She looked at him with brown eyes that were +merely critical and no longer slavishly adoring. He was handsomer +than ever, she thought, but the wonderful feeling of pride in him +had gone. She could admire him almost with indifference. + +"It was queer, you meeting Dorothy," she said, with an effort, and +Chris said, "Yes, the world is a small place." + +"I told her that I was sure you would be pleased to have her to +stay any time she liked to write and fix it up," he added. "She +plays a fine game of golf, but I beat her in the end." + +"She was always good at sports," Marie said mechanically. + +Miss Chester gathered up her knitting and said it was time she went +to bed. It was infinitely pathetic to her, because both Chris and +Marie immediately protested that it was still quite early, and that +surely there was no hurry. + +But she persisted, and went off to her room. + +There was an awkward silence when she had gone. Chris lit a +cigarette and forgot to keep it alight. + +"I've brought you a bracelet," he said abruptly. "I hope you'll +like it." He took a little box from his pocket, "I got it in +Edinburgh coming down--I thought it was rather pretty." + +He held the case to her. "Well, don't you want it?" + +"Thank you, Chris; of course, I do! Thank you, very much." She +opened the snap and gave a little exclamation of pleasure; the +bracelet was designed like a wreath of small water lilies, the +petals made of platinum, with a diamond in the heart of each +flower. + +"It's very pretty," she said. "Thank you so much." + +But she made no attempt to take it from the case or slip it on her +wrist, and with a little impatient movement he took it from her. + +"Come here," he said. "Hold out your hand." + +She did so, and he snapped the bracelet on to her arm. + +"It's very pretty," said Marie, but she did not dare to raise her +eyes to her husband's face. The touch of his hand on her arm had +communicated to her something of his old magnetism, and she knew +that she was trembling in every limb. + +Then, suddenly, before she could guess at his intention, Chris had +caught her in his arms, and was kissing her passionately, bringing +stinging patches of crimson to her white face, and almost robbing +her of breath. + +Then he held her at arm's length, his handsome face flushed, and +his eyes very bright and triumphant. + +"You little iceberg! How dare you give me such a cold reception! +I've been looking forward to seeing you and you calmly go out as if +I didn't exist . . . Why, what's the matter, Marie Celeste?" + +He seemed suddenly aware of the strange expression of her eyes. His +hands relaxed their grip, and she twisted herself free. + +She had felt his kisses to be an outrage. She knew that he did not +love her, and that this sudden burst of passion was worth nothing +at all. There was something akin to hatred in her eyes as she +raised them to his abashed face. + +"Please never dare to do that again," she said in a voice that was +all the more intense for its quietness. "I have never bothered you, +or asked anything of you--you have gone where you liked and stayed +away as long as you pleased--you always can--but in exchange I +expect you to allow me the same freedom." + +Chris flushed scarlet, but more with surprise than any other +emotion. That she should dare so to speak to him was the biggest +shock of his life. + +For a moment he could find no words, then he broke out savagely: +"Someone has been talking! Someone has been setting you against me. +I felt that you had changed directly I came into the room. Who is +it? Tell me who it is?" + +She smiled contemptuously. + +"I have hardly seen anyone, except Aunt Madge's friends and your +own, and if you think they have any reason to speak against you it +is no fault of mine." + +He broke in passionately: "It's that young devil, Atkins. I knew he +was keen on you; I--Marie---" He caught her by the arm, swinging her +round to him as she would have turned away, his eyes searching her +face with bitter suspicion. "I suppose you've forgotten that you are +my wife?" he demanded. + +She looked up. + +"If I have, it isn't for you to be surprised, seeing that you have +never once troubled to remember it." + +"Marie--what do you mean? I thought . . . I mean--it was your wish +. . ." He stammered and broke off; then all at once he turned away +with a little harsh laugh. + +"What a nice home-coming! I wish to God I'd stayed away." + +"You would have done so if you'd wanted to," Marie said quietly. +She waited a moment, but Chris did not speak, and she moved towards +the door. "I am tired--and I dare say you are. Good-night." + +He did not answer, and she went silently away. + +Chris stood with his elbow on the mantelshelf, staring down into +the empty grate. His pride, if nothing more serious, had received a +nasty blow. + +He had come home quite happily--having had the time of his life-- +had looked forward to seeing Marie Celeste--had planned all sorts +of things for her amusement--and, incidentally, his own--in the +future, and this was the reception he got! + +He bit his lip savagely. What was the explanation of it all? She +had always been so docile and devoted. It turned his blood to white +heat to think of the apathy with which she had received his kisses-- +kisses that had been meant, too! His face darkened--it was the +first time in his life he had ever known the slightest desire to +kiss any woman, but she had looked so provokingly pretty in her +white frock . . . + +Chris swore and lit another cigarette. It would be a very long time +before he troubled about her again, he promised himself. + +He would have been furiously indignant had anyone told him that it +was Marie's indifference that had fired his imagination, and +wakened the desire to rouse in her some show of affection. + +It was not exactly pleasant to remember the years that were gone, +through which she had so faithfully adored him, and contrast them +with the steely feeling of her lips beneath his and the resistance +of her slim body in his arms. + +Who was responsible for the change? He sought for it in everyone +but himself. He was the most suspicious of young Atkins--he was +near Marie's age, and had from the first shown a ridiculous +interest in her. + +It was odd that he never seriously considered Feathers. Feathers +was his friend and disliked all women; any attention he had shown +to Marie had been out of ordinary courtesy, nothing more. + +Well, if this was the attitude she meant to adopt, he would soon +let her see that he was quite indifferent. He would go his own way +and leave her severely alone. Hang it all, he had brought her home +a bracelet, and written whenever there had been anything to write +about. He would not have believed it possible for her to be so +unreasonable. + +He comforted himself with the reflection that in a few days she +would come to her senses. All their lives there had been little ups +and downs of this kind, and she had never failed in the end to say +she was sorry. + +She needed a firm hand--he supposed that all women did. + +Having argued himself back into a more complacent state of mind, +Chris turned out the light and went, up to bed. + +His room was next to Marie's, and as he moved about it in his +stockinged feet, once or twice he was sure that he heard the sound +of stifled sobbing, though whenever he stood still to listen all +was quiet again. + +Once he even softly tried the handle of the communicating door, but +it was locked, and he frowned as he turned away. + +She had been so different that Sunday afternoon when he asked her +to marry him. It gave him an unpleasant twinge to remember the shy +radiance of her face. He was very sure that she would not have +repulsed him then had he taken her in his arms and kissed her. + +And his mind went back again to young Atkins with angry +persistence. Young cub! If he had been making love to Marie +Celeste, he would break his neck for him. + +With singular blindness, he believed that the surest way to put +things right between himself and Marie, was to ignore the fact that +anything was wrong. + +When they met he was always smiling and cheerful, but he never +asked her to go out with him, never showed the slightest interest +in what she did, or how she spent her time. + +Miss Chester looked on in troubled perplexity. She loved them both, +and did not know with which of them the real fault lay. + +She was afraid to ask questions, so matters were just allowed to +drift, and whatever battles Marie had to fight, she alone knew of +them. + +She spent a great deal of her time with Miss Chester; she drove +with her and walked with her, and patiently wound wool for the +knitting of that interminable shawl. + +She had not seen Feathers since the day on the river, though she +knew that he was often with Chris, and her heart was sore at the +loss of her friend. + +She missed him terribly, though their companionship had only lasted +a little more than a week, and it hurt her inexpressibly to hear +the casual way in which Chris spoke of him--Feathers had been on +the ran-dan! Feathers had lost sixty pounds at poker! Feathers had +had to be taken home from his club in a taxi. + +Miss Chester looked up from her work. + +"Chris, what is the ran-dan?" she asked. + +Chris laughed, and it was Marie who explained. + +"It's a slang word for dissipation. Aunt Madge." + +Miss Chester said "Oh!" in a rather shocked voice, adding slowly, +"I should not have thought Mr. Dakers a dissipated man." + +"Nor I," said Marie. + +"You don't know him as well as I do." Chris said. "And, by the way, +I'm golfing with him on Sunday." + +Marie looked up. + +"To lunch at the Load of Hay?" she asked quietly. + +Chris raised amazed eyebrows. + +"How ever did you know?" + +"I went there with him once. We motored out, and Mrs. Costin gave +us lunch." + +"You never told me." + +"I forgot. We met Mrs. Heriot there." + +"Yes; so Feathers said. We're going to fix up a foursome with her." + +"Why don't you go, too, Marie?" Miss Chester said. "The drive would +do you good. You haven't been out in the car since that day Mr. +Dakers took you on the river." + +"Yes; why not come along, Marie Celeste?" Chris said. + +"I don't think I care about it," Marie answered. + +Later on Chris tried again to persuade her. + +He had followed her into the dining-room, where she was arranging +flowers for the dinner table. + +"Why won't you come on Sunday?" he demanded. + +"Because I should not find it very amusing. I don't play golf, you +know." + +Chris fidgeted round the room, jingling some loose coins in his +pocket. + +"I suppose you'd go if Feathers asked you," he said suddenly--so +suddenly that the hot color flew to Marie's face. + +"I don't know what you mean," she said steadily. + +"I mean that from all accounts you were with him every day before I +came home." + +"Every day! When he was in Scotland with you for a month!" + +"You split straws," he answered irritably. "You know quite well +what I mean." + +"He took me motoring two or three times. I was glad to go; I had +not had a very exciting time." + +"You could have had friends to stay with you." + +"I asked Dorothy Webber, and she refused." + +Chris colored a little. + +"I should not imagine that she is your sort, anyway," he said +offhandedly. + +"She was my best friend at school." + +Chris took up a book and threw it down again. + +"Well, will you come on Sunday?" + +"No, thank you." + +He caught her hand as she passed him, and his voice was hoarse as +he asked: + +"Marie Celeste, what the devil have I done to make you hate me like +this?" + +He had not meant to say it. He had intended to maintain his dignity +and indifference until it conquered her, but instead she had +conquered him, and now there was a passionate desire in his heart +to see the old shy look of adoration in her eyes and set the blood +fluttering in her pale cheeks. + +She gave a little, nervous laugh. + +"I don't hate you; don't be absurd, Chris. Let me go; I want to +finish these flowers." + +"You can go if you will promise to come with me on Sunday." + +She looked up. + +"Why are you so anxious for my company all at once?" + +He frowned. + +"It looks so--so rotten, our never being together. Feathers is +always getting sly digs in at me about it, and it isn't as if there +is any real reason; we have always been good friends, Marie +Celeste, until lately." + +So it was not that he wanted her. It was just that Feathers had +commented on the fact that they were so seldom together, and she +knew how Chris hated to be talked about. + +She thought of Feathers with a little heartache. It seemed an +eternity since she had seen him or felt the strong clasp of his +hand, and quite suddenly she made up her mind. + +"Very well, I will come." + +Chris brightened immediately. + +"Thank you, Marie Celeste. I shan't tell Feathers, it will be a +pleasant surprise for him." There was a little sneer in his voice, +but Marie took no notice, as she went on arranging the flowers with +hands that were not quite steady. + +She did not expect to enjoy herself by accompanying Chris. She +hated Mrs. Heriot, and she knew she would feel out of everything +and unwanted, but--and she knew this had been the determining +factor--she would see Feathers. + +She wore her prettiest frock on Sunday, and turned a deaf ear to +Mrs. Chester's lamentations that it would be ruined. + +"The roads are so dusty--wear something that can't be spoilt, my +dear child." + +"I'll take a cloak," Marie said. + +She was conscious of a little feeling of nervousness as she drove +away with Chris. + +"I'm going to pick Feathers up at his rooms," he said. "He's got +rooms in Albany Street, you know." + +"Yes, he told me." + +Her heart was beating fast as they drew up at the house, and she +kept her eyes steadily before her as Chris left the car and rang +the door bell violently. + +It was opened by Feathers himself, ready to start and with his golf +bag slung over his shoulder. + +"Ten minutes late, you miserable blighter," he began, then stopped, +and his face seemed to tighten as he looked at Marie. "How do you +do, Mrs. Lawless?" He went forward and shook hands with her +formally. "This is a pleasant surprise," he said quietly. + +"Well, don't waste time--get in," Chris struck in bluntly. He took +his seat again beside his wife and drove on. + +Marie felt strained and nervous. She tried hard to think of +something to say. She knew it would be the most natural thing in +the world for her to turn and speak to Feathers, but she could not +force herself to meet his eyes. + +"You're very talkative," Chris said with faint sarcasm, looking +down at her. He glanced over his shoulder at Feathers. + +"Was she was quiet as this when you took her out, Feathers?" + +Feathers laughed, and made some evasive answer. He tried not to +look at Marie, but his eyes turned to her again and again. It +seemed a lifetime since they had met, and it filled him with +unreasonable jealousy to see her sitting by his friend's side as +once she had sat by his, and to know that she belonged to Chris-- +irrevocably. + +It had cost him a tremendous effort to keep away from her. Chris +had asked him to the house a dozen times since his return, but he +had always managed to avoid going. What was the use? He had had his +little hour of life. There was nothing more to hope for. + +Mrs. Heriot was out in the road looking for them when they drew up +at the inn. A faint shadow crossed her face when she saw Marie, +though she was effusive in her welcome. + +"And Mrs. Lawless too! How delightful--and how perfectly splendid +you are looking, Chris!" + +Chris walked on with her to the inn, and for a moment Marie and +Feathers were left together. + +They both tried to think of something to say, but even ordinary +conversation seemed difficult. + +It was only when Marie's coat slipped from her arm and they both +stooped to recover it, that for an instant their eyes met, and she +broke out, as if the words were formed without her will or +knowledge, "It is nice to see you again, Mr. Dakers." + +Poor Feathers! He flushed to the roots of his rough hair as he +answered gruffly: + +"You are very kind, Mrs. Lawless," and then, with a desperate +attempt to change the subject, "Chris looks well, doesn't he?" + +"Yes." She looked at him resentfully, but something in his face +soothed the soreness of her heart, for there was a hard unhappiness +in his eyes, and a bitter fold to his lips. + +"He is not happy, any more than I am," she thought, and wondered +why. She sat next to him at lunch, and Mrs. Heriot and her sister +took the whole of the conversation between them. They talked of +golf till Marie's head reeled, and Feathers interrupted at last. + +"This is not very interesting to you, I am afraid, Mrs. Lawless." + +Mrs. Heriot laughed. + +"Mrs. Lawless ought to learn to play! Why don't you teach her, Mr. +Dakers? She really ought to play." + +"I'm afraid I should never be any good at it," Marie answered. "I +never could walk far, and it seems to me that you spend all the +time walking round and round." + +Mrs. Heriot looked at Chris. + +"Your wife is a vandal," she told him. "I am surprised that you +have not made her into more of a sportswoman." + +He would have spoken, but she rattled on. "Did they tell you how +they ran into us down here ten days ago? Wasn't it queer? And what +do you think that silly Mrs. Costin thought?--why, that Mrs. +Lawless was Mr. Dakers' wife! We had such a laugh over it, didn't +we?" she appealed to her sister. + +Marie had flushed crimson. She looked appealingly across at her +husband, and was stunned by the look of anger in his eyes--anger +with her, she knew. With a desperate effort she pulled herself +together. + +"I wonder if people thought any of the women Chris played golf with +in Scotland were his wife?" she said. + +Mrs. Heriot screamed with laughter. + +"That's the first time I've ever seen you hit back," she cried, +clapping her hands. "You dear, delightful child." + +Feathers pushed back his chair and rose. + +"Are we obliged to waste all the day here?" he asked. "I thought +the main object was to play golf." + +Mrs. Heriot followed him with alacrity, and her sister glanced at +Marie. + +"What are you going to do?" she asked. "You'll find it very tiring +walking round with us, I'm afraid; the sun is so hot." + +"I should like to come." Marie said. "You would like me to, +wouldn't you, Chris?" + +"My dear child, please yourself, and you will please me." + +He tried to make his voice pleasant, but to Marie, who knew him so +well, there was an underlying current of angry bitterness. + +Was he jealous because of that remark about Feathers, she wondered, +and laughed at herself. Chris had never been jealous of anyone or +anything in his life. + +"I shall come then," she said, and walked out of the room. + +But before they had got half-way round the course she was tired +out, and had to admit it. There were hardly any trees for shelter, +and the sun blazed down relentlessly on the dry grass. + +Mrs. Heriot and Chris were playing together and a little ahead, and +Marie said to Feathers: + +"I'm going to stay here and rest. Please go on, and I will walk +back to the clubhouse directly." + +They were passing a little group of trees. + +"It will be cool in the shade here," she added. + +Mrs. Heriot's sister called to them. + +"Now then, you two! What are you waiting for?" + +"You'd better have my coat to sit on," Feathers said. "Yes, I know +it's hot, but there are heavy dews at night and the grass may be +damp, and you don't want to take any risks." + +He had been playing without his coat, and he handed it to her +before he went on to join his partner. + +Marie sat down in the shade. Her head ached and she was glad of the +rest. She let Feathers' coat lie on her lap listlessly. What did it +matter if she caught cold or not? Certainly nobody cared what +became of her. + +The others had gone on over a rise in the ground and out of sight +before Chris noticed that Marie was not with them. + +He called out to Feathers, "Where is Marie?" + +"She was tired--she is going back to the clubhouse when she has +rested." + +Mrs. Heriot laughed as she walked on by Chris' side. "Mr. Dakers is +very devoted," she said softly. + +"Devoted!" Chris echoed the word blankly. "Devoted to what?" he +asked. + +She raised her eyes and lowered them again immediately. + +"To your wife, I mean," she said. + +"To--my--wife!" + +She gave a little affected laugh. + +"My dear Chris, don't pretend to be surprised when everyone down at +the hotel noticed it, even on your honeymoon. Why, Mrs. Lister even +asked me which of you was her husband--you or Mr. Dakers. So silly +of her, of course, but it shows how people notice things. You know +I always think that when a man dislikes women, as Mr. Dakers has +always professed to do, in the long run he is bound to be badly +caught." + +Chris turned on her furiously. + +"I think you forget you are speaking of my wife," he said. + +She flushed scarlet. + +"My dear boy, I meant nothing against her. I know as well as you do +that there is nothing in it, on her side at all. I only meant that +Mr. Dakers . . ." + +"Dakers is my friend. I would rather not discuss him, if you have +no objection." + +She saw that she had gone too far, and relapsed into silence. They +both played badly for the remainder of the game, and lost the +match. + +They were rather a silent party as they walked back to the +clubhouse. + +Feathers looked round quickly. + +"Mrs. Lawless is not here," he said to Chris. + +Chris threw his clubs into a corner. + +"No; I'll go and find her," he said, and walked out again into the +sunshine. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + + + "Better for both that the word should be spoken; + Fetters, than heart, if one must be broken." + + + +MARIE sat lost in thought for a long time after the others had gone +on. It was very peaceful out there on the links, and to-day there +was hardly anybody about. + +She wondered why it was that, no matter how hard she tried, she +always seemed to find herself left alone and out of everything. + +Did the fault lie in her own temperament, or was it merely that she +was not physically strong enough to enter into things as other +women did? + +She knew that she was totally unsuited to be Chris' wife, and, +knowing it, wondered why it was she had ever loved him so much; why +things so often seemed to happen like that in life, without any +apparent reason. + +In spite of the subtle change in her feelings towards her husband, +she never for a moment blamed him. It was Fate--one could not avoid +these things, and she found herself wondering if Feathers would +have been kinder and less selfish had he found himself in similar +circumstances. + +She looked down at his rough tweed coat lying across her lap. It +was well worn and very shabby, much more shabby than any coat of +her husband's. She smoothed the rough fabric with gentle fingers. + +It was odd how blind women were, she thought; odd that an ugly face +should so repel them that they never troubled to look beyond it and +discover that it is possible for a heart of gold to lie hidden +behind blunt features and an ungainly figure. + +She had made the same mistake herself. She had adored her husband's +handsome face and proved to her bitter cost that alone it was +unsatisfying and offered nothing in exchange for all her love. + +What was to become of her? The bond of marriage which she had at +first believed she could tolerate because she loved her fellow +prisoner was now growing into a fetter, and she felt that she would +give anything to be free of it. + +She had thought herself miserable when Chris was away in Scotland, +and yet she knew she had been happier then than she was now, when +his presence in the house was a constant worry to her, and left her +with an eternal sense of captivity. + +She had tried hard to get used to it, and failed. Surely there must +be some other way of escape for them both. + +Across the hills she thought she heard somebody calling to her, and +she scrambled to her feet with a sense of guilt. Time had passed so +quickly--she supposed they had got back to the clubhouse and were +looking for her. + +Feather's coat had fallen to the grass, and as she stooped to +recover it a litter of papers and odds and ends tumbled out of one +of the pockets. + +Marie went down on her knees to gather them up, smiling at the +motley collection. There was a bundle of pipe-cleaners and a +half-empty packet of cigarettes, a bone pocket knife, some papers +that looked like bills and a sheet torn from a bridge scorer with +something folded between it--something that fluttered down to the +grass--a dead flower! + +The color flew to Marie cheeks as she stooped to pick it up. It was +a faded blossom of love-in-a-mist--the flower she herself had given +to Feathers the last time they drove this way. + +She held it in her band for a moment, her eyes a little misty, then +she unfolded the page from the bridge scorer and put it back in its +place, and on the inside of the paper, scrawled in Feather's +writing, were the words "Marie Celeste," and the date of the day +she had given it to him. + +Marie sat down on the grass with a little feeling of unreality. Why +had he kept it? She shut her eyes and conjured up his kind, ugly +face, and all at once it was as if a burning ray of light +penetrated her mind, showing her the thing he had never meant her +to see. + +He loved her! She could not have explained how it was that she knew +or why she was so sure, but it came home to her with a conviction +that would not be denied. He loved her. + +How blind she had been not to have known all along! A hundred and +one little incidents of their friendship came crowding back to her, +fraught with a new meaning and significance. + +He loved her, and his was a love so well worth having; a love that +would make a woman perfectly contented and happy, that would allow +of no room for jealous doubts or bitterness, that would be like the +clasp of his hand, strong and all enfolding. + +She had often thought with faint envy of the unknown woman whom +some day he might love, and all the time she was that woman! + +The little dried flower had betrayed his secret, and the knowledge +of it sent a wave of such happiness through her heart that for an +instant she felt as if she were floating on clouds far above all +the bitter disappointments and disillusionments that marriage had +brought her. + +For the first time in her life Chris no longer had a place in her +thoughts. She gave herself up to the sweetness of a dream that +could never be realized--the wonder of complete happiness. + +"Marie," said a voice behind her, and she looked up with dazed eyes +to her husband's face. + +She had not heard his step over the soft grass, and he was close +beside her as with trembling fingers she thrust the papers and odds +and ends back into Feathers' coat. + +"I was just coming back," she said. She tried desperately to +control her voice, but her agitated heartbeats seemed somehow to +have got hopelessly mixed up with it. "Mr. Dakers left me his coat, +and the things all fell out of the pocket--I hope I've found them +all." + +She scrambled up. + +"Let me take it," Chris said. She made a little involuntary +movement as if to refuse, then gave it to him silently. + +That old tweed coat had suddenly grown dear to her--more dear than +anything else in the world. She averted her eyes, so she should not +see the careless way in which Chris slung it over his arm. + +She walked along beside him without speaking, hardly conscious of +his presence. Her thoughts were all in the clouds, her pulses were +still throbbing. + +Somebody loved her--that was the great joy and wonder of the world. +She no longer felt herself unwanted. There was one man to whom she +was not merely a tie and a nuisance. + +Then Chris said abruptly: "It's a pity you came if you're so easily +tired." + +She started and looked up at him. + +"What do you mean? I'm not tired." + +All her weariness had forsaken her, driven away by new and happier +thoughts. + +He laughed grimly. + +"Feathers told me that you were tired and had stayed behind to +rest." + +He searched her face with vague suspicion. + +Marie answered rather sharply: + +"There seemed no object in my trudging round behind you all; I was +not playing and I did not understand the game." + +She quickened her pace a little as the clubhouse came in sight. She +did not desire his company. She hardly considered him. + +They had tea outside in the shade of a tree. Mrs. Heriot was very +quiet. She looked rather sullen. + +"Have you got a headache?" Marie asked sympathetically. She felt +that to-day she could even be nice to this woman. + +Mrs. Heriot's sister broke in spitefully: "Headache! Of course she +hasn't. She lost the game, that's all, and it always makes her +sulky." + +Mrs. Heriot flushed. + +"We'll take you on again after tea, and beat you," she said. "We +never should have lost, only Chris slacked off." + +She shot him an angry glance. + +Feathers took no interest in the conversation. He had had one cup +of tea, refusing anything to eat, and sat back in his chair, his +hat tilted over his yes, smoking hard. + +Marie hardly glanced in his direction, but she was painfully +conscious of his every movement. Her thoughts all the time were +picking out little incidents of their friendship, translating them +anew, hugging their meaning to her heart. + +She did not know that Chris was watching her closely--would not +have cared if she had known. For once she had been lifted above the +level of pain and disappointment to which marriage with him had +relegated her. + +Presently another man strolled up and joined them. He knew both +Chris and Mrs. Heriot, it seemed He asked if there was any chance +of a foursome. + +Chris indicated Feathers. + +"My friend here is going to play. Sorry." + +Feathers looked up. + +"I'm not keen--I'm quite happy where I am. Mrs. Lawless and I will +keep one another company. Shall we?" he asked, glancing at her. + +Marie nodded. Her heart was racing, and she was afraid that every +one would see her agitation. Chris laughed. + +"I dare say you'll be able to amuse one another." he said, and +presently Marie was left with Feathers. + +He sat up then with some show of energy. + +"Nice place here, isn't it?" + +"Yes--very." + +"I wish you would play golf, Mrs. Lawless." + +"Who do you suppose would teach me? I don't know the first thing +about it." + +"I shall be delighted to offer myself for the post, if Chris has no +objection." + +Her brown eyes shone. "Why should he? He would not care to teach me +himself." + +It seemed as if she saw Feathers now for the first time. He was no +longer Chris' friend, the man she had hated for having brought her +castle tottering earthwards. He was no longer even the kind friend +he had been to her--he was the man who loved her. + +Her thoughts seemed to travel so fast ahead, weaving all sorts of +impossible day-dreams for the future. + +"I'll speak to him about it," Feathers said briefly. + +His kind eyes dwelt on her face. + +"I thought you said you were tired," he said, suddenly. "I don't +think I have ever seen you look better in your life." + +She laughed and flushed. + +"Haven't you?" She looked away from him across the green slope up +which Chris and the others were disappearing. + +"You ought to have played," she said irrelevantly. "Why didn't you? +I am sure you would have enjoyed it better than sitting here." + +She asked the question intentionally, hoping with almost childish +eagerness that he would say he preferred to be where he was. She +knew it would be only the polite thing to say, although in her +heart she would understand that in this instance he was sincere. + +But Feathers did not say it. He was filling his pipe with tobacco, +ramming it down into the bowl with careful precision. + +"I don't care for mixed games," he said. "Mrs. Heriot always loses +her temper so shockingly." + +"Does she?" She leaned her chin in her hand and looked at him with +rather wistful eyes. She wondered what he would say if she told him +about that little dead flower. + +He broke into her thoughts. + +"Has Chris told you that I am leaving England?" + +The words gave her a terrible shock; the color drained away from +her face, leaving her eyes very piteous against its pallor. + +"Leaving--England!" she echoed the words in a whisper. + +"Yes," he went on, ramming tobacco into his pipe, hardly conscious +of what he was doing. + +"You remember that I told you I always went with the tide. Well, +three weeks ago it washed me up in London, and now it's washing me +off again. I'm going to Italy." + +"Oh--what for?" She asked the question without expression. + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"I don't know; nothing in particular. I've been before, of course. +I'm just going to take a stick and a knapsack, and walk around the +country, sleep anywhere--eat anything--and enjoy myself." + +"I wish I could come with you." The words broke from her with a +little cry, and Feathers raised his eyes at last. + +He saw the pallor of her face and the distress in her eyes, and his +heart began to race, but he only said very quietly: "You'd soon get +tired of living my Bohemian life. When you go to Italy Chris will +take you, and you must do the thing properly." + +She seemed hardly to hear. She went on passionately: "It seems as +if I must lose all my friends. It isn't fair! First there was Mr. +Atkins, and now . . ." + +"Atkins!" said Feathers sharply. + +"Yes." She laughed recklessly. "He went away because . . . oh, I +suppose I ought not to tell you, really, but I know you think that +nobody cares for me--because I'm so uninteresting, but he did--he +was only a boy, but he was really fond of me--and so . . . so I +sent him away! And now you are going, too! . . . I wish I could +die!" said Marie Celeste, in a tragic whisper. + +There was a long silence. Feathers' big hands hung limply between +his knees, his fingers still clutching at his pipe, then he said +slowly, as if he were carefully choosing his words: + +"If young Atkins could be man enough to--go--what would you think +of me--if I stayed?" + +His voice was quite quiet, though a little hoarse, but its very +steadiness seemed both to conceal and reveal more than an outburst +of passion would have done, and Marie gave a little stifled cry. + +And Feathers went on, speaking in the same quiet voice: + +"You see, Mrs. Lawless, I know the world, and you do not! I know +what a mountain of regrets one lays up for the future if--if one +forgets other things . . . Chris is a good fellow--until he married +you I thought him the best chap in the world--I think so still, +except that I cannot forgive him for having failed to make you +happy; but . . . but my failure will be worse than his, if I--if I +try to deceive myself with the belief that I can . . . can give you +what he cannot." + +"I have always been happy with you," said Marie in a whisper. + +Her cheeks were like fire, and she felt that she could never look +him in the face again, and yet her whole desire was to keep him +with her--to prevent him from walking out of her life, as she knew +he intended doing. + +She felt very much as she had done that morning when he saved her +from drowning--a terrible feeling of hopelessness and despair, +until the moment when the grip of his strong hands caught her. + +He had saved her life then. Was he going to let her drown now in +the depths of her own misery? + +Once he went away it would be the end of everything, she knew. He +would never come back any more, and for the rest of her life she +would have to go on trying to make the best of things, trying to +get used to having a bachelor husband. + +She knew that the silence had lasted for a long time before +Feathers said gently: "There are some people coming, Mrs. Lawless!" + +She looked up then with fiery eyes. + +"Well, you haven't gone yet," she said defiantly. "Ever so many +things may happen before you do." + +The day had been a failure, and the drive home was a silent one. +Marie sat beside Chris as she had done before, and her eyes were +very bright as she looked steadily ahead of her down the road. + +It was like looking into the future, she thought, as London drew +nearer and nearer, and the many lights were symbolical of the +happiness that lay in wait for her. + +She refused to believe that Feathers really would go away. Her +whole heart and soul were bent on keeping him near her. + +She was very young, or she would have seen the impossibility of the +whole thing as he did. Reaction was the power driving her. She who +had hitherto had nothing found herself all at once with full hands, +and she clasped her treasure to her desperately. + +Chris put her down at the house and drove around to the garage with +Feathers; he was a long time gone--and when he came back he was +alone. + +Marie peeped over the banisters when she heard his voice in the +hall below, and a faint chill touched her heart when she saw that +Feathers had not come in with him. She felt like a disappointed +child as she went back to her room. + +She had changed her frock to please Feathers. There was somebody at +last who cared how she looked. Though he would have said nothing, +perhaps would hardly have glanced her way, she would have known +that he liked to see her look pretty. + +Now that he was not coming she had lost all interest. Her face was +listless as she crossed the landing to go downstairs. + +As she did so, the door of Chris' bedroom opened, and he called to +her: + +"I want you, Marie Celeste." + +Marie hesitated. + +"It's nearly dinner-time; what do you want?" + +"I want to speak to you." + +One of the servants was coming upstairs, and more for appearance +sake than anything Marie obeyed. + +"Yes." She stood in the doorway waiting. + +Chris had made no attempt to change for dinner, though he had been +in some time. He stretched a hand past her as she stood there and +shut the door. Then he said abruptly: + +"I'm going away to-morrow, Marie. I'm sick of London." He did not +look at her as he spoke, but he heard the quick breath she drew, +and knew it was one of relief. + +His voice was hard as he went on, "I want you to come with me." + +"No." She was hardly conscious of having spoken the word till she +saw the sudden change in his face, but he kept himself under +admirable control. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +She looked away from him. + +"I would rather stay here--that is all." + +"But I wish you to come." + +She looked up. + +"You have never wanted me to go anywhere with you before." + +"I know--perhaps because I was a damned fool. Anyway, we won't +argue. You will come with me tomorrow." + +"No, Chris, I shall not." + +There was a tragic silence. + +"Why not?" Chris asked again hoarsely. + +Her lips trembled, but she answered quite gently: "Because I would +rather stay here--with Aunt Madge." + +She saw the hot blood leap to his face, and quite suddenly he broke +out in blind passion. + +"With Feathers, you mean! Speak the truth and admit it! You want to +stay here with him and knock about with him, as you did when I was +in Scotland I I'm not such a blind fool as you think! It's Feathers +who has changed you so! Do you think I can't see the difference in +you when you're with him and when you're with me? Do you think +other people can't see it, too? You heard what that woman, Mrs. +Heriot, said at lunch to-day . . ." + +Marie's lip curled contemptuously, though her heart was racing and +she was as white as a ghost. + +"Mrs. Heriot!" she echoed disdainfully. + +"And everyone else, too!" he raved on. "It's got to stop, I tell +you. You're coming away with me to-morrow. Do you think I want my +wife talked about by a lot of scandalmongering women? . . ." He +broke off breathlessly, but Marie neither spoke nor raised her +eyes, and the coldness of her averted face cut him to the heart. He +caught her by the shoulders roughly. + +"You used to love me, Marie Celeste," he said brokenly. + +"Did I?" The brown eyes met his now. "You never loved me," she +said, very quietly. + +He broke out again into fresh anger. He raged up and down the room, +hardly knowing what he was doing. He hated himself for his +blindness, hated her more because she could stand there so unmoved. + +"You'll come away with me to-morrow," he said hoarsely. "I insist-- +you're my wife!" + +"Yes--unfortunately," she said, white-lipped. + +He stared at her with hot eyes. + +"Is that how you feel about it? You hate me as much as that? I know +I haven't treated you as well as I might have done--I know I'm a +selfish chap--but you knew that when you married me--you've always +known it." + +She gave a little weary sigh. + +"What does it matter? I'm not complaining; you've always been +free." + +"I don't want to be free; you're my wife. Marie Celeste, for God's +sake . . ." She put up her hand. + +"Oh, Chris--please." + +It hurt inexpressibly to hear him pleading to her--he who had never +done such a thing in his life--and yet . . . "I don't care! I don't +care at all!" she was saying over and over again in her heart. + +He took her hand. + +"Can't we start again? I'll do my very best--I swear I will. I know +you're too good for me--you ways have been. I don't deserve that +you should ever have married me, but it's not too late, Marie +Celeste. Come away with me, and I'll show you that I can treat you +decently when I like." + +Someone knocked at the door. "Please, sir. Miss Chester sent me to +say that dinner was ready half an hour ago." + +Marie drew her hand away quickly. The interruption was very +welcome. + +"Let me go--please! Aunt Madge will think it so strange." + +"In a moment, Marie. Will you come with me to-morrow? We'll go +where you like; I'll do anything in the world you wish. . ." + +She shook her head. + +"I don't know; I can't decide now. Ill think it over." + +"When will you tell me?" + +"I don't know; to-morrow--yes, to-morrow morning." + +She made the terms to escape from him and went to her room and +stood for a moment with her hands hard pressed over her eyes. + +The storm had come so suddenly. She wondered what had been +responsible for it. Had Mrs. Heriot said anything more--or could it +have been Feathers himself? She could hardly force herself to go +down to dinner, as she was shaken to the depths of her soul. + +Chris talked ceaselessly during dinner. He drank a good deal of +wine, and his face grew flushed and his eyes excited. + +"You're not going out again, surely?" Miss Chester asked him when +afterwards he came to the drawing-room for a moment in his +overcoat. + +"I am--just for a stroll; it's so hot indoors." He looked at Marie. +"Will you come?" he asked jerkily. + +"I'd rather not; I'm tired--I think I'll stay with Aunt Madge." + +But as soon as he had gone she went up to her room and sat down in +the darkness. A lifetime seemed to have been crowded into this one +day. She felt that she had aged years since they started out in the +morning. + +Feathers loved her! The knowledge stood out like a beacon light in +the darkness. She knew what her life would be with him--happiness +and contentment, and she did so long for happiness. + +He was a good man, and a strong man; all her empty heart seemed to +stretch out to him in passionate gratitude and longing. + +But she was married . . . She felt for her wedding ring in the +darkness and held it fast. + +She had married the man she loved, believing that he loved her. +Well, he did not! She was his wife in name only! Would there be any +great harm if she snapped the frail tie between them? + +She sat there for a long, long time, tortured with doubts and +indecision. What ought she to do? + +Miss Chester came up presently to say good-night. She knew quite +well that there had been some trouble between Chris and Marie, but +she asked no questions. + +"Sleep well, dearie," she said as she went away, and Marie smiled +bitterly. How could anyone sleep well, torn as she was by such +miserable indecision? + +Did she love Feathers? She could not be sure. That she loved him as +a dear friend she knew; that she was always happy with him she also +knew; but there was none of the romance and wonder in it that had +thrilled her when Chris asked her to marry him. + +She wrung her hands in the darkness. + +"I don't know--oh, I don't know!" + +Chris cared nothing for her. His outburst this evening had been +partly anger and partly outraged pride. His was a dog-in-the-manger +affection; he did not want her himself, and yet he would allow +nobody else to have her. + +She got up presently and unlocked the door between their rooms, +groping along the wall for the switch. + +She looked round her husband's room with unhappy eyes, and +something of the old tenderness flowed back into her heart. + +She had loved him for so long, her life and his were so irrevocably +bound up together. How could she take this step that would sever +the tie once and for all? + +She wandered round the room aimlessly, picking up little things of +his, looking at them, and putting them down again, and all the time +the same unanswerable questions were going on in her mind. + +If she stayed with him what was there for her in the future? She +could only see more disillusionment and tears and sorrow, and if +she went with Feathers . . . Marie laughed brokenly, the tears +running down her cheeks. How could she go with Feathers when he had +not asked her? And suddenly she remembered the look in his eyes as +he said good-night to her an hour or two ago. + +She had tried to believe that it was not farewell and renunciation +that she had read in them, but she had known that it was. He was +stronger than she--his heart might ache, but he would not dishonor +his friend. He would walk away with a smile on his lips, and nobody +would ever know what he suffered. + +If she tried to break down his strength she was not worthy of his +love, and suddenly Marie Celeste hid her face in her hands and +broke into bitter crying, which yet brought tears of healing to her +heart. She would be worthy of him--she would not be a coward, +snatching greedily at the one hope of happiness offered to her; she +would go on, trying to be brave, trying to make the best of things. + +She went back to her room, leaving the door ajar so that she could +hear when Chris came in. He was very late--she heard the clock +strike twelve, and then half-past, but still he did not come; and +then--at twenty minutes past one she heard a taxi drive up to the +door and voices on the path outside. + +She pulled aside the blind and peered out, but it was too dark to +distinguish anything. Then the cab drove away, and she heard the +front door opening below and the sound of steps in the hall. + +She crept out oh to the landing and looked over the banisters. She +could see Chris, his hat pushed to the back of his head and the top +of a cigar stuck jauntily into the corner of his mouth, laughing +immoderately, and swaying a little on his heels, as he resisted the +other man's attempt to help him off with his coat. + +Marie had never seen anyone the worse for drink in her life. Miss +Chester had always brought her up in the belief that no gentleman +ever took too much to drink. She would have been horrified if +anyone had told her that most men of her acquaintance had, at one +time or another, been helped home to bed. She stood clutching at +the banisters, her face white with horror. + +She did not know the man who was with Chris, so she hardly glanced +at him. Her feet seemed glued to the spot and her eyes never left +her husband's face. + +And this was the man of whom she had a moment ago cherished such +tender thoughts of forgiveness; this was the man for whose sake she +had made up her mind to forego her happiness. + +Her overstrained nerves exaggerated the whole thing painfully. She +fled back to her room and locked and bolted the door. + +She heard Chris come upstairs and heard him walking unsteadily +about the room, and after a long time she heard him click out the +light. Everything was silent then, but Marie Celeste lay awake till +dawn, her brown eyes wide with horror. + +She had kept her idol on its pedestal with difficulty for some time +now, but to-night it had fallen . . . + +Chris was down late for breakfast the next morning; but he looked +quite fresh and brisk as she met him in the hall. + +"You had better ring for more coffee," she said. "I am afraid it is +cold; you are late." + +"I know; I was late home last night." + +She did not say that she had heard and seen him and went on without +answering. Presently he sought her out. His blue eyes were anxious, +and he looked very boyish and nervous. + +"Well, Marie, what is it to be?" + +Marie was writing a letter in the drawing-room and she laid the pen +down and turned in her chair. + +Perhaps he read the answer in her face, for he took a quick +protesting step forward. "Marie--you're not . . ." + +She stood up, her hand on the chair between them. + +"I've been thinking it over, Chris, and--and I can't go away with +you to-day." + +Their eyes met steadily for a moment, and she saw his lips quiver +as if she had hurt him, but Chris knew how to take a hard blow. He +shrugged his shoulders. + +"Very well--I know I've only myself to blame." + +He turned to the door, but she called him back. + +"There's something else, Chris." + +"Well?" + +But now she could not meet his eyes, and her voice was almost a +whisper as she said: + +"I wanted to ask you--it's . . . it's so hopeless going on like +this. You are not any more happy than I am . . . Couldn't we--isn't +there some way of . . . of both of us getting our freedom again?" + +She did not dare to look at him as she spoke. Her heart was beating +furiously; there was a little hammering pulse in her throat that +almost choked her. Then Chris covered the distance between them in +a single stride and took her roughly by the shoulders. + +"How dare you--how dare you say such a thing to me?" he said +hoarsely. "Good God! don't you think I've got any--any feeling? Do +you think I'm such a blackguard as to--to listen to such a thing +for one moment? You must be mad!" + +"I'm not--and you know I'm not. I'm tired--sick to death of living +like this." Her voice rose excitedly. "Why, we may have to be +together for years and years--twenty years, if we don't try and get +free!" Her brown eyes were feverish. "You hate it as much as I do. +Oh, surely it can be arranged if we try very hard!" + +Chris was as white as death. This was the worst shock he had ever +had in his life, and, coming from Marie Celeste of all people, it +left him stunned and speechless. + +Until his return from Scotland he had been quite happy and +contented, but since that first evening when she had so coldly +repulsed him there had been a restlessness in his heart, a +miserable sort of feeling that he could settle to nothing--a +consciousness that things were all wrong and that he had not the +power to put them right. + +And the discovery that he had only himself to thank for it all did +not help him in the least. In his blindness he tried every way but +the right way to get back to his old contentment. + +Marie was in love with love, not with Feathers, but, being a man, +Chris could not tell this. He only saw the thing that lay +immediately beneath his notice, and it told him that his wife had +given her love to his friend. + +He had no more idea than the dead what was going to happen, but, +with his bulldog obstinacy, he knew he had no intention of allowing +her to go free. + +He cared nothing for scandal, though he pretended to. He hardly +considered Feathers at all in the case. The one thing that racked +him was the knowledge that he was in danger of losing something +that had all at once become very precious. + +His lips twitched badly when he tried to speak. He felt as if he +were fighting in the dark--as if there were some unseen foe pitting +its strength against him that would not come out into honest +daylight. + +Marie stood twisting her handkerchief childishly, her head +downbent, and yet she had never looked less of a child in his eyes. + +The little girl he had known all his life seemed suddenly to have +disappeared, leaving in her place a woman who looked at him with +the eyes of Marie Celeste, but without the shy admiration to which +he had grown so accustomed that he never thought about it at all. + +A great longing came to him to take her into his arms and tell her +that she was talking nonsense, to kiss the strained look away from +her face and the severe line of her pretty mouth into smiles, to +tell her that they were going to begin all over again and be happy-- +that the last weeks had been just a bad dream from which he had +awakened, but his pride and some new dignity about her prevented +him. + +This was not the Marie Celeste he had known. She had escaped him +while he had been looking away from her for his happiness. + +After a moment he asked stiffly: + +"Supposing--supposing it were possible--to do as you say--for each +to get our freedom again . . . what would you do?" + +She shook her head. + +"I don't know!" + +Miss Chester came to the door. + +"Marie, I've been looking everywhere for you--I've lost one of my +knitting needles." + +Marie flew to find it for her. She avoided Chris for the rest of +the morning for she was afraid of him now. Although she had +deliberately precipitated matters, she awaited the issue with +dread. + +Chris did not come in to lunch, and, though once during the +afternoon Marie heard his voice in the house, he did not seek her +out, and at dinner time he was absent again. + +Though nothing was said. Miss Chester could feel the tension in the +air, and late that night she asked hesitatingly: "Is anything the +matter, Marie?" + +"Nothing--no, auntie, of course not." + +But Miss Chester was not deceived, and her mind was racked with +anxiety. + +Marie felt as if she were waiting for something great to happen, +though what it was she did not know. Every knock or ring of the +bell made her pulses race. + +That Chris was deliberately avoiding her she knew, and she wondered +how long it would be before the breaking point came. She longed to +get it over. + +Once she caught sight of herself in the glass and was startled by +her pallor and the strained look in her eyes. A frightened look it +was, she thought, and she passed her hands across them as if to +brush it out. + +She stayed downstairs till Chris came in that night. She stood just +outside the drawing-room door, her heart beating apprehensively. +Supposing he was the worse for drink, as he had been last night? +But she need not have been afraid. Chris was sober enough. He had +been walking the streets for hours, beating against the invisible +bars that had so suddenly appeared in his life. + +When he saw his wife his face hardened. + +"You ought to have gone to bed hours ago," he said. + +"I waited for you; I want to speak to you; I waited last night, +too," she added deliberately. + +He did not look at all ashamed, only laughed rather defiantly. + +"And I was the worse for drink, eh? I suppose the elevating fact +did not do my cause any good." + +She did not answer, wondering what he would say if she told him +what determinating factor against him that glimpse over the +banisters had been. + +He leaned against the mantelpiece and looked at her. + +"Well, I'm stone sober to-night, anyway," he said morosely. + +There was a little silence. + +"What do you want to see me about?" he asked. "Only the same old +thing, I suppose--the desire to be free." + +He took a sudden step towards her, tilting her downbent face +backwards by her chin. + +"Why did you marry me, if you hate me so?" + +She closed her eyes to hide their pain. + +"I was--was fond of you--I thought it would be all right--I thought +you were fond of me." + +"I have always been fond of you." + +She looked up quickly. + +"You would never have married me if it hadn't been for the money." + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"It's not in me to love any woman a great deal," he said evasively. +"I've never been a woman's man, you know that. There was never +anything in that Mrs. Heriot affair, though I know you don't +believe me." + +He stood back from her, his hands thrust into his pockets. + +"Supposing we could get a divorce--separation--whatever you like to +call it, how much better off are you going to be?" he asked after a +moment "What's the good of washing dirty linen for the amusement of +the public?" + +The burning color rushed to her face. She had lived so much in the +clouds since the moment when she found that little dead flower in +Feathers' coat pocket that Chris' blunt words sounded horribly +brutal. Chris, watching her narrowly, saw the sudden quivering of +her lips, and his heart smote him. + +"Go to bed, Marie Celeste," he said more gently. "It's no use +worrying about things to-night." + +He cared so little. The thought stung her afresh as she turned +away. He would have been quite content to go on in the old, +semi-detached fashion, with not a thought for her. + +Chris listened to her dragging steps as she went up the stairs. +They sounded as if they were already walking away out of his life, +he thought, with a little feeling of superstition, and he wondered +if the day would ever come when she would cease to belong to him. + +He could not imagine his life without Marie Celeste. She had always +been there, a willing little figure in the background of things. + +All his boyhood and early manhood were studded with pictures in +which she had played a part. + +She had seemed happy enough when they were first married, or so it +had appeared to his blindness. What had happened since to bring +about such a change? + +He could not believe it was altogether Feathers. He did not believe +that his friend was the type of man to seriously interest Marie. +Feathers never took women seriously. + +He looked at his watch--not yet half-past eleven. + +He had not seen Feathers since they parted at the door on Sunday +evening, and with sudden impulse he took his hat and went off to +Albany Street. + +There was a light in one of the windows of Feathers' rooms, and +Chris threw up a stone. + +The window was open, and almost immediately Feathers' rough head +appeared against the light. + +"Hullo! That you, Chris?" + +"Yes; can I come up?" + +"Of course." + +They met on the stairs. + +"Atkins is here," Feathers said; "but he's just off. Come in." + +Chris did not care for Atkins, and greeted him rather curtly. + +"Mrs. Lawless is well, I hope?" young Atkins asked awkwardly, and +Chris grunted out that she was quite well. + +"I haven't seen her for some time," Atkins said rather wistfully. + +Nobody answered, and he took up his hat. + +"Well, I'll be off." He said good-night and clattered away down the +stairs. + +"Young idiot!" Chris said, flinging himself into a chair. "Phew! +It's warm, isn't it?" + +"It's abnormal weather for September," Feathers agreed. + +There was a little silence, then Feathers knocked the ashes from +his pipe and stood up. + +"Well, out with it! What's the matter?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"That I know you've come here with something on your mind. Get it +off and you'll feel better." + +He half-expected an outburst of rage from his friend, but none +came, and there was a painful note in Chris' voice as he said: + +"It's--my wife!" + +"Yes." It gave Feathers a little shock to hear Chris speak of Marie +in those words. He could not remember ever having heard him use +them before. It was usually "Marie" or "Marie Celeste." It brought +home to him with sharp reality how far removed she was from him, +how much she belonged to the man whose name she bore. + +Chris looked up, his eyes hot and faintly suspicious. + +"Damn it! You know as well as I do that things are all wrong +between us," he said roughly. "And now the climax has come and she +wants to be free of me--separation, divorce--whatever it is you get +when your wife hates you like poison." + +Feathers did not move. His ugly face was a little pale, but his +eyes betrayed nothing. Chris started up and began pacing the room. + +"I'm to blame, I suppose," he said hoarsely. "I ought not to have +married her, but it seemed the best thing to do at the time." + +A little contemptuous flash crossed his friend's eyes, but he made +no comment. + +Chris swung round with startling suddenness. + +"What would you do if you were me?" he demanded. + +"My dear chap! What an impossible question to answer! I know +nothing about women--you know that. You should be the best judge as +how to settle your own affairs." + +Chris crumped his hair agitatedly. + +"I'm hanged if I am! I never was so up against it in my life. +Perhaps if I cleared off abroad somewhere for a year . . ." + +Feathers interrupted quietly: + +"Don't you think you've been away long enough already?" + +"You mean Scotland! Pooh! That was nothing. She wouldn't have cared +about that." But his voice was uncertain, and after a moment he +asked suspiciously: + +"What are you driving at?" + +"Nothing. But I think, as I thought at the time, that it would have +saved a lot of trouble if you had taken her with you. You were +newly married. It would have been a most natural thing to do." + +Chris colored, but he did not feel at all resentful. He was +grateful to Feathers for his interest. It was a relief to be able +to tell his troubles to somebody. + +"I don't think it made any difference," he said after a moment. +"It's not as if ours was an ordinary sort of marriage. I mean---" +He broke off in confusion, to blunder on again: "Marie doesn't care +for me, and that's the whole truth. I thought she did once upon a +time. It shows my darned conceit, I suppose." + +Feathers said nothing, and, struck by his silence, Chris said with +slow deliberation: "Sometimes, now and again, I've wondered if +there isn't some other fellow she cares for--some chap she would +marry if I wasn't in the way." + +He was looking hard at Feathers all the time he spoke, and his +friend's ugly face was at the moment mercilessly exposed to the +glare of the electric light, but there was no change in its quiet +indifference, and Chris gave a sharp sigh of relief. + +He had not realized till now how great had been that vague dread in +his heart. Marie might care for Feathers, but at that moment Chris +was sure that Feathers cared nothing for her--perhaps because he +wished to be sure. Feathers was scraping out the bowl of his pipe +with an irritating little sound and finished it carefully before he +spoke: + +"I'm not much of a judge of that sort of thing, but I should not +think it at all likely. Mrs. Lawless does not know many people, +does she?" + +"If you mean men--as far as I know there is only Atkins and--you." + +Feathers looked up. There was a little wry smile in his eyes. + +"You are hardly flattering to your wife," he said quietly, "if you +think that either Atkins or myself could make an impression where +you have failed." + +Chris laughed awkwardly. + +"I never was a suspicious chap," he said. "I hate suspicious +people, but since I came home, well . . ." He turned and looked +Feathers squarely in the eyes. "I've thought all sorts of queer +things--things I would even hesitate to tell you," he added +deliberately. + +Feathers laughed casually. + +"I don't want your confidences, my son," he said. "You started this +conversation, you know, and I didn't offer my advice, but as we're +on the subject I should just like to remind you that Mrs. Lawless +is very young, little more than a child, and--children like +attention and amusement." + +Chris colored. + +"You mean that she hasn't had either from me." he said. "I know +you're right, but what the deuce can I do?" + +"As you insist on my mounting the pulpit," Feathers said, rather +wearily, "I'll repeat an old chestnut of a proverb which says that +it's never too late to be what one might have been, or words to +that effect. Have a Scotch?" + +"No, thanks. I went home too merry and bright the night before +last, and Marie was waiting up for me." Chris avoided his friend's +eyes. "It's not a thing I often indulge in, you know that," he went +on, gruffly, "but I felt like the devil that night." + +Feathers made no comment, but he thought of Marie with passionate +pity. He could understand so well what a shock it had been to her +to see Chris the worse for drink--realize just how she would shrink +from him. + +The clock struck twelve, and Chris rose reluctantly. + +"Well, I'll be off." He hesitated, then added, with a touch of +embarrassment: "Thanks awfully for what you've said. I'll remember; +I'll speak to her in the morning, and see if we can't patch things +up." He went to the door and came back. "You--er, don't tell her I +said anything about it to you." + +"Of course not." + +Chris went home full of good resolutions. He lay awake half the +night, plotting and planning what he could do in the future to make +amends. Though he did not love Marie, it seemed a dreadful thing to +him that they were in such mortal danger of drifting finally apart. +He fell asleep, meaning to have a good, long talk with her in the +morning and try and straighten out the tangle. + +But Marie did not appear at breakfast, and in reply to his +inquiries the maid told him that Mrs. Lawless had a bad headache +and was going to stay in her room. + +"To avoid me, I'll be bound," Chris told himself savagely, and his +good resolutions began to waver. + +What was the use of trying to turn over a new leaf when she refused +to help him? What was the use of throwing an insufficient bridge +across the gap between them which would only collapse and let him +down again sooner or later? + +It was a lovely morning, and he thought longingly of the golf +links. Twice he went to the 'phone to ring up a friend to join him, +but each time he wavered, and at last in desperation he went +upstairs to his wife's room. + +She was lying by the window on a couch, her dark hair falling +childishly over her dressing-gown, and she started up in confusion +when she saw Chris. + +"I did not think it was you; I thought you had gone out." + +"No." He saw the marks of tears on her face, and his heart gave a +little throb of remorse. She was only a child, after all, as +Feathers had said. + +"I am sorry your head is so bad," he said gently. + +She turned her face away. + +"It's better; I am coming down to lunch. I haven't been sleeping +very well lately." + +Chris sat down beside her. There were so many things he wanted to +say, but he had never been eloquent, and this morning his tongue +seemed more stupid than usual. + +It was only after some minutes' silence that he blurted out: "Look +here, Marie! Can't we start again? I'm most awfully sorry things +have gone wrong like this, and I know it's my fault. Last night I +thought it would be the best thing if I cleared off and left you +for a year or so. I thought perhaps it might be all right later on +if I came back, but I've changed my mind, and . . . look here--will +you forgive me and let us start again?" + +He laid his hand clumsily on hers, the hand that wore his ring. + +"There's no earthly reason why we can't be happy and get along +splendidly," he urged. "I know I'm a selfish devil, but I've always +been the same. But I'll try--I'll try all I know if you'll give me +a sporting chance." + +He waited, but she did not speak, and he went on: "We've seen so +little of each other lately--my fault, too, I know--I wish I'd +taken you to Scotland with me." + +"I wish you had, too." The words broke from her lips bitterly. So +much might have been averted, she knew, if only Chris had taken her +with him. + +The color mounted to his cheeks. Even her voice had changed lately, +he thought. There was something hard in its soft tone that vaguely +reminded him of Mrs. Heriot. + +"It's not too late now," he urged. "There's lots of places you've +never seen that I'll take you to! Heaps of shows in London that +you'd thoroughly enjoy. . . ." He waited eagerly. "What do you say, +Marie Celeste?" + +She did not know how to answer. If he had made this offer a month +ago she would have accepted it gladly, but now it did not seem so +very attractive. + +"We might give a few little parties," Chris went on vaguely. "Aunt +Madge won't mind, or if she does--we'll set up a show for +ourselves. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like pottering +about in a house of your own." + +She nodded. She could not trust her voice. + +"Is that a bargain, then?" he asked happily. He had so often got +his own way with her that it never entered his head that he might +not be going to get it this time. His fingers tightened over her +hand. "Say it's a bargain, Marie Celeste, and be friends with me +again." + +She turned her head slowly and looked at him. + +His eyes were very eager and anxious, but for the first time in her +life Marie's heart was not at his feet, and she was not conscious +of any desperate longing to drive away his anxiety and agree to +what he wanted. + +"What are you thinking about?" he asked sharply. + +He was beginning to realize that it was not only her voice that had +changed and the expression of her eyes when she looked at him, but +the girl herself; that she could no longer be coaxed and bullied by +him--that she was a woman with a will of her own in her soft frame. + +"I was thinking." she said slowly, "that I will agree to try what +you suggest, on one condition . . ." + +His face brightened. + +"Anything, of course! Anything you like." He was sure that she +could not be going to impose anything very hard. + +It came, therefore, as something of a shock when she said: "I will +do as you suggest, if--at the end of a month, we find we can't get +on any better, and--and be happy . . . you will let me go." + +He echoed her words blankly. + +"Let you go! What do you mean?" + +The sensitive color flew to her face, but she answered quite +quietly and steadily: + +"We could get a divorce--I don't think it is called that--but I +know we could get a divorce--I--I've found out all about it." + +Chris sat staring down at the floor. There was a dreadful feeling +somewhere in the region of his heart, for he had never believed +that she could be so hard and implacable. + +She was not yet twenty, but she was calmly proposing to annul their +marriage, if, at the end of a month, it still proved to be a +failure. + +He put her hand roughly from him and rose to his feet. + +"You don't know what you're talking about, and I refuse to agree--I +absolutely refuse." He began to pace the room agitatedly. + +Marie watched him with hard eyes, then suddenly she said: + +"If it's the money you're thinking about . . . I don't want any. I +don't mind not having any. Aunt Madge would let me live with her; +we could live quite quietly; it wouldn't cost much." + +He turned scarlet. + +"The money--good lord! I've never given it a thought." He swung +round and looked at her with passionate eyes, and it slowly dawned +upon him that there was something very sweet and desirable about +Marie Celeste as she sat there in her blue gown, her soft dark hair +tumbled about her shoulders, and her brown eyes very bright in the +pallor of her face. + +With sudden impulse he went down on his knees beside her and put +his arms round her, holding her fast. + +"Don't be so cruel, Marie Celeste," he said hoarsely. "I know I've +not played the game, but I can if you'll give me a chance--I swear +I can, and I will! It's the whole of our lives that you're so +calmly proposing to smash up. Do you realize that? Have you +forgotten all the good times we used to have together--I haven't-- +and what a little sport you were?" + +He saw her wince as if he had hurt her, and he went on eagerly, +pushing his advantage. + +"Do you remember years ago that you used to say you would never +marry anyone but me when we grew up?" + +He laughed rather shakily. + +"You never thought it would come true, did you, Marie Celeste? I +didn't anyway. But it has, and we're going to be ever so happy . . . +I swear I've never given a thought to any woman but you. If I've +treated you badly, there's no woman in the world I've treated +better. I know it's a rotten argument, but . . ." + +He stopped, choked by a sudden emotion, for Marie had broken down +into bitter crying. + +Chris drew her down to his shoulder and kissed her hair. It felt +very soft against his lips. He was sure he had conquered, as he +thought her tears were tenderness for the past and joy for the +future. He did not understand that they were only tears of sorrow +for the dream that had gone so sadly awry. + +When presently she turned her face away he drew it back again and +kissed her lips--he had never kissed them before. The only kisses +he had given Marie Celeste in his life had been casual pecks on her +cheek when he came from school or went back, and the few awkward +kisses he had bestowed upon her since their marriage. + +She lay limply against his shoulder, too emotionally wearied to +resist him, but her lips were unresponsive. + +"Is it all right, Marie Celeste?" he asked presently, and she said: +"Yes--yes, I suppose so." + +He echoed her words with a frown. + +"You suppose so?" + +This vague acquiescence was not what he had wanted or expected. + +"I'll try my best--if you will." + +He kissed her hand. + +"I give you my word of honor." He twisted the wedding ring on her +finger. "It's much too big," he said. + +He smiled faintly. + +"I've got thinner--that's why." + +"You've no right to get thinner," he said hurriedly. "I shall have +to look after you and feed you up. Marie Celeste, we're going to +have no end of a good time!" + +He was his light-hearted self once more. He felt quite happy again. +It was surprising how fond he had discovered he really was of Marie +Celeste since he had kissed her lips. He could not understand why +he had never realized before how pretty she was. + +"We'll go away somewhere together," he said impulsively. "Where +would you like to go? It will be a fine autumn. Shall we go to the +moors--or Ireland? Would you like Ireland?" + +She smiled faintly at his impulsiveness. + +"I don't mind where it is." + +"I'd take you to Italy, only it's not the right time of year," he +said. "The spring's the time to go to Italy." He laughed. "Feathers +is off there soon, you know! He doesn't care a hang about the +proper seasons and all that sort of stuff. He just goes where he +feels inclined and when." + +"Yes." Her face was averted. "I don't think I should care to go to +Italy, anyway," she said. How would it be possible to try and turn +over this new leaf, if Feathers was to be anywhere about? A little +feeling, that was something like homesickness, touched her heart as +she thought of him. Chris was very dear, very boyish in his new +humility and enthusiasm, but in her weariness she longed for +something more stable, something more real and sincere. + +She turned to Chris with wet eyes. + +"But you can't make yourself love me." she said sorrowfully. + +His face flushed and his eyes grew distressed. He drew her back to +lean against him so that her eyes were hidden. + +"Perhaps I've always loved you--I don't know," he said with sudden +earnestness. "I can't expect you to believe me yet, but . . . +perhaps some day, Marie Celeste." + +He was doing his best, she knew, but his halting words fell vaguely +on her empty heart. She had been right when she said that he could +not make himself love her. + +But the wings of the past were wrapping them around, and with +sudden regret fulness for all she had dreamed and lost, she put her +arms round his neck and kissed him. + +"Well, we'll try, shall we?" she whispered. He returned the kiss +eagerly. She would see what a model he could be, he promised. He +had not been so happy for a long time. He held her at arm's length, +his fingers lost in her soft hair. + +"You're such a child to be anybody's wife!" he said laughingly. + +She shook her head. + +"I think I've grown up very quickly." she answered with a sigh. + +"Very well, then, I shall have to teach you how to be a child +again," he declared. "How's the head? Do you think you could get +dressed and come out? I'm going to buy you a present--lots of +presents, frocks and all manner of things." + +"I'll go out after lunch, but I don't want lots of presents, +really, Chris." + +"Well, we'll see." He stood up, still holding her hand. He felt as +if a load of care had fallen from his shoulders. He wished he had +tried this way of managing her before. He supposed he ought to have +known that women liked to be kissed and made a fuss of. He really +thought that she was as happy and contented as he was. He drew her +to her feet and kissed her gain. + +"I'm glad I married you, and nobody else, Marie Celeste," he said. + +He went out and bought the largest bunch of roses he could find and +carried them up to her room. He was desperately anxious to please +her. She thanked him with a little empty smile. It was not roses +that she wanted, or pearl necklaces, or pretty clothes. She wanted +someone really to love her, in all circumstances and for ever and +ever. + +But she meant to do her best to keep the compact between them; so +she took great pains with her toilet to go out with him, and Chris +dutifully admired her frock. + +"It's a new one, isn't it?" he asked. She had not the heart to tell +him that she had worn it half a dozen times on her honeymoon, and +that he had not noticed it. The car was at the door ready for them +to start, when a taxi, laden with luggage, came swinging up the +road and stopped at the curb. + +Chris frowned. + +"Who the dickens?" he ejaculated, then broke off as the door of the +taxi opened and a girl came running up the steps towards them. + +She gave a little cry when she saw Marie. + +"You dear thing! Then you are in town! I was so afraid you might be +away, but I had to chance it! I was on my way home, and then mother +wired to me not to come, as one of the boys has scarlet fever! So I +took the bull by the horns and dashed to you on the chance that you +would be an angel and take me in for a time!" + +She kissed Marie and held a hand to Chris. "You dears! How lovely +to see you both!" + +It was Dorothy Webber. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + + + "Trifles light as air, are to the jealous, + Confirmation sure, as proof of holy writ" + + + +IT was impossible to be ungracious. Marie took Dorothy Webber into +the drawing-room while Chris sent the car away. He stood looking +after it with a frown above his eyes. It was rotten luck, Dorothy +turning up like this just as everything had been going so +swimmingly and he was conscious of a vague apprehension. + +He joined the girls in the drawing-room for tea, and Miss Chester +came down, bringing her eternal knitting. + +She was pleased to see Dorothy, for she thought she would be a nice +companion for Marie. She said that she hoped she would stay a long +time. She could not understand why Chris was so silent or why he +kept looking at his wife with a queer sort of chagrin in his face. + +"I'm looking forward to another round with you," Dorothy said, +turning to him. "Of course, there are lots of links round about?" + +"I'm going to teach Marie to play," Chris said. He had made up his +mind that if they went away he would teach her and had been looking +forward to it. He felt decidedly annoyed with Dorothy for having +what he chose to call "butted in." + +He sulked about the house till dinner-time, then went to Marie's +room as she was changing her frock. His eyes were rueful as he +looked at her. "It's the devil's own luck, isn't it?" he said +boyishly. + +"What do you mean--about Dorothy?" + +"Yes. Why the dickens she wanted to come here I'm hanged if I +know!" + +Marie smiled faintly. + +"Well, we both said we should be pleased to see her at any time, +didn't we?" + +"I know--but coming just now!" He took up one of her silver brushes +and fingered it nervously. "I was looking forward to taking you +away, Marie Celeste." + +"Perhaps she won't stay long," Marie said, with an effort. + +She did not know if she were glad or sorry that Dorothy had so +unexpectedly intervened. She had rather dreaded going away with +Chris, and yet it had been a relief to know that at last there was +some sort of an understanding between them. + +Dorothy monopolized most of the conversation at dinner time, and +addressed herself chiefly to Chris. She was a pleasant-looking +girl, very brown-skinned and healthy, with straightforward gray +eyes and fair hair, which she wore brushed back and screwed into +rather a business-like and unbecoming knob. + +She talked a great deal about golf, and seemed rather surprised at +Chris' lack of enthusiasm. She kept looking at Marie in a puzzled +sort of way. + +During those weeks in Scotland she had formed her own opinion of +this marriage, and therefore had not had the least hesitation in +throwing herself on Marie's hospitality. A man who had been married +so short a time and who could leave his wife at home while he spent +a month in Scotland playing golf would certainly not object to a +third person in the house. So she argued, with some reason, as she +unpacked her boxes and settled down comfortably in the best spare +room. + +"It's ages since I was in London for any time," she said. "I'm +going to enjoy myself thoroughly. Marie, where do you buy your +frocks? They make mine look as if they came out of the ark, don't +they?" + +Marie laughed. She had been very fond of this girl at school, but +lately all her old affections seemed somehow to have shifted. The +fault was in herself, she knew, so she tried her best to be nice to +Dorothy to make up for the old feeling that was no longer in her +heart. + +"I'll take you to all the shops." she said. "We'll have a long day +to-morrow." + +"And where do I come in?" Chris asked quickly. His eyes were +pleading as they looked at his wife. + +"Men always hate shopping, don't they?" Dorothy chimed in. "They +always look dreadfully out of place, anyway, poor dears." + +"Well, I'll be the happy exception to prove the rule," Chris +declared, and he kept his word. He trudged round the West End with +his wife and Dorothy the following morning, and did his best not to +appear bored. He took them to lunch at the Savoy, and escorted them +to more shops afterwards. + +"I think you've got a model husband," Dorothy said, when at last +they drove home. "I never would have believed he was capable of it +when we were up in Scotland. It only shows how one can be +deceived." + +But Chris gave a deep sigh of relief when they reached home. He +went off to the dining-room and mixed himself a strong whiskey. He +felt irritable, though he tried manfully to suppress his +irritation. What waste of time it all was, he thought--trudging +round on hot pavements, in and out stuffy, uninteresting shops, +when one might be out in the country or up on the Scotch moors. + +For three days he did his duty nobly. He was always in to meals--he +took Marie and Dorothy to a matinee, and to dinner at the Carlton. + +"We ought to have had another man to make a fourth," he said to his +wife afterwards. "I'll ask Feathers to come to-morrow." + +He did ask him, and Feathers refused. He had an appointment, he +said, and would come another day. + +"What about Italy?" Chris inquired over the 'phone, and Feathers +said that he expected to go in about ten days' time. + +Chris told Marie. + +"We ought to ask him round before he goes," he said. "You write and +ask him to dinner, Marie Celeste." + +She wanted to refuse, but did not like to. + +"Very well." She was looking pale and tired, and Chris' eyes +watched her anxiously. + +After a moment he asked: + +"How long is Miss Webber going to stay?" + +"I don't know. I can't very well ask her to go, can I?" Chris +mooned around the room. + +"I wish she'd go," he said inhospitably. + +Marie smiled. + +"I'm afraid you've had rather a dull week," she admitted. "Why +don't you go for a day's golf to-morrow. Take Dorothy--she would +love it, I know." + +"I'll go if you come." + +"Nonsense. You know how tired I got when we went before. I shall be +quite all right at home, and I do hate to know you are tied to the +house all day." + +He looked hurt, and she hastened to add kindly: "It's been very +good of you, Chris, and I do thank you." + +He laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"If you're pleased that's all I care about," he said. . . . + +To Marie's surprise. Feathers rang up and accepted her invitation. + +She answered the 'phone herself, and the sound of his voice sent +her pulses racing, and the hot blood rushing to her cheeks. + +"Do I have to get into war paint?" he asked, and she laughed as she +said that he could please himself. + +"Why haven't you been to see us before?" she questioned. + +"Because I knew you had company, and I haven't any company +manners." + +"It's only Dorothy Webber--you met her in Scotland." + +"Yes. . . ." There was a little pause, and before she could think +of anything else to say he said: "Well, I shall see you this +evening, then." + +"Yes." + +Marie sighed as she hung up the receiver. She wished he had refused +to come, and yet she was longing to see him. She felt painfully +nervous as the evening drew nearer. + +Chris had driven out into the country with Dorothy to play golf, +and for the first time for a week Marie found herself with a little +breathing space. + +Chris' attentions had been rather overwhelming. He had done his +best, she knew, and was grateful to him for it, but he left her +rather breathless. She could never lose sight of the fact that his +affections were forced and wondered how much longer he would be +able to keep up the farce. + +She never gave herself a moment in which to think. She never looked +forward, but lived in the present only. + +Chris had said he should be home at six, but at seven o'clock, when +Feathers was announced, he had not returned. + +Marie went down to the drawing-room with a trembling heart. She had +hoped that her husband would have been home before Feathers came. +She knew that her face was white as she crossed the room to him and +that her voice was unsteady as she said: + +"Chris hasn't got back yet--I am so sorry. He promised to be in at +six! I am afraid something has gone wrong with the car." + +"It's not very late," Feathers said kindly. "I think I am rather +before my time. He is sure to be in directly." + +Marie walked over to the window and looked into the street. The +September evening was closing in rapidly, with rather depressing +greyness. + +"I hope nothing has happened to them," she said faintly. She was +not at all anxious really, but she felt that she must gain time to +recover her composure before she could talk to Feathers. + +He watched her across the room with sad eyes. He had not seen her +since that day on the golf links, and he took in every detail of +her graceful little figure hungrily. + +She was wearing a white frock of some gauzy material, cut rather +low, and her soft brown hair curled into little ringlets like a +child's on the white nape of her neck. + +Was she any happier, he wondered? He knew that Chris had been about +with her a great deal during the past week, and he hoped with all +his heart that things were improving between them. He longed to ask +her, but was afraid. He knew that the only safe thing for them was +to keep to ordinary topics of conversation. + +Marie dropped the curtain presently and came back to him. + +"What have you been doing with yourself?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, nothing in particular. Yesterday I played golf with young +Atkins. He asked after you." + +"Did he?" Her eyes brightened. "I wish I could see him again." + +"He tells me he is going to America shortly. He has been in his +father's office, you know, but they don't get on, and so I think +it's very wise of him to clear out." + +"And you are going to Italy?" Marie said constrainedly. "Chris +suggested that we should go, too, but--but I don't think I care +to." + +"It's the wrong time of year to see Italy to advantage." + +"Yes, I know." + +She looked at him wistfully. So strong, such a man! Longing to know +the perfect happiness of his love crept into her heart. + +There would be no half measures with him, she knew; no pretences. +He would give all or nothing. + +In spite of what he had said, Feathers had struggled into evening +clothes. They did not fit him particularly well, but they seemed to +magnify the squareness and strength of his build. Though he was not +so tall as Chris, he always looked taller, and, despite his ugly +features, there was something very noble in the rough outline of +his head and shaggy hair. + +"Where are they playing to-day?" he asked, breaking a silence that +was beginning to get unbearable, and Marie said: + +"Where we went before--the place where Mrs. Heriot is staying." + +"Oh!" There was something dry in the little monosyllable that made +her say impulsively: "I suggested it. Chris has been so unselfish +lately, taking us about all over the place, I thought he deserved a +holiday--he likes playing with Dorothy, you know." + +"Yes." There was the sound of a car driving up outside, and +Feathers said, with obvious relief: "Here they are, I expect." + +Chris came into the room a moment later. He looked at his wife +anxiously. + +"I'm sorry, Marie Celeste," he said. "The wretched car broke down, +and it took me half an hour to get it right. I hope you haven't +been anxious about us? How are you, old chap?" + +The two men shook hands. + +"Where is Dorothy?" Marie asked, and Chris looked away from her as +he said, "I believe she went straight upstairs to dress." + +"I'll go and tell her not to hurry." + +Marie ran up to her friend's room, glad to get away for a moment. +She knocked at the door, and, getting no answer, turned the handle +and went in. Dorothy was standing in the middle of the room, her +hands over her face. She had made no attempt to change her frock, +and she still wore her coat and the jaunty velvet cap with a jay's +wing at the side in which she had started out that morning. + +Marie gave a little stifled cry. + +"Dorothy! Oh, what is the matter?" + +Dorothy started violently. She dabbed her eyes hurriedly with her +handkerchief and tried to laugh. + +"Nothing! Don't look so scared! I'm only rather worried." She +turned away to hide her face. "I've had a letter with rather bad +news. No, I can't tell you now--it's nothing! Please, go down and +I'll be ready in a minute. I'm so sorry we're late, Marie. The +silly car went wrong." + +"I know. Chris told me. Dorothy, are you sure there is nothing the +matter--nothing I can do for you?" + +"Quite sure! Run downstairs, there's a dear; I won't be a minute." +She almost turned Marie out of the room. + +Chris was coming upstairs as she crossed the landing, and he +stopped looking at her in quick concern. + +"Anything the matter, Marie Celeste?" + +"No, only--Chris, Dorothy is crying so! She won't tell me what is +the matter. She says she's had bad news in a letter." + +He went to his room, abruptly. + +"It's probably nothing; I shouldn't worry." + +His voice sounded rather strange and unnatural, and Marie was +puzzled as she went slowly downstairs. + +The postman had just been and one of the servants was sorting the +letters at the hall table. Marie went up to her. + +"Greyson, were there any letters for Miss Webber by the afternoon +post?" + +"No, ma'am--none! Only two for Miss Chester." + +Marie's brown eyes dilated. + +"There has only been the one post since the early morning, hasn't +there?" she asked. + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Thank you." She went on to the drawing-room, with a little feeling +of apprehension. + +Dorothy had lied to her, then. Why? She thought of the strained +note in Chris' voice as he spoke to her on the landing, and a +nameless fear crept into her heart. + +Chris talked incessantly during dinner. Marie had never seen him so +gay, and though she tried her best to kill it, the suspicion that +he knew the cause of Dorothy's distress, grew in her heart. + +Something had happened between them that afternoon. + +"You ladies are very quiet," Feathers said, turning to her, and +Marie roused herself with an effort. + +Dorothy Webber was almost silent. Her head ached, she said; she +thought it must have been the sun that afternoon. + +"You played a fine game," Chris told her. "I shall have to look to +my laurels." She did not answer, seemed not to have heard, and +Marie asked, "Did you see Mrs. Heriot?" + +"Yes. She and her sister had a foursome with us." It was Chris who +answered "She told me to give you her love." he added with a twinkle, +"and to say that she should be in town to-morrow and would call to +see you." + +It was in the tip of Marie's tongue to say that she would not be +in, but she checked the words. After all, Mrs. Heriot did not +matter to her. She was no longer actively jealous. + +The dinner was hardly a success. + +"What's the matter with everyone?" Dorothy asked impatiently as she +and Marie followed Miss Chester to the drawing-room. "Didn't you +think we were all very dull?" she appealed to the old lady. + +"I really didn't notice, my dear," Miss Chester answered +complacently. "I have just worked it out in my mind, and I believe +I shall finish that shawl in another three days." + +Marie laughed. "And how long has it taken you to work, dear?" + +"Nearly two years, but then I worked slowly, and my sight is not so +good as it used to be," Miss Chester answered. + +Marie took up a fold of the shawl. It was exquisitely soft and of +the finest pattern. + +"It would make a lovely shawl for a baby," she said, and then +flushed, meeting her aunt's eyes. She got up and went over to the +piano, and began turning over some music. She knew the thought that +had been in Miss Chester's mind, and her heart ached. Young as she +was herself Marie loved children, and one very tender dream had +gone crashing to earth with the ruins when her castle fell. + +Dorothy had flung herself into an armchair, her arms folded behind +her head, her eyes fixed moodily on the ceiling. + +There was a softened, chastened look about her this evening. The +masculinity which was usually her chief characteristic seemed to +have gone, leaving in its place something of greater attraction. + +"Play something, Marie," she said suddenly, but Marie shook her +head. "I don't feel in the mood for music." She dragged up a stool +and sat down at Miss Chester's feet. Across the hall she could hear +Feathers' voice and Chris' laugh, and she listened to both with a +queer feeling of unreality. + +"What an ugly man Mr. Dakers is!" Dorothy said suddenly. "I don't +think I ever saw anyone so ugly before." + +The color rushed to Marie's face. + +"I don't think he is in the very least bit ugly," she said +impulsively. "There is something in his face when he smiles that is +far better than just ordinary good looks. What do you think, Aunt +Madge?" + +She felt angry with Dorothy. All her heart flew to Feathers' +defence. + +"I always liked Mr. Dakers," Miss Chester said mildly. "He is a +good man and a gentleman." She said the same thing of all Chris' +friends. She could never see evil in anyone. + +Dorothy laughed. + +"Like him, yes! But he's ugly, all the same!" she insisted. "He +doesn't like me, you know." + +Nobody answered. + +"We had lots of little tiffs when we were up in Scotland," she went +on defiantly. "I always believe that he left Chris and came home +alone because he couldn't stand the sight of me." + +"My dear child!" Miss Chester remonstrated. + +"So I do," she reiterated. "He told me once that the modern girl +was a horror. I think he thought it was disgraceful because I +played golf all day long with Chris and without a chaperon." + +"Mr. Dakers isn't a bit narrow-minded," Marie said hotly. + +Dorothy shrugged her shoulders. + +"And I don't like Mrs. Heriot either," she said irrelevantly. "You +never told me anything about her, Marie." + +"She is a friend of Chris', not mine." + +"Oh! And his friends are not yours--eh?" + +Marie did not answer. She had never seen Dorothy in such a +quarrelsome mood. + +The men joined them from the dining-room and Chris came to his wife +at once. + +"On the stool of repentance?" he asked. "Why don't you have a +chair?" + +"I'm quite comfortable, thank you." She leaned her head against +Miss Chester's knee with a little snuggling movement, and the old +lady stopped in her work for a movement to stroke the girl's dark +hair. + +"I've just remembered," she said, "that I've got some tickets for +that Westminster bazaar to-morrow, Marie. Some of us really ought +to go. I promised the vicar we would. Couldn't you and Dorothy just +run in for half an hour?" + +Marie made a little grimace. + +"I hate bazaars," she said. + +Dorothy looked across the room at Chris. + +"I think I ought to go home to-morrow," she said. "I've been here +over a week. You'll all be sick to death of me." + +"Of course, we shan't," Marie cried. She was touched by the hard +note of unhappiness in her friend's voice, and stretched out her +hand to her. "Don't go, Dorothy. They can't have finished with the +scarlet fever yet." + +"I shall have to see. I dare say I shall hear from home in the +morning." + +She excused herself presently on the plea of headache and went to +bed. She shook hands with Feathers and kissed Marie and Miss +Chester, but Marie noticed with a queer little shrinking at her +heart that she seemed to avoid Chris altogether, and her thoughts +went back with unwilling suspicion to the moment when she had found +Dorothy crying. + +"Dorothy doesn't look well," Miss Chester said, as the door closed +behind the elder girl. "I really think all this golf is too much +for her. She ought to take a rest and do something less strenuous." + +"Knitting shawls, for instance, eh, dear?" Marie asked tenderly. +The old lady looked over her glasses. + +"It would do her no harm," she said severely. + +It was only ten o'clock when Feathers left, and Chris said he would +walk part of the way with him. + +"I shan't be long," he said to Marie. "But it's so hot indoors, and +I must get a breath of air." + +She said good-night to them both in the hall, and after they had +gone she stood for a moment looking at the closed door with a +feeling of desolation. She had counted so much on this evening, and +on seeing Feathers, and now he had gone--and nothing had happened, +nothing been said! + +She did not know what she had expected to happen or what she had +hoped he would say, but she was conscious of bitter disappointment +as she went up to bed. + +It seemed as if she must have dreamed about those moments on Sunday +when he had let her know that he loved her--that they could never +have been real, and in her heart she knew that she was not +satisfied. She wanted more than the little he had given. + +She heard Chris come in just after she had gone to bed, and her +heart thudded nervously as his step crossed the landing and stopped +outside her door; but he went on again, and presently silence fell +on the house. + +And Marie fell asleep, to dream the old, terrible dream that she +once more was drowning--that she was sinking down, down into +bottomless depths of clear green water, and she woke, shivering and +fighting for breath. Her face and the palms of her hands were wet +with perspiration. + +She sat up in bed and turned on the light. Only a Dream! She looked +round the room with thankful eyes and yet . . . it would have been +such a simple answer to all her troubles if Feathers had only let +her drown that summer's morning. + + + * * * * * + + +"If you two are going to the bazaar this afternoon," Chris said at +lunch next day, "I'll go and look Feathers up. He asked me last +night if I would, but I didn't promise," He looked at Marie, "I'll +come with you if you like," he said quickly. + +She laughed. + +"Of course not! We shan't stay long, shall we, Dorothy?" + +"We won't go at all if you'd rather not," Dorothy said. + +"But I promised the vicar," Miss Chester broke in, in distress. "I +think you really must go, my dears." + +"Of course we will," Marie said. "If there's a fortune-teller we'll +have our palms read; shall we, Dorothy?" + +The elder girl shrugged her shoulders. + +"You don't believe in that rubbish, surely?" + +"I think it's fun," Marie answered. + +She was childishly pleased when, during the afternoon, they found a +palmist's tent in a corner of the big hall where the bazaar was +being held. + +"Do let's go in," she urged on Dorothy. "Of course, we shan't +believe it, but it will be fun!" + +She lifted the flap of the tent, and Dorothy reluctantly followed +her. + +A woman sat at a small round table in the half light of the tent. +She was not at all like the usual fortune teller, and she was +dressed plainly in a white frock, instead of in the usual gaudy +trappings which such people affect. + +She was small and dark, with rather a plaintive face and large +eyes, and Marie was struck by the extreme slenderness and whiteness +of her hands as they rested on a little velvet cushion on the table +before her. + +"We want to have our palms read," Marie said. She was conscious of +an eerie feeling, and she looked back at the closed flap of the +tent nervously. "Dorothy--you go first . . ." + +"I don't believe in it," Dorothy said, hardily, but she sat down at +the table, and laid her hands, palms upwards, on the cushion. + +The palmist spoke then, for the first time, to Marie. + +"If you will kindly wait outside, mademoiselle," she said. She +spoke with a slightly foreign accent, but her voice was soft and +musical. + +Marie went reluctantly. She would like to have heard what Dorothy +was told. + +It was only a few minutes before Dorothy was out again, her face +flushed and her eyes bright as if with unshed tears. + +"It's all rubbish," she said harshly, when Marie eagerly questioned +her. "As if anybody believes in it! Are you going in? Very well, be +quick. I'll tell you afterwards what she said to me." + +Marie went back into the tent. She had taken off her gloves and +slipped her wedding ring into her pocket. The palmist had addressed +her as mademoiselle, and she was curious to know if she would still +believe her to be unmarried when she had examined her hands. + +She laid them palm upwards on the velvet cushion, and the woman +opposite took them in her soft clasp, smoothing the palms with her +forefingers and peering into the little lines and creases for a +moment without speaking. Marie watched her curiously. Her first +nervousness had lost itself in interest She almost started when, +quite suddenly, the woman began to speak in a low, clear voice. + +"You are very young, but you are already a wife. You have married a +man whom you love devotedly, but he is blind! And because he is +blind he has let your love waver from him to the keeping of +another. You are proud! You have wrapped your heart about with +pride, until you have stifled its best affections, and persuaded +yourself that you do not care." + +She ran her slender fingers along a faint line at the base of +Marie's fingers. + +"You started with dreams--alas! so many dreams--and they have +forsaken you one by one. But they will come back." And she raised +her dark eyes suddenly to Marie's pale face. "A little patience and +they will come back--dreams no longer, but reality. You were meant +to be a happy wife and mother, my little lady, but something has +intervened--something has fallen across your life like a big +shadow, and for a little the sunshine will be blotted out. . ." + +She broke off, and for a moment there was silence. Then she went on +again, more slowly: "If you will allow your heart to govern your +head you can never go far astray--it is only now, when you are +trying to stifle all that your heart would say, that the shadows +deepen. . . ." + +She smoothed Marie's hands with her soft fingers. + +"You have money--much money," she said "But your friends are few. +You are shy, and you do not make friends easily . . . There has +been one great moment of danger in your life--I cannot tell you +what it was, but I can see the sea in your hand--and again in the +future I can see much water . . . It will come again in your life, +and it carries on its bosom trouble and many tears, and . . ." She +looked again into Marie's face. + +"You are trembling, Mademoiselle," she said in her soft voice. + +Marie smiled faintly. + +"I was nearly drowned once," she said. "I can never forget it." + +She drew her hands away. "I don't think I want to hear any more," +she said. + +She paid double the fee and went to join Dorothy. + +"Well?" Dorothy questioned hardily. + +Marie shivered. + +"It was rather eerie," she said. "But I don't believe in it. Shall +we go home?" + +"What did she say to you?" Dorothy asked as they drove away +together. "She told me that I had had one disappointment in my life +which I should never get over . . ." She laughed. "She was right, +too! Not that I believe in fortune telling." + +Marie hardly listened. She was thinking of the palmist's soft voice +and the touch of her hands as she had said: "I can see the sea in +your hand--and again in the future I can see much water. It will +come again in your life, and it carries on its bosom trouble and +many tears . . ." + +She was not superstitious, but the words haunted her. + +Troubles and tears. Surely she had had enough of them. + +She wished she had not gone to the bazaar; she wished with all her +heart she had not gone to the palmist. + +. . . "You started with dreams--alas! so many dreams--and they have +forsaken you one by one. But they will come back ... A little +patience and they will come back; dreams no longer, but reality." + +She sat up with a little determined laugh. + +"It's all rubbish--I don't believe a word of it," she told herself. +"She only said it because she thought it would please me." + +"We're just dying for some tea, Greyson," she told the maid who +admitted them. "I hope you've got some for us." + +"Miss Chester is having tea now," the girl answered. "There is a +lady with her in the drawing-room--a Mrs. Heriot." + +Marie stood still with a little shock. She had quite forgotten that +Chris had said Mrs. Heriot would probably call. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + + + "I love him, and I love him, and I love! + Oh heart, my love goes welling o'er the brim; + He makes my light more than the sun above. + And what am I! save what I am to him?" + + + +MRS. HERIOT had quite failed to make a conquest of Miss Chester, +for the old lady considered that every woman who used paint and +powder was a hussy. There was a very formal tea progressing in the +drawing-room when Marie entered. + +Mrs. Heriot was genuinely glad to see her as she had found +conversation uphill work with Miss Chester. She kissed Marie +effusively. + +"I suppose Chris forgot to tell you I was calling," she said. "Men +are so forgetful." + +"He did tell me," Marie answered, "and I am afraid it was I who +forgot. I am so sorry. Won't you have some more tea?" + +Dorothy came in, and she and Mrs. Heriot started a passage-at-arms +immediately. They were too much alike ever to agree, and Marie was +relieved when Mrs. Heriot said she must go. + +"Come and see me off," she whispered to Marie as she took her +departure. "I want to tell you something." + +Marie went reluctantly. She did not wish for any confidences from +Mrs. Heriot, but apparently she was to be given no choice in the +matter, for as soon as the drawing-room door had closed behind them +Mrs. Heriot said in a mysterious voice: "Is there a room where we +can be undisturbed for a moment? I have something very important to +tell you." + +Marie smiled nervously. + +"Nobody will hear us here," she said "I think---" But Mrs. Heriot +insisted, and Marie led the way into the library, which had been +turned into a sort of smoking-room for Chris since their marriage. + +Mrs. Heriot shut the door carefully, then, turning, she asked with +dramatic intensity: + +"Mrs. Lawless, who is this Miss Webber?" + +Marie stared at her. + +"Dorothy Webber? She is my friend; we were at school together." + +"My poor child! If you think she is your friend you are being +dreadfully deceived--dreadfully." + +"I don't know what you mean." + +Mrs. Heriot dabbed her eyes to wipe away imaginary tears. + +"I hate to see people deceived," she said. "I hate people who make +scandal and mischief. I am only telling you for your own sake and +because you and I have always been friends; but yesterday--down on +the golf links." + +Marie broke in with pale lips: + +"Mrs. Heriot, I would much rather you said no more. It is of no +interest to me--I beg of you, please . . ." + +But Mrs. Heriot was enjoying herself too much to stop. She had +always disliked Marie, and she hated Dorothy because she had +appeared to be on more friendly terms with Chris than she herself. +She went on, refusing to be silenced. + +"You ought to turn her out of the house! She is a false friend! +Why, I saw her--and my sister saw her--with your husband's arms +round her! Crying--in his arms! I hate having to tell you, but I +thought, and my sister thought, that it was only right you should +know." She broke off, looking at Mane's stony face with faintly +malicious eyes. "Men are so weak, poor dears; how can one blame +them!" she went on. "It's the women, with their subtle cleverness." +She did not add that she had tried all her own wiles on Chris with +humiliating failure. + +"I am so sorry for you," she pursued softly, "but you should really +insist that she leave the house." + +Marie walked past her and opened the door. + +"Please go," she said. + +"But, Mrs. Lawless---" + +"Please go." Marie said again. + +"Oh, well, of course, if you wish it!" Mrs. Heriot passed her +jauntily and went out into the hall, just as Chris opened the front +door and came in. + +Mrs. Heriot smiled and held out her hand. + +"I was so afraid I should have to run away without seeing you," she +said. "We have had such a delightful afternoon. Where have you +been, you bad man!" + +Chris made some vague answer. His eyes had gone past her to where +his wife stood at the study door. She was very pale but quite +self-possessed, and she even smiled faintly as she met his eyes. + +"Mrs. Heriot is just going," she said clearly. "Perhaps you will +see her out, Chris." + +She went back to the library, and stood staring before her with blank +eyes. She had always hated Mrs. Heriot and distrusted her, but +something told her that this time, at all events, the widow had +spoken the truth. The facts seemed to fit so completely into the +chain of last night's events--Dorothy's tears, Chris' pre-occupation, +and her own instinctive feeling that all was not right. + +She heard Chris close the front door and come into the room behind +her, and she forced herself to turn. + +"Dorothy and Aunt Madge are in the drawing-room," she said stiffly. +He barred the way when she would have passed him. + +"Well, there is no hurry to join them, is there? How did you get on +at the bazaar this afternoon?" + +"We only stayed a little while. We had our fortunes told." + +"Silly child! What did they tell you?" + +"Oh . . . lots of things! Nothing that I believe, though." + +She stood apathetically with his arm round her. She longed to tear +herself from him, but she was afraid that once she gave way to the +storm of passionate anger that was rending her she would never be +able to control herself. + +"I was sorry afterwards that I did not come with you," Chris said. +"Feathers wouldn't come out. He's packing--he's off the day after +to-morrow." + +"The day after to-morrow?" + +"Yes--something has happened to make him change his mind, I +suppose. He's going, anyway." + +Marie's heart felt like a stone, though every nerve in her body was +throbbing and burning at fever point. + +Feathers was going! After to-morrow she would not be able to get to +him, no matter how passionately she longed to do so. + +This man whose arms were about her now cared nothing for her. He +had lied to her, and pretended and deceived her. She felt that she +hated him. + +"What's the matter, Marie Celeste?" Chris asked, abruptly. "Aren't +you well? You look so white." + +"Do I? It's nothing; I'm quite well." She moved past him, and he +made no effort to stop her, but she knew that his eyes were +following her as she went upstairs. + +What did she mean to do? She did not know. Possible and impossible +plans flitted through her mind. First she thought she would tell +Chris that she had found out about Dorothy--then that she would not +tell him, would not stoop to let him think she cared. + +Did she care? She did not know. Her whole being was in the throes +of some new, strange passion. + +Perhaps even up in Scotland he had made love to Dorothy, and that +was why he had stayed so long. Perhaps he had known that she was +coming to London, and had even asked her to the house! Marie hid +her face. + +She would not stay with him. She would go away--she would go away +with Feathers, if he would take her. + +She longed for him as a homesick child longs for its father. He +would be kind to her, he would understand. + +Dorothy came tapping at the door. She held an open telegram in her +hand. + +"Marie, I've got to go home." She gave her the message to read +without another word. + +Marie took it mechanically, but the words danced meaninglessly +before her eyes: + +"Ronnie died this morning. Come at once." + +Ronnie was Dorothy's brother, she knew. She looked at the girl's +white face and quivering lips, but she felt no pity for her. + +"I'm sorry--so sorry," she said, but the words were meaningless. + +She went with Dorothy to her room and helped her pack. She +telephoned for the car and told Miss Chester. + +"Someone must go with her; she ought not to travel alone," the old +lady said, in distress. "Surely Chris will go. It is only kind." + +Marie's face burned. Oh, yes, there was no doubt Chris would go-- +would be glad to go. She heard Miss Chester make the suggestion to +him, and held her breath while she waited for him to answer. + +If he agreed she would know that he was guilty. If he refused there +would be just a hope that Mrs. Heriot had lied. + +But Chris turned to her. + +"Would you like me to go, Marie?" + +She hated him, because he left it for her to settle. She could not +trust herself to look at him. + +"Aunt Madge thinks someone should go, and I can't," she said. He +agreed hastily. + +"Of course, you can't; I will go, if you wish it. I shan't be able +to get back till to-morrow," he said. "It will be too late to catch +a train back to-night." + +Marie did not answer, and he went away. She gave him no chance to +say good-bye to her. He kissed her cheek hurriedly before he +followed Dorothy to the waiting car, and he looked back anxiously +as he closed the door. + +"I'll be back as soon as possible to-morrow," he said. + +Marie went back to Miss Chester without answering. + +"That poor child," the old lady said sadly. "What a trouble for +her! Did you know the brother, Marie?" + +"I saw him once. He was a nice boy," Marie said apathetically. She +could remember Ronnie Webber well. He had had a snub, freckled nose +and twinkly eyes. + +It seemed impossible that he could be dead. She wished she could +feel more sorry. + +The evening seemed interminable. + +"Sit down and read a book, child," Miss Chester said once. "Don't +wander about the house like that! I know you must be upset, but +it's no use taking trouble too much to heart." + +Marie looked at her, hardly listening. + +"I think I'll ring Mr. Dakers up," she said. + +Miss Chester's eyes grew anxious. + +"I should not, my dear," she said. "Chris told me that he was very +busy packing. He is going away the day after to-morrow." + +"I know; but I should like to see him before he goes." + +She rang Feathers up, but he was out and not expected in till late. +Fate seemed against her at every turn. + +"I must see him again; I must!" she told herself feverishly as she +went to bed. She sat at the open window for a long time looking +into the darkness. Another forty-eight hours and he would be miles +away. She thought of all the pictures she had seen of Florence and +Venice, and wondered what it would be like to visit them with the +man one loved. + +Chris had offered to take her there, but she did not want to go +with Chris--he did not care for her! He had lied to her and +deceived her. She lay awake for hours, staring through the open +window at a single star that shone like a diamond in the dark sky. + +Where was Chris now, and what was he doing! She tried to believe +that she did not care; tried to keep her thoughts focussed on +Feathers, but they strayed back again and again to her husband. + +Little forgotten incidents of the past danced before her eyes +torturingly--Chris in his first Eton suit; Chris when he was +captain of the school eleven, swaggering about on the green; Chris +coming home for Christmas, a little shy and superior; Chris +bullying her, and teasing her, and finally buying his complete +forgiveness by a kiss snatched under the mistletoe. She had loved +him so much--had always been so ready to forgive and forget. Tears +lay on her cheeks because she knew she was no longer ready to do +so; tears of self-pity--shed in mourning over the days that were +gone. She was a child no longer; she was a grown woman looking back +on her childhood. + +It was getting light when she fell asleep, and it was late when the +maid roused her. + +"I came before, but you were sleeping so sweetly I did not like to +wake you," she apologized. Marie got up and dressed with a curious +feeling of finality. Everything was at an end now; she would bear +no more. + +In the middle of the morning a wire came from Chris to say he would +be at home to dinner that evening. + +Miss Chester was dining out, and Marie knew she would have to meet +him alone, but she did not care. She welcomed anything that hurried +the ending towards which she was drifting. Each moment seemed like +the snapping of another link in the chain of her bondage. + +Chris arrived earlier than he expected. It was only five o'clock +when she heard his key in the door and his step in the hall. + +She was in her room and heard him call to her, but she did not +answer, and she heard him question the maid, before he came running +up the stairs. + +Her door was open and he saw her at once, standing by the window, +but she did not look round, even when he shut the door and went +over to her. + +"Marie Celeste." There was an eager note in his voice, and he would +have taken her in his arms, but she turned, holding him away. + +"No--please, we don't want to pretend any more." + +He fell back a step, the eagerness dying from his face. + +"What do you mean? What has happened?" + +"Nothing--except that I know--about you and Dorothy." She put her +hands behind her, gripping the window sill to steady herself as she +went on: "I'm not going to make a scene. I know how you hate them, +and I don't blame you. I don't think either of us is to blame; but-- +I've finished, and that's all . . . If you won't go away from the +house, I will, and I don't ever want to see you again." + +She felt as if she were listening to the words of someone else-- +listening with cool criticism, but she went on steadily: + +"We've tried, as you wished, and it's failed. I can go away +quietly, and nobody need know much about it." + +She raised her eyes to his stunned face for the first time. + +"It's no use arguing about it. My mind is made up. Oh, if only you +would go away and leave me!" + +For a moment there was profound silence, then Chris' tall figure +swayed a little towards her, and he caught her arms in a grip that +hurt. + +"Who told you? And what do you know?" She hardly recognized his +voice in its choked passion. "It's damned lies, whatever it is! I +swear to you if I never speak again . . ." + +She turned her face away with a little disdainful gesture. + +"I don't want to hear--it's all so useless. I've said that I don't +blame you--and I mean it. You're quite free to love whom you like." + +He broke into rough laughter. + +"Love! You're talking like a child! Who's been telling you such +infernal lies? . . . Was it Dorothy herself?" She did not answer, +and he shook her in his rage and despair. She answered then, +breathlessly: + +"No." + +"Who then?" He waited. "Mrs. Heriot?" he demanded. + +She looked at him scornfully. + +"Yes, if you must know." + +He almost flung her from him. + +"And you believe what that woman says! She's a liar, and always has +been! She tried the same lowdown game on me--only yesterday. She +told me that there was something between you and Dakers, and I +threatened to wring her neck if she ever dared to repeat the lie +again . . ." Marie raised her head, and her cheeks were fiery red. +It gave her a fierce delight to feel that perhaps at last she had +the power to hurt him. + +"It isn't a lie!" she said, clearly. "I love him." + +A cruel shaft of light fell through the window, on the deathly +whiteness of Chris' face as he stood helplessly staring at his +wife. Marie had never seen agony in a man's face before, but she +saw it now, and she averted her eyes with a little shiver. + +"It's better you should know the truth," she said at last in a +whisper. "I wanted to tell you before, but I was afraid." + +"And--Dakers?" She hardly recognized her husband's voice as he +asked the hoarse question, and it hurt her to hear that he no +longer spoke of his friend by the well-known nickname. + +She shook her head. + +"He doesn't know; he's never said one word to me that you, or +anyone else, could not hear . . ." She clasped her hands together +passionately. "I wish he had!" she said chokingly. "I tried to make +him, but it was no use . . ." She looked at Chris with feverish +eyes. "It sounds dreadful, doesn't it?" she said piteously. "I +should think it did if I heard anyone else say it. But it's the +truth. I would go to Italy with him to-morrow if he would take me." + +Chris stood like a man turned to stone. Then suddenly he fell on +his knees beside her, clasping her in his shakings arms. + +"No, no, my dear! my dear! You don't know what you are saying. I'll +forget it all and take you away. You're ill, Marie Celeste. I've +been a brute to you, I know, but I don't deserve this." He took her +hands, such cold little hands they were, and pressed them to his +face. "I love you, too," he said brokenly. "I think I must always +have loved you, only I'm such a selfish swine . . . Marie Celeste, +for God's sake say you didn't mean it? I love you! I'll give my +life to make you happy. Say it isn't true--that you've just done it +to torture me--to punish me?" + +She tried to disengage her hands from his, but he held them fast. +He went on pleading, praying, begging her, but she listened +apathetically, her eyes averted from his bowed head. + +She did not believe a word he was saying. The wall of her pride +deafened her to the sincerity of his broken words. Her one emotion +was the fierce, triumphant gladness that at last she could make him +suffer as once he had made her. + +Perhaps somewhere in a corner of that room the ghost of the child +Marie Celeste stood weeping for the tragedy of it all--weeping +because the woman Marie Celeste could so harden her heart to the +grief of the man who had once been her idol. + +Then suddenly Chris released her and stood up. His face was like +gray marble as he took hers between his hands and looked down into +her brown eyes. + +"Is it--the truth, Marie Celeste?" he asked hoarsely. "Tell me the +truth--that's all." + +And Marie gave a little choking sound like a sob, and the lids fell +over here eyes as she whispered: + +"I have--told you." + +That was all. Chris let her go. He fell back a step, his arms +hanging limply at his sides. He was beaten and he knew it. No +explanation he could make would be of any avail. She had shut him +out of her heart for ever, and--for such is the tragedy of life--it +was only when it was too late that he knew how much he loved her. + +It seemed a long time before he asked: + +"Well--what do you want me to do?" + +She shook her head. + +"I don't know," she said in a frightened whisper. + +She had burned her boats, and her whole being was shaken by the +irrevocable act. + +She kept the thought of Feathers before her eyes. She clung to the +thought of the happiness he could give her. She never heard the +warning voice that whispered to her of its impossible madness. + +"Does--Aunt Madge know?" Chris asked again, and she shook her head, +tears welling to her eyes for the first time. + +"No--how could I tell her?" + +He turned to the door. He was like a man walking in his sleep as he +reached it, and for a moment stood fingering the handle aimlessly, +then all at once the passionate blood came surging back to his +white face. He strode back to Marie as e stood by the window, and +caught her in his arms. + +"I'll never give you up," he said hoarsely. "There's no law in +England that can make me give you up. Kiss me, Marie Celeste, and +say you didn't mean it . . ." His voice was broken; he hardly knew +what he was saying. "You're my wife, and I'll keep you. Feathers +doesn't want you--he has no use for women. You're my wife, and I +love you! I love you with all my heart and soul, Marie Celeste! +I've been a blind fool, but I'm awake now . . ." He kissed her +again and again despairingly. + +Marie struggled against his arms. She flung her head far back to +escape his lips, but he was stronger than she, and it was only when +he felt her almost fainting in his arms that he released her. + +"You're my wife," he said again, meeting her eyes. "I haven't +forgotten it if you have." + +Her lips were shaking so that she could hardly speak, but she +managed to form a few words. + +"Don't you ever--touch me again--like that. How dare you--insult +me! You say you don't care for women, and it seems to me as if--any +woman--will do! First Mrs. Heriot--then . . . then Dorothy, and now +. . . now me! Oh, if you knew how I hate you!" + +She had gone too far. She knew it as soon as she had spoken, and +she shrank away from him in fear when she saw his eyes. + +He caught her roughly by the wrist, dragging her towards him. + +"And you dare . . . you dare say a thing like that to me!" he +panted. "It's not what you believe--you know it's not the truth! +It's just a damnable excuse to get rid of me--to leave you free to +go to Dakers. My God, I could almost kill you . . ." + +He was beside himself with rage and thwarted passion. He let her go +so violently that she staggered and fell backwards, striking her +head against the wooden window-sill; but Chris was blind and deaf +to everything. He went downstairs and out into the street, hatless +as he was, slamming the front door after him. + +It was still light, and people stared at him curiously as he strode +by, his eyes fixed unseeingly before him. + +He was incapable of thought or action. He only felt that he must +keep on walking, walking, to outstrip this terrible thing that +walked gibbering beside him. + +He had never suffered in all his life until now, and he did not +know how to bear it. + +He loved his wife and she hated him. He saw the world red as he +walked along, careless of which way he went. + +She loved Dakers! Feathers, ugly Feathers, who had never looked at +a woman in his life! He laughed aloud at the thought. + +And Feathers was his friend! They had been more than brothers, and +now this tragic thing had occurred. + +Presently he found himself outside Feathers' rooms in Albany +Street, standing on the path, staring aimlessly at the door. + +Why had he come there? He did not know. But he went up the steps +and rang the bell. + +Mr. Dakers was out, the maid told him, but he passed her and went +up to his friend's room. + +There was a packed portmanteau in one corner and the hearth was +strewn with torn-up papers. Some whiskey and soda stood on the +table, and Chris helped himself to a stiff dose. + +He felt better after that, though there was a stabbing pain in his +temples, and he sat down and leaned his head in his hands. + +What should he say when Feathers came in? What should he do? + +He tried to think, but he could grip nothing definitely. All thought +melted away from him as soon as he thought he had got it. + +The only thing he could see distinctly against his closed lids was +the face of Marie Celeste as she had said, "Oh, if you knew how I +hate you!" + +He would always hear her voice to his dying day. He would carry the +memory of it with him to the grave. + +Imagination came to add to his torture. What had happened between +her and his friend during all those days they had been together? + +Was it true what Marie had told him, that Feathers had never spoken +one word of love to her? He tried to disbelieve it, but he knew his +friend to be an honorable man. + +Feathers was no wife-stealer; Feathers was the straightest chap in +the world. + +Then came a revulsion of feeling. He hated him! He would kill him +if he came in now! Chris started up and began pacing the room. + +What was to be the end of it all? He was helpless--powerless! And +he loved her so . . . + +Fool that he had been never to know it before--to need the +hysterical outburst of a woman for whom he cared less than nothing, +to show him how much he loved his wife. + +He thought of the scene on the golf links with Dorothy, and a +shiver of distaste shook him. He had never dreamed that she cared +for him, that he was any more to her than she was to him--and at +first he had been sorry for her, and ashamed of his own +shortsightedness. Then he had grown angry and disgusted. + +And that hell-cat, Mrs. Heriot, had seen it all! Chris struck his +clenched fist against his forehead. He had never met a woman who +was fit to hold a candle to Marie Celeste. And then, with that +thought, the agony began all over again. + +He had lost her! She would never look at him any more with shy +adoration in her brown eyes. They might have been so happy, but it +was too late now. + +And the memory came to torture him of how Feathers had saved her +life! Perhaps she had begun to love him then! If so, how could he +blame her for caring! Feathers was one in a thousand, with a heart +of gold. Feathers would make her happy where he had failed so +miserably. + +The room seemed suddenly unbearably suffocating, and he went out +again into the street. + +He walked about all night, until wearied out, he turned back home +and flung himself, dressed as he was, on the bed. + + + +CHAPTER XX + + + + "First will I pray, do Thou + Who ownest the Soul + Yet wilt grant control + To another, nor disallow + For a time, restrain me now." + + + +HE woke with a racking headache and nerves like wire that is +stretched to snapping point. He made a pretense of breakfast, not +daring to ask after Marie. He was afraid to go out for fear he +should return to find her gone. He went into the library and tried +to read the newspaper, and fell asleep over it, waking with a start +when the gong for lunch rang through the house, to find Miss +Chester standing beside him. + +"My dear boy! Are you ill that you fall asleep at such an hour?" +she asked anxiously. + +He managed to laugh. + +"I was late last night," he apologized. + +"Marie has one of her bad headaches, too," the old lady said. "She +is not strong, you know, Chris. I wish you could persuade her to go +away for a rest. I've been to her room twice, and she won't let me +in. Have you seen her this morning?" + +He had to lie to comfort her. + +"Yes--she's all right--she'll be better when she's had a rest." + +He went up to her door twice during the afternoon, but came away +without daring to knock. He could hear her moving about inside, and +once the shutting of a drawer. + +He went down again and wrote a note to her. Would she see him just +for a moment? He would not worry her, but he must see her. He +slipped it under the door of her room, but though he waited about +all the evening no answer came. + +His head was unbearable then, and, feeling as if the pain would +drive him mad, he took his hat and went out after dinner. + +From her window Marie saw him go down the street. She had been +watching all day for him to leave the house, and she drew a sharp +breath as she saw his tall figure turn the corner of the road. She +wondered if she would ever see him again. For a moment the thought +stabbed her heart with a little pain, but it was gone instantly, +and she crossed the room and quietly unlocked the door. + +It was very quiet, and she slipped downstairs and out of the house +without being seen. + +It was almost dark now, and nobody noticed her as she went down the +road and hailed a taxicab. + +She gave the driver Feathers' address in Albany Street, then sat +back in a corner, trembling and shaking in every limb. + +There was a queer rapture in her heart, which was yet half fear. +She was going to be happy, she told herself, fiercely; she was +going to offer herself to a man who loved her and who would make +her happy, and yet it terrified her to know that she was +deliberately cutting herself off from her old life. + +She tried not to think, not to reason. Since yesterday her heart +had been like a stone and she dreaded that its hardness should +melt. + +The door of the house was open when the taxicab stopped, and a +woman stood at the entrance looking out into the night. + +Marie spoke to her timidly. + +"Is Mr. Dakers in, please?" + +The woman's eyes scanned her white face interestedly. + +"I think he is," she said. "Do you know which are his rooms, or +shall I take you up?" + +"Thank you; I know." She had never been in the house before, but +she had heard a great deal about his rooms from Chris, and she went +up the staircase in the darkness, her heart shaken with a wild sort +of happiness, and reached the landing above. + +The door of Feathers' sitting-room stood open, and he was standing +at the table in his old tweed jacket, packing some papers away in a +box. + +He had not heard Marie's step, and he did not move or glance up +till she was actually in the room and had whispered his name. + +"Mr. Dakers!" + +He started then as if he had heard a voice from the dead. He had +been thinking of her a moment ago, and his face was white as he +stared at her across the table. Then he took a swift step forward. + +"Mrs. Lawless! Good heavens! Is anything the matter?" + +He drew her into the room and closed the door. + +"Chris? Where is he?" he asked hoarsely. + +"I've told him I can't live with him any more" + +She broke down into stifled sobbing. "I've done my best--you know I +have--and now it's finished. We had a dreadful scene last night . . . +and I can't go back to him again--I can't." + +Feathers tried to speak. Twice he moistened his lips and tried to +speak, but no words would come. The room was rocking before him. +The night was full of tempting voices whispering that she had come +to him because she loved him, and because she knew he loved her. + +With a desperate effort he found his voice. + +"You don't mean what you are saying, I know, Mrs. Lawless; you are +tired and upset. Let me see Chris, and if there is any little +trouble that can be put right he will listen to me." He held out +his hand to her. "Let me take you home." + +"It can never be all right again," she said, her voice broken with +sobbing. "He never cared for me, you know he never did . . ." + +Feathers interrupted gently. + +"But you love him. My dear, I know that you have always loved him." + +Marie looked up, the tears wet on her cheeks, her sobbing suddenly +quiet. "Do you know what I told him?" she asked, and then, as he +did not answer, she added in a whisper: "I told him that I loved +you." + +It seemed to Feathers as if all the world stood still in that +moment--as if he and Marie were alone in a great silence, looking +into one another's eyes. + +His heart was thumping up in his throat, almost choking him, and +his hands were clenched in the pockets of his shabby tweed jacket. + +The light in the center of the room fell full on his ugly face, +cruelly revealing all its grimness and pallor, and the trembling +tenderness of his mouth. He made no attempt to ignore her meaning. +It was too great a moment for pretense. + +She was so small, such a child, that his passionate love died down +into something infinitely gentle as he spoke. + +"Do you know what it means, Marie? Do you realize that you will +break Miss Chester's heart, and ruin your husband's life? Do you +know what everyone will say of you and me?" + +She broke in feverishly. + +"I don't mind what they say. I've never had any happiness, and I +could be happy with you--I am always happy with you . . . Oh, I +thought you loved me," she added with a broken little cry. + +It seemed a long time before he answered, and then he said in a +voice that was slow and labored with emotion: + +"I love you as the sweetest and dearest woman I have ever met. I +love you for your kind friendship to me, and because you did not +shrink from my ugly face. I love you because you're as far above me +in goodness and purity as the stars." He stopped with a hard breath +before he went on again. "You've been my ideal of everything I hold +sacred, and you are asking me to trample it all underfoot and drag +it in the mud." + +He broke off jaggedly, and Marie said in a whisper: + +"If--if you love me like that, don't you know--can't you _see_--how +happy we could be together?" + +Did he know? He had dreamed so often of an impossible future in +which she might be his, of long days spent with her, and hours of +contentment, of the touch of her lips on his, and the sound of her +footsteps pacing beside him for the rest of his life and hers; but +they had only been dreams--dreams that could never come true. + +He sought desperately in his mind for words with which to answer +her appeal, but what poor things were mere words in comparison with +his longing to take her in his arms and kiss the smiles back to her +tremulous lips. + +And she said again desperately, fighting for her ground inch by +inch: + +"Chris never loved me. It was only the money he wanted . . . oh, +you know it was!" + +It was hard to find a reply to such an unanswerable argument. + +"Years ago, before I knew you, Marie," Feathers said presently, +"Chris saved me from what might have been lifelong disgrace. He was +the best friend a man ever had. What would you think of me if I +paid my debt to him by taking his wife? Oh, my dear, think what it +would mean . . ." + +She thought she heard a note of yielding in his voice, and she +reached out a trembling hand and put it into his. + +"If you go away I shall have nobody left. Oh, I can't bear you to +go away!" + +He kept the little hand in his very gently. He went on talking to +her as if she had been a child. He tried to show her the tragic +impossibility of it all--the hopelessness. He spoke to her of the +past, of the days when she and Chris has been children together; he +pleaded for his friend as eloquently as he might have pleaded for +himself, and at last he stopped, struck to the heart by her +silence. + +She drew her hand away. + +"You mean . . . all this means . . . that you don't love me." + +Feathers bit his lip till the blood came. Not love her! When every +drop of blood in his body was on fire with love for her; when he +was holding himself in with a grip of iron from taking her into his +arms. He laughed drearily as he answered: + +"If I loved you less I should not try to send you away." + +She looked up then, the blood rushing in a crimson wave to her +face. He knew he had but to say the word and she would leave +everything for him, and the knowledge tore his heart with pride and +humility. He knew he had but to hold out his arms and she would +come to them as a child might, trusting him, confident of +happiness. + +And it was because she was such a child that he would not, dare +not! She did not understand what she was doing, he kept telling +himself. She did not realize into what a pitiful trap she was +trying to lead both him and herself. His heart ached with +tenderness for her, even while it bled with the wounds of the +battle he was fighting. + +There were moments when nothing seemed to matter but this girl and +her wistful eyes--moments when honor was but a paltry rag, and +friendship a thing at which to scoff--moments when he told himself +that he had as much right to happiness as anyone in the world, and +that it was here for the taking--moments when he would have sold +his immortal soul to hold her to his heart and kiss her lips. He +felt his resistance breaking down, and in despair he broke out: + +"Mrs. Lawless, let me take you home . . . I beg of you--for both +our sakes . . ." + +She stood quite still, her hands tearing at her gloves, then +suddenly she looked up at him with burning eyes. + +He could read the thoughts behind those eyes--shame that he was +sending her away, and shame because she had come. Feathers stifled +a groan as he turned from her. + +Then--"I am quite ready," she said, in the faintest whisper. + +He stood aside to let her pass, but as she reached him she swayed +and would have fallen fainting to the floor but for his arms. + +He caught her and held her as if she had been a child Her eyes were +closed, and her face and lips quite colorless. + +Feathers put her down in the shabby armchair in which Chris had so +often sat and grumble and tried to force water between her lips. + +Her hat had fallen off, and there was an ugly bruise on her +forehead where last night she had fallen against the window sill. +It stood out painfully against the whiteness of her skin. + +And suddenly Feathers' strength gave way. He gathered her into his +arms as if he could never let her go. He kissed her hair and the +ugly bruise that had broken him down. He kissed her hands and the +unconscious face that rested against his shabby coat. + +For a moment at least she was his--even if in all his life he never +saw her again. + +Even Samson was robbed of his strength by a woman. + +And even as he held her Feathers felt her stir in his arms, and the +fluttering of her breath, and he released her a little, watching +the color creep back to her face with passionate eyes. + +Then her lids lifted, and she saw him bending over her. + +She struggled free of him and sat up, pushing the dark hair from +her forehead. She tried to remember what had happened, but it only +came back to her slowly and with difficulty; then she made a +movement to rise to her feet. + +"I forgot . . . you asked me to go . . ." + +"Marie!" said Feathers brokenly. + +She looked up, a wild hope in her eyes, then she fell forward into +his arms. + +"Oh, do you love me?--say you love me . . ." + +"My darling--my beloved . . ." + +Everything was forgotten. The world was at a standstill. In his +arms she felt that she had come home at last to rest and perfect +happiness. + +They talked in broken whispers. He would take her away, he said; +they would find their happiness together. Between kisses they made +their plans. + +"And you will never be sorry--and hate me?" she asked painfully. + +He turned her face to his. + +"Am I to answer that question?" he asked hoarsely, and she shook +her head. "No--I know you never will." + +Her head was on his shoulder, his cheek pressed to hers. Presently +she raised herself, and put her arms round his neck. + +"Are you quite--quite happy?" she whispered. The grip of his arms +left her breathless as he answered: + +"I never believed in heaven--till now." She rubbed her soft face +against the rough tweed of his coat. + +"I love your coat," she said. "I love all of you." + +Feathers turned his face sharply away, and she put up her hand, +forcing him to look at her again. + +"Do you really love me?" she asked. She had had so little of love +in her life, it was hard to believe that at last she was everything +in the world to this man. + +He answered her with broken words and kisses. She could feel the +passionate beating of his heart beneath her cheek, and she looked +up at him with shy eyes. "You always will--always!" she insisted. + +"Always--always . . . all my life--and after." + +He put his lips to hers in a long kiss; he kissed her hands and +slender wrists. + +"My love--my love," he said brokenly, and could say no more. + +Presently he drew her to her feet + +"I must take you home." He looked at her with eyes that were hot +and passionate. "Marie, do you despise me? I tried to send you +away, but I love you so, I love you so." + +"I love you, too," she said. + +"My beloved." + +She looked up at him. + +"It's good-night then?" She lifted her face like a child to kiss +him. "Good-night till to-morrow," she said. "And then . . ." + +He kissed the words from her lips. + +She tidied her hair by the little glass over the mantel-shelf. + +"My cheeks burn so," she said shyly. She had never before been +kissed as Feathers had kissed her. + +Her eyes fell on a photograph of Chris as she turned away. Chris at +his handsomest and happiest, his eyes meeting hers with the old +smiling carelessness, and she felt as if a cold hand had clutched +her heart. + +Until now she had forgotten Chris! She had forgotten everything. + +She turned quickly to the man behind her. + +"I am quite ready." She was only anxious now to go. + +He kissed her again on the dark stairs, very humbly and reverently, +and he kept her hand in his as they walked together along the +street. + +"Is it very late?" she asked once, and he said: "No--only ten; do +you think they will have missed you?" + +"I locked my door; they will think I am asleep. Greyson will let me +in." + +He clenched his teeth in the darkness. Already the lying and +subterfuge had begun. Where was it going to end? He could feel +shame like a mantle on his broad shoulders. + +He said good-night to her at the end of the street, following her +slowly till she was safe indoors. Then he turned and walked back to +his rooms. His head was burning, and he took off his hat to bare it +to the cool night air. He did not know if he was more happy than he +had ever been in his life before, or unutterably wretched. + +The thought of her kisses made his head reel, but the shame of his +own pitiable weakness was like a searing flame. + +He had said that he would take her away to-morrow. He was going to +cut her off from everything she had held dear, and make her a +nameless outcast! He was prepared to bring his idol down to the +dust at his feet. + +Looking back on the last hour, it seemed impossible he had yielded +to such delirium. He had arranged every detail for her, had written +them down so she could not forget, and at this time to-morrow . . . + +He could not pass that thought. He stood still in the cool night +and looked up at the stars. + +"God, it can never be!" he told himself despairingly. + +He had said that she was as far above him as the stars, and here he +was in his madness trying to bring a star down to earth. + +It was not of himself he thought at all. He would have gloried in a +shame shared with her; but for Marie, little Marie Celeste . . . + +He went up to his rooms with dragging steps. There was a light +shining through the half-closed door, and he supposed vaguely that +he must have left it burning when he went out. + +He pushed open the door, and saw Chris sitting in the chair where +so short a time ago he had held Marie in his arms. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + + + "I fought with my friend last night. + And it was not with honest swords; + No steel sprang out to gleam and bite + We fought with poor, mean words." + + + +THERE was a moment's silence, then Feathers went forward. The +riotous blood in his veins had quieted and he felt a little cold +and breathless. + +"Hullo!" he said. + +Chris looked up. + +"Hullo! I thought I'd wait till you came in as they said you'd only +just gone out." + +"Yes . . . yes . . . I went down to the end of the road, that's +all." + +He poured out two whiskies with a hand that shook badly, and pushed +one across to Chris. + +"Have a drink?" + +Chris tasted it and made a wry face. + +"Lord! That's a strong dose," he said. He added more soda to it, +but Feathers drained his at a gulp. + +"Well, how goes it?" he asked. He sat down on the other side of the +table, so that his face was out of the light. The room to him +seemed filled with Marie's presence. It was so real that he +wondered Chris did not guess she had been here. + +Chris stood up, his shoulders against the mantelshelf. + +His handsome eyes met his friend's with haggard pain. + +"I've got something to tell you," he said. "I'm telling you because +you've always been--been my best friend." + +There was a little silence, then: + +"Yes," said Feathers hoarsely. Chris told his story abruptly. + +"Mrs. Heriot went to our place two days ago. You know Miss Webber +and I were golfing with them the day before." + +"Yes." + +Chris flushed and his eyes wavered. + +"A damnable incident happened when we were down there--Miss Webber +. . ." He could not go on. + +Feathers nodded. + +"I know. Don't trouble to explain. I could see it in Scotland. She +thinks she is in love with you--is that it? and told you so? Mrs. +Heriot overheard, or saw, and told . . . your wife . . . Go on." + +Chris looked relieved. + +"That's it, more or less. I swear to you that there was nothing in +it on my side at all! I've never given the girl a thought, beyond +to play golf with her; you know that!" + +"Yes, go on!" There was a long silence. + +"Marie won't believe me---" Chris said then brokenly. "She won't +even let me explain. Miss Webber's brother died unexpectedly, and I +took her back home. I only went because Marie and Aunt Madge both +seemed to think I ought to. I never spoke a dozen words to the +wretched girl the whole way; I didn't want to go with her. I stayed +at an inn in Chester that night--her home is in Chester--and came +back as soon as I could the next morning, and this is what I got! + . . ." He dropped back into his chair despairingly. "She's done +with me," he said hoarsely. + +Feathers stared at his friend with strained eyes, and after a +moment Chris started up once more. + +"I'll kill that Heriot woman if I ever see her again," he broke out +passionately. "I loathe women! They're cruel devils to each other! +Why did she want to go and hurt Marie Celeste like that? We were +getting on better together--things would have been all right, and +then that hell-cat must needs come in and ruin everything . . ." +His voice was choked and broken. + +"She said she hated me--Marie said so," he stumbled on. "She looked +as if she meant it, too . . . My God, you don't know what it was +like, to have to stand there and listen! I think I went mad--I +know I hurt her, but I didn't know what I was doing . . . I'd give +my soul to undo the past three months and start again. It's all +been my fault!" He brought his clenched fist down on the table with +a crash. "Blind, insensate fool that I am! I never knew that she +was more to me than anything on earth . . ." + +Feathers closed his eyes, and for a moment there was absolute +silence. He had never heard Chris speak with such passionate +despair before; had not believed him to be capable of so much +feeling, and it drove home to him with brutal force the terrible +tragedy upon the brink of which they now stood. + +It was not merely his own happiness, or Marie's that was involved, +but that of his friend as well, for Feathers knew with unerring +instinct that Chris had only spoken the simple truth when he said +that he loved his wife. He had been slow to realize it perhaps, but +now it had come Feathers knew him sufficiently well to know that it +would be deep and lasting. + +He braced himself for the thing which he knew was yet to come, and +a terrible feeling of enmity rose in his heart against this friend +of his, who had never discovered that he loved Marie until the fact +that he stood in great danger of losing her, had been driven home +to him. + +Half an hour ago Feathers had told himself that he must give her +up, but now he had forgotten that, and all his love and strength +rose in defense of her. She was his--he would hold her against all +the world. + +Chris was pacing the room agitatedly, and after a moment he broke +out again: + +"That isn't all--it isn't the worst--" he swung round looking at +Feathers with haggard eyes. "How would you feel," he demanded +hoarsely, "if your own wife told you that she cared for another +man?" + +There was a poignant silence, and as their eyes held one another, +the realization came home to Feathers with overwhelming shock, that +in spite of everything he had heard, in spite of what Marie herself +had told him, Chris still trusted him and believed in him. He tried +to find his voice, but it seemed to have deserted him, and as he +cast desperately about for words, Chris turned away and flung +himself down into a chair, his face buried in his hands. + +There was a long silence, then he said in a dreary, muffled voice: + +"It's only what I deserve, I know--but . . ." He could not go on. +He was up again, pacing the room in a frenzy of impotence. + +Feathers watched him for a moment with beaten eyes, then he said +jerkily: + +"You didn't--didn't care for her when you were married, Chris? I +thought--wasn't it--just to get the money?" + +Chris turned his haggard face. + +"To get what money?" he asked vaguely. + +Feathers tried to explain. + +"I was told--I understood--that the money was left to your wife--to +your wife alone I mean, unless she consented to marry you, and that +then . . . then you divided it." + +Chris laughed mirthlessly. + +"Good lord, it was the other way about," he said in a hard voice. +"Her father was always a crank, and he never forgave her for not +being a boy--that was why he adopted me. He left every farthing to +me--and I knew how proud she was--knew she'd never take a shilling +if she was told the truth about the will, so . . . so I married her +to settle it! It seemed the best way out at the time," he added +hopelessly. "I thought I was being rather clever . . . I know now +what a damned fool I was." + +Feathers got up slowly and, walking across to Chris, put his hands +heavily on his shoulders, looking at him with desperate eyes. + +"Is that the truth?" he asked hoarsely. "Will you swear that it's +the truth?" + +Chris stared at him in blank amazement. + +"What on earth do you mean? Of course it's the truth. Ask Miss +Chester if you don't believe me--she's known about it all along. It +was she who first suggested keeping it from Marie . . . Here, I +say, what's the matter?" + +"Nothing . . . I wish I'd known before, that's all." He laughed +grimly. "Aston Knight told me a very different yarn," he broke out +with violence after a moment. "He said that the money had been left +to your wife, which was why you had married her--and I believed +him! My God, what a fool!" + +Chris was watching him with angry mystification. + +"I don't know what you're driving at," he said shortly. "But I'm +much obliged to you for the compliment, I'm sure. Marie hadn't a +farthing when I married her--but I settled half of everything on +her on our wedding day." + +Feathers turned his white face. + +"Why didn't you tell her the truth?" he asked with difficulty. "No +good ever comes of lying and subterfuge and deceit . . ." He +laughed grimly at his own words! He was a fine one to get up in the +pulpit and preach when in another twenty-four hours he would have +broken every code of honor and friendship. + +It was trembling on his lips to tell Chris the whole truth, to keep +back nothing from that first moment in the hotel lounge, when his +too-ready tongue had started all the mischief. + +But for him and his blundering, Chris and his wife would have been +happy enough now. He seemed to see it all as plainly as if it were +a picture unraveled before his eyes. + +Marie had turned against Chris from the moment when she had +overheard what he had said to Atkins. All her pride had been up in +arms and had gone on increasing from that day until to-night, when +in her desperation and unhappiness she had come to him. + +"I don't know that it matters about not telling her," Chris said +wretchedly. "She told me afterwards that she had known all the +time, though God alone knows who told her." + +There was a little silence; then: + +"I did," said Feathers quietly. + +"You!" The blood rushed to Chris' face. He swung round and stared +at his friend with hot eyes. + +"You!" he said again. + +"Yes; I was talking to Atkins in the lounge the first night you +were married. I repeated to him what Aston Knight had told me--that +you had married your wife for her money . . . and she overheard." + +He looked at Chris' incredulous face. + +"It's the truth," he said. "I never knew until weeks afterwards +that she had overheard, until she told me herself, and even then I +believed that I had only repeated what was true." + +He smiled painfully. "Go on, curse me to all eternity; I deserve +it; I've been at the bottom of all the mischief." + +There was a terrible silence. Chris understood well enough now +without further explanations, and for a moment he saw the world +red. He broke out savagely: + +"Then it's you I've got to thank! You, with your damned humbugging +pretense of friendship trying to steal my wife---" + +He raised his fist in blind passion, and Feathers broke out in an +agony: + +"Chris! for God's sake . . ." + +There was something so tragic in his ugly face, that Chris' hand +fell limply, and he turned away, leaning his arms on the +mantelshelf and hiding his face. + +"It's absurd to say I'm sorry," Feathers said after a moment dully. +"One can't find adequate words for--for a thing like this . . . +There's only one reparation I can make, Chris . . . to tell--your +wife." + +Chris did not answer, and he went on. "I should like to feel that +you still trust me sufficiently to--to allow me to tell her." + +Chris flung up his head. + +"Nothing will do any good. She hates the sight of me--and I don't +wonder--if that is what she thought." There was something like a +sob in his voice, and Feathers winced. + +The delirium of that hour with Marie seemed like a dream. What +madness had possessed him? Her love had been given to Chris and no +one else. It was only in her unhappiness that she had turned to +him, as a sick child will often turn to a stranger away from the +one it really loves best in all the world. + +The thought hurt unbearably, but he knew it was the truth--knew +that his only reparation was to give her back to Chris. + +Chris turned suddenly, his young face aged by pain and despair. + +"She told me that she hated me." he said again. It seemed as if the +fact was engraved on his heart and mind, to the exclusion of +everything else. He broke off, breathing hard, as if he were +choking. "She told me that she loved you--you who ruined my +happiness and set her against me . . . Curse you, I say! Curse you +to all eternity . . ." + +"Chris, for God's sake!" + +Chris turned away. He was shaking with passion, and for a long time +neither of them spoke. + +Then Feathers got up from the table and laid a hand on his friend's +shoulder. + +"Marie has never loved anyone but you," he said slowly. "She's been +desperately unhappy, and when--when a woman is unhappy, she turns +to the first friend who will listen to her! . . . Your wife turned +to me . . . If I had been any other man, she would have done just +the same. Will you believe me when I tell you that I know things +are going to be all right? . . . Chris, for God's sake, believe +me." + +Chris shook his hand off impatiently. + +"But when? How? You can't take away hatred with words." he said. +"And she meant what she said . . . She's never looked at me like +that in her life before . . ." + +Feathers walked over to the window and looked out into the +darkness. The stars seemed to be watching him with sympathetic +eyes--the stars that were as far removed from him as was the woman +he loved. + +Chris spoke again presently: + +"I'll get off. If I talk till Doomsday nothing can be done." He +turned to the door. "Good-night." he said gruffly. + +Feathers held out his hand, but Chris would not see it, and he went +out, shutting the door hard behind him. + +Feathers stood at the window and listened to his steps dying away +down the street. It was the end of their friendship, he knew, and +the knowledge cut him to the heart. + +He sat up all night, trying to make some sort of order out of his +tangled thoughts. He would never see Marie again! He would write to +her and explain. + +But he knew she would be unconvinced by a letter, and, after all, +what could he say that he would give her back her lost happiness, +poor child! + +He waited till ten o'clock the following morning and rang Chris on +the 'phone. + +The servant who answered it said that Mr. Lawless had gone out. +"And--Mrs. Lawless?" Feathers asked. + +"She has gone out, too--for the day," she said. + +"With--with her husband?" + +"Oh, no, sir!" + +The surprise in the girl's voice was like a knife in his heart. So +the servants knew how seldom Chris and his wife went about +together; and it was all his doing! + +Marie had gone out for the day! He knew only too well what that +meant--that she had already left home forever, to join her life +with his. + +It was impossible to stop her now. He would have to go and meet +her, as they had arranged last night. + +He had told her to meet him at a little inn on the Oxford road. He +had arranged to drive the car down in the evening and take her +away! + +Last night it had sounded like sense! But this morning . . . + +Madness!--utter madness! + +Twice during the morning he rang Chris again, but each time he was +still out, and finally Feathers wrote to him. + +He sent the note by a boy who lived in the house, and went round to +the garage to fetch his car. + +If Marie had gone to the inn earlier than he had told her, there +was still time to tell her the truth and take her back home. + +It was afternoon then; an unusually hot day for September, with a +curiously humid feeling in the air. + +Feathers drove like a man in a dream. Everything seemed so unreal +and impossible. He wondered what the end of it all would be. + +It was only four o'clock when he reached the inn, but Marie was not +there. He supposed he could hardly have expected her to be, seeing +that he had not told her to meet him until eight that evening. + +He remembered how he had calculated that it would be dark and that +they could make their escape under cover of the friendly night. His +whole soul writhed now as he thought of it. The shame of what he +had done overwhelmed him. + +He never knew how he got through the long hours. He could not keep +still for a moment. In and out he wandered, looking up and down the +long road by which she must come. + +It seemed to get dark early. The river flowed close to the inn, and +a curious gray mist rose from the fields and the water till almost +a fog lay over the countryside. + +Feathers suffered the tortures of the damned. His heart was sick +with mingled dread and longing. One moment he was praying that she +would not come, that at the last moment she would change her mind +and not dare to face it, and the next his soul was in agony lest he +should never see her again. A thousand times he went into the quiet +little inn parlor and looked at the clock. It was five minutes to +eight, and he had told Chris to be there at half-past seven! It had +seemed the only way! If Chris came, between them they could tell +her the whole story, but the clock struck the hour and there was no +sign of Chris, no sign of Marie. + +Feathers went to the door again. He was shaking as if with ague and +his lips were like ice. + +Had anything happened to her? He thought he should go mad with +dread. He paced back into the inn again. Perhaps the clock was +wrong--perhaps . . . + +"Mr. Dakers," said a timid voice, and he turned slowly to find +Marie beside him. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + + + "I am old and very tired, though to strangers I am young; + Life was just a sporting gamble, but for me the game is done; + It was worth it, and I'm scoffing now the reckoning has come; + That's the worst of too much loving-- + Hurts like Hades when it's done." + + + +FEATHERS' relief was so great that at first he could not speak, and +she went on tremulously: "I've been here ever so long, walking up +and down the road." She cast a timid glance behind her. "I saw +you"--she went on almost whispering. "But I was afraid. I thought-- +oh, I thought so many dreadful things." He could see how she was +trembling, and he took her hand into a warm clasp. "Oh, I am so +glad to be with you," she said passionately. + +He drew her into the parlor, closing the door. Though the evening +was warm a fire burned in the old-fashioned open grate, its flames +throwing fantastic shadows on walls and low ceiling. + +Feathers put Marie into a chair, and stood beside her. + +"There is nothing to be afraid of," he said gently. "You are quite +safe with me"--but he looked away from her as he spoke, and the +devil of desire rose again in his heart, turning his blood to fire, +and forcing his pulse to racing speed. In that moment he fought the +hardest battle of his life, as he stood there, her soft fingers +clinging to his, in the intimacy of the firelit room, and with the +silent country lying all around them outside. + +He was an ugly man, with a hulking, grotesque body, but there was +something of the angel in his eyes when presently he looked down at +the girl's bowed head. + +"Marie--will you answer me one question?" + +She nodded, her lips were trembling too much to speak. + +"Are you sure--can you tell me truthfully, with all your heart and +soul, that you wish to come away with me to-night? that you know it +is for your complete happiness?--that you have not one single fear, +or regret?" + +She nodded again, not looking at him. + +"When you left me--last night," he insisted gently, "were you still +quite happy?--perfectly happy?" + +Silence now, then suddenly she looked up. + +"Were you?" she whispered. + +"No." + +He never knew how he forced the word to his lips. The old longing +was rending his heart, the old tempting whispers torturing him. +Marie hid her face in her shaking hands. + +Feathers sat down beside her. He put an arm round her shrinking +figure as a big brother might have done, and his voice when he +spoke was infinitely gentle. + +"Last night was a dream," he said. "Let us forget it. I alone am to +blame. No, no--let me go on," as she would have spoken. "No matter +how much we might--I might love you, there are other things that +count even more in the sum total of happiness--things I should be +powerless to give you, and so . . . so we must forget . . . last +night . . . and go back . . . . But you know that, Marie--without +my telling you." + +She looked up at him then, and suddenly she broke out wildly: + +"It isn't that I don't love you--that I didn't mean it when I said +I loved you. Oh, don't think that--don't think that!" + +Feathers rose abruptly. He walked away from her, and his face was +white, as Marie went on hopelessly. + +"I can't explain myself--I don't understand myself. I only know +that I've never been so happy in all my life as--as I was last +night when--when you kissed me--I shall always remember it, always-- +It's too late to hope that I shall ever be happy with . . . with +Chris--even if--if I wanted to; but--but he is my husband, and so +. . ." She half turned, flinging despairing arms towards him. "Oh, +help me, please help me," she said sobbing. + +Feathers came back to her, knelt down beside her, and took both her +hands in his. The pallor had not left his face, but it was +wonderful in its tenderness and his voice was infinitely gentle +when he spoke. + +"Chris came to my rooms last night--after . . . after you had +gone." She looked up with terrified eyes. + +"Chris!" + +"Yes." Feathers drew a hard breath. "Marie, you know that . . . +that he loves you, too?" + +"Loves me!" she laughed harshly. "When he married me for my money-- +when he left me alone all those weeks! If it hadn't been for you +. . ." She pushed his arm away and rose to her feet. "Oh, I don't +want to talk about him. I never wish to see him any more." + +Feathers stood up, so that his big figure was between her and the +door. + +"He is coming here--this evening--to take you home," he said. + +For an instant she stared at him with an ashen face; then she gave +a little stifled scream. + +"No, no; I can't! I never want to see him again! Let me go! Oh! Let +me go! I thought you loved me, and now this is what you have done." + +He put her into the chair again, keeping her hands firmly in his. +He told her as briefly as possible of his conversation last night +with Chris. + +"It was never the truth that he married you for your money," he +said. He said it over and over again, trying to drive it home to +her. She looked so dazed and white, almost like a sleep-walker who +had been roughly aroused. + +"I alone am to blame," he insisted quietly. "But for me Chris would +have found out from the first that he loved you . . . Oh, Marie, +try and understand, dear--try and understand." + +She looked up at him with vague eyes and nodded vacantly. + +She was trying to understand; she wanted to understand, but her +brain refused to work. + +She kept telling herself that she was going back home, that Chris +was coming to take her home, that she was not going away with +Feathers, after all, that it had just been a sweet, impossible +dream, but it all sounded like so much foolishness. + +How could Chris possibly love her? How could he possibly wish to +take her home after all that had happened? He would hate and +despise her when he knew. + +She felt so cold! Her hands were like ice, and yet her head was +burning hot. + +Feathers went on talking to her, and she tried to listen, tried to +keep her thoughts concentrated, but they would wander away; then +presently--after a long while it seemed--he lifted her to her feet, +and she heard him say that Chris could not be coming now after all, +that it was too late--that it was past nine o'clock. + +She laughed because he seemed so distressed. + +"I knew he wouldn't come," she said, but it did not seem to matter. + +She let him help her into the car--the same car in which she had +ridden with him happily so many times before. She wished she could +feel that happiness now, but her heart felt all dead and cold. + +"I knew Chris wouldn't come," she said again stupidly. "Not that it +matters at all," she added, with an empty little laugh. + +Nothing mattered! This second bid for happiness had failed as the +first had done and she wished she could die. + +"Where are you taking me?" she asked, as he folded the rug round +her, and he answered "Home." + +He looked up and down the road with haggard eyes, his ears strained +for the sound of a car that might be bringing Chris. He could not +understand why he had not come. He had counted on him with such +passionate certainty that it never occurred to him for a moment +that his note could have miscarried. His mind was racked with +torturing doubts. + +And all the time Marie's words were hammering against his brain, +adding to his torture. + +"It isn't that I don't love you--that I didn't mean it when I said +I loved you. . . ." + +Was that the truth? And if so, was he doing the right thing by +sending her back to her husband? + +Until to-night he had only tried to cheat himself with the belief +that she loved him, but now everything seemed changed, distorted. + +It was unusually dark, and a thick mist from the river made it +difficult to see more than a yard ahead, in spite of the bright +headlamps of the car. + +Feathers had been tinkering with the engine in order to gain time, +but he closed down the bonnet now, and came to the side of the car +where Marie sat. + +"Are you ready?" he asked hoarsely. + +"Yes--" he had turned to move away, when she caught his arm. + +"If--if it's good-bye--" she said, in such a faint whisper that he +could hardly hear the words. "I should . . . oh, I should like to +kiss you once more." + +For an instant he stood like a man turned to stone, then he turned +deliberately, and crushed her in his arms. + +For a long moment their lips clung together, and it seemed to Marie +that in that kiss, Feathers gave her his heart and himself and all +that he had--forever. When he released her and she sank back, +trembling and faint, she heard his hoarse "God bless you" as if in +a dream, and presently he was beside her, driving slowly back +through the mist and darkness. + +She only spoke to him once to say: + +"Supposing--supposing they won't have me at home any more?" + +The blood rushed to his face. + +"We won't suppose anything so impossible," he said, but a fierce +exultation passed through him; for if such a thing were to happen, +he knew that she would be his in very truth. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + + + "And if I die first, shall death be then + A lonesome watchtower whence I see you weep?" + + + +CHRIS had gone out that morning without seeing either Miss Chester +or his wife. His first passionate bitterness and anger against +Feathers had passed, leaving him more wretched than he had ever +been in his life, as he remembered their long friendship. + +He who had never known trouble hitherto was almost crushed to the +earth by it now; and the hardest part of it all to bear was the +knowledge that to a large extent he and his selfishness had been to +blame. + +He told himself that he had no wish to see Feathers any more, and +yet it was with the sneaking hope that he would find him there that +he went to the club after having mooned about the West End all the +morning. + +He made a pretense of lunch, and drank three whiskies and sodas, +which made him feel quarrelsome, and he had just decided that he +would hunt up Aston Knight and tell him what he thought of him, +when one of the waiters came to him in the smoking-room. + +"If you please, sir, you are wanted on the 'phone; very urgent, if +you please." + +Chris was up in a second. There was only one thing in the world +that could be urgent to him, he knew, and that was if it concerned +Marie. + +It was Miss Chester's maid, Greyson, who answered his impatient +hullo, and his heart seemed to stop beating as he could hear the +distress in her voice. + +"Oh, sir, could you come home, please? I've been trying to find you +all the morning. I rang up Mr. Daker's rooms, but you weren't +there." + +Chris struck in roughly: + +"Well, I'm here now. What is it? Can't you speak up?" + +"It's Miss Chester, sir! She was all right when I called her this +morning, but when I went up again . . ." + +Chris caught his breath with a sob of relief. Only Aunt Madge! +Thank God nothing was wrong with Marie. + +"I'll come at once," he said, not waiting to hear any more. "Send +for a doctor, and I'll come at once." + +He hung up the receiver and sent for a taxi. He was home in less +than ten minutes, to find the doctor's car at the gate. He ran up +the steps hastily and was met by Greyson, who was crying bitterly. + +"Well, how is she?" he asked. + +"She's dead, sir," she told him, sobbing. "She was dead when I +'phoned you. I tried to tell you on the 'phone, but you wouldn't +let me." + +"Dead!" The news came as an awful shock to Chris. He stood quite +still, his heart slowing down sickeningly; then he went on and up +the stairs to Miss Chester's room. + +He had expected to find Marie there, but only the doctor and +housekeeper stood by the bed. + +Miss Chester was lying just as if she were asleep, her white hair +parted smoothly on either side of her face, and a little smile on +her lips, as if behind her closed lids she was looking into the +future and could see something that pleased her well. + +Chris stood silently looking down at her. He had been very fond of +her and she had always been very good to him. There was an +uncomfortable tightness in his throat. + +The housekeeper was sobbing quietly. + +Chris looked at her. "Where's--my wife?" he asked in a whisper. + +She shook her head. + +"I don't know, sir; she went out almost directly after breakfast. +Oh--the poor lamb, it will break her heart." + +When Chris turned away, she followed him on to the Landing. She was +carrying a big white woolly shawl over her arm. + +Chris touched it. "Was she still working?" he asked. He knew it was +the shawl without which he had hardly ever seen Miss Chester. + +The woman broke into fresh tears. She held the shawl up for his +inspection. + +"It's finished, sir! She must have put the last stitch into it just +before she died, because Greyson said she was sitting up working at +it when she called her this morning. She was so anxious to get it +made--she always told me it was for Marie--for . . ." + +"That will do," said Chris. He went downstairs and waited about +till the doctor came down. + +"There was nothing to be done," the doctor told him. "If I had been +sitting beside her when it happened I could not have done +anything." He looked at Chris' pale face sympathetically. "It's +been a shock to you," he said. "And your wife--I am afraid she will +feel it very much." + +"Yes--especially as she was out." Chris spoke constrainedly. He +dreaded having to break the news to Marie. + +The afternoon went by, and she did not come. Greyson did not know +where she had gone. + +"Nobody rang her up?" Chris asked, with sudden apprehension. + +"No, sir; Mr. Dakers rang up twice before lunch, but he asked for +you." + +Chris went to the 'phone and gave Feathers' number, but Feathers +had gone out in the car, so they told him, and had left no word as +to when he would return. + +Greyson brought Chris some tea in the smoking-room, but he left it +untouched. + +"There are some letters, sir," she said, as she came to take the +tray away, but Chris did not even glance at them. + +His heart was racked with anxiety for his wife. He wished he had +insisted on seeing her that morning and he blamed himself bitterly. + +Evening came, but no Marie. + +"I don't want any dinner," Chris said, when the servants begged him +to eat. He wandered in and out of the house restlessly. He had rung +up everyone where he thought there was the slightest chance of +finding Marie, but nobody had seen her. He had rung Feathers twenty +times without result. + +It was approaching seven o'clock before his eyes fell on the little +heap of letters on the smoking-room table, and from sheer +restlessness he took them up and opened them one by one. + +A bill--a note from a man asking him to play golf--a letter in Miss +Chester's writing, sent back from Scotland, and a note without a +stamp. + +He was about to throw the last listlessly aside as of no interest, +when he recognized Feathers' writing. + +With his heart racing, he broke open the flap and for a moment +everything swam before his eyes, so that he could not read a word. + +Dear Chris,--I rang you this morning, but they said you were out, +so I am writing and sending the note by hand, as I want you to get +it as soon as you come in. You will know by the time you receive +this that your wife has left the house. If you had not come to my +rooms last night and told me what you did, God only knows in what a +tragedy we might have found ourselves. This morning I did my best +to set things right, but I was too late, so am writing this note to +you. You know the Yellow Sheaf on the Oxford road near Somerton +Lock? If you will be there this evening at half-past seven you will +find Mrs. Lawless. I know this is the end of our friendship, and +through my fault My only excuse is that I thought I was a strong +man, but perhaps we are all weak when it comes to the test-- +Feathers. + +Half-past seven! It was nearly seven now, and Somerton Lock was +forty miles away. + +Chris never knew what happened during the next hour. He only came +to himself again as he was driving like a madman through the +darkening night, the cool breeze stinging his face. + +She had gone--and with Feathers! His best friend had failed him, +had lied to him and dishonored him! There was murder in Chris' +heart as he stared ahead into the darkness and tried to control his +thoughts. + +Twice he took the wrong road, and had to turn back, cursing and +praying, and almost sobbing in his fear. + +The darkness seemed to deepen in order to hamper him. As he neared +the river a slight dip in the road plunged him into a thick mist +that was almost a fog. + +He had to slow down--could hardly see a yard ahead of him. + +Once he stopped, and with the aid of a lamp from the car found a +signpost. + +Somerton Lock--one mile . . . + +Almost there! He tried to believe it was not too late, tried to +remember that for all these years Feathers had been his loyal +friend. Once the car swerved under his shaking hand, and he had to +stop dead with grinding brakes, thinking he was off the road. + +It was then that he heard steps running up the road towards him, +and a man's voice calling through the mist and darkness. + +He started the car again impatiently, but as he did so a man's +figure came out of the gloom into the uncertain light of his lamps. + +"There's a car in the river . . . For God's sake, sir, come. It's a +mile from the lock and not a soul nearer! Lost the road in this +mist they must have done." He read the refusal in Chris' face, and +he broke out again passionately, "Oh, for God's sake, sir! There's +a woman in it!" + +As if in corroboration of his statement, a frantic cry came faintly +to them through the mist. + +Chris hesitated no longer. He caught up a strap which lay at the +bottom of the car and, dragging a lamp from its hook, ran back +along the road with the man. + +"Are you sure?" he asked breathlessly as they ran. "How can a car +have got into the river?" + +They were at the water's edge now and holding the lamp low down, +they could see the wheel tracks through the damp, short grass on +the bank and the broken rushes where the car had taken its plunge. + +The river was deep there, but if it had been half the depth the +danger would have been almost as great, for Chris knew that the car +would in all probability have turned over had it been going even at +a moderate speed. He flung off his coat and, making a cup of his +hands, shouted into the darkness: + +"Hullo! Hullo!" And the same terrified voice cried in answer, only +weaker now, and choking, as if already the silent flowing water had +begun to take its toll. + +Chris caught up the strap. He fastened one end round his wrist and +gave the other to the man, who stood shaking and helpless beside +him: + +"Here! Take this, and don't let it go! I'm going in!" + +He took the plunge through the darkness blindly. The water was icy +cold as it closed over his head, and he could feel the rushes and +weeds clutching at him as he struggled up to the surface. + +He shouted again breathlessly, and the faint cry came again close +beside him this time, it seemed. + +He struck out desperately, every nerve strained, and then suddenly +his hand came into contact with something which at first he thought +was a man's arm, but it seemed to slip beneath the water before he +could grip it. + +He groped round desperately, cursing the darkness, and his fingers +caught in the soft silkiness of a woman's hair. + +There was no mistaking it this time. Twisting it anyhow about his +wrist and arm so she could not slip from him, he turned for the +bank again, guided by the strap which still held. + +He was hampered by his clothes and the weight of the woman, though +from what he could tell she seemed small and light enough, and he +was almost exhausted by the time he reached the bank. + +There were several figures there now, and a lantern flashed a +bright light into his face as willing hands dragged him ashore with +his burden. + +He fell heavily as soon as he reached the bank and lay prone for a +moment, panting and exhausted. + +Someone came to his help, but he waved him away. + +"I'm all right--there's another out there--a man, I think." + +Presently he struggled to his feet. The mist seemed to have risen a +little, and above it a pale moon gleamed faintly down on to the +silent river. + +A small boat had been pushed off from the bank, and Chris could +hear the splash of sculls through the mist. + +A group of men were bending over the figure of a girl lying on the +bank--the girl he had pulled from the water, Chris supposed. He +drew a little nearer, and looked down at her as she lay there, the +light of the lantern falling on her upturned face. Then he gave a +great cry of agony and fell on his knees beside her, clutching her +limp body with desperate hands for the girl was his own wife--Marie +Celeste. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + + + "World if you know what is right, + Take me in his stead, + Bury me deep out of sight, + I am the one that's dead." + + + +THEY took Marie back to the Yellow Sheaf Inn, on the Oxford road, +carrying her on a rough stretcher made of a broken gate, covered +with coats, and Chris walked beside her, holding her hand in his. + +A doctor had come from Somerton, and they took her away from him +upstairs, and shut the door. + +The woman who kept the inn came up to him as he stood on the +landing outside her room and tried to persuade him to come away and +change his wet clothes. + +"You'll take your death of cold," she said in kindly anger. +"There's a suit of my husband's that you're welcome to, sir, I'm +sure." + +Chris thanked her absently, but hardly heard what she was saying. +In his heart he was sure that Marie was dead, though as yet the +shock of the tragedy kept him from feeling anything acutely. + +It was a nightmare as yet--that was all! And he had the childish +feeling that if he were patient, he would wake up and be able to +laugh at it all. + +Presently the woman climbed the stairs again with a cup of steaming +coffee, into which she had put a strong dose of brandy. She stood +over him as if she had been his mother while he drank it. + +"It's no use everyone getting ill," she scolded. "If the poor dear +in there wants you, you won't be in a fit state to go to her." + +She had struck the right note, and Chris went off obediently to +change his clothes. + +The mist seemed to have quite cleared away as he looked towards the +window for a moment, and there was bright moonlight--as bright as +it had been that night when he went out on to the sea with Mrs. +Heriot and the skiff broke away--so long ago it seemed! + +He shivered, and went back to the door of Marie's room. + +Feathers was dead--he knew that now--but as yet had not been able +to realize it. He knew that down on the river bank men were still +searching for him--unsuccessfully. It was a horrible thought. He +knew he would never be able to rid himself of the feeling of those +slimy reeds and rushes that had tried to drag him down with them. + +Feathers was dead! Chris knew that it must have been his arm about +which his groping fingers had first closed. He shut his eyes with a +sense of physical sickness. + +Where was this tragedy, which had begun with his own selfishness, +going to end? + +Supposing Marie died, too! He gripped his arms above his heart as +if to still the terrible pain that was rending him. He did not +deserve that she should live, he knew. His face was ashen when +presently her door opened and the doctor came out. + +He was a young man and sympathetic. He put a kindly hand on Chris' +shoulder. + +"It's all right," he said. "She'll be all right--thanks to you. +Shock to the system, of course, but"--he gave an exclamation of +concern as Chris swayed--"you'd better come downstairs and let me +prescribe for you," he said bluntly. "No, you can't see your wife +yet. That face of yours would only make her worse." + +He would not allow Chris to see her that night + +"She must be kept perfectly quiet. My dear chap, listen to reason," +he urged, when Chris objected. "Do you want to kill her outright? +No? Very well, then, do as I say." + +He hesitated, then asked: "Were you with her--in the car?" + +"No"--Chris' voice shook--"my friend was with her," he added, +turning his face away. + +"I see. Terrible thing--terrible!" + +Chris followed him to the door. + +"And--my wife? You are sure--quite sure?" he asked in agony. + +"Quite sure . . . She wants rest, of course, but it's been a most +wonderful escape." He hesitated. "They haven't found the other poor +fellow yet?" he asked. + +"No." + +He saw the grief in Chris' face, and held out his hand. + +"You did your best; it was a gallant thing--going into the river +like that--in the darkness. They would both have gone but for you." + +"You'd best go to bed, sir," the innkeeper's wife said to Chris, as +he went back upstairs. "Lie down and try to sleep: I'll call you +the very minute if she asks for you." + +But he would not, and in the end she brought an armchair to the +door of Marie's room, and, worn out with exhaustion and emotion, +Chris fell asleep in it. + +He woke to daylight and the tramp of feet on the road outside. He +stared up and stood listening and shaking in every limb. + +He knew what it meant--they were bringing Feathers in . . . + +The awfulness of it seemed to come home to him with overwhelming +force as he stood there and listened. + +He had lost his best friend--the man who for years had been more to +him than a brother, and they had parted in anger. He had refused to +shake hands with him--he would have given five years of his life +now to live that moment again. + +The innkeeper's wife came tiptoeing to him across the little +landing as he stood looking out of the window on to the road. She +had been up with Marie all night, and whispered to him now that she +had fallen asleep. + +"Such a lovely sleep, bless her!" she said, with pride. "And if you +was to be very quiet . . ." + +No more words were needed. Chris went past her and into the room +where Marie lay. + +She was fast asleep, her hair spread out over the pillow like a +dark wing, and Chris went down on his knees beside her and hid his +face. She had nobody now in the world but him--Miss Chester had +gone, and Feathers. . . Oh, he would make it up to her! He would +spend his whole life trying to make up to her all she had suffered. + +"I love you, I love you," he said aloud, as if she could hear, but +she did not move or stir, and presently he went away again. + +He had not kissed her--not even her hands. Something seemed to hold +him back from doing so, until she herself should say that he might. + +The news of the accident had spread like wildfire, and all the +morning people were walking out from the villages round about to +stare with morbid interest at the spot on the river bank where the +car had plunged into the water, or to crowd outside the inn in the +hope of catching a glimpse of Chris. + +The doctor came again, and was very pleased with Marie's progress. + +"I think she could be taken home to-day," he told Chris. "It will +be just as well to get her from this place." + +Chris said he would make all arrangements. + +"I can see her, of course?" he asked. + +"Yes." But the doctor looked away from his anxious eyes. "I should +not worry her or question her at all," he said diffidently, and +then he added uncomfortably: "She seems somehow afraid at the +thought of seeing you." + +"Afraid!" The color rushed to Chris' face. + +"Yes. Perhaps it is only my fancy, but she seemed nervous, I +thought, when I mentioned you." He looked at the young man kindly. +"Be gentle with her," he said, "I think she has suffered very +much." + +Chris did not answer, and the doctor went away. + +Afraid! Afraid of him, when he loved her so! It was another hard +blow to Chris to feel that Marie did not wish to see him. He tried +to make allowances for her. He knew what she had suffered. With +sudden impulse he ran downstairs, overtaking the doctor in the hall +below. + +"My wife--does she know--that . . . that Feathers was drowned?" he +asked jaggedly. + +"Feathers?" the other man echoed, not understanding. "Oh you mean +that poor fellow. Yes--I told her---" + +"What--what did she say?" + +"Nothing--she just turned her face away." + +"I see. Thank you." Chris went upstairs slowly. He stood for a long +time at his wife's door, not daring to knock, but at last he +summoned his courage. + +He heard her say "Come in" in a little quiet voice, and he opened +the door. + +She was dressed and sitting up in a big chair. She did not look so +ill as he had expected, was his first relieved thought, and yet in +some strange way she seemed to have changed. Was it that she looked +older? He could not determine, but her eyes met his steadily, +almost as if she did not recognize him, and her voice was quite +even as she answered his broken question. + +"I am--much better, thank you," and then: "The doctor says I may go +home." + +"Yes--I will take you this afternoon." + +She twisted her fingers together restlessly, her eyes downcast, +then quite suddenly she raised them to his face. + +"I wish you had let me drown," she said, with passionate intensity. + +"Marie--Marie," said Chris, in anguish. + +She seemed heedless of his pain and went on talking as if to +herself. "I'm no use to anybody. I bring nothing but trouble with +me! That fortune-teller was right, you see, when she told me that +she could see water in my life again--that would bring trouble . . . +and tears!" Her voice fell almost to a whisper. + +Chris stood looking at her helplessly. She seemed in some strange +way to be a great distance from him and yet by putting out his hand +he could have touched her. + +"Feathers gave his life for me" she went on, in that curious +sing-song tone. "He could have saved himself, but he would not +leave me--and we were . . . oh, hours in that dreadful darkness!" + +"Don't think of it, Marie! Oh, my dear, try and forget it all." + +She raised her haunted brown eyes to his face. + +"I can't! I can't hear anything any more but the sound of that +dreadful river! It was like a voice, mocking us. And he was so +brave!" She caught her breath with a long, shuddering sob, but no +tears came. + +"I am glad that he loved me," she said again presently. "It is +something to be proud of--always--that Feathers loved me." + +Chris could not bear to look at her tragic face She had no thought +for him, he knew, but she had never been so inexpressibly dear to +him as she was now. + +He was at his wits' end to know what to do with her. It was +impossible to take her home with Miss Chester lying dead in the +house, and there seemed nobody to whom he could turn for help. + +Presently, he said gently: + +"I shall have to run up to Town this afternoon--only for an hour or +two. I shall come back as soon as possible. You don't mind, Marie?" + +"Oh, no!" She seemed surprised at the question. "I shall be quite +all right." + +But still he lingered. He longed to put his arms round her and +speak the many wild, passionate words of remorse and grief that +trembled on his lips, but the new inexplicable aloofness of that +girlish figure held him back. + +"You are quite sure you don't mind being left?" he asked again. He +longed for her to say that she wanted him to stay, but Marie only +shook her head. + +"I shall be quite all right," she said, apathetically. + +He left her then, and presently from the window Marie saw him +driving away down the road. + +She gave a little sigh of relief, and for a moment covered her face +with her hands. + +She was free for a little while at last--free from the possibility +of interruption. She crossed the room and opened the door. The +little inn was very quiet, and nobody seemed to hear her step as +she crept down the stairs and across the narrow, uneven hall to a +closed door. She knew what lay behind that door, and for a moment +she caught at the banisters with a sick feeling of anguish before +she went steadily on and turned the handle. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + + + "Oh heart that neither beats nor heaves, + In that one darkness lying still. + What now for thee my love's great will? + Or the fine web the sunshine weaves?" + C. D. Rossetti + + + +MARIE had never seen death, but there was no fear in her heart as +she softly closed the door behind her, and went forward into the +room. + +The cotton blind at the window fitted badly, and gleams of sunlight +found their way through on either side of it, seeming to +concentrate in a strangely deliberate manner about the silent +figure of the man who had given his life for her. + +A white sheet covered him, but Marie's hand did not tremble as she +gently drew it down and looked at the marble whiteness of Feathers' +ugly face. + +Death had been kind to him. It had wiped out the hard lines, and +left him with a peculiarly noble, and boyish look. But even the +waters of the treacherous river had been unable to smooth his rough +hair, and it stood up over his head with just the same obstinate +untidiness that she had always known, and with sudden impulse she +laid her hand on it, smoothing it gently, as a mother might smooth +the hair of a sleeping child. + +Were there two ways of loving, she was asking herself desperately? +and was it possible to love two men at the same time, or had she +indeed ceased to love Chris? + +Feathers had given her her first man's kiss of passion. In his arms +she had first known complete happiness, and it seemed a crude +impossibility that she would never hear his voice again, that his +eyes would never open any more to look at her with their faithful +adoration. + +And it came home to her with bitter truth as she stood there, that +in her selfishness, and self absorption, she must have caused him +great suffering. + +Last night, right from the first moment of their meeting at the +inn, he had thought only of her, never once of himself--even down +to the very end, when wounded to death, he had given his last ounce +of strength to save her, spent his last breath on words of cheer +and encouragement. + +And what had she given him in return?--little enough it seemed now, +as she looked at his marble face about which the autumn sunshine +flickered. + +He had loved her so completely, and now she would never be able to +tell him how much she honored him, loved him! + +For Marie Celeste knew that she did love him! Not perhaps with +romantic passion with which she had once loved Chris; not perhaps +as she would some day love Chris again--but with the wonderful, +trusting, imperishable love which one must feel for a friend who +has never failed. + +Her heart ached for the sound of his voice--to hear him say that he +understood and forgave. His last kiss on the dark road that night +would always be one of her most cherished memories she knew, as she +stood there, her eyes fixed on his face, while her heart made its +last farewell. + +He had told her to go back to Chris--she knew that it had been his +earnest wish, and she knew too, that some day she would obey. + +But not yet! oh not yet! She must have a little time first to +herself to get back her lost courage, and to forget the sweetness +of a lost dream. + +She took the little sprig of white heather which he had sent her +from Scotland--so long ago it seemed--and which she had always worn +about her neck, and laid it between his folded hands. Then she +kissed him as so short a time ago he had kissed her--his hands, and +his closed eyes, his rough coarse hair, and the lips that felt like +marble beneath her own. + +She was sobbing now--cruel sobbing that brought with it no relief +of tears as she whispered a last good-bye and over and over again +"God bless you--God bless you--always--always." + +And it seemed to her distraught imagination that now there was a +little smile of contentment shadowing Feathers' cold lips, where +before no smile had been, and something seemed to snap on her heart +and brain as she cried his name in anguish through the silent room. + +"Feathers!--_Feathers!_" + +And the woman who kept the inn came running swiftly at the sound of +a fall, and found Marie Celeste lying senseless, her arms flung out +towards the man who, for the first time in his life, could not hear +or answer when she called to him. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + + + "And justice stood at the proud man's side, + 'Whose is the fault? Accuse!' it cried; + And the proud man answered in humbled tone, + 'I cannot accuse--the fault is mine own.'" + + + +CHRIS got back to Miss Chester's deserted Town house to find young +Atkins on the doorstep, staring with horrified eyes at the drawn +blinds. + +He had heard of the accident at Somerton it appeared, and had +rushed off to assure himself that Marie was safe. He was shocked to +hear of Miss Chester's death, and his young face was white and +sobered as he followed Chris into the silent house. + +He was very boyish and sincere in his sympathy, and though Chris +had never particularly cared for him, he was glad of his sympathy. + +"I say, it's awful, you know!" young Atkins said aghast. "Miss +Chester, and poor old Feathers! I say, what a shocking thing! And +what a marvelous escape Mrs. Lawless must have had." + +"Feathers saved her," said Chris, and impetuously he began to pour +out something of his present difficulties, of how impossible it was +to bring Marie to London. + +"I've got a sister--" young Atkins made the suggestion eagerly. +"She lives close to Somerton, and she's a nurse, but she's not +doing anything just now. I'll run down and explain to her. I've got +a motor-bike. She'd love to have Mrs. Lawless, if you'd care for +her to go." + +Chris was only too glad of the suggestion. + +"It's most awfully good of you," he said gratefully. "You see how +impossible it is for me to bring her here?" + +"Of course! Well, this will be all right, you see; I'll run down +there straight away." He turned at the door in his impetuous +fashion. "I say--" he said again, "Poor old Feathers! Isn't it +awful." + +Chris could not answer, and young Atkins went on blunderingly: "I +say, is it true what they say in the papers, that when they found +him--someone told me--both his legs were broken? It must have been +when the car turned over . . . my God, what an awful thing! I can't +imagine how he kept up as he did . . . oh, all right, I'm going." + +He went off hurriedly, and Chris put his head down on his arms and +cried like a child. + +He blamed himself mercilessly, and forgave his friend everything, +if indeed there had ever been anything to forgive. He felt that he +had grown into an old man during those hours of agony last night +when he waited outside the closed door of his wife's room. + +She was living, but she cared nothing for him, and he could almost +find it in his heart to envy Feathers who, although he was dead, +had once known the happiness of her love. + +He had stood beside his friend that morning, and held the hand he +had refused, his heart almost breaking with grief and remorse. + +He could trace everything back to his own selfishness and neglect. +But for him, this tragedy would never have happened. + +No wonder Marie had loved Feathers--the most unselfish, the kindest +hearted . . . he felt his own unworthiness keenly. + +He made what arrangements he could in Town and hurried back to +Somerton, and the woman who kept the inn told him how she had found +Marie unconscious in the room downstairs. + +"Unconscious for an hour she was," she said distressed. "I put her +to bed and sent for the doctor. I don't know how she came down +without my hearing her. I wouldn't have had it happen for the +world." + +Chris' face whitened. Although dead, it seemed to him that in the +future Feathers would stand more effectually between him and his +happiness than ever he had done in life. + +A fresh punishment upon which he had not yet reckoned. + +He was not allowed to see Marie that night, and it was two days +before the doctor would consent to her being moved. + +She looked so white and frail that Chris' heart sank as he carried +her down to the car. She was like a child in his arms, and it hurt +him intolerably to see how resolutely her eyes avoided him. + +She never spoke during the short drive to the village where young +Atkins' sister lived. She asked no questions, seemed not to care +what was to become of her. + +"If you would rather I stayed with you, of course, I will," Chris +said hoarsely, when he bade her good-bye that evening. He longed +with all his soul for her to ask him to stay, but she only shook +her head. + +She seemed quite happy to be left with Millicent Atkins, and Chris +felt sure she would be safe with her and well cared for. + +"I will come and see you every day, Marie Celeste," Chris said +again, and she said: "Yes, thank you," but he had the curious +impression all the time that she hardly heard or understood what he +was saying. + +It was only just as he was going and had impulsively raised her +hand to his lips to kiss it that a little look almost of horror +crossed her white face. + +"No--no--please!" she said. + +She tore her hand from him and ran from the room. + +"She will be better soon," Millicent assured Chris, seeing the pain +in his eyes as he bade her good-bye, "If you take my advice, Mr. +Lawless, you will leave her alone for a day or two. She has had a +terrible shock, you know." She was a kind-faced girl, with steady, +capable eyes that had seen a great deal more than she had been +told. + +Chris would not listen. He must come down the following day, he +said; he could not rest if he stayed away. + +He felt desperate as he drove back to London. What was the good of +living? There was nothing in the future for him. + +He made up his mind that he would sell the London house and +everything in it as soon as possible, and take Marie away and make +a fresh start; but . . . would she go with him? Somehow he did not +think that she would. + +He had left it to Millicent Atkins to break the news of Miss +Chester's death to her, and it was with an unhappy heart that he +went down to the cottage the following afternoon. + +Millicent came to him in the garden, as she saw him drive up. Her +eyes were compassionate. + +"I am so sorry, Mr. Lawless, but she will not see you. Somehow, I +felt sure this would happen, and that was why I asked you to stay +away for a little while. Oh, don't look like that," she added, as +Chris turned his face away. + +"You must just humor her a little," she went on gently. "Things +will come all right in the end, I am sure . . ." She hesitated, +then: "She asked me to give you this letter," she added. + +Chris took it without a word. He drove away again along the dusty, +sunny road by which he had come, with here and there a glimpse of +the river sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight between its green +banks. + +There was nothing cruel about it to-day, he thought. It was all +smiling and seductive, and he shivered as he remembered the feel of +the wet, slimy reeds, and realized what his friend's death must +have been in the mist and darkness. + +He did not open Marie's letter till he got back home, and he read +it in the deserted drawing-room where she and Miss Chester had so +often sat together. The house felt like a tomb now, he thought +wretchedly. He wished never to see it again. + +Marie's letter was very short: + +"Please do not try to see me. I can't bear it. I want time to think +things over and decide what to do. I will send for you if ever I +want you.--Marie Celeste." + +That was all; but it was like a death warrant to him. + +If ever she wanted him! His heart told him that she would never +want him again! He had had his chance and thrown it away. + +During the days that followed, in his distress and loneliness, +Chris fell back a great deal upon young Atkins. + +After Miss Chester's funeral and the closing of the house it was +Chris' suggestion that he and Atkins should go into rooms together. +Chris hated the idea of his own company, and he knew that as long +as he lived he would never find another friend to take Feathers' +place. + +He had suffered acutely over his friend's tragic death; he could +not bear to speak of him. He even put away his golf sticks because +they were such a vivid reminder of the happy days they had spent +together. + +"I never want to play the beastly game again!" he told a man who +questioned him about it in the club one night. + +He was at a terribly loose end in those days and young Atkins was +just the right sort of companion for him--always cheery and bright +and full of the optimism of youth. + +He had quarreled badly with his father and had been cut off with +the proverbial shilling. + +"Not that it matters," he said philosophically. "I've got about two +hundred a year the mater left me, and I reckon I can always knock +up another two hundred." + +He had decided to go to America, but for Chris' sake he put it off +indefinitely. He felt that it was doing something for Marie if he +helped her husband through the dark days before him. Though he did +not know anything like the whole of the story, he was shrewd enough +to piece together the few little bits which Chris sometimes let +drop. + +He was intensely sorry for them both and would have given a great +deal to have helped put things right. Once, unknown to Chris, he +hired a motor-bike and went down to see Marie and his sister. + +He found them in the garden, pacing together up and down the little +lawn. + +It was autumn then, and the bosom of the river was covered with +brown and yellow leaves from the trees on its banks. There was an +acrid smell in the air, too, which always comes with the end of +summer. + +He thought Marie was pleased to see him--certainly the color +deepened a little in her pale face when she first saw him. + +But she had changed! Oh, how she had changed, he thought sadly. +There was not much left of the little girl who had first of all +attracted his boyish fancy. + +He talked of everything under the sun, rattling on in his usual +haphazard manner, and she listened gravely, sometimes smiling, but +hardly speaking. + +He did not mention Chris or tell her that they were sharing rooms-- +much more expensive rooms than he could possibly have afforded +alone; but Chris had insisted on paying the difference. + +It was just as he was going, and Millicent had left them together +for a little while, that Marie said suddenly: + +"Tommy--do you know that it's a month to-day since--Mr. Dakers +died?" + +He started and flushed in confusion. + +"Is it? A month! How the time flies, doesn't it?" + +"Yes." She was looking out across the open country at the back of +the little house, and he thought he had never before seen such +sadness in anyone's face. + +He laid a hand on hers in clumsy comfort. + +"It was a fine sort of death, anyway," he said in desperation. +"Just the sort of death a man like Feathers would have chosen . . . +Marie--he saved your life twice." + +He realized too late that he had spoken tactlessly, but to his +surprise she only smiled--a wise little smile which he could not +fathom. + +"Yes," she said softly, almost happily it seemed. + +There was a little silence, then he broke out again. + +"It seems a lifetime since we all met for the first time down at +that bally old hotel, doesn't it? you and I, and Chris, and poor +old Feathers." + +"It's only a little more than three months." she told him. + +"Is it?" he cleared his throat nervously. "Jove! how time flies," +he said again, reminiscently. + +They sat silent for some minutes, then he rose to his feet, and +said that he must be going. + +"I told Chris I would be in at seven," he said unthinkingly, then +stopped, furious with himself for having mentioned the name he had +sworn to avoid. + +She looked up quickly, her brown eyes dilating. + +"Chris! Are you living with him then?" + +"Yes." He twisted his cap with agitated fingers. "He went back to +his Knightsbridge rooms after--well, after Miss Chester's house was +sold, you know, but of course you do know." + +She shook her head. + +"I have not seen him for a month." + +Young Atkins looked wretched. He knew from the little Chris had +told him that this separation had been her own wish, and therefore +he could not understand her attitude now. + +He did not know that she had written that last note to her husband +more as a test than for any other reason. With her old childish way +of reasoning, she had argued to herself that if he really cared for +her nothing on earth would keep him away; and once again she had +been disappointed. He had apparently agreed without a word of +demur--he had never attempted to approach her. + +"I know he's jolly miserable, anyway," young Atkins broke out +explosively after a moment. "He never goes anywhere--he just sits +and smokes and thinks. He's changed so! It's rotten! And he used to +be such a cheery soul." + +He seemed afraid all at once that he had said too much, for he made +another attempt to escape. + +Marie went with him to the gate. + +"Your sister has been so good to me," she said suddenly. "I don't +know what I should have done without her. I shall miss her +dreadfully when I go away." + +He looked up in swift distress. + +"But you're not going! You mustn't! She's ever so pleased to have +you with her. Where are you going?" + +She looked away from him down the dusky road, and there was a +little eloquent pause before she said slowly: + +"I'm going back--to Chris." + +"To Chris!" he could hardly believe it. He gripped both her hands. +"Hooray! how perfectly splendid! Oh, forty thousand hoorays!" + +She disengaged herself from his bearlike grip. + +"Oh, Tommy--please!" She sounded more like her old self now, he +thought with some emotion. There was a suspicious moisture in his +eyes as he looked down at her. + +"When?" he asked eagerly. + +"When? Oh, I don't know yet." There was a note of nervous shrinking +in her voice. + +"It's his birthday to-morrow," young Atkins said. + +"I know. I've been thinking of that all day." + +He caught her round the waist. + +"You darling! To-morrow then! I'll make myself scarce. We were +going to have an extra dinner by way of celebration--he wasn't +keen, but it was my idea! I'll pretend to let him down, and you +come instead." + +She fell into his mood, and they made their plans like eager +children. It was only when young Atkins was just starting away that +she caught his arm for a moment, and her face was white in the gray +light. + +"The summer's quite gone, Tommy," she said sadly. "I often wonder +if it doesn't mean that my summer has gone too, and that it's too +late now." + +He pooh-poohed her words scornfully. + +"Nonsense! As if summer doesn't ever come again! Why, next year +will be a topper, you'll see! The best in your life." + +They were both silent for a moment, listening to the monotonous lap, +lap of the river as it flowed swiftly along between its rush-grown +banks. + +"I hate that sound," young Atkins broke out vehemently. "I wonder +you can bear to have been so near to it after . . . there! I didn't +mean that! I'm such a blundering ox." + +She smiled through the sudden tears that rushed to her eyes. + +"I've never minded it like that, somehow, Tommy. It's never been as +terrible to me as--as perhaps it should be. I've often thought that +those dreadful minutes when it seemed as if--the end of everything +had come for--for both of us--when Feathers was so brave--so +wonderful! Washed everything mean, and small, and unforgiving, out +of my heart--forever." + +She looked up at the dark sky overhead where some little stars were +twinkling palely. + +Feathers had once told her that she was as far above him as the +stars . . . she never looked at them now without thinking of him, +and wondering if somewhere--he still thought of her. + +It was she who had led him into temptation--she still had that to +tell to Chris--if he cared to listen. + +"To-morrow then," she said, and young Atkins echoed "To-morrow," as +he sprinted off down the road, disappearing in a cloud of dust. + +Marie waited at the gate till the last sound of the motor had died +away in the distance, then she went slowly back to the house. + +The voice of the river was still in her ears with its bitter +memories, but there was a new look of contentment in her eyes as +she turned for a moment at the door, and looked up at the stars. + +"I'm going back, dear," she said in a whisper, as if there was +someone very close to her in the dusky evening who could hear. "I'm +going back, dear." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + + + "But ah! the little things for which I sigh, + As each day passes by, + The open book, the flower upon the floor. + The dainty disarray. + The sound of passing feet. + Alas, the little things of every day! + The silent eve, my sweet, + The lonely waking. + Alas! alas! for little things + My heart is breaking." + + + +CHRIS woke up on the morning of his birthday with the very real +hope in his heart that the post might bring him some message from +Marie Celeste. She had never before forgotten his birthday. Even +when he saw that there was no letter from her he could hardly +believe that there would be none later. + +He hung about his rooms all the morning, till young Atkins dragged +him out by main force. + +"What's file matter with you that you're so fond of the house +all at once?" he demanded disgustedly. He had previously had a +heart-to-heart talk with their landlady and given her many +instructions with regard to flowers and a lavish dinner that night. + +"For only you two gentlemen, sir?" she had asked amazed, and Tommy +had said: "No--I shan't be there--there's a lady coming." Then +seeing the faint disapproval of her eyes, he added, chuckling: +"Cheer up! It's all right! She's his wife!" He had told her enough +of the truth to enlist her sympathy, packed his bag, and promptly +proceded to lose Chris as soon as he had got him out of the house. + +"I'll call for you at the club at six," were his last words. "And +mind you're there." + +Chris was there an hour before, chiefly because he had nothing else +to do. He was irritated and annoyed, therefore, when the door +porter informed him that Mr. Atkins had left a message to the +effect that he could not get to the club, but would be at the rooms +at seven. + +"And would you be sure to be there, sir," he added. + +Chris frowned as he turned away. He had a great mind not to go home +at all, but to leave Atkins in the lurch. He thought it very shabby +of him, all things considered, but it came on to rain and the +streets looked dull and uninviting, so he took a taxi and went +home. + +Home! He echoed the word in his heart wretchedly. What a home for a +man to go to when he might have everything in the world he wanted, +and a wife to smile at him from the other side of his own table! He +missed Marie a hundred times a day--her step about the house--her +voice--even the sight of her slippers and small personal +belongings. + +He took off his coat and hat in the hall, and went upstairs. There +was a light in his room, and he could catch a glimpse of the table +laid for dinner, and flowers . . . so many flowers there seemed. + +"I don't know why you chucked money away on all this tomfoolery," +he said shortly, as he pushed open the door. "If you think because +it's my bally birthday . . . Marie Celeste!" The last words were a +great cry as his wife rose from his big chair by the fire. + +For a moment he stood staring at her with disbelieving eyes. He had +longed for her so much all day; had been so hurt because she had +forgotten his birthday, and now--here she was! + +She was very pale, but she was smiling. She had taken off her hat +and coat and looked very young and sweet in her little black frock, +the dark hair curling softly about her face. + +Chris could not find his voice, could hardly breathe. He was so +sure that if he spoke the spell would be broken and that she would +vanish from his longing eyes. + +Then quite suddenly, she said: + +"I've come back, Chris--if you want me." + +"If I want you!" He fell on his knees beside her, and his shaking +arms closed fast about her. + +He had meant to try and explain so many had planned so often in his +mind what he would say to her, how he would humble himself and ask +her forgiveness, but now that the time had come, there seem no need +for any of it. + +Kisses and broken words, and the clasp of arms that had ached with +loneliness and emptiness were more eloquent than the finest speech +could have been. It was only when the landlady had knocked three +times to ask if she should bring dinner that Chris thought about +appearances, and then he kept his wife's hand in his all the time +the choice dishes which young Atkins had chosen so carefully were +put upon the table. + +They pretended to eat a great deal, but it was only a pretense, and +when the landlady had removed the last dish in offended silence +Chris drew Marie Celeste down into his arms in the big chair. + +He passed his hand over her face and hair and soft neck. + +"I can't believe you're real," he said huskily. "How long are you +going to keep me in my fool's paradise before you disappear again, +Marie Celeste?" She raised herself and looked at him with mournful +eyes. + +"I couldn't come before," she answered "I had to be sure first." + +"Sure--of me?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"No; of myself." + +The dark flush of pain swept across his face. + +"You mean--that you had to be sure whether you . . . you still +cared for me at all." + +She looked away from him. + +"I loved you when you were a little boy--years ago," she said in a +tremulous whisper. "I loved you when you went to Cambridge, and +snubbed me so dreadfully when you came home . . . Chris--I loved +you when I married you." + +He raised her hand to his lips silently. The words were sweet, but +it was not all that he wished to hear, and she went on +disconnectedly. + +"Chris--you know . . . I thought you had only married me for--for +the money . . . I never knew till--till that last night---" + +He interrupted. + +"I don't want to hear--it was all my fault," + +"But I must tell you," she urged. "There is something I must tell +you. It was my fault--everything that happened . . . about . . . +about Feathers. You made me half mad, I think, and--and it was I +who asked him to take me away. It was I who asked him--he was much +too honorable . . . I--I can't bear that--that you should blame +him." + +"I blame myself--for everything," but his eyes searched her face +with passionate jealousy. + +"You said you hated me once," he reminded her morosely. "Marie +Celeste, when did--when did you begin to care again?" + +She looked away from him. Somehow she could not meet his eyes. +There was a knowledge in her heart which she knew must always be a +secret from him--the knowledge of her queer, inexplicable love for +Feathers. + +It was still there in her heart, and always would be, she knew, but +already time had begun to soften and change it, as time subtly +changes the outline and coloring of a picture without altering its +beauty in the smallest degree--perhaps even adding to it. + +"I saw a photograph of you--in . . . in his rooms," she whispered. +"And I knew then . . . that whatever happened . . . I could not +go." + +It was the truth, neither more nor less; the old loyalty and +allegiance had called her back--perhaps the old love, who knows? + +Chris' arms tightened about her. Three times he had been so near to +losing her, twice by death, and once--by something that would have +been so infinitely worse! + +He drew Marie down to him, and kissed her with passionate +thankfulness. + +"He saved your life for me--twice!" he said. + +It was an all-sufficient answer to any doubt or suspicion that +might still linger in his heart. + + + +L'ENVOI + + + +CHRIS took Marie abroad immediately, and for a year they stayed +away from England and its many poignant memories. + +They wintered in the South of France, and spent the late spring in +Switzerland. + +"I should like to take you to Italy," Chris said one day, but Marie +shook her head. + +"No--not Italy--I never want to go there." + +He wondered a little at the time, and it was only some days +afterwards that he understood, and the old jealousy of his friend +that still slumbered deep in his heart stirred. + +He knew that Feathers' death had left a mark on Marie's life that +neither time nor the greatness of his love could ever quite efface; +sometimes still, its memory would rise up like a great black wave +and overwhelm her. + +And yet she was happy--happier than she had ever been in her life, +even though she felt she was looking at life and the beauties of +the world through the sad eyes of a bitter experience. + +It was a surprise to Chris when one day she told him that she would +like to go back to England. It was early June then, and they were +at Lucerne, and the snow was beginning to melt on the mountain +sides, and little bright colored flowers were springing up +everywhere. + +The desire to return had often been in Chris' heart, but not for +the world would he have said so. Marie was everything in his life +now--he could not bear her out of his sight. + +"Tired of Lucerne?" he asked. + +"No--but I think I would like to go home." + +"London in June is appalling," Chris said. "Why not stay on here a +month or two longer and then go up to Scotland. You've never been +to Scotland, Marie Celeste?" + +He watched her with moody eyes as he made the deliberate +suggestions. Was she going to shrink from that too, on account of +its memories, as she had done from Italy? But to his relief she +agreed. + +"Yes--I should like that." + +He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. + +"Scotland be it then," he said happily. "I know a ripping little +place, right up in the mountains at a place called . . ." He rubbed +his head boyishly. "Dashed if I can remember the name," he said. + +Marie laughed. + +"I shall be happy enough, whatever its name is," she told him. + +But it was October before they finally went back, and the heather +was paling, and the sunsets were wonderful when at last they +settled down amongst the mountains and the silence. + +The little house in the hills was all that Chris had claimed for +it, and the windows of Marie's rooms looked right out on to a +mountain gorge, and a little noisy stream of water. + +"Happy, Marie Celeste?" Chris asked one evening, coming into the +room and finding her at the window, her face rather grave in the +sunset light. + +He put an arm round her waist. "Quite happy?" he asked anxiously. + +She turned her face, stood on tiptoe and kissed him. + +"I was thinking about Aunt Madge!--I wonder if she knows that--that +everything's all right." + +"Is it--all right?" he asked, jealously. + +She looked away from him to the wonderful sunset. + +"Don't you know that it is?" she asked. + +There was a little silence, and her thoughts went wistfully to +Feathers. + +He had always said she would be happy some day--she was happy now. + +But it seemed impossible that he was really dead--she could never +think of him as dead but always as she had known him, so full of +health and vigor, and cheeriness, and with the old faithful look in +his eyes. She gave a quick sigh and Chris said anxiously: + +"Have you got everything you want in the world, Marie Celeste?" + +She laughed and blushed, rubbing her cheek against his coat. + +"I think perhaps I shall have--some day," she said. + +He held her at arm's length. + +"What do you mean, Marie Celeste?" + +She disengaged herself gently from him, and turning, opened an old +chest that stood at the foot of the bed. She pulled out something +white and soft and woolly and held it to him. + +"Look, Chris?" + +He looked, and the color deepened in his face. + +"What is it, Marie Celeste?" he asked very gently. + +But he knew quite well that it was Miss Chester's shawl. + + + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bachelor Husband, by Ruby M. Ayres + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42085 *** |