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diff --git a/old/54097-0.txt b/old/54097-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b404b80..0000000 --- a/old/54097-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11998 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Black is White, by George Barr McCutcheon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Black is White - -Author: George Barr McCutcheon - -Release Date: February 3, 2017 [EBook #54097] -Last Updated: March 12, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK IS WHITE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -BLACK IS WHITE - -By George Barr Mccutcheon - -Author Of “Graustark,” “Brewster's Millions,” “Truxton King,” “Rose In -The Ring,” “Mary Midthorne,” Etc. - -London - -Everett & Co., Ltd. - -1915 - - - - - -BLACK IS WHITE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -The two old men sat in the library, eyeing the blue envelope that lay -on the end of the long table nearest the fireplace, where a merry but -unnoticed blaze crackled in the vain effort to cry down the shrieks of -the bleak December wind that whistled about the corners of the house. - -Someone had come into the room--they did not know who nor when--to poke -up the fire and to throw fresh coals into the grate. No doubt it was the -parlourmaid. She was always doing something of the sort. It seemed to -be her duty. Or, it might have been the housekeeper, in case the -parlourmaid was out for the evening. Whoever it was, she certainly had -poked up the fire, and in doing so had been compelled to push two pairs -of feet out of the way to avoid trampling upon them. - -Still they couldn't recall having seen her. For that matter, it wasn't -of the slightest consequence. Of course, they might have poked it up -themselves and saved her the trouble, but these ancients were not in the -habit of doing anything that could be done by menials in the employ -of Mr Brood. Their minds were centred upon the blue envelope that -had arrived shortly after dinner. The fire was an old story; the blue -envelope was a novelty. - -From some shifting spot far out upon the broad Atlantic the contents -of that blue envelope had come through the air, invisible, mysterious, -uncanny. They could not understand it at all. A wireless message! It was -the first of its kind they had seen, and they were very old men, who had -seen everything else in the world--if one could believe their boastful -tales. - -They had sailed the seven seas and they had traversed all the lands of -the earth, and yet here was mystery. A man had spoken out of the air -a thousand miles away, and his words were lying there on the end of a -library-table, in front of a cheerful hearthstone, within reach of their -wistful fingers; and someone had come in to poke up the fire without -their knowledge. How could they be expected to know? - -There was something maddening in the fact that the envelope would have -to remain unopened until young Frederic Brood came home for the night. -They found themselves wondering if by any chance he would fail to come -in at all. Their hour for retiring was ten o'clock, day in, day out. -As a rule they went to sleep about half-past eight. They seldom retired -unless someone made the act possible by first awakening them. - -The clock on the wide mantelpiece had declared some time before, in -ominous tones, that half-past ten had arrived, and yet they were not -sleepy. They had not been so thoroughly wideawake in years. - -Up to half-past nine they discussed the blue envelope with every inmate -of the house, from Mrs John Desmond, the housekeeper, down to the -voiceless but eloquent decanter of port that stood between them, first -on the arm of one chair, then the other. They were very old men; -they could soliloquise without in the least disturbing each other. An -observer would say, during these periods of abstraction, that their -remarks were addressed to the decanter, and that the poor decanter had -something to say in return. But, for all that, their eyes seldom left -the broad blue envelope that had lain there since half-past eight. - -They knew that it came directly or indirectly from the man to whom -they owed their present condition of comfort and security after half -a century of vicissitudes; from the man whose life they had saved more -than once in those old, evil days when comforts were so few that they -passed without recognition in the maelstrom of events. From mid-ocean -James Brood was speaking to his son. His words--perhaps his cry for -help--were lying there on the end of the table, confined in a flimsy blue -envelope, and no one dared to liberate them. - -Frederic Brood deserved a thrashing for staying out so late--at least, -so the decanter had been told a dozen times or more, and the clock, -too, for that matter, to say nothing of the confidences reposed in the -coal-scuttle, the fire implements, and other patient listeners of a like -character. - -It may be well to state that these bosom friends and comrades of half a -hundred years had quarrelled at seven o'clock that evening over a very -important matter--the accuracy of individual timepieces. The watch of -Mr Danbury Dawes had said it was five minutes before seven; that of Mr -Joseph Riggs three minutes after. Since then neither had spoken to the -other, but each slyly had set his watch by the big clock in the hall -before going into dinner, and was prepared to meet any argument. - -Twenty years ago these two old cronies had met James Brood in one of the -blackest holes of Calcutta, a derelict being swept to perdition with -the swiftness and sureness of a tide that knows no pause. They found him -when the dregs were at his lips and the stupor of defeat in his brain. -Without meaning to be considered Samaritans, good or bad, they dragged -him from the depths and found that they had revived _a man_. Those were -the days when James Brood's life meant nothing to him, days when he was -tortured by the thought that it would be all too long for him to endure; -yet he was not the kind to murder himself as men do who lack the courage -to go on living. - -Weeks after the rescue in Calcutta, these two soldiers of fortune, and -another John Desmond, learned from the lips of the man himself that he -was not such as they, but rich in this world's goods, richer than the -Solomon of their discreet imagination. Shaken, battered, but sobered, he -related portions of his life's story to them, and they guessed the rest, -being men who had lived by correctly guessing for half the years of -their adventurous lives. - -Like Brood they were Americans. But, unlike him, they had spent most of -their lives in the deserts of time and had sown seeds which could -never be reaped except in the form of narrative. Ever in pursuit of the -elusive thing called luck, they had found it only in hairbreadth escapes -from death, in the cunning avoidance of catastrophe, in devil-may-care -leaps in the dark, in all the ways known to men who find the world too -small. - -Never had luck served them on a golden platter. For twenty-five years -and more these three men, Dawes, Riggs, and poor John Desmond, had -thrashed through the world in quest of the pot of gold at the foot of -the rainbow, only to find that the rainbow was for ever lifting, for -ever shifting; yet they complained not. They throve on misfortune, they -courted it along with the other things in life, and they were unhappy -only when ill luck singled one of them out and spared the others. - -What Brood told them of his life brought the grim smile of appreciation -to the lips of each. He had married a beautiful foreigner--an Austrian, -they gathered--of excellent family, and had taken her to his home in -New York City, a house in lower Fifth Avenue where his father and -grandfather had lived before him. And that was the very house in -which two of the wayfarers, after twenty years, now sat in rueful -contemplation of a blue envelope. - -A baby boy came to the Broods in the second year of their wedded life, -but before that there had come a man--a music-master, dreamy-eyed, -handsome, Latin; a man who played upon the harp as only the angels are -believed to play. In his delirious ravings Brood cursed this man and the -wife he had stolen away from him; he reviled the baby boy, even denying -him; he laughed with blood-curdling glee over the manner in which he had -cast out the woman who had broken his heart and crushed his pride; he -wailed in anguish over the mistake he had made in allowing the man to -live that he might gloat in triumph. - -This much the three men who lifted him from hell were able to learn from -lips that knew not what they said, and they were filled with pity. Later -on, in a rational weakness, he told them more, and without curses. A -deep, silent, steadfast bitterness succeeded the violent ravings. He -became a wayfarer with them, quiet, dogged, fatal; where they went he -also went; what they did so also did he. - -Soon he led, and they followed. Into the dark places of the world they -plunged. Perils meant little to him, death even less. They no longer -knew days of privation, for he shared his wealth with them; but they -knew no rest, no peace, no safety. Life had been a whirlwind before they -came upon James Brood; it was a hurricane afterward. - -Twice John Desmond, younger than Dawes and Riggs, saved the life of -James Brood by acts of unparalleled heroism: once in a South African -jungle when a lioness fought for her young, and again in upper India -when, single-handed, he held off a horde of Hindus for days while his -comrade lay wounded in a cavern. Dawes and Riggs, in the Himalayas, -crept down the wall of a precipice, with five thousand feet between them -and the bottom of the gorge, to drag him from a narrow ledge upon which -he lay unconscious after a misstep in the night. More than once--aye, -more than a dozen times--one or the other of these loyal friends stood -between him and death, and times without number he, too, turned the grim -reaper aside from them. - -John Desmond, gay, handsome, and still young as men of his kind go, met -the fate that brooks no intervention. He was the first to drop out of -the ranks. In Cairo, during a curious period of inactivity some ten -months after the advent of James Brood, he met the woman who conquered -his venturesome spirit; a slim, clean, pretty English governess in the -employ of a British admiral's family. They were married inside of a -fortnight. After the quiet little ceremony, from which the sinister -presence of James Brood was missing, he shook the bronzed hands of his -older comrades, and gave up the life he had led for the new one she -promised. At the pier Brood appeared and wished him well, and he sailed -away on a sea that bade fair to remain smooth to the end of time. He -was taking her home to the little Maryland town that had not seen him in -years. - -Ten years passed before James Brood put his foot on the soil of his -native land. Then he came back to the home of his fathers, to the home -that had been desecrated, and with him came the two old men who now sat -in his huge library before the crackling fire. He could go on with life, -but they were no longer fit for its cruel hardships. His home became -theirs. They were to die there when the time came. - -Brood's son was fifteen years of age before he knew, even by sight, the -man whom he called father. Up to the time of the death of his mother who -died heart-broken in her father's home--he had been kept in seclusion. - -There had been deliberate purpose in the methods of James Brood in so -far as this unhappy child was concerned. When he cast out the mother he -set his hand heavily upon her future. - -Fearing, even feeling, the infernal certainty that this child was not -his own, he planned with diabolical cruelty to hurt her to the limit of -his powers and to the end of her days. He knew she would hunger for this -baby boy of hers, that her heart could be broken through him, that her -punishment could be made full and complete. - -He sequestered the child in a place where he could not be found, and -went his own way, grimly certain that he was making her pay! She died -when Frederic was twelve years old, without having seen him again after -that dreadful hour when, protesting her innocence, she had been turned -out into the night and told to go whither she would, but never to return -to the house she had disgraced. James Brood heard of her death when in -the heart of China, and he was a haggard wreck for months thereafter. - -He had worshipped this beautiful Viennese. He could not wreak vengeance -upon a dead woman; he could not hate a dead woman. He had always loved -her. It was after this that he stood on the firing-line of many a -fiercely fought battle in the Orient, inviting the bullet that would rip -through his heart. - -It was not courage, but cowardice, that put him in spots where the -bullets were thickest; it was not valour that sent him among the -bayonets and sabres of a fanatical enemy. It was the thing at the bottom -of his soul that told him she would come to him once more when the -strife was ended, and that she was waiting for him somewhere beyond -the border to hear his plea for pardon! Of such flimsy shreds is man's -purpose made! - -Five years after his return to New York he brought her son back to the -house in lower Fifth Avenue and tried, with bitterness in his soul, -to endure the word “father” as it fell from lips to which the term was -almost strange. - -The old men, they who sat by the fire on this wind-swept night and -waited for the youth of twenty-two to whom the blue missive was -addressed, knew the story of James Brood and his wife Matilde, and they -knew that the former had no love in his heart for the youth who bore his -name. Their lips were sealed. Garrulous on all other subjects, they were -as silent as the grave on this. - -They, too, were constrained to hate the lad. He made not the slightest -pretence of appreciating their position in the household. To him they -were pensioners, no more, no less; to him their deeds of valour were -offset by the deeds of his father; there was nothing left over for a -balance on that score. He was politely considerate; he was even kindly -disposed toward their vagaries and whims; he endured them because there -was nothing else left for him to do. But, for all that, he despised -them; justifiably, no doubt, if one bears in mind the fact that they -signified more to James Brood than did his long-neglected son. - -The cold reserve that extended to the young man did not carry beyond him -in relation to any other member of the household so far as James Brood -was concerned. The unhappy boy, early in their acquaintance, came to -realise that there was little in common between him and the man he -called father. After a while the eager light died out of his own eyes -and he no longer strove to encourage the intimate relations he had -counted upon as a part of the recompense for so many years of separation -and loneliness. - -It required but little effort on his part to meet his father's -indifference with a coldness quite as pronounced. He had never known the -meaning of filial love; he had been taught by word of mouth to love the -man he had never seen, and he had learned as one learns astronomy--by -calculation. He hated the two old men because his father loved them. - -In a measure, this condition may serve to show how far apart they stood -from each other, James Brood and Frederic. Wanderlust and a certain -feeling of unrest that went even deeper than the old habits kept James -Brood away from his home many months out of the year. He was not an old -man; in fact, he was under fifty, and possessed of the qualities that -make for strength and virility even unto the age of fourscore years. -While his old comrades, far up in the seventies, were content to sit -by the fire in winter and in the shade in summer, he, not yet so old as -they when their long stretch of intimacy began, was not resigned to the -soft things of life. He was built of steel, and the steel within him -called for the clash with flint. He loved the spark of fire that flashed -in the contact. - -It was a harsh December night when the two old men sat guard over the -message from the sea, and it was on a warm June day that they had said -good-bye to him at the outset of his most recent flight. - -The patient butler, Jones, had made no less than four visits to the -library since ten o'clock to awaken them and pack them off to bed. Each -time he had been ordered away, once with the joint admonition to “mind -his own business.” - -“But it is nearly midnight,” protested Jones irritably, with a glance at -the almost empty decanter. - -“Jones,” said Danbury Dawes with great dignity and an eye that deceived -him to such a degree that he could not for the life of him understand -why Jones was attending them in pairs, “Jones, you ought to be -in--hic--bed, damn you both of you. Wha' you mean, sir, by coming in--hic--here -thish time o' night dis-disturbing----” - -“You infernal ingrate,” broke in Mr Riggs fiercely, “don't you dare to -touch that bottle, sir! Let it alone!” - -“It's time you were in bed,” pronounced Jones, taking Mr Dawes by the -arm. - -Mr Dawes sagged heavily in his chair and grinned triumphantly. He was a -short, very fat old man. - -“People who live in--hic--glass houses--------” he began amiably, and then -suddenly was overtaken by the thought of the moment before. “Take your -hand off of me, confoun' you! D' you sup-supposh I can go to bed with -my bes' frien' out there--hic--in the mid-middle of Atlan'ic Oc-o-shum, -sinking in four miles of wa-wa'er and calling f-far help?” - -“Take him to bed, Jones,” said Mr Riggs firmly. “He's drunk and-and -utterly useless at a time like this. Take him along.” - -“Who the dev--hic--il are you, sir?” demanded Mr Dawes, regarding Mr Riggs -as if he had never seen him before. - -“You are both drunk,” said Jones succinctly. Mr Riggs began to whimper. - -“My bes' frien' is drawnin' by inches, and you come in here and tell me -I'm drunk. It's most heartless thing I ever heard of. Isn't it, Danbury, -ol' pal? Isn't it, damn you? Speak up!” - -“Drawnin' by inches--hic--in four miles of wa-water,” admitted Mr Dawes -miserably. “My God, Jo-Jones, do you know how many--hic--inches there are -in four miles?” - -Moved by the same impulse, the two old men struggled to their feet and -embraced each other, swayed by an emotion so honest that all sense of -the ludicrous was removed. Even Jones, though he grinned, allowed a note -of gentleness to creep into his voice. - -“Come along, gentlemen, like good fellows. Let's go to bed. I'm sure the -message to Mr Frederic is not as bad as you----” - -Mr Riggs, who was head and shoulders taller than Mr Dawes, made a -gesture of despair with both arms, forgetting that they encircled his -friend's neck, with the result that both of his bony elbows came in -violent contact with Mr Dawes's ears, almost upsetting him. - -“Don't argue, Jones,” he interrupted dismally. “I know it's bad news. So -does Mr Dawes. Don't you, Danbury?” - -“What d' you mean by--hic--knockin' my hat off?” demanded Mr Dawes -furiously, shaking his fist at Mr Riggs from rather close quarters--so -close, in fact, that Mr Riggs suddenly clapped his hands to his stomach -and emitted a surprised groan. - -Jones inserted his figure between them. - -“Come, come, gentlemen; don't forget yourselves. What now, Mr Riggs?” - -“I'm lookin' for the gentleman's hat, sir,” said Mr Riggs impressively -from a stooping posture. - -“His hat is on the rack in the hall,” said Jones sharply. - -“Then I shan't ex-expect an--hic--'pology,” said Mr Dawes magnanimously. - -Mr Riggs opened his mouth to retort, but as he did so his eyes fell upon -the blue envelope. - -“Poor old Jim--poor old Jim Brood!” he groaned. “We mustn't lose -a minute, Danbury. He needs us, old pal. We must start relief -exp'ition' fore mornin'. Not a minute to be lost, Jones--not a----” - -The heavy front door closed with a bang at that instant, and the sound -of footsteps, came from the hall--a quick, firm tread that had decision -in it. - -Jones cast a furtive, nervous glance over his shoulder. - -“I'm sorry to have Mr Frederic see you like this,” he said, biting his -lip. “He hates it so.” - -The two old men made a commendable effort to stand erect, but no effort -to stand alone. They linked arms and stood shoulder to shoulder. - -“Show him in,” said Mr Riggs magnificently. - -“Now we'll fin' out wass in telegram off briny deep,” said Mr Dawes, -straddling his legs a little farther apart in order to declare a staunch -front. - -“It's worth waiting up for,” said Mr Riggs. - -“Abs'lutely,” said his staunch friend. - -Frederic Brood appeared in the door, stopping short just inside the -heavy curtains. There was a momentary picture, such as a stage-director -would have arranged. He was still wearing his silk hat and top-coat, and -one glove had been halted in the process of removal. Young Brood stared -at the group of three, a frank stare of amazement. A crooked smile came -to his lips. - -“Somewhat later than usual, I see,” he said, and the glove came off with -a jerk. “What's the matter, Jones? Rebellion?” - -“No, sir. It's the wireless, sir.” - -“Wireless?” - -“Briny deep,” said Mr Dawes, vaguely pointing. - -“Oh,” said young Brood, crossing slowly to the table. He picked up the -envelope and looked at the inscription. “Oh,” said he again in quite a -different tone on seeing that it was addressed to him. “From father, I -dare say,” he went on, a fine line appearing between his eyebrows. - -The old men leaned forward, fixing their blear eyes upon the missive. - -“Le's hear the worst, Freddy,” said Mr Riggs. - -The young man ran his finger under the flap and deliberately drew out -the message. There ensued another picture. As he read, his eyes widened -and then contracted; his firm young jaw became set and rigid. Suddenly -a short, bitter execration fell from his lips and the paper crumpled in -his hand. Without another word he strode to the fireplace and tossed it -upon the coals. It flared for a second and was wafted up the chimney, a -charred, feathery thing. - -Without deigning to notice the two old men who had sat up half the night -to learn the contents of that wonderful thing from the sea, he whirled -on his heel and left the room. One might have noticed that his lips were -drawn in a mirthless, sardonic smile, and that his eyes were angry. - -“Oh, Lordy!” sighed Danbury Dawes, blinking, and was on the point of -sitting down abruptly. The arm of Jones prevented. - -“I never was so insulted in my----” began -Joseph Riggs feebly. - -“Steady, gentlemen,” said Jones. “Lean on me, please.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -James Brood's home was a remarkable one. That portion of the house -which rightly may be described as “public” in order to distinguish it -from other parts where privacy was enforced, was not unlike any of the -richly furnished, old-fashioned places in the lower part of the city -where there are still traces left of the Knickerbockers and their times. -Dignified, stately, almost gloomy, it was a mansion in which memories -dwelt, where the past strode unseen among sturdy things of mahogany and -walnut and worn but priceless brocades and silks. - -The crystal chandelier in the long drawing-room had shed light for the -Broods since the beginning of the nineteenth century; the great old -sideboard was still covered with the massive plate of a hundred years -ago; the tables, the chairs, the high-boys, the chests of drawers, and -the huge four-posters were like satin to the eye and touch; the rugs, -while older perhaps than the city itself, alone were new to the house of -Brood. They had been installed by the present master of the house. - -Age, distinction, quality attended one the instant he set foot inside -the sober portals. This was not the home of men who had been merely -rich; it was not wealth alone that stood behind these stately -investments. - -At the top of the house were the rooms which no one entered except by -the gracious will of the master. Here James Brood had stored the quaint, -priceless treasures of his own peculiar fancy: exquisite, curious things -from the mystic East, things that are not to be bought and sold, but -come only to the hand of him who searches in lands where peril is the -price. - -Worlds separated the upper and lower regions of that fine old house; a -single step took one from the sedate Occident into the very heart of the -Orient; a narrow threshold was the line between the rugged West and the -soft, languorous, seductive East. In this part of the house James Brood, -when at home for one of his brief stays, spent many of his hours in -seclusion, shut off from the rest of the establishment as completely -as if he were the inhabitant of another world. Attended by his Hindu -servant, a silent man named Ranjab, and on occasions by his secretary, -he saw but little of the remaining members of his rather extensive -household. - -For several years he had been engaged in the task of writing his -memoirs--so-called--in so far as they related to his experiences and -researches of the past twenty years. It was not his intention to give -this long and elaborate account of himself to the world at large, but -to publish privately a very limited edition without regard for expense, -copies of which were to find their way into exclusive collections and -libraries given over to science and travel. This work progressed slowly -because of his frequent and protracted absences. When at home, he -laboured ardently and with a purpose that more than offset the periods -of indifference. - -His secretary and amanuensis was Lydia Desmond, the nineteen-year-old -daughter of his one-time companion and friend, the late John Desmond, -whose death occurred when the girl was barely ten years of age. - -Brood, on hearing of his old comrade's decease, immediately made -inquiries concerning the condition in which he had left his wife and -child, with the result that Mrs Desmond was installed as housekeeper in -the New York house and the daughter given every advantage in the way of -an education. - -Desmond had left nothing in the shape of riches except undiminished love -for his wife and a diary kept during those perilous days before he met -and married her. This diary was being incorporated in the history of -James Brood's adventures, by consent of the widow, and was to speak for -Brood in words he could not with modesty utter for himself. - -In those pages John Desmond was to tell his own story in his own way, -for Brood's love for his friend was broad enough even to admit of that. -He was to share his life in retrospect with Desmond and the two old men, -as he had shared it with them in reality. - -Lydia's room, adjoining her mother's, was on the third floor at the foot -of the small stairway leading up to the proscribed retreat at the top -of the house. There was a small sitting-room off the two bed-chambers, -given over entirely to Mrs Desmond and her daughter. In this little room -Frederic Brood spent many a quiet, happy hour. - -The Desmonds, mother and daughter, understood and pitied the lonely boy -who came to the big house soon after they were themselves installed. His -heart, which had many sores, expanded and glowed in the warmth of their -kindness and affection; the plague of unfriendliness that was his by -absorption gave way before this unexpected kindness, not immediately, it -is true, but completely in the end. - -By nature he was slow to respond to the advances of others; his life had -been such that avarice accounted for all that he received from others -in the shape of respect and consideration. He was prone to discount -a friendly attitude, for the simple reason that in his experience all -friendships were marred by the fact that their sincerity rested entirely -upon the generosity of the man who paid for them--his father. No one had -loved him for himself; no one had given him an unselfish thought in all -the years of his boyhood. - -The family with whom he had lived in a curious sort of retirement up to -the time he was fifteen had no real feeling for him beyond the bounds of -duty; his tutors had taken their pay in exchange for all they gave; his -companions were men and women who dealt with him as one deals with a -precious investment. He represented ease and prosperity to them--no more. -As he grew older he understood all this. What warmth there may have been -in his little heart was chilled by contact with these sordid influences. - -At first he held himself aloof from the Desmonds; he was slow to -surrender. He suspected them of the same motives that had been the basis -of all previous attachments. When at last he realised that they were not -like the others, his cup of joy, long an empty vessel, was filled to the -brim and his happiness was without bounds. - -They were amazed by the transformation. The rather sullen, -unapproachable lad became at once so friendly, so dependent, that, -had they not been acquainted with the causes behind the old state of -reticence, his very joy might have made a -nuisance of him. He followed Mrs Desmond -about in very much the -same spirit that inspires a hungry dog; he watched her with eager, -half-famished eyes; he was on her heels four-fifths of the time. - -As for Lydia, pretty little Lydia, he adored her. His heart began for -the first time to sing with the joy of youth, and the sensation was a -novel one. It had seemed to him that he could never be anything but an -old man. - -Not a day passed during his career at Harvard that he failed to write -to one or other of these precious friends. His vacations were spent -with them; his excursions were never carried out unless they found it -possible to accompany him. He followed Mrs Desmond, met many women, but -he thought of only two. They appeared to constitute all femininity so -far as he was concerned. Through their awakening influence he came to -find pleasure in the companionship of other young men, and, be it said -for him, despite a certain unconquerable aloofness, he was one of the -most popular men in his class. - -It was his custom, on coming home for the night, no matter what the -hour, to pause before Lydia's door on the way to his own room at the -other end of the long hall. There was always a tender smile on his lips -as he regarded the white panels before tapping gently with the tips of -his fingers. Then he would wait for the sleepy “Good night, Freddy,” - which invariably came from within, and he would sing out “Good night” - as he made off to bed. Usually, however, he was at home long before her -bedtime, and they spent the evenings together. That she was his father's -secretary was of no moment. To him she was Lydia--his Lydia. - -For the past three months or more he had been privileged to hold her -close in his arms and to kiss her good night at parting. They were -lovers now. The slow fuse of passion had reached its end and the flame -was alive and shining with radiance that enveloped both of them. - -On this night, however, he passed her door without knocking. His dark, -handsome face was flushed and his teeth were set in sullen anger. With -his hand on the knob of his own door, he suddenly remembered that he -had failed Lydia for the first time, and stopped. A pang of shame shot -through him. For a moment he hesitated and then started guiltily toward -the forgotten door. Even as he raised his hand to sound the loving -signal, the door was opened and Lydia, fully dressed, confronted him. -For a moment they regarded each other in silence, she intently, he with -astonishment not quite free from confusion. - -“I'm--I'm sorry, dearest----” he began, his first desire being to account -for his oversight. - -“It _is_ bad news?” she demanded, anxiously watching his face. “I was -afraid, dear. I couldn't go to bed.” - -“You, too?” he exclaimed bitterly. “The old chaps--but it's a shame for -you to have waited up, dear.” - -“Tell me what has happened. It can't be that your father is ill--or in -danger. You are angry, Frederic; so it can't be that. What is it?” - -He looked away sullenly. - -“Oh, it's really nothing, I suppose. Just an unexpected jolt, that's -all. I was angry for a moment----” - -“You are still angry,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. She was a -tall, slender girl. Her eyes were almost on a level with his own. “Don't -you want to tell me, dear?” - -“He never gives me a thought,” he said, compressing his lips. “He thinks -of no one but himself. God, what a father!” - -“Freddy, dear! You must not speak----” - -“Haven't I some claim on his consideration? Is it fair that I should be -ignored in everything, in every way? I won't put up with it, Lydia! I'm -not a child. I'm a man and I am his son. But I might as well be a dog in -the street for all the thought he gives to me!” - -She put her finger to her lips, a scared look stealing into her dark -eyes. Jones was conducting the two old men to their room on the floor -below. A door closed softly. The voices died away. - -“He is a strange man,” she said. “He is a good man, Frederic.” - -“To everyone else, yes. But to me? Why, Lydia, I--I believe he hates me. -You know what----” - -“Hush! A man does not hate his son. I've tried for years to drive that -silly notion out of your mind. You----” - -“Oh, I know I'm a fool to speak of it, but I--I can't help feeling as I -do. You've seen enough to know that I'm not to blame for it, either. And -then--oh, what's the use whining about it? I've got to make the best of -it, so I'll try to keep my mouth closed.” - -“Where is the message?” - -“I threw it into the fire.” - -“What!” - -“I was furious.” - -“Won't you tell me?” - -“What do you think he has done? Can you guess what he has done to all of -us?” She did not answer. “Well, I'll tell you just what he said in that -wireless. It was from the _Lusitania_, twelve hundred miles off Sandy -Hook--relayed, I suppose, so that the whole world might know--sent at -four this afternoon. I remember every word of the cursed thing, although -I merely glanced at it. - -“'Send the car to meet Mrs Brood and me at the Cunard pier Thursday. -Have Mrs Desmond put the house in order for its new mistress. By the -way, you might inform her that I was married last Wednesday in Paris.' -It was signed 'James Brood,' not even 'father.' What do you think of -that for a thunderbolt?” - -“Married?” she gasped. “Your father married?” - -“'Put the house in order for its new mistress,'” he almost snarled. -“'Inform her that I was married last Wednesday'! Of course he's married. -Am I not to inform your mother? Isn't the car to meet Mrs Brood and him? -Does he say anything about his son meeting him at the pier? No! Does he -cable his son that he is married? No! Does he do anything that a real, -human father would do? No! That message was a deliberate insult to me, -Lydia, a nasty, rotten slap in the face. I mean the way it was worded. -Just as if it wasn't enough that he had gone and married some cheap -show-girl or a miserable foreigner or Heaven knows----” - -“Freddy! You forget yourself. Your father would not marry a cheap -show-girl. You know that. And you must not forget that your mother was a -foreigner.” - -“I'm sorry I said that,” he exclaimed hoarsely. Then fiercely: “But -can't you see what all this will come to? A new mistress of the house! -It means your mother will have to go--that maybe you'll go. Nothing will -be as it has been. All the sweetness gone--all the goodness! A woman in -the house who will also treat me as if I didn't belong here! A woman -who married him for his money, an adventuress. Oh, you can't tell me; I -know! 'You might inform Mrs Desmond that I was married'! Good Lord!” - -He began to pace the floor, striking one fist viciously in the palm of -the other hand. Lydia, pale and trembling, seemed to have forgotten his -presence. She was staring fixedly at the white surface of a door down -the hall, and there was infinite pain in her wide eyes. Her lips moved -once or twice; there was a single unspoken word upon them. - -“Why couldn't he have wired me last week?” the young man was muttering. -“What was his object in waiting until to-day? Wouldn't any other father -in the world have telegraphed his only son if he were going to--to bring -someone home like this? 'Have the car meet Mrs Brood and me'! If that -isn't the quintessence of scorn! He orders me to do these things. He -doesn't even honour me with a direct, personal message. He doesn't tell -_me_ he is married. He asks me to inform someone else.” - -Lydia, leaning rather heavily against the door, spoke to him in a low, -cautious voice. - -“Did you tell Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs?” - -He stopped short. - -“No! And they waited up to see if they could be of any assistance to -him in an hour of peril! What a joke! Poor old beggars! I've never felt -sorry for them before, but, on my soul, I do now. What will she do to -the poor old chaps? I shudder to think of it. And she'll make short -work of everything else she doesn't like around here, too. Your mother, -Lydia--why, God help us, you know what will just have to happen in her -case. It's----” - -“Don't speak so loudly, dear--please, please! She is asleep. Of course, -we--we shan't stay on, Freddy. We'll have to go as soon as----” - -His eyes filled with tears. He seized her in his arms and held her -close. - -“It's a beastly, beastly shame, darling. Oh, Lord, what a fool a man can -make of himself!” - -“You must not say such things,” she murmured, stroking his cheek with -cold, trembling fingers. - -“A fine trick to play on all of us!” he grated. - -“Listen, Freddy darling: your father has a right to do as he chooses. -He has a right to companionship, to love, to happiness. He has done -everything for us that man could----” - -“But why couldn't he have done the fine, sensible thing, Lydia? Why -couldn't he have--have fallen in love with--with your mother? Why not have -married her if he had to marry someone in----” - -“Freddy!” she cried, putting her hand over his mouth. - -He was not to be stopped. He gently removed her hand. - -“Your mother is the finest woman in the world. Perhaps she wouldn't have -him, but that's not the point. Good Lord, how I would have loved him for -giving her to me as a mother. And here he comes, bringing some devil of -a stranger into--oh, it's sickening!” - -He had lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, keeping his eyes fixed on -the door down the hall. The girl lay very still in his arms. Suddenly a -wild sob broke in her throat, and she buried her face on his shoulder. - -“Why--why, don't cry, dearest! Don't!” he whispered miserably. “What a -rotter I am! Inflicting you with my silly imaginings! Don't cry! I dare -say everything will turn out all right. It's my beastly disposition. -Kiss me!” - -She kissed him swiftly. Her wet cheek lay for a second against his own, -and then, with a stifled good night, she broke away from him. An instant -later she was gone; her door was closed. - -Somewhat sobered, and not a little perturbed by her outburst, he stood -still for a moment, staring at the door. Then he turned and passed -slowly into his own room. - -A fire smouldered in the grate. In this huge, old-fashioned house there -were grates in all of the spacious bedrooms, and not infrequently fires -were started in them by the capable Jones. Frederic stood for he knew -not how long above the half-dead coals, staring at them with a new -and more bitter complaint at the back of his mind. Was there anything -between Mrs Desmond and his father? What was back of that look of -anguish in Lydia's eyes? He suddenly realised that he was muttering -oaths, not of anger, but of pain. - -The next morning he came down earlier than was his custom. His night had -been a troubled one. Forgetting his own woes, or belittling them, he had -thought only of what this news from the sea would mean to the dear -woman he loved so well. No one was in the library, but a huge fire was -blazing. A blizzard was raging. - -Once upon a time, when he first came to the house, a piano had stood in -the drawing-room. His joy at that time knew no bounds; he loved music. -For his age he was no mean musician. But one evening his father, coming -in unexpectedly, heard the player at the instrument. For a moment he -stood transfixed in the doorway watching the eager, almost inspired face -of the lad, and then, pale as a ghost, stole away without disturbing -him. Strange to say, Frederic was playing a waltz of Ziehrer's, a Waltz -that his mother had played when the honeymoon was in the full. The -following day the piano was taken away by a storage company. The boy -never knew why it was removed. - -Frederic picked up the morning paper. His eye traversed the front page -rapidly. There were reports of fearful weather at sea. Ships in touch -with wireless stations flashed news of the riotous gales far out on the -Atlantic, of tremendous seas that wreaked damage to the staunchest of -vessels. The whole seaboard was strewn with the wreckage of small craft; -a score of vessels were known to be ashore and in grave peril. The -movement of passenger-vessels, at the bottom of the page, riveted his -attention. The _Lusitania_ was reported seven hundred miles out, and in -the heart of the hurricane. She would be a day late. - -The newspaper was slightly crumpled, as if someone else had read -it before him. He found himself wondering how he would feel if the -_Lusitania_ never reached New York! He wondered what his sensations -would be if a call for help came from the great vessel, if the dreadful -news came that she was sinking with all on board! - -He looked up from the paper with what actually seemed to him to be a -guilty feeling. Someone had entered the room. Mrs Desmond was coming -toward him, a queer little smile on her lips. She was a tall, fair -woman, an English type, and still extremely handsome. Hers was an honest -beauty that had no fear of age. - -“She is a staunch ship, Frederic,” she said, without any other form of -greeting. “She will be late, but there's really nothing to worry about.” - -“I'm not worrying,” he said confusedly. “Lydia has told you the--the -news?” - -“Yes.” - -“Rather staggering, isn't it?” he said with a wry smile. In spite of -himself he watched her face with curious intentness. - -“Rather,” she said briefly. - -He was silent for a moment. - -“I was instructed to inform you that he was married last Wednesday,” - he said, and his face hardened. “And to have the car meet them at the -dock.” - -“It won't be necessary, Frederic. I have given Jones his instructions. -You will not even have to carry out the orders.” - -“I suppose you don't approve of the way.” - -“I know just how you feel, poor boy. Don't try to explain. I know.” - -“You always understand,” he said, lowering his eyes. - -“Not always,” she said quietly. There was something cryptic in the -remark. He kept his eyes averted. - -“Well, it's going to play hob with everything,” he said, jamming his -hands deep into his pockets. His shoulders seemed to hunch forward and -to contract. - -“I am especially sorry for Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs,” she said. Her voice -was steady and full of earnestness. - -“Do they know?” - -“They were up and about at daybreak, poor souls. Do you know, Freddy, -they were starting off in this blizzard when I met them in the hall!” - -“The deuce! I--I hope it wasn't on account of anything I may have said to -them last night,” he cried in contrition. - -She smiled. “No. They had their own theory about the message. The storm -strengthened it. They were positive that your father was in great -peril. I don't like to tell you this, but they seemed to think that you -couldn't be depended upon to take a hand in--in--well, in helping him. -They were determined to charter a vessel of some sort and start off -in all this blizzard to search the sea for Mr Brood. Oh, aren't they -wonderful?” - -He had no feeling of resentment toward the old men for their opinion of -him. Instead, his eyes glowed with an honest admiration. - -“By George, Mrs Desmond, they _are_ great! They are _men_, bless their -hearts. Seventy-five years old and still ready to face anything for a -comrade! It _does_ prove something, doesn't it?” - -“It proves that your father has made no mistake in selecting his -friends, my dear. My husband used to say that he would cheerfully die -for James Brood, and he knew that James Brood would have died for him -just as readily. There is something in friendships of that sort that we -can't understand. We never have been able to test our friends, much less -ourselves. We----” - -“I would die for you, Mrs Desmond,” cried Frederic, a deep flush -overspreading his face. “For you and Lydia.” - -“You come by that naturally,” she said, laying her hand upon his arm. -“Blood will tell. Thank you, Frederic.” She smiled. “I am sure it will -not be necessary for you to die for me, however. As for Lydia, you must -live, not die, for her.” - -“I'll do both,” he cried impulsively. - -“Before you go in to breakfast I want to say something else to you, -Frederic,” said she seriously. “Lydia has repeated everything you said -to her last night. My dear boy, my husband has been dead for twelve -years. I loved him, and he died loving me. I shall never marry another -man. I am still the wife of John Desmond; I still consider myself bound -to him. Can you understand?” - -“I talked like a lunatic last night, I fear,” he confessed. “I might -have known. You, too, belong to the list of loyal ones. Forgive me.” - -“There is nothing to forgive, dear,” she said simply. “And now, one more -word, Frederic. You must accept this new condition of affairs in the -right spirit. Your father has married again, after all these years. It -is not likely that he has done so without deliberation. Therefore, it is -reasonable to assume that he is bringing home with him a wife of whom he -at least is proud, and that should weigh considerably in your summing -up of the situation. She will be beautiful, accomplished, refined, and -good, Frederic. Of that you may be sure. Let me implore you to withhold -judgment until a later day.” - -“I do not object to the situation, Mrs Desmond,” said he, the angry -light returning to his eyes, “so much as I resent the wording of that -telegram. It is always just that way. He loses no chance to humiliate -me. He----” - -“Hush! You are losing your temper again.” - -“Well, who wouldn't? And here's another thing, the very worst of all. -How is this new condition going to affect you, Mrs Desmond?” She was -silent for a moment. - -“Of course, I shan't stay on here, Frederic. I shall not be needed now. -As soon as Mrs Brood is settled here I shall go.” - -“And you expect me to be cheerful and contented!” he cried bitterly. - -“You are a man, Frederic. It is for you to say yea and nay; women must -say one or the other. A man may make his own bed, but he doesn't always -have to lie in it.” - -“Sounds rather like Solomon,” he said ruefully. “I suppose you mean -that if I'm not contented here I ought to get out and look for happiness -elsewhere, reserving the right to come back if I fail?” - -“Something of the sort,” she said. - -“My father objects to my going into business or taking up a profession. -I am dependent on him for everything. But why go into that? We've talked -it over a thousand times. I don't understand, but perhaps you do. It's a -dog's way of living.” - -“Your father is making a man of you.” - -“Oh, he is, eh?” with great scorn. - -“Yes. He will make you see some day that the kind of life you lead is -not the kind you want. Your pride, your ambition will rebel. Then you -will make something out of life for yourself.” - -“I don't think that is in his mind, if you'll pardon me. I sometimes -believe he actually wants me to stay as I am, always a dependent. -Why, how can he expect me to marry and----” He stopped short, his face -paling. - -“Go on, please.” - -“Well, it looks to me as if he means to make it impossible for me to -marry, Mrs Desmond. I've thought of it a good deal.” - -“And is it impossible?” - -“No. I shall marry Lydia, even though I have to dig in the streets -for her. It isn't that, however. There's some other reason back of his -attitude, but for the life of me I can't get at it.” - -“I wouldn't try to get at it, my dear,” she said. “Wait and see. Come, -you must have your coffee. I am glad you came down early. The old -gentlemen are at breakfast now. Come in.” - -He followed her dejectedly, a droop to his shoulders. - -Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs were seated at the table. Lydia, a trifle pale and -distrait, was pouring their third cup of coffee. The old men showed no -sign of their midnight experience. They were very wideawake, clear-eyed, -and alert, as old men will be who do not count the years of life left in -the span appointed for them. - -“Good morning, Freddy,” said they, almost in one voice. - -As he passed behind their chairs on his way to Lydia's side, he slapped -each of them cordially on the back. They seemed to swell with relief and -gratitude. He was not in the habit of slapping them on the back. - -“Good morning, gentlemen,” said he. Then he lifted Lydia's slim fingers -to his lips. “Good morning, dear.” - -She squeezed his fingers tightly and smiled. A look of relief leaped -into her eyes; she drew a long breath. She poured his coffee for -him every morning. Her hand shook a little as she lifted the tiny -cream-pitcher. - -“I didn't sleep very well,” she explained in a low voice. - -His hand rested on her shoulder for a moment in a gentle caress. Then he -sat down in the chair Jones had drawn out for him. - -“Well, gentlemen, when does the relief boat start?” he asked, with a -forced attempt at humour. - -Mr Dawes regarded him with great solemnity. - -“Freddy, it's too late. A man can be saved from the scourge, tigers, -elephants, lions, snakes, and almost everything else in God's world, -but, blast me, he can't be protected against women! They are deadly. -They can overpower the strongest of men, sir. Your poor father is lost -for ever. I never was so sorry for anyone in my life.” - -“If he had only called for help a week or so ago, we could have saved -him,” lamented Mr Riggs. “But he never even peeped. Lordy, Lordy, and -just think of it, he yelled like an Indian when that lion leaped on him -at Nairobi!” - -“Poor old Jim!” sighed Mr Dawes. “He'll probably have to ask us to pull -out, too. I imagine she'll insist on making a spare bedroom out of our -room, so's she can entertain all of her infernal relations. Jones, will -you give me some more bacon and another egg?” - -“And I thought it was nothing but a shipwreck,” murmured Mr Riggs -plaintively. - -Frederic hurried through breakfast. Lydia followed him into the library. - -“Are you going out, dear?” she asked anxiously. - -“Yes. I've got to do something. I can't sit still and think of what's -going to happen. I'll be back for luncheon.” - -Half an hour later he was in the small bachelor apartment of two college -friends, a few blocks farther up-town, and he was doing the thing he did -nearly every day of his life in a surreptitious way. He sat at the cheap -upright piano in their disordered living-room and, unhampered by the -presence of young men who preferred music as it is rendered for the -masses, played as if his very soul was in his fingers. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -The next three or four days passed slowly for those who waited. A -spirit of uneasiness pervaded the household. Among the servants, from -Jones down, there was dismay. It was not even remotely probable that Mrs -Desmond would remain, and they confessed to a certain affection for her, -strange as it may appear to those who know the traits of servants who -have been well treated by those above them. - -Frederic flatly refused to meet the steamer when she docked. As if -swayed by his decision, Dawes and Riggs likewise abandoned a plan -to greet the returning master and his bride as they came down the -gangplank. But for the almost peremptory counsel of Mrs Desmond, Brood's -son would have absented himself from the house on the day of their -arrival. Jones and a footman went to the pier with the chauffeur. - -It was half-past two in the afternoon when the automobile drew up in -front of the house and the fur-coated footman nimbly hopped down and -threw open the door. - -James Brood, a tall, distinguished-looking man of fifty, stepped out of -the limousine. For an instant, before turning to assist his wife from -the car, he allowed his keen eyes to sweep the windows on the lower -floor. In one of them stood his son, holding the lace curtains apart and -smiling a welcome that seemed sincere. He waved his hand to the man on -the side-walk. Brood responded with a swift, almost perfunctory gesture, -and then held out his hand to the woman who was descending. - -Frederic's intense gaze was fixed on the stranger who was coming into -his life. At a word from Brood she glanced up at the window. The smile -still lingered on the young man's lips, but his eyes were charged with -an expression of acute wonder. She smiled, but he was scarcely aware of -the fact. He watched them cross the side-walk and mount the steps. - -He had never looked upon a more beautiful creature in all his life. A -kind of stupefaction held him motionless until he heard the door close -behind them. In that brief interval a picture had been impressed upon -his senses that was to last for ever. - -She was slightly above the medium height, slender and graceful even in -the long, thick coat that enveloped her. She did not wear a veil. He had -a swift but enduring glimpse of dark, lustrous eyes; of long lashes that -drooped; of a curiously pallid, perfectly modelled face; of red lips and -very white teeth; of jet-black hair parted above a broad, clear brow -to curtain the temple and ear; of a firm, sensitive chin. Somehow he -received the extraordinary impression that the slim, lithe body was -never cold; that she expressed in some indefinable way the unvarying -temperature of youth. - -He hurried into the hall, driven by the spur of duty. They were crossing -the vestibule. Jones, who had preceded them in a taxicab, was holding -open the great hall door. Dawes and Higgs, shivering quite as much -with excitement as from the chilly blast that swept in through the -storm-doors, occupied a point of vantage directly behind the butler. -They suggested a reception committee. Frederic was obliged to remain in -the background. - -He heard his father's warm, almost gay response to the greetings of the -old men, whose hands he wrung with fervour that was unmistakable. He -heard him present them to the new Mrs Brood as “the best old boys in -all the world,” and they were both saying, with spasmodic cackles of -pleasure, that she “mustn't believe a word the young rascal said.” - -He was struck by the calm, serene manner in which she accepted these -jocular contributions to the occasion. Her smile was friendly, her -handshake cordial, and yet there was an unmistakable air of tolerance, -as of one who is accustomed to tribute. The rather noisy acclamations of -the old adventurers brought no flush of embarrassment to her cheek; not -the flicker of an eyelid, nor a protesting word or frown. She merely -smiled and thanked them in simple, commonplace phrases. - -Frederic, who was given to forming swift impressions, most of which -sprang from his own varying moods and were seldom permanent, formed an -instant and rather startling opinion of the newcomer. She was either a -remarkable actress or a woman whose previous station in life had been -far more exalted than the one she now approached. He had an absurd -notion that he might be looking upon a person of noble birth. - -Her voice was low-pitched and marked by huskiness that was peculiar in -that it was musical, not throaty. Frederic, on first seeing her, had -leaped to the conclusion that her English would not be perfect. He was -somewhat surprised to discover that she had but the faintest trace of an -accent. - -The exchange of greetings at the door seemed to him unnecessarily -prolonged. He stood somewhat apart from the little circle, uncomfortable -and distinctly annoyed with the old men who, in their garrulous -gallantry, blocked the way in both directions. He awoke suddenly, -however, to the realisation that he had been looking into his new -stepmother's eyes for a long time and that she was returning his gaze -with some intensity. - -“And this?” she said, abruptly breaking in upon one of Danbury's hasty -reminiscences, effectually ending it. “This is Frederic?” - -She came directly toward the young man, her small, gloved hand extended. -Her eyes were looking into his with an intentness that disconcerted him. -There was no smile on her lips. It was as if she regarded this moment as -a pronounced crisis. - -Frederic mumbled something fatuous about being glad to see her, and felt -his face burn under her steady gaze. His father came forward. - -“Yes; this is Frederic, my dear,” he said, without a trace of warmth in -his voice. As she withdrew her hand from Frederic's clasp James Brood -extended his. “How are you, Frederic?” - -“Quite well, sir.” - -They shook hands in the most perfunctory manner. - -“I need not ask how you are, father,” said the son, after an instant's -hesitation. “You never looked better, sir.” - -“Thank you. I _am_ well. Ah, Mrs Desmond! It is good to be home again -with you all. My dear, permit me to introduce Mrs John Desmond. You have -heard me speak of my old comrade and----” - -“I have heard you speak of Mr Desmond a thousand times,” said his wife. -There may have been a shade of emphasis on the prefix, but it was so -slight that no one remarked it save the widow of John Desmond, who had -joined the group. - -“The best pal a man ever had,” said Mr Dawes with conviction. “Wasn't -he, Riggs?” - -“He was,” said Mr Riggs loudly, as if expecting someone to dispute it. - -“Will you go to your room at once, Mrs Brood?” asked Mrs Desmond. - -The new mistress of the house had not offered to shake hands with -her, as James Brood had done. She had moved closer to Frederic and was -smiling in a rather shy, pleading way, in direct contrast to her manner -of the moment before. The smile was for her stepson. She barely glanced -at Mrs Desmond. - -“Thank you, no. I see a nice big fire, and--oh, I have been so cold!” - She shivered very prettily. - -“Come!” cried her husband. “That's just the thing.” No one spoke as they -moved toward the library. “We must try to thaw out,” he added dryly, -with a faint smile on his lips. - -His wife laid her hand on Frederic's arm. “It is cold outside, -Frederic,” she said; “very cold. I am not accustomed to the cold.” - -If anyone had told him beforehand that his convictions, or his -prejudices, could be overthrown in the twinkling of an eye, he would -have laughed him to scorn. He was prepared to dislike her. He was -determined that his hand should be against her in the conflict that was -bound to come. - -And now, in a flash, his incomprehensible heart proved treacherous. She -had touched some secret spring in the bottom of it, and a strange, new -emotion rushed up within him, like the flood which finds a new channel -and will not be denied by mortal ingenuity. A queer, wistful note of -sympathy in her voice had done the trick. Something in the touch of her -fingers on his arm completed the mystery. He was conscious of a mighty -surge of relief. The horizon cleared for him. - -“We shall do our best to keep you warm,” he said quite gaily, and was -somewhat astonished at himself. - -They had preceded the others into the library. James Brood was divesting -himself of his coat in the hall, attended by the leechlike old men. Mrs -Desmond stood in the doorway, a detached figure. - -“You must love me, Frederic. You must be very, very fond of me, not for -your father's sake, but for mine. Then we shall be great friends, not -antagonists.” - -He was helping her with her coat. - -“I confess I looked forward to you with a good deal of animosity,” he -said. - -“It was quite natural,” she said simply. “A stepmother is not of one's -own choosing, as a rule.” - -“She's usually resented,” said he. - -“But I shall not be a stepmother,” she said quickly. Her eyes were -serious for an instant, then filled with a luminous smile. “I shall be -Yvonne to you, and you Frederic to me. Let it be a good beginning.” - -“You are splendid,” he cried. “It's not going to be at all bad.” - -“I am sure you will like me,” she said composedly. - -Brood joined them at the fireside. - -“My dear, Mrs Desmond will show you over the house when you are ready. -You will be interested in seeing the old place. Later on I shall take -you up to my secret hiding-place, as they say in books. Ranjab will -have the rooms in order by this evening. Where is your daughter, Mrs -Desmond?” - -“She is at work on the catalogue, Mr Brood, in the jade room. In your -last letter you instructed her to finish that----” - -“But this is a holiday, Mrs Desmond,” said he, frowning. “Jones, will -you ask Miss Lydia to join us for tea at half-past four?” - -“You will adore Lydia,” said Frederic to Mrs Brood. - -Apparently she did not hear him, for she gave no sign. She was looking -about the room with eyes that seemed to take in everything. For the -moment her interest appeared to be centred on the inanimate, to the -complete exclusion of all other objects. Frederic had the odd notion -that she was appraising her new home with the most calculating of minds. - -Even as he watched her he was struck by the subtle change that came into -her dark eyes. It lingered for the briefest moment, but the impression -he got was lasting. There was something like dread in the far-away look -that settled for a few seconds and then lifted. She caught him looking -at her, and smiled once more, but nervously. Then her glance went -swiftly to the face of James Brood, who was listening to something -that Mrs Desmond was saying. It rested there for a short but intense -scrutiny, and the smile began to die. - -“I am sure I shall be very happy in this dear old house,” she said -quietly. “Your own mother must have loved it, Frederic.” - -James Brood started. Unnoticed by the others, his fingers tightened on -the gloves he carried in his hand. - -“I never knew my mother,” said the young man. “She died when I was a -baby.” - -“But of course this was her home, was it not?” - -“I don't know,” said Frederic uncomfortably. “I suppose so. I--I came -here a few years ago, and----” - -“But even though you never knew her, there must still be something here -that--that--how shall I say it? I mean, you must feel that she and you -were here together years and years ago. One may never have seen his -mother, yet he can always feel her. There is something--shall I say -spiritual, in----” - -Her husband broke in upon these unwelcome reflections. His voice was -curiously harsh. - -“Mrs Desmond is waiting, Yvonne.” - -She drew herself up. - -“Are you in such great haste, Mrs Desmond?” she asked in a voice that -cut like a knife. Instinctively she glanced at Frederic's face. She saw -the muscles of the jaw harden and an angry light leap into his eyes. -Instantly her arrogance fell away. “I beg your pardon, Mrs Desmond. I -have many bad habits. Now will you kindly show me to my room? I prefer -that you and not one of the servants should be my guide. _Au revoir_, -Frederic. Till tea-time, James.” - -Her eyes were sparkling, her husky voice once more full of the appealing -quality that could not be denied. The flush of injured pride faded from -Mrs Desmond's brow and a faint look of surprise crept into her eyes. She -was surprised at her own inclination to overlook the affront, and not -by the change in Mrs Brood's manner. She smiled an unspoken pardon and -stood aside for the new mistress to pass in front of her. To her further -amazement the younger woman laid a hand upon her arm and gave it a -gentle, friendly pressure. - -The men watched them in silence as they left the room side by side. -A moment later they heard the soft laughter of the two women as they -mounted the stairs. - -Frederic drew a long breath. - -“She's splendid, father,” he said impulsively. - -Brood's face was still clouded. He did not respond to the eager tribute. - -Mr Dawes cleared his throat and cast a significant glance toward the -dining-room. - -“What do you say to a drink to the bride, Jim?” he said, somewhat -explosively. He had been silent for a longer period than usual. It -wasn't natural for him to be voiceless, even when quite alone. - -“Good idea,” added Mr Riggs. “I was just thinking of it myself. A health -to the bride, my boy, and good luck to you both.” - -“A glass to prosperity,” said Mr Dawes, with a wave of his hand. - -“And two for posterity,” added Mr Riggs in an ecstasy of triumph. - - -A flush mounted to Brood's cheek. Young Frederic abruptly turned away. - -“Thank you, my friends,” said Brood, after a moment. “I'll leave the -bumpers to you, if you don't mind. It isn't meet that the groom should -drink to himself, and that's what you are suggesting. Go and have your -drinks, gentlemen, but leave me out.” - -They looked disappointed, aggrieved. - -“I said posterity,” expostulated Mr Riggs. “No harm in your drinking to -_that_, is there?” - -“Shut up, Riggs,” hissed Mr Dawes, nudging him with some violence. - -“Oh!” said his friend, with a quick look at Frederic. Then, as -if inspired: “Come on, Freddy. Join us. Come and drink to the--to -your--er--stepmother.” He floundered miserably. “My God!” he gasped under -his breath. - -“Thank you, Mr Riggs. I'm not drinking,” said Frederic. - -Dawes conducted Riggs to the dining-room door. There he turned and -remarked: - -“Stick to that resolution, Freddy. See what old man Riggs has come to! -If it wasn't for me and your father he'd be in the gutter.” - -“That's right, Freddy,” agreed Mr Riggs with rare amiability. He felt -that he owed something to Frederic in the way of apology. - -Father and son faced each other after the old men had disappeared. They -were a striking pair, each in his way an example of fine, clean manhood. -The father was taller by two inches than the son, and yet Frederic -was nearly six feet in his stockings. Both were spare men, erect and -gracefully proportioned. - -Brood gave out the impression of great strength, of steel sinews, of -invincible power; Frederic did not suggest physical strength, and yet he -was a clean-limbed, well-built fellow. He had a fine head, a slim body -whose every movement proclaimed nervous energy, and a face that denoted -temperament of the most pronounced character. His hair was black and -straight, growing thickly above the forehead and ears; his eyes were of -a deep gray, changeable at the dictates of his emotions. A not unhealthy -pallor lay on the surface of his skin, readily submissive to the -sensations which produce colour at the slightest provocation. His -eyebrows were rather thick, but delicately arched, and the lashes -were long. It was not a strong face, nor was it weak; it represented -character without force. - -On the other hand, James Brood's lean, handsome face was full of power. -His gray eyes were keen, steady, compelling, and seldom alight with -warmth. His jaw was firm, square, resolute, and the lines that sank -heavily into the flesh in his cheeks were put there not by age but by -the very vigour of manhood. His hair was quite gray. - -Frederic waited for his father to speak. He had ventured a remark before -the departure of the old men and it had been ignored. But James Brood -had nothing to say. - -“She is very attractive, father,” said the young man at last, almost -wistfully. He did not realise it, but he was groping for sympathy. Brood -had been in the house for a quarter of an hour, after an absence of -nearly a year, and yet he might have been away no longer than a day for -all that he revealed in his attitude toward his son. His greeting had -been cold, casual, matter-of-fact. Frederic expected little more than -that; still he felt in a vague way that now, if never again, the ice of -reserve might be broken between them, if only for a moment. He was ready -and willing to do his part. - -Brood was studying the young man's face with an intensity that for the -moment disconcerted him. He seemed bent on fixing certain features in -his mind's eye, as if his memory had once played him false and should -not do so again. It was a habit of Brood's, after prolonged separations, -to look for something in the boy's face that he wanted to see and yet -dreaded, something that might have escaped him when in daily contact -with him. Now, at the end of the rather offensive scrutiny, he seemed to -shake his head slightly, although one could not have been sure. - -“And as charming as she is attractive, Frederic,” he said, with a faint -flush of the enthusiasm he suppressed. - -“Who is she?” asked his son, without realising the bluntness of his -question. - -“Who _is_ she?” repeated his father, raising his eyebrows slightly. “She -is Mrs James Brood.” - -“I--I beg your pardon,” stammered Frederic. “I didn't mean to put it in -that way. Who was she? Where did you meet her, and--oh, I want to -know all there is to tell, father. I've heard nothing. I am naturally -curious.” - -Brood stopped him with a gesture. - -“She was Yvonne Lestrange before we were married, Mlle Lestrange; we met -some time ago at the house of a mutual friend in Paris. I assure you her -references are all that could be desired.” His tone was sarcastic. - -Frederic flushed. - -“I'm sorry I asked the questions, sir,” he said stiffly. - -Brood suddenly laughed, a quiet laugh that had some trace of humour and -a touch of compunction in it. - -“I beg your pardon, Frederic. Come up to my room and smoke a cigar with -me while I'm changing. I'll tell you about her. She is wonderful.” - -To his own surprise, and to Frederic's astonishment, he linked his arm -in the young man's and started toward the hall. Afterward he was to -wonder even more than he wondered then what it was that created the -sudden desire to atone for the hurt look he had brought into the eyes of -Matilde's son and the odd longing to touch his arm gently. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -Lydia met Brood and Frederic at the top of the stairs. She had received -the message through Jones and was on her way to dress for tea. The -master of the house greeted her most cordially. He was very fond of this -lovely, gentle daughter of John Desmond. - -Into their association had stolen an intimate note that softened the -cold reserve of the man to a marked degree. There was something brave -and joyous in this girl that had always appealed to James Brood. He -seldom failed to experience a sense of complete relaxation when with -her; his hard eyes softened, his stern mouth took on the quiet smile of -contentment. - -His chief joy was to chat with her over the work he was doing, and -to listen to her frank, honest opinions. There was no suggestion of -constraint in her manner. She was not afraid of him. That was the thing -about her, perhaps, that warmed his stone-cold heart, although he hardly -would have admitted it to be the case. - -She regarded herself as his secretary, or his amanuensis, in the strict -way of speaking, but he considered her to be a friend as well, and -treated her with a freedom that was not extended to others. - -A faint gleam of astonishment lurked in the girl's eyes as she stood -before the two men. Never, in her experience, had there been such an -exhibition of friendliness between father and son. A curious throb of -joy rushed up from her heart and lodged in her throat. For the first -time she found it difficult to respond with composure to Brood's lively -comments. Tears were lying close to the surface of her eyes; tears of -relief and gratitude. The buoyant expression in Frederic's told a new -story. Her heart rejoiced. - -“Nonsense!” said Brood, when she announced that she was going in to -change her gown. “You never looked so pretty, my dear, as you do at this -instant. I want Mrs Brood to see you for the first time just as you are. -You are a shirt-waist girl, Lydia. You couldn't be lovelier than you are -now. Isn't that true, Frederic?” - -“You'll spoil her, father,” said Frederic, his face glowing. - -Her prettiest frown opposed them. - -“But you, after all, you are not women,” she said. “Women don't look at -each other through masculine eyes. They look at a girl not to see how -pretty she is, but to see what it is that makes her pretty.” - -“But this is to be a family tea-party,” protested Brood. “It isn't a -function, as the society reporter would say. Come just as you are to -please me.” - -“A tea-party and an autopsy are very much alike, Mr Brood,” said she. -“One can learn a lot at either. Still, if you'd like to have Mrs Brood -see me as I really am, I'll appear _sans_ plumage.” - -“I'd like it,” said he promptly. “I am sure you will like each other, -Lydia.” - -“I am glad you did not say we would admire each other,” said she -quaintly. “You look very happy, Mr Brood,” she went on, her eyes bright. - -“I believe I _am_ happy,” said he. - -“Then we shall all be happy,” was her rejoinder. - -She returned to the jade room on the upper floor, where she had been at -work on the catalogue. Brood had a very large and valuable collection of -rare jade. A catalogue, she knew, would have but little significance, in -view of the fact that the collection was not likely to be exhibited -to public view. Still it was his whim, and she had found considerable -pleasure in carrying out his belated orders. - -The jade room, so called, was little more than a large closet off -the remarkable room which James Brood was pleased to call his -“hiding-place,” or, on occasions, his “retreat.” No one ventured into -either of these rooms except by special permission. - -Ranjab, his Indian servant, slept in an adjoining room, and it was -whispered about the house that not even James Brood had viewed its -interior. This silent, unapproachable man from the mysterious heart of -India locked his door when he entered the room and locked it when he -came out. No one, not even the master, thought of entering. Mr Dawes in -his cups, or out of them, was responsible for the impression that -the man kept deadly serpents there. As a matter of fact, Ranjab was a -peaceable fellow and desperately afraid of snakes. - -Lydia loved the feel of the cold, oily lumps of jade. There were a few -pieces of porcelain of extreme rarity and beauty as well, and several -priceless bits of cloisonné, but it was the jade she loved. There were -two or three hundred objects of various sizes and colours, and all -were what might be called museum pieces. To each was attached a tag -disclosing certain facts concerning its origin, its history, and the -date of its admission to the Brood collection. It appeared to be Lydia's -task to set down these dates and facts in chronological order. Her -imagination built quaint little stories about each of the ancient -figures. She believed in fairies. - -She had been at work for half an hour or longer when a noise in the -outer room attracted her attention. She had the odd feeling that someone -was looking at her through the open door, and swiftly turned. - -Except when occupied by Brood, the room was darkened by means of heavy -window-hangings; the effect was that produced by the gloaming just -before the stars appeared. Objects were shadowy, indistinct, mysterious. -The light from the jade room door threw a diverging ray across the full -length of the room. In the very centre of this bright strip sat a -placid effigy of Buddha that Brood had found in a remote corner of Siam, -serenely stolid on top of its thick base of bronze and lacquer, with a -shining shrine for a background. - -In the dim edge of the shadow, near the door at the far end of the room, -Lydia made out the motionless, indistinct figure of a woman. The faint -outlines of the face were discernible, but not so the features. For a -moment the girl stared at the watcher and then advanced to the door. - -“Who is it?” she inquired, peering. - -A low, husky voice replied, with a suggestion of laughter in the tones. - -“I am exploring the house.” - -Lydia came forward at once. - -“Oh, it is Mrs Brood. I beg your pardon. Shall I switch on the lights?” - -“Are there such awful things as electric lights in this wonderful room?” - cried the other, disappointed. “I can't believe it of my husband. He -couldn't permit anything so bizarre as that.” - -“They are emergency lights,” laughed Lydia. “He never uses them, of -course. They are for the servants.” - -“You are Lydia?” - -“Yes, Mrs Brood.” - -“I have been prowling everywhere. Your good mother deserted me when -my maid arrived with Ranjab a short time ago. Isn't this the dread -_Bluebeard room?_ Shall I lose my head if I am discovered by the ogre?” - -The girl felt the spell stealing over her. The low voice of the woman in -the shadow was like a sensuous caress. She experienced a sudden longing -to be closer to the speaker, to listen for the very intake of her -breath. - -“You have already been discovered by the ogre, Mrs Brood,” said Lydia -gaily, “and your head appears to be quite safe.” - -“Thank you,” rather curtly, as if repelling familiarity. It was like a -dash of cold water to Lydia's spirits. “You may turn on the lights. I -should like to see _you_, Miss Desmond.” - -The girl crossed the room, passing close to the stranger in the house. -The fragrance of a perfume hitherto unknown to her separated itself -from the odour of sandalwood that always filled the place; it was soft, -delicate, refreshing. It was like a breath of cool, sweet air filtering -into a close, stuffy enclosure. One could not help drawing in a long, -full breath, as if the lungs demanded its revivifying qualities. - -A soft, red glow began to fill the room as Lydia pulled the cord near -the door. There was no clicking sound, no sharp contact of currents; the -light came up gradually, steadily, until the whole space was drenched -with its refulgence. There were no shadows. Every nook and corner seemed -to fill with the warm, pleasant hue of the setting sun, and yet no -visible means appeared. - -As the light grew brighter and brighter the eyes of the stranger swept -the room with undisguised wonder in their depths. - -“How extraordinary!” she murmured, and then turned swiftly toward the -girl. “Where does it come from? I can see no lights. And see! There are -no shadows, not even beneath the table yonder. It--it is uncanny--but, oh, -how lovely!” - -Lydia was staring at her with wide-open eyes, frankly astonished. -The eager, excited gleam vanished from Mrs Brood's lovely eyes. They -narrowed slightly. - -“Why do you stare at me?” she demanded. - -“I beg your pardon,” cried the girl, blushing. - -“I--I couldn't help it, Mrs Brood. Why, you are young!” The exclamation -burst from her lips. - -“Young?” queried the other, frowning. - -“I--I expected----” began Lydia, and stopped in pretty confusion. - -“I see. You expected a middle-aged lady? And why, pray, should James -Brood marry a middle-aged person?” - -“I--I don't know. I'm sorry if I have offended you.” - -Mrs Brood smiled, a gay, pleased little smile that revealed her small, -even teeth. - -“You haven't offended me, my dear,” she said. “You offend my husband by -thinking so ill of him, that's all.” She took the girl in from head to -foot with critical eyes. “He said you were very pretty and very lovable. -You are lovely. Isn't it a horrid word? Pretty! No one wants to be -pretty. Yes, you are just what I expected.” - -Lydia was the taller of the two women--a matter of two inches perhaps--and -yet she had the curious feeling that she was looking upward as she gazed -into the other's eyes. It was the way Mrs Brood held herself. - -“He has known me since I was a little girl,” she said, as if to account -for Brood's favourable estimate. - -“And he knew your mother before you were born,” said the other. “She, -too, is--shall I say pretty?” - -“My mother isn't pretty, Mrs Brood,” said Lydia, conscious of a sudden -feeling of resentment. - -“She is handsome,” said Mrs Brood with finality. Sending a swift glance -around the room, she went on: “My husband delights in having beautiful -things about him. He doesn't like the ugly things of this world.” - -Lydia flinched, she knew not why. There was a sting to the words, -despite the languidness with which they were uttered. - -Risking more than she suspected, she said: - -“He never considers the cost of a thing, Mrs Brood, if its beauty -appeals to him.” Mrs Brood gave her a quizzical, half-puzzled look. “You -have only to look about you for the proof. This one room represents a -fortune.” The last was spoken hastily. - -“How old are you, Miss Desmond?” The question came abruptly. - -“I am nineteen.” - -“You were surprised to find me so young. Will it add to your surprise if -I tell you that I am ten years older than you?” - -“I should have said not more than three or four years.” - -“I am twenty-nine--seven years older than my husband's son.” - -“It doesn't seem credible.” - -“Are you wondering why I tell you my age?” - -“Yes,” said Lydia bluntly. - -“In order that you may realise that I am ten years wiser than you, -and that you may not again make the mistake of under-estimating my -intelligence.” - -The colour faded from Lydia's face. She grew cold from head to foot. -Involuntarily she moved back a pace. The next instant, to her unbounded -surprise, Mrs Brood's hands were outstretched in a gesture of appeal, -and a quick, wistful smile took the place of the imperious stare. - -“There! I am a nasty, horrid thing. Forgive me. Come! Don't be stubborn. -Shake hands with me and say that you're sorry I said what I did.” - -It was a quaint way of putting it, and her voice was so genuinely -appealing that Lydia, after a moment's hesitation, extended her hands. -Mrs Brood grasped them in hers and gripped them tightly. - -“I think I should like to know that you are my friend, Lydia. Has it -occurred to you that I am utterly without friends in this great city -of yours? I have my husband, that is all. Among all these millions of -people there is not one who knows that I exist. Isn't it appalling? Can -you imagine such a condition? There is not one to whom I can give an -honest smile. Nor am I likely to have many friends here. Indeed, I shall -not lift my finger to gain them. You will know me better one day, Lydia, -and you will understand. But now--to-day, to-morrow--now--I must have -someone to whom I may offer my friendship and have something to hope for -in return.” - -Lydia could hardly credit her ears. - -“I am sure you will have many friends, Mrs Brood,” she began, vaguely -uncomfortable. - -“I don't want them,” cried the other sharply. “Poof! Are friends to be -made in a day? No! Admirers, yes. Enemies, yes. But friends, no. -I shall have no real friends here. It isn't possible. I am not like your -people. I cannot become like them. I shall know people and like them, no -doubt, but--poof! I shall not have them for friends.” - -“I can't understand why you want me for a friend,” said Lydia stiffly. -“My position here is not what----” - -Mrs Brood had not released the girl's hands. She interrupted her now by -dropping them as if they were of fire. - -“You don't want to be my friend?” - -“Yes, yes--of course----” - -“You are my husband's friend?” - -“Certainly, Mrs Brood. He is _my_ friend.” - -“What is _your_ position here?” - -Lydia's face was flaming. - -“I thought you knew. I am his secretary, if I may be allowed to -dignify my----” - -“And you are Frederic's friend?” - -“Yes.” - -“Despite your position?” - -“I don't understand you, Mrs Brood.” - -Once more the warm, enchanting smile broke over the face of the other. - -“Isn't it perfectly obvious, Lydia?” - -The girl could no more withstand the electric charm of the woman -than she could have fought off the sunshine. She was bewildered and -completely fascinated. - -“It's--it is very good of you,” she murmured, her own eyes softening as -they looked into the deep velvety ones that would not be denied. Even as -she wondered whether she could ever really like this magnetic creature, -she felt herself surrendering to the spell of her. “But perhaps you will -not like me when you know me better.” - -“Perhaps,” said Mrs Brood calmly, almost indifferently, and dismissed -the subject. “What an amazing room! One can almost feel the presence -of the genii that created it at the wish of the man with the enchanted -lamp. As a rule, Oriental rooms are abominations, but this--ah, this is -not an Oriental room after all. It is a part of the East itself--of the -real East. I have sat in emperors' houses out there, my dear, and I have -slept in the palaces of kings. I have seen just such things as these, -and I know that they could not have been transported to this room except -by magic. My husband is a magician.” - -“These came from the palaces of kings, Mrs Brood,” said Lydia -enthusiastically. “Kings in the days when kings were real. This -rug----” - -“I know,” interrupted the other. “It was woven by five generations of -royal weavers. Each of these borders represents the work of a lifetime. -It is the carpet of rubies, and a war was prolonged for years because an -emperor would not give it up to the foe who coveted it above all other -riches. His heart's blood stains it to this day. His empire was wiped -out by the relentless foe, his very name effaced, but the heart's blood -still is there, Lydia. That can never be wiped out. My husband told me -the story. It must have cost him a fortune.” - -“It is worth a fortune,” said Lydia. - -A calculating squint had come into Mrs Brood's eyes while she was -speaking. To Lydia it appeared as if she were trying to fix upon the -value of the wonderful carpet. - -“A collector has offered him--how much? A hundred thousand dollars, is -not that it? Ah, how rich he must be!” - -“The collector you refer to----” - -“I was referring to my husband,” said Mrs Brood, unabashed. “He is very -rich, isn't he?” - - Lydia managed to conceal her annoyance. “I think not, -as American fortunes are rated.” - -“It doesn't matter,” said the other carelessly. -“I have my own fortune. And it is not my face,” she added with her -quick smile. “Now let us look farther. I must see all of these wonderful -things. We will not be missed, and it is still half an hour till -tea-time. My husband is now telling his son all there is to be told -about me--who and what I am, and how he came to marry me. Not, mind you, -how I came to marry him, but--the other way round. It's the way with men -past middle age.” - - Lydia hesitated before speaking. - - “Mr Brood does not -confide in Frederic. I am afraid they have but little in common. Oh, I -shouldn't have said that!” - -Mrs Brood regarded her with narrowing eyes. - -“He doesn't confide in Frederic?” she repeated in the form of a -question. Her voice seemed lower than before. - -“I'm sorry I spoke as I did, Mrs Brood,” said the girl, annoyed with -herself. - -“Is there a reason why he should dislike his son?” asked the other, -regarding her fixedly. - -“Of course not,” cried poor Lydia. - -There was a moment of silence. - -“Some day, Lydia, you will tell me about Mr Brood's other wife.” - -“She died many years ago,” said the girl evasively. - -“I know,” said Mrs Brood. “Still, I should like to hear more of the -woman he could not forget in all those years--until he met me.” - -She grew silent and preoccupied, a slight frown marking her forehead as -she resumed her examination of the room and its contents. - -It is quite impossible adequately to describe the place in which the two -women met for the first time. Suffice to say, it was long, narrow, and, -being next below the roof, low-ceilinged. The walls were hung with rich, -unusual tapestries whose subdued tones seemed to lure one back to the -undimmed glory of Solomon's days, to the even more remote realms of -those gods and goddesses on whom our fancy thrives despite the myths -they were. - -Silks of a weight and lustre that taxed credulity; golden threads -interweaving gems of the purest ray; fringe and galloons with the solemn -waste of ages in their thin, lovely sheen; over all the soft radiance of -an _Arabian Night_ and the gentle touch of a _Scheherazade._ Here hung -transported the fabulous splendours of Ind, the shimmering treasures of -Ming, and the loot of the _Forty Thieves_. - -The ceiling, for want of a better name, was no less than a canopy -constructed out of a single rug of enormous dimensions and incalculable -value, gleaming with the soft colours of the rainbow, shedding a serene -iridescence over the entire room to shame the light of day. - -The furniture, the trappings, the ornaments throughout were of a most -unusual character. A distinctly regal atmosphere prevailed. No article -there but had come from the palace of a ruler in the East, from the -massive gold and lacquered table to the tiniest piece of bronze or the -lowliest hassock. Chairs that had served as thrones, chests that had -contained the treasures of potentates, robes that had covered the bodies -of kings and queens, couches on which had nestled the favourites -of sultans, screens and mirrors that had reflected the jewels of an -empire--_all_ were here to feed the senses with dreams imperial. - -Great lanterns hung suspended beside the shrine at the end of the room, -but were now unlighted. On the table at which Brood professed to work -stood a huge lamp with a lacelike screen of gold. When lighted, a -soft, mellow glow oozed through the shade to create a circle of golden -brilliance over a radius that extended but little beyond the edge of the -table, yet reached to the benign countenance of Buddha close by. - -Over all this fairylike splendour reigned the serene, melting influence -of the god to whom James Brood was wont to confess himself. The spell of -the golden image dominated everything. - -In the midst of this magnificence moved the two women--one absurdly -out of touch with her surroundings, yet a thing of beauty; the other -blending intimately with the warm tones that enveloped her. She was -lithe, sinuous, with the grace of the most seductive of dancers. Her -dark eyes reflected the mysteries of the Orient; her pale, smooth skin -shone with the clearness of alabaster; the crimson in her lips was like -the fresh stain of blood; the very fragrance of her person seemed to -steal out of the unknown. She was a part of the marvellous setting, a -gem among gems. - -She had attired herself in a dull Indian-red afternoon gown of chiffon. -The very fabric seemed to cling to her supple body with a sensuous -joy of contact. Even Lydia, who watched her with appraising eyes, -experienced a swift, unaccountable desire to hold this intoxicating -creature close to her own body. - -There were two windows in the room, broad openings that ran from -near the floor almost to the edge of the canopy. They were so heavily -curtained that the light of day failed to penetrate to the interior of -the apartment. Mrs Brood approached one of these windows. Drawing the -curtains apart, she let in an ugly gray light from the outside world. -The illusion was spoiled at once. - -“How cold and pallid the world really is!” she cried, a shiver passing -over her slim body. - -The sky above the housetops was bleak and drab in the waning light of -late afternoon. Over the summits of loft-buildings to the south and west -hung the smoke from the river beyond, smudgy clouds that neither drifted -nor settled. - -She looked down into a sort of courtyard and garden that might have been -transplanted from distant Araby. Uttering an exclamation of wonder, she -turned to Lydia. - -“Is this New York or am I bewitched?” - -“Mr Brood transformed the old carriage yard into a--I think Mr Dawes -calls it a Persian garden. It is rather bleak in winter-time, Mrs Brood, -but in the summer it is really enchanting. See, across the court on the -second floor, where the windows are lighted, those are your rooms. It -is an enormous house, you'll find. Do you see the little balcony outside -your windows, and the vines creeping up to it? You can't imagine how -sweet it is of a summer night with the moon and stars----” - -“But how desolate it looks to-day, with the dead vines and the -colourless stones! Ugh!” - -She dropped the curtains. The soft, warm glow of the room came back, and -she sighed with relief. - -“I hate things that are dead,” she said. - -At the sound of a soft tread and the gentle rustle of draperies, they -turned. Ranjab, the Hindu, was crossing the room toward the small door -which gave entrance to his closet. He paused for an instant before the -image of Buddha, but did not drop to his knees, as all devout Buddhists -do. Mrs Brood's hand fell lightly upon Lydia's arm. The man turned -toward them a second or two later. - -His dark, handsome face was hard set and emotionless as he bowed low -to the new mistress of the house. The fingers closed tightly on Lydia's -arm. Then he smiled upon the girl, a glad smile of devotion. His swarthy -face was transfigured. A moment later he unlocked his door and passed -into the other room. The key turned in the lock with a slight rasp. - -“I do not like that man,” said Mrs Brood. Her voice was low and her eyes -were fixed steadily on the closed door. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -The ensuing fortnight brought the expected changes in the household. -James Brood, to the surprise of not only himself, but others, lapsed -into a curious state of adolescence. His infatuation was complete. The -once dominant influence of the man seemed to slink away from him as the -passing days brought up the new problems of life. Where he had lived to -command he now was content to serve. - -His friends, his son, his servants viewed the transformation with -wonder, not to say apprehension. It was not difficult to understand his -infatuation for the--shall we say enchantress? He was not the only one -there to fall under the spell. But it was almost unbelievable that he -should submit to thraldom with the complacency of a weakling. - -Love, which had been lying bruised and unconscious within him for twenty -years and more, arose from its stupor and became a thing to play with, -as one would play with a child. The old, ugly vistas melted into -dreamy, adolescent contemplations of a paradise in which he could walk -hand-in-hand with the future and find that the ghosts of the past no -longer attended him along the once weary way. - -It would not be true to say that the remarkable personality of the man -had suffered. He was still the man of steel, but re-tempered. The rigid -broadsword was made over into the fine, flexible blade of Toledo. He -could be bent but not broken. - -It pleased him to submit to Yvonne's commands, - -Not that they were arduous or peremptory; on the contrary, they were -suggestions in which his own comfort and pleasure appeared to be the -inspiration. He found something like delight in being rather amiably -convinced of his own shortcomings; in learning from her that his life up -to this hour had been a sadly mismanaged affair; that there were soft, -fertile spots in his heart where things would grow in spite of him. He -enjoyed the unique spectacle of himself in the process of being made -over to fit ideals that he would have scorned a few months before. - -She was too wise to demand, too clever to resort to cajolery. She was -a Latin. Diplomacy was hers as a birthright. Complaints, appeals, sulks -would have gained nothing from James Brood. It would not have occurred -to her to employ these methods. From the day she entered the house she -was its mistress. She was sure of her ground, sure of herself, fettered -by no sense of doubt as to her position there, bound by no feminine -notion of gratitude to man, as many women are who find themselves -married. It might almost be said of her that she ruled without making a -business of it. - -To begin with, she miraculously transferred the sleeping quarters of -Messrs Dawes and Riggs from the second floor front to the third floor -back without arousing the slightest sign of antagonism on the part of -the crusty old gentlemen who had occupied one of the choice rooms in -the house with uninterrupted security for a matter of nine or ten years. -This was a feat that James Brood himself would never have tried -to accomplish. They had selected this room at the first instant of -occupation, because it provided something of a view up and down the -street from the big bow window, and they wouldn't evacuate. - -Mrs Brood explained the situation to them so graciously, so -convincingly, that they even assisted the servants in moving their -heterogeneous belongings to the small, remote room on the third floor, -and applauded her plan to make a large sitting-room of the chamber they -were deserting. It did not occur to them for at least three days that -they had been imposed upon, cheated, maltreated, insulted, and then it -was too late. The decorators were in the big room on the second floor. - -Perhaps they would not have arrived at a sense of realisation even then -if it had not come out in the course of conversation that it was not to -be a _general_ sitting-room, but one with reservations. The discovery of -what they secretly were pleased to call duplicity brought an abrupt end -to the period of abstemiousness that had lasted since the day of her -arrival, when, out of courtesy to the bride, they had turned their backs -upon the tipple. - -Now, however, the situation was desperate. She had tricked them with -her wily politeness. They had been betrayed by the wife of their bosom -friend. Is it small cause for wonder, then, that the poor gentlemen as -manfully turned back to the tipple and got gloriously, garrulously drunk -in the middle of the afternoon and also in the middle of the library, -where tea was to have been served to a few friends asked in to meet the -bride? - -The next morning a fresh edict was issued. It came from James Brood, and -it was so staggering that the poor gentlemen were loath to believe their -ears. As a result of this new command they began to speak of Mrs Brood -in the privacy of their own room as “that woman.” Of course, it was -entirely due to her mischievous, malevolent influence that a spineless -husband put forth the order that they were to have nothing more to drink -while they remained in his house. - -This command was modified to a slight extent later on. Brood felt sorry -for the victims. He loved them, and he knew that their pride was injured -a great deal more than their appetite. In its modified form the edict -allowed them a small drink in the morning and another at bedtime, but -the doses (as they sarcastically called them) were to be administered by -Jones the butler, who held the key to the situation and--the sideboard. - -“Is this a dispensary?” wailed Mr Dawes in weak horror. “Are we to stand -in line and solicit the common necessities of life? Answer me, Riggs! -Confound you, don't stand there like a wax figure! Say something!” - -Mr Riggs shook his head bleakly. - -“Poor Jim,” was all that he said, and rolled his eyes heavenward. - -Mr Dawes reflected. After many minutes the tears started down his -rubicund cheeks. “Poor old Jim,” he sighed. And after that they looked -upon Mrs Brood as the common enemy of all three. - -The case of Mrs John Desmond was disposed of in a summary but tactful -manner. - -“If Mrs Desmond is willing to remain, James, as housekeeper instead of -friend, all well and good,” said Mrs Brood, discussing the matter in the -seclusion of her boudoir. “I doubt, however, whether she can descend to -that. You have spoiled her, my dear.” - -Brood was manifestly pained and uncomfortable. - -“She was the wife of my best friend, Yvonne. I have never permitted her -to feel----” - -“Ah,” she interrupted, “the wives of best friends! Nearly every man has -the wife of a best friend somewhere in his life's history.” She shook -her head at him with mock mournfulness. - -He flushed. “I trust you do not mean to imply that----” - -“I know what you would say. No, I do not mean anything of the sort. -Still, you now have a wife of your own. Is it advisable to have also the -wife of a best friend?” - -“Really, Yvonne, all this sounds very suspicious and--unpleasant. Mrs -Desmond is the soul of----” - -“My dear man, why should you defend her? I am not accusing her. I am -merely going into the ethics of the situation. If you can forget that -Mrs Desmond is the wife of your friend and come to regard her as a -servant in your establishment, no one will be more happy than I to have -her about the place. She is fine, she is competent, she is a lady. But -she is not my equal here. Can't you understand?” - -He was thoughtful for a moment. - -“I dare say you are right. The conditions are peculiar. I can't go -to her and say that she must consider herself as--oh, no, that would be -impossible.” - -“I should like to have Mrs Desmond as my friend, not as my housekeeper,” - said his wife simply. - -“By Jove, and that's just what I should like,” he cried. - -“There is but one way, you know.” - -“She must be one or the other, eh?” - -“Precisely,” she said with firmness. “In my country, James, the wives of -best friends haven't the same moral standing that they appear to have in -yours. Oh, don't scowl so! Shall I tell you again that I do not mean to -reflect on Mrs Desmond's virtue--or discretion? Far from it. If she is to -be my friend, she cannot be your housekeeper. That's the point. Has she -any means of her own? Can she----” - -“She has a small income, and an annuity which I took out for her soon -after her poor husband's death. We were the closest of friends----” - -“I understand, James. You are very generous and very loyal. I quite -understand. Losing her position here, then, will not be a hardship?” - -“No,” said he soberly. - -“I am quite competent, James,” she said brightly. “You will not miss -her, I am sure.” - -“It isn't that, Yvonne,” he sighed. “Mrs Desmond and Lydia have been -factors in my life for so long that---- But, of course, that is neither -here nor there. I will explain the situation to her to-morrow. She will -understand.” - -“Thank you, James. You are really quite reasonable.” - -“Are you laughing at me, darling?” - -She gave him one of her searching, unfathomable glances, and she smiled -with roguish mirth. - -“Isn't it your mission in life to amuse and entertain me?” - -“I love you, Yvonne. Good God, how I love you!” he cried abruptly. - -His eyes burned with a sudden flame of passion as he bent over her. -His face quivered; his whole being tingled with the fierce spasm of an -uncontrollable desire to crush the warm, adorable body to his breast in -the supreme ecstasy of possession. - -She surrendered herself to his passionate embrace. A little later -she withdrew herself from his arms, her lips still quivering with the -fierceness of his kisses. Her eyes, dark with wonder and perplexity, -regarded his transfigured face for a long, tense moment. - -“Is this love, James?” she whispered. “Is this the real, true love?” - -“What else, in Heaven's name, can it be?” he cried. He was sitting upon -the arm of her chair, looking down at the strangely pallid face. - -“But should love have the power to frighten me?” - -“Frighten, my darling?” - -“Oh, it is not you who are frightened,” she cried. “You are the man. But -I--ah, I am only the woman.” - -He stared. “What an odd way to put it, dear.” - -Then he drew back, struck by the curious gleam of mockery in her eyes. - -“Was it like this twenty-five years ago?” she asked. - -“Yvonne!” - -“Did you love her--like this?” - -He managed to smile. “Are you jealous?” - -“Tell me about her.” - -His face hardened. “Some other time, not now.” - -“But you loved her, didn't you?” - -“Don't be silly, dear.” - -“And she loved you. If you loved her as you love me, she could not have -helped----” - -“Please, please, Yvonne!” he exclaimed, a dull red setting in his cheek. - -“You have never told me her name----” - -He faced her, his eyes as cold as steel. “I may as well tell you now, -Yvonne, that her name is never mentioned in this house.” - -She seemed to shrink down farther in the chair. - -“Why?” she asked, an insistent note in her voice. - -“It isn't necessary to explain.” He walked away from her to the window -and stood looking out over the bleak little courtyard. Neither spoke for -many minutes, and yet he knew that her questioning gaze was upon him and -that when he turned to her again she would ask still another question. -He tried to think of something to say that would turn her away from this -hated subject. - -“Isn't it time for you to dress, dearest? The Gunnings live pretty -far up north and the going will be bad with Fifth Avenue piled up with -snow----” - -“Doesn't Frederic ever mention his mother's name?” came the question -that he feared before it was uttered. - -“I am not certain that he knows her name,” said he levelly. The knuckles -of his hands, clenched tightly behind his back, were white. “He has -never heard me utter it.” - -She looked at him darkly. There was something in her eyes that caused -him to shift his own steady gaze uncomfortably. He could not have -explained what it was, but it gave him a curiously uneasy feeling, as -of impending peril. It was not unlike the queer, inexplicable, though -definite, sensing of danger that more than once he had experienced in -the silent, tranquil depths of great forests. - -“But you loved her just the same, James, up to the time you met me. Is -not that true?” - -“No!” he exclaimed loudly. “It is not true.” - -“I wonder what could have happened to make you so bitter toward her,” - she went on, still watching him through half-closed eyes. “Was she -unfaithful to you? Was----” - -“Good God, Yvonne!” he cried, an angry light jumping into his eyes--the -eyes that so recently had been ablaze with love. - -“Don't be angry, dearest,” she cried plaintively. “We Europeans speak of -such things as if they were mere incidents. I forget that you Americans -take them seriously, as tragedies.” - -He controlled himself with an effort. The pallor in his face would have -alarmed anyone but her. - -“We must never speak of--of that again, Yvonne,” he said, a queer note -of hoarseness in his voice. “Never, do you understand?” He was very much -shaken. - -“Forgive me,” she pleaded, stretching out her hand to him. “I am -foolish, but I did not dream that I was being cruel or unkind. Perhaps, -dear, it is because I am--jealous.” - -“There is no one--nothing to be jealous of,” he said, passing a hand over -his moist brow. Then he drew nearer and took her hand in his. It was as -cold as ice. - -“Your hand is cold, darling,” he cried. - -“And yours, too,” she said, looking down at their clasped hands, a faint -smile on her lips. Suddenly she withdrew her fingers from his strong -grip. A slight shiver ran over her frame. “Ugh! I don't like cold -hands!” - -He laughed rather desolately. “Suppose that I were to say the same to -you?” - -“I am temperamental; you are not,” she replied coolly. “Sit down, dear. -Let us be warm again.” - -“Shall I have the fire replenished----” - -“No,” she said with her slow smile, “you don't understand.” - -He lounged again on the arm of her chair. She leaned back and sighed -contentedly, the smile on her red lips growing sweeter with each breath -that she took. He felt his blood warming once more. - -For a long time they sat thus, looking into each other's eyes without -speaking. He was trying to fathom the mystery that lurked at the bottom -of those smiling wells; she, on the other hand, deluded herself with the -idea that she was reading his innermost thought. - -“I have been considering the advisability of sending Frederic abroad for -a year or two,” said he at last. - -She started. She had been far from right in her reading. - -“Now? This winter?” - -“Yes. He has never been abroad.” - -“Indeed? And he is half European, too. It seems--forgive me, James. -Really, you know, I cannot always keep my thoughts from slipping out. -You shouldn't expect it, dear.” - -“How did you know that his--his mother was a European?” he inquired -abruptly. - -“Dear me! What manner of woman do you think I am? Without curiosity? I -should be a freak. I have inquired of Mrs Desmond. There was no harm in -that.” - -“What did she tell you? But no! It doesn't matter. We shan't discuss it. -We----” - -“She told me little or nothing,” she broke in quickly. “You may rest -quite easy, James.” - -“Upon my word, Yvonne, I don't understand----” - -“Let us speak of Frederic.” - -“I suppose it is only natural that you should inquire,” he said -resignedly. - -“Of my servants,” she added pointedly. - -He flushed slightly. “I dare say I deserve the rebuke. It will not be -necessary to pursue that line of inquiry, however. I shall tell you the -story myself some day, Yvonne. Will you not bear with me?” - -She met the earnest appeal in his eyes with a slight frown of annoyance. - -“Who is to tell me the wife's side of the story?” - -The question was like a blow to him. He stared at her as if he had not -heard aright. Before he could speak she went on coolly. - -“I dare say there are two sides to it, James. It's usually the case.” - -He winced. “There is but one side to this one,” he said, a harsh note in -his voice. - -“That is why I began my inquiries with Mrs Desmond,” she said -enigmatically. “But I shan't pursue them any farther. You love _me_; -that is all I care to know--or that I require.” - -“I _do_ love you,” he said, almost imploringly. She stroked his gaunt -cheek. “Then we may let the other woman--go hang, eh?” - -He felt the cold sweat start on his brow. Her callous remark slashed his -finer sensibilities like the thrust of a dagger. He tried to laugh, but -only succeeded in producing a painful grimace. - -“And now,” she went on, as if the matter were fully disposed of, “we -will discuss something tangible, eh? Frederic.” - -“Yes,” said he, rather dazedly. “Frederic.” - -“I am very, very fond of your son, James,” she said. “How proud you must -be to have such a son.” - -He eyed her narrowly. How much of the horrid story did she know? How -much of it had John Desmond told to his wife? - -“I am surprised at your liking him, Yvonne. He is what I'd call a -difficult young man.” - -“I haven't found him difficult.” - -“Morbid and unresponsive.” - -“Not by nature, however. There is a joyousness, a light-heartedness in -his character that has never got beyond the surface until now, James.” - -“Until now?” - -“Yes. And you talk of sending him away. Why?” - -“He has wanted to go abroad for years. This is a convenient time for him -to go.” - -“But I am quite sure he will not care to go at present--not for a while, -at least.” - -“And why not, may I ask?” - -“Because he is in love.” - -“In love!” he exclaimed, his jaw setting hard. - - “He is in love with -Lydia.” - -“I'll put a stop to that!” - -“And why, may I ask?” she mimicked. - -“Because--why----” he burst out, but instantly collected himself. “He is -not in a position to marry, that's all.” - -“Financially?” - -He swallowed hard. “Yes.” - -“Poof!” she exclaimed, dismissing the obstacle with a wave of her slim -hand. “A cigarette, please. There is another reason why he shouldn't -go--an excellent one.” - -“The reason you've already given is sufficient to convince me that he -ought to go at once. What is the other one, pray?” - -She lighted a cigarette from the match he held. “What would you say if I -were to tell you that I object to his going away--at present?” - -“I should ask the very obvious question.” - -“Because I like him, I want him to like me, and I shall be very lonely -without him,” she answered calmly. - -“You are frank, to say the least,” said he, laughing. - -“And serious. I don't want him to go away at present. Later on, yes; but -not now. I shall need him, James.” - -“You will be lonely, you say.” - -“Certainly. You forget that I am young.” - -“I see,” said he, a sudden pain in his heart. “Perhaps it would be more -to the point if you were to say that I forget that I am old.” - -She laughed. It was a soft, musical laugh that strangely stilled the -tumult in his breast. - -“You are younger than Frederic,” she said. “Unless we do something to -prevent it, your son will be an old man before he is thirty. Don't send -him away now, James. Let me have him for a while. I mean it, dear. He is -a lonely boy, and I know what it is to be lonely.” - -“You?” he cried. “Why, you've never known anything but----” - -“One can be lonely even in the heart of a throng,” she said cryptically. -“No, James, I will not have him sent away.” - -He resented the imputation. “Why do you say that I am sending him away?” - -“Because you are,” she replied boldly. - -He was silent for a moment. “We will leave it to Frederic,” he said. - -Her face brightened. “That is all I ask. He will stay.” - -There was another pause. “You two have become very good friends, -Yvonne.” - -“He is devoted to me.” - -“Don't spoil him in making him over,” he said dryly. - -She blew cigarette--smoke in his face and laughed. There was a knock at -the door. - -“Come in!” she called. - -Frederic entered. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -A certain element of gaiety invaded the staid old house in these -days. The new mistress was full of life and the joy of living. She was -accustomed to adulation, she was used to the tumult of society. Her -life, since she left the convent school, evidently had been one in which -rest, except physical, was unknown. - -Yvonne Lestrange, in a way, had been born to purple and fine linen. She -had never known deprivation of any description. Neither money, position, -nor love had been denied her during the few years in which her charm and -beauty had flashed across the great European capitals, penetrating even -to the recesses of royal courts. - -It is doubtful if James Brood knew very much concerning her family when -he proposed marriage to her, but it is certain that he did not care. He -first saw her at the home of a British nobleman, but did not meet her. -Something in the vivid, brilliant face of the woman made a deep and -lasting impression on him. There was an instant when their eyes met -through an opening in the throng which separated them. He was not only -conscious of the fact that he was staring at her, but that she was -looking at him in a curiously penetrating way. - -There was a mocking smile on her lips at the time. He saw it fade away, -even as the crowd came between. He knew that the smile had not been -intended for him, but for someone of the eager cavaliers who surrounded -her, and yet there was something singularly direct in the look she gave -him. - -Later on he made inquiries of his host, with whom he had hunted big game -in Africa, and learned that she was a guest in the home of the Russian -ambassador. He did not see her again until they met in the south of -France a few months later. On this occasion they were guests at the same -house, and he took her into dinner. He had not forgotten her, and it -gratified him immensely to discover that she remembered him. - -That single glance in the duke's house proved to be a fatal one for -both. They were married inside of a month. The virile, confident -American had conquered where countless suppliants of a more or less -noble character had gone down to defeat. - -He asked but one question of her; she asked none of him. The fact that -she was the intimate friend and associate of the woman in whose home he -met her was sufficient proof of her standing in society, although that -would have counted for little so far as Brood was concerned. - -She was the daughter of a baron; she had spent much of her life in -Paris, coming from St Petersburg when a young girl; and she was an -orphan with an independent fortune of her own. - -Her home in Paris, where she had lived with some degree of permanence -for the past four or five years, was shared with an estimable, though -impoverished, lady of rank, the Countess de Rochambert, of middle age -and undeniable qualifications as a chaperon, even among those who are -prone to laugh at locksmiths. Such common details as these came to Brood -in the natural way and were not derived from any effort on his part to -secure information concerning Mlle Lestrange. Like the burned child, he -asked a question which harked back to an unforgotten pain. - -“Have you ever loved a man deeply, devotedly, Yvonne--so deeply that -there is pain in the thought of him?” - -She replied without hesitation. - -“There is no such man, James. You may be sure of that.” - -“I am confident that I can hold your love against the future, but no man -is vital enough to compete with the past. Love doesn't really die, you -know. If a man cannot hold a woman's love against all new-comers, he -deserves to lose it. It doesn't follow, however, that he can protect -himself against the man who appears out of the past and claims his own.” - -“You speak as though the past had played you an evil trick,” she said. - -He did not mince words. - -“Years ago a man came out of the past and took from me the woman I loved -and cherished.” - -“Your--your wife?” she asked in a voice suddenly lowered. - -“Yes,” he said quietly. - -She was silent for a long time. - -“I wonder at your courage in taking the risk again,” she said. - -“I think I wonder at it myself,” said he. “No, I am not afraid,” he went -on, as if convincing himself that there was no risk. “I shall make you -love me to the end, Yvonne. I am not afraid. But why do you not ask me -for all the wretched story?” - -“It is not unlike all stories of its kind, my dear,” she said with an -indifference that amazed him. “They are all alike. Why should I ask? -The wife takes up with an old lover; she deceives her husband; the world -either does or does not find out about it; the home is wrecked; the -husband takes to drink; the wife pretends she is happy; the lover -takes to women; and the world goes on just the same in spite of them. -Sometimes the husband kills. It is of no moment. Sometimes the wife -destroys herself. It is a trifle. The whole business is like the -magazine story that is for ever being continued in our next. No, I do -not ask you for your story, James. Some time you may tell me, but not -to-day. I shouldn't mind hearing it if it were an original tale, but God -knows it isn't. It's as old as the Nile. But you may tell me more about -your son. Is he like you, or like his mother?” - -Brood's lips were compressed. - -“I can't say that he is like either of us,” he said shortly. - -She raised her eyebrows slightly. - -“Ah,” she said. “That makes quite a difference. Perhaps, after all, -I shall be interested in the story.” Her manner was so casual, so -serenely, matter-of-fact, that he could hardly restrain the sharp -exclamation of annoyance that rose to his lips. - -He bit his lip and allowed the frank insinuation to go unanswered. He -consoled himself with the thought that she must have spoken in jest -without intention. He had the uncomfortable feeling that she would make -light of his story, too, when the time came for revelations. A curious -doubt took root in his mind: Would he ever be able to understand the -nature of this woman whom he loved and who appeared to love him so -unreservedly? As time went on the doubt became a conviction. She proved -to be utterly beyond Brood's comprehension. - -The charm and beauty of the new mistress of James Brood's heart and home -was to become the talk of the town. Already, in the first month of her -reign, she had drawn to the old house the attention not only of the -parasites who feed on novelty, but of families that had long since given -up Brood as a representative figure in the circle into which he had been -born. - -He had dropped out of their lives so completely in the passing years -that no one took the trouble to interest himself in the man's affairs. -His self-effacement had been complete. The story of his ill-fated -marriage was an almost forgotten page in the history of the town. - -Old friends now cudgelled their brains to recall the details of the -break between him and the first Mrs Brood, who, they were bound to -remember, was also beautiful, fascinating, and an adornment to the -rather exclusive circle in which they moved. No one could point to the -real cause of the separation, however, for the excellent reason that the -true conditions were never revealed to anyone outside the four walls of -the house from which she was banished. - -Memory merely brought to mind the fact that the young husband became a -wanderer on the face of the earth, and that his once joyous face was an -almost forgotten object. - -Brood, in the full pride of possession, awoke to the astounding -realisation that he wanted people to envy him this wonderful creature. -He wanted men to covet her! He longed to have the world see her at -his side, and to feel that the world was saying: “She belongs to James -Brood.” - -It was not the cheap, ordinary New York society, the insufferably rich -and vulgar of the metropolis that he sought to conquer, but the fine old -families with whom rests the real verdict. He knew that those families -were not many in these days of haste and waste, but he also knew that -the rush of frivolity had not weakened their position. Their word was -still the law. Serenely confident, he revealed his wife to the few, and -waited. - -It cannot be said that she conquered, for that would be to imply design -on her part. Possibly she considered the game unworthy of the effort. -For, in truth, Yvonne Brood despised Americans. She made small pretence -of liking them. The rather closely knit circle of Parisian aristocracy -which she affected is known to tolerate, but not to invite, the society -of even the best of Americans. - -She was no larger than her environment. Her views upon and her attitude -toward the Americans were not created by her but for her. The fact that -James Brood had reached the inner shrine of French self-worship no doubt -put him in a class apart from all other Americans, so far as she was -concerned. At least it may account for an apparent inconsistency, in -that she married him without much hesitation. - -She welcomed the admiration and attention of the friends he brought to -the house by one means or another during the first few weeks. If she was -surprised to find them cultured, clever, agreeable specimens, she failed -to mention the discovery to him. They amused her and therefore served a -purpose. She charmed them in exchange for the tribute they paid to her. - -Those whom she liked the least she took no pains to please; in fact, she -endured them so politely that while they may have secretly resented her -indifference, they could do no less than openly profess admiration for -her. She offended no one, yet she managed with amazing adroitness to -rid herself of the bores. It happened, however, that the so-called bores -were the very people that Brood particularly wanted her to cultivate. -She found them stupid, but respectable. - -They were for ever telling her that she would like New York when she got -used to it. - -Her warmest friend and admirer--one might almost say slave--was Frederic -Brood. She had transformed him. He was no longer the silent, moody youth -of other days, but an eager, impetuous playmate, whose principal object -in life was to amuse her. If anyone had tried to convince him that -he could have regarded Mrs Desmond's dethronement and departure with -equanimity he would have protested with all the force at his command. -But that would have been a month ago! - -When the time came for his old friend to leave the house over which she -had presided for ten of the gentlest years of his life, his heart was -sore and his throat was tight with pain, but he accepted the inevitable -with a resignation that once would have been impossible. - -From the outset he realised that Mrs Desmond would have to go. At first -he rebelled within himself against the unspoken edict. Afterward he was -surprised to find that he regarded himself as selfish in even wishing -that she might stay, when it was so palpably evident that the situation -could not long remain pleasant for either Mrs Desmond or Mrs Brood. He -saw Lydia and her mother leave without the slightest doubt in his mind -that it was all for the best. - -The Desmonds took a small apartment just around the corner from Brood's -home, in a side street, and in the same block. Their windows looked down -into the courtyard in the rear of Brood's home. Frederic assisted them -in putting their new home in order. It was great fun for Lydia and him, -this building of what they were pleased to call “a nest.” - -Lydia may have seen the cloud in their sky, but he did not. To him the -world was bright and gladsome, without a shadow to mar its new beauty. -He was enthusiastic, eager, excited. She fell in with his spirit, but -her pleasure was shorn of some of its keenness by the odd notion that it -was not to endure. - -He even dragged Yvonne around to the little flat to expatiate upon its -cosiness with visual proof to support his somewhat exaggerated claims. -Her lazy eyes took in the apartment at a glance and she was done with -it. - -“It is very charming,” she said with her soft drawl. “Have you no -cigarettes, Lydia?” - -The girl flushed and looked to Frederic for relief. He promptly produced -his own cigarettes. Yvonne lighted one and then stretched herself in the -Morris chair. - -“You should learn to smoke,” she went on. - -“Mother wouldn't like me to smoke,” said Lydia rather bluntly. - -A faint frown appeared on Frederic's brow, only to disappear with -Yvonne's low, infectious laugh. - -“And Freddy doesn't like you to smoke either, _aïe?_” she said. - -“He may have changed his mind recently, Mrs Brood,” said the girl, -smiling so frankly that the edge was taken off of a rather direct -implication. - -“I don't mind women smoking,” put in Frederic hastily. “In fact, -I rather like it, the way Yvonne does it. It's a very graceful -accomplishment.” - -“But I am too clumsy to----” began Lydia. - -“My dear,” interrupted the Parisienne, carelessly flicking the ash into -a _jardinière_ at her elbow, “it is very naughty to smoke, and clumsy -women never should be naughty. If you really feel clumsy, don't, for my -sake, ever try to do anything wicked. There is nothing so distressing as -an awkward woman trying to be devilish.” - -“Oh, Lydia couldn't be devilish if she tried!” cried Frederic, with a -quick glance at the girl's half-averted face. - -“Don't say that, Frederic,” she cried. “That's as much as to say that I -_am_ clumsy and awkward.” - -“And you are not,” said Yvonne decisively. “You are very pretty and -graceful and adorable, and I am sure you could be very wicked if you set -about to do it.” - -“Thank you,” said Lydia dryly. - -“By the way, this window looks almost directly down into our courtyard,” - said Yvonne abruptly. She was leaning on her elbow, looking out upon the -housetops below. “There is my balcony, Freddy. And one can almost look -into your father's lair from where I sit.” - -She drew back from the window suddenly, a passing look of fear in her -eyes. It was gone in a second, and would have passed unnoticed but -for the fact that Frederic was, as usual, watching her face with rapt -interest. He caught the curious transition and involuntarily glanced -below. - -The heavy curtains in the window of his father's retreat were -drawn apart, and the dark face of Ranjab, the Hindu, was plainly -distinguishable. - -He was looking up at the window in which Mrs Brood was sitting. Although -Frederic was far above, he could see the gleaming white of the man's -eyes. The curtains fell quickly together and the gaunt, brown face was -gone. - -An odd feeling of uneasiness came over the young man. It was the feeling -of one who suddenly realises that he is being spied upon. He could -not account for the faint chill that ran through his body, leaving him -strangely cold and drear. - -What was the meaning of that intense scrutiny from his father's window? -Was Ranjab alone in the room? How did he happen to expose himself at -the very instant Yvonne appeared in the window above? These and other -questions raced through Frederic's puzzled brain. Out of them grew a -queer, almost uncanny feeling that the Hindu had called to her in the -still, mysterious voice of the East, and, although no sound had been -uttered, she had heard as plainly as if he actually had shouted to her -across the intervening space. - -He recalled the tales of the old men, in which they spoke of the -unaccountable swiftness with which news leaped across the unpopulated -deserts, far in advance of any material means of transmission. Along the -reaches of the Nile and in the jungles of India, weird instances of the -astonishing projection of thought across vast spaces were constantly -being reported. There was magic in the air. News travelled faster than -the swiftest steed, even faster than the engines of man, into the most -remote places, and yet there was no visible, tangible force behind the -remarkable achievement. - -His father had said more than once that the Hindu and the Egyptian -possessed the power to be in two distinct places at the same time. He -was wont to establish his theory by reciting the single instance of a -sick dragoman who had been left behind in a village on the edge of the -desert, with no means of crossing the vast stretch. And yet, when the -caravan reached its destination after a long but record-breaking -march, the man himself met them on the outskirts of the town with the -astonishing report that he was quite well and strong after a two weeks' -rest in his own house just inside of the city gates. - -How he had passed them on the desert, and how he had reached his home a -fortnight ahead of them, was one of the greatest mysteries James Brood -had ever sought to unravel. The man's presence there created no surprise -among the native members of the caravan. To them it was a most ordinary -thing. - -Again, in the depths of an Indian jungle Brood expressed the wish that -he had brought with him a certain rifle he had left at home. Not a man -left the camp, and yet at the end of the week a strange Hindu appeared -with the rifle, having traversed several hundred miles of practically -unexplored country in the time that would have been required to get the -message to Lahore by horse alone. - -James Brood, a sensible man, was a firm believer in magic. - -This much Frederic knew of Ranjab: if James Brood needed him, no matter -what the hour or the conditions, the man appeared before him as if out -of nowhere and in response to no audible summons. - -Was there, then, between these two, the beautiful Yvonne and the silent -Hindu, a voiceless pact that defied the will or understanding of either? - -He had not failed to note a tendency on her part to avoid the Hindu as -much as possible. She even confessed to an uncanny dread of the man, but -could not explain the feeling. Once she requested her husband to dismiss -the faithful fellow. When he demanded the reason, however, she could -only reply that she did not like the man and would feel happier if he -were sent away. Brood refused, and from that hour her fear of the Hindu -increased. - -Now she was speaking in a nervous hurried manner to Lydia, her back -toward the window. In the middle of a sentence she suddenly got up from -the chair and moved swiftly to the opposite side of the room, where she -sat down again as far as possible from the window. - -Frederic found himself watching her face with curious interest. All the -time she was speaking her eyes were fixed on the window. It was as -if she expected something to appear there. There was no mistaking -the expression. After studying her face in silence for a few minutes, -Frederic himself experienced an irresistible impulse to turn toward the -window. He half expected to see the Hindu's face there, looking in upon -them, a perfectly absurd notion when he remembered that they were at -least one hundred feet above the ground. - -Presently she arose to go. No, she could not wait for Mrs Desmond's -return. - -“It is charming here, Lydia,” she said, surveying the little -sitting-room with eyes that sought the window again and again in furtive -darts. “Frederic must bring me here often. We shall have cosy times -here, we three. It is so convenient, too, for you, my dear. You have -only to walk around the corner, and there you are--at your place of -business, as the men would say.” - -Lydia was to continue as Brood's amanuensis. He would not listen to any -other arrangement. - -“Oh, I do hope you will come, Mrs Brood!” cried the girl earnestly. “My -piano will be here to-morrow, and you shall hear Frederic play. He is -really wonderful.” - -“I'm the rankest duffer going, Yvonne,” broke in Frederic, but his eyes -were alight with pleasure. - -“You play?” asked Mrs Brood, regarding him rather fixedly. - -“He disappears for hours at a time,” said Lydia, speaking for him, “and -comes home humming fragments from--oh, but I am not supposed to tell! -Forgive me, Frederic. Dear me! What have I done?” She was plainly -distressed. - -“No harm in telling Yvonne,” said he, but uneasily. “You see, it's this -way: father doesn't like the idea of my going in for music. He is -really very much opposed to it. So I've been sort of stealing a march -on him--going up to a chum's apartment and banging away to my heart's -content. It's rather fun, too, doing it on the sly. Of course, if father -heard of it he'd--he'd--well, he'd be nasty about it, that's all.” - -“Nasty?” - -“He got rid of our own piano a long time ago, just because he doesn't -like music.” - -“But he does like music,” said Yvonne, her voice a little huskier than -usual. “In Paris we attended the opera, the concerts. I am sure he likes -music.” - -“I fancy it must have been my fault, then,” said Frederic wryly. “I was -pretty bad at it in those days.” - -“He will not let you have a piano in the house?” - -“I should say not!” - -She gave them a queer little smile. “We shall see,” she said, and that -was all. - -“I say, it would be great if you could get him to----” - -“I am sure he would like Frederic's music now, Mrs Brood,” Lydia broke -in eagerly. - -“What do you play--what do you like best, Frederic?” inquired Yvonne. - -“Oh, those wonderful little Hungarian things most of all; the plaintive -little melodies----” - -He stopped as she began to hum lightly the strains of one of Ziehrer's -jaunty waltzes. - -“By Jove, how did you guess? Why, it's my favourite. I love it, Yvonne!” - -“You shall play it for me--to-morrow, Lydia?” - -“Yes. The piano will be here in the morning.” - -“But how did you guess----” - -“Never mind! I am a witch, _aïe?_ Come! I must be off now, Frederic. -There are people coming to have tea with me.” - -As they descended in the elevator Frederic, unable to contain himself, -burst out rapturously: - -“By Jove, Yvonne, it will be fun, coming over here every day or so for a -little music, won't it? I can't tell you how happy I shall be.” - -“It is time you were happy,” said she, looking straight ahead, and many -days passed before he had an inkling of all that lay behind her remark. - -As they entered the house Jones met them in the hall. - -“Mr Brood telephoned that he would be late, madam. He is at the customs -office about the boxes.” - -She paused at the foot of the stairs. - -“How long has he been out, Jones?” - -“Since two o'clock, madam. It is now half-past four.” - -“There will be five or six in for tea, Jones. You may serve it in Mr -Brood's study.” - -“Yes, madam.” - -A look of surprise flitted across the butler's impassive face. For a -moment he had doubted his hearing. - -“And ask Ranjab to put away Mr Brood's writing materials and -reference-books.” - -“I shall attend to it myself, madam. Ranjab went out with Mr Brood.” - -“Went out!” exclaimed Yvonne. - -Frederic turned upon the butler. - -“You must be mistaken, Jones,” he said sharply. - -“I think not, sir. They went away together in the automobile. He has not -returned.” - -A long look of wonder and perplexity passed between young Brood and his -stepmother. - -She laughed suddenly and unnaturally. Without a word she started up the -stairs. He followed more slowly, his puzzled eyes fixed on the graceful -figure ahead. At the upper landing she stopped. Her hand grasped the -railing with rigid intensity. - -Ranjab emerged from the shadows at the end of the hall. He bowed very -deeply. - -“The master's books and papers 'ave been removed, madam. The study is in -order.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -The two old men, long since relegated to a somewhat self-imposed -oblivion, on a certain night discussed, as usual, the affairs of the -household in the privacy of their room on the third floor. Not, however, -without first convincing themselves that the shadowy Ranjab was nowhere -within range of their croaking undertones. From the proscribed regions -downstairs came the faint sounds of a piano and the intermittent chatter -of many voices. Someone was playing “La Paloma.” - -These new days were not like the old ones. Once they had enjoyed, even -commanded, the full freedom of the house. It had been their privilege, -their prerogative, to enter into every social undertaking that was -planned. They had come to regard themselves as hosts, or, at the very -least, guests of honour on such occasions. - -Not that the occasions were many where guests came to be entertained by -James Brood of old, but it seemed to be an accepted and quite agreeable -duty of theirs to convince the infrequent visitors that Brood's house -was really quite a jolly place, and that it would pay them to drop -in oftener. They had a joyous way of lifting the responsibility of -conversation from everyone else; and, be it said to their credit, there -was no subject on which they couldn't talk with decision and fluency, -whether they knew anything about it or not. - -And nowadays it was different. They were not permitted to appear when -guests were in the house. The sumptuous dinners, of which they heard -something from the servants, were no longer graced by their presence. -They were amazed, and not a little irritated, to learn, by listening at -the head of the stairs, that the unfortunate guests, whoever they were, -always seemed to be enjoying themselves. They couldn't understand how -such a condition was possible. - -They dined, to dignify the function somewhat, at least an hour before -the guests arrived, and then shuffled off to their little back room, -where they affected cribbage but indulged in something a great deal more -acrimonious. They said many harsh things about the new mistress of the -house. They could not understand what had come over James Brood. There -was a time, said they, when no one could have led him around by the -nose, and now he was as spineless as an angleworm. - -On nights when guests were expected they were not permitted to have a -drop of anything to drink, Mrs Brood declaring that she could not afford -to run the risk of having them appear in the drawing-room despite -the edict. They also had a habit of singing rather boisterously when -intoxicated, something about a girl in Bombay; or, when especially -happy, about a couple of ladies in Hottentot land who didn't mind the -heat. - -It was a matter of discretion, therefore, to lock up the spirits, and, -after a fashion, to lock up the old gentlemen as well. - -As a concession they were at liberty to invade the “retreat,” and to -make themselves at home among the relics. Guests were seldom, if -ever, taken up to Brood's room. Only the most intimate of friends were -admitted. Even the jade room, with all of its priceless treasures, was -closed to “outsiders,” for Brood had the idea that people as a rule did -not possess a great amount of intelligence. So it was usually quite -safe to allow Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs to run loose in the study, with the -understanding, of course, that they were not to venture beyond the top -of the stairs, and were not to smoke pipes. - -Brood had been working rather steadily at his journal during the past -two or three weeks. He had reached a point in the history where his own -memory was somewhat vague, and had been obliged to call upon his old -comrades to supply the facts. For several nights they had sat with him, -going over the scenes connected with their earliest acquaintance; those -black days in Calcutta. - -Lydia had brought over her father's notes and certain transcripts of -letters he had written to her mother before their marriage. The four of -them were putting these notes and narratives into chronological order. -Brood, after three months of married life and frivolity, suddenly had -decided to devote himself almost entirely to the completion of the -journal. - -He denied himself the theatre, the opera, and kindred features of -the passing show, and, as he preferred to entertain rather than to be -entertained, seldom found it necessary to go into the homes of other -people. Yvonne made no protest. She merely pressed Frederic into service -as an escort when she desired to go about, and thought nothing of it. -Whatever James Brood's views of this arrangement were, he appeared to -accept it good-naturedly. - -But the lines had returned to the corners of his mouth and the old, hard -look to his eyes. And there were times when he spoke harshly to his son; -times when he purposely humbled him in the presence of others without -apparent reason. - -On this particular night Yvonne had asked a few people in for dinner. -They were people whom Brood liked especially well, but who did not -appeal to her at all. As a matter of fact, they bored her. Yet she -was happy in pleasing him. When she told him that they were coming -he favoured her with a dry, rather impersonal smile and asked, with -whimsical good humour, why she chose to punish herself for the sins of -_his_ youth. - -She laid her cheek against his and purred. For a moment he held his -breath. Then the fire in his blood leaped into flame. He clasped the -slim, adorable body in his strong arms and crushed her against his -breast. She kissed him, and he was again the fierce, eager, unsated -lover. It was one of their wonderful, imperishable moments, moments that -brought oblivion. - -Then, as he frequently did of late, he held her off at arm's length -and searched her velvety eyes with a gaze that seemed to drag the very -secrets out of her soul. She went deathly white and shivered. He took -his hands from her shoulders and smiled. She came back into his arms -like a dumb thing seeking protection, and continued to tremble as if -frightened. - -When company was being entertained downstairs Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs, -with a fidelity to convention that was almost pitiful, invariably donned -their evening clothes. They considered themselves remotely connected -with the festivities, and, that being the case, the least they could do -was to “dress up.” - -Moreover, they dressed with great care and deliberation. There was -always the chance that they might be asked to come down; or, what was -even more important, Mrs Brood might happen to encounter them in the -upper hall, and in that event it was imperative that she should be made -to realise how stupid she had been. - -Usually at nine o'clock they strolled into the study and smoked one -of Brood's cigars with the gusto of real guests. It was their habit -to saunter about the room, inspecting the treasures with critical, -appraising eyes, very much as if they had never seen them before. They -even handled some of the familiar objects with an air of bewilderment -that would have done credit to a Cook's tourist. - -It was also a habit of theirs to try the doors of a large teakwood -cabinet in one corner of the room. The doors were always locked, and -they sighed with patient doggedness. Some time, they told themselves, -Ranjab would forget to lock those doors, and then---- - -“Joe,” said Mr Dawes, after he had tried the doors on this particular -occasion, “I made a terrible mistake in letting poor Jim get married -again. I'll never forgive myself.” He had said this at least a hundred -times during the past three months. Sometimes he cried over it. - -“Danbury, old pal, you must not take all the blame for that. I am as -much at fault as you, blast you!” Mr Riggs always ended his confession -with an explosion that fairly withered his friend and gave the lie to -his attempt at humility. - -“That's right,” snapped Mr Dawes; “curse me for it!” - -“Don't make so much noise.” - -“If you were ten years younger I'd--I'd----” blustered Dawes. - -“I wish Jack Desmond had lived,” mused the other, paying no attention to -the belligerent. “He would have put a stop to this fool marriage.” - -They sat down and pondered. - -“If Jim had to marry someone, why didn't he marry right here at home?” - demanded Dawes, turning fiercely on his friend. - -“Because,” said Riggs, with significant solemnity, “he is in the habit -of marrying away from home. Look at the first one. He married her, -didn't he? And see what came of it. He ought to have had more sense the -second time. But marrying men never do get any sense. They just marry, -that's all.” - -“Jim's getting mighty cranky of late,” ruminated Dawes, puffing away at -his unlighted cigar. “It's a caution the way he snaps Freddy off these -days. He--he hates that boy, Joe.” - -“_Sh--h!_ Not so loud!” - -“Confound you, don't you know a whisper when you hear it?” demanded -Dawes, who, in truth, had whispered. - -Another potential silence. - -“Freddy goes about with her a good deal more than he ought to,” said -Riggs at last. “They're together two-thirds of the time. Why--why, he -heels her like a trained dog. Playing the pianner morning, noon, and -night, and out driving, and going to the theatre, and----” - -“I've a notion to tell Jim he ought to put a stop to it,” said the -other. “It makes me sick.” - -“Jim'll do it without being told one o' these days, so you keep out of -it. Say, have you noticed how piqued Lydia's looking these times? She's -not the same girl, Dan; not the same girl. Something's wrong.” He shook -his head gloomily. - -“It's that dog-goned woman,” announced Dawes explosively, and then -looked over his shoulder with apprehension. A sigh of relief escaped -him. - -“She's got no business coming in between Lydia and Freddy,” said Riggs. -“Looks as though she's just set on busting it up. What can she possibly -have against poor little Lydia? She's good enough for Freddy. Too good, -by hokey! 'Specially when you stop to think.” - -“Now don't begin gossiping,” warned Dawes, glaring at him. “You're as -bad as an old woman.” - -“Thinking ain't gossiping, confound you! If I wanted to gossip I'd up -and say flatly that Jim Brood knows down in his soul that Freddy is no -son of his. He----” - -“You've never heard him say so, Joe.” - -“No; but I can put two and two together. I'm no fool.” - -“I'd advise you to shut up.” - -“Oh, you would, would you?” with vast scorn. “I'd like to know who it -was that talked to Mrs Desmond about it. Who put it into her head that -Jim doubts----” - -“Well, didn't she say I was a lying old busybody?” snapped Danbury -triumphantly. “Didn't she call me down, eh? I'd like to know what more -you could expect than that. Didn't she make me take back everything I -said?” - -“She did,” said Riggs with conviction. “And I believe she would have -thrashed you if she'd been a man, just as she said she would. And didn't -I advise her to do it, anyway, on the ground that you're an old woman -and----” - -“That's got nothing to do with the present case,” interrupted Dawes -hastily. “What we ought to be thinking about now is how to get rid of -this woman that's come in here to wreck our home. She's an interloper. -She's a foreigner. She----” - -“You must admit she treats us very politely,” said Riggs weakly. - -“Certainly she does. She has to. If she tried to come any of her -high-and-mighty--ahem! Yes, Joseph, I consider Mrs Brood the loveliest, -most charming----” - -“It was the wind blowing the curtain, Danbury,” said Riggs, -reassuringly. - -“As I was saying,” resumed his friend, “I'd tell her what I thought of -her almighty quick if she got uppish with me. The trouble is, she's -so darned careful what she says to my face. I've never seen anybody as -sweet as she is when she's with a feller. That all goes to prove that -she's sly and unnatural. No woman ever lived who could be sweet all the -time and still be as God made her. Why, she even comes up here and tries -to be sweet on that 'Great Gawd Budd' thing over there. I heard her ask -Ranjab one day why he never prostrated himself before the image.” - -“Well?” demanded Riggs, as the other paused. - -“She didn't have sense enough to know that Ranjab is a Brahmin, a -worshipper of Vishnu and Shiva. I also heard her say that you had been -so drunk up here one night that a lady fainted when she saw you sprawled -out on the couch. She thought you were dead.” - -“I haven't been drunk in ten years! What's more, I don't remember ever -having seen a strange woman in this room since I came here to visit Jim -Brood, twelve years ago. She must be crazy.” - -“She didn't say you saw the woman. She said the woman saw you,” said -Dawes witheringly. - -“No one ever thought of locking that cupboard until she came,” said -Riggs, abruptly altering the trend of speech but not of thought. His -gaze shifted to the cabinet. “Jim is like wax in her hands.” - -“He has no right to forget those days in Calcutta, when we shared our -grog with him. No, Joe, we're not good enough for him in these days. -She has bewitched him, poor devil. I've stuck to him like a brother for -twenty years--both of us have for that matter----” - -“Like twin brothers,” amended Joseph. - -“Exactly. We don't forget those old days in Tibet, Turkestan, the Congo, -the Sahara----” - -“I should say we don't! Who is really writing this book of his? Who -supplies all the most important facts? Who--who--well, that's all. Who?” - -“We do, old chap. But you'll find that we shan't have our names on the -title-page. She'll see to that. She'll have us shunted off like a -couple of deck-hands. Lydia can tell you how much of the material I have -supplied. She knows, bless her heart. You furnished a lot, too, Joe, and -John Desmond the rest.” - -“Oh, Jim has done his share.” - -“I'll admit he has done all of the writing. I don't pose as a literary -man.” - -“Seems to me he's sticking closer to the work than ever before,” mused -Riggs. “We ought to finish it by spring, the way we're going now.” - -“I still say, however, that he ought to put a stop to it.” - -“Stop to what?” - -“Her running around with Freddy. What else?” - -“No harm in it, is there?” - -“No; I suppose not,” the other reflected. “Still they're pretty young, -you know. Besides, she's French.” - -“So was Joan of Arc,” said his friend in rebuttal. - -Mr Dawes leaned a little closer. - -“I wonder how Mrs Desmond likes having her over there playing the piano -every afternoon with Freddy, while Lydia's over here copying things -for Jim and working her poor little head off. Ever stop to think about -that?” - -“I think about it all the time. And, by thunder, I'm not the only one -who does, either. Jim thinks a good deal, and so does Lydia. It's a -darned----” - -Mr Riggs happened to look up at that instant. Ranjab was standing in -front of him, his arms folded across his breast, in the habitual pose of -the Hindu who waits. The man was dressed in the costume of a high-caste -Brahmin; the commonplace garments of the Occident had been laid aside, -and in their place were the vivid, dazzling colours of Ind, from the -bejewelled sandals to the turban which crowned his swarthy brow and -gleamed with rubies and sapphires uncounted. - -Mr Riggs's mouth remained open as he stared blankly at this ghost of -another day. Not since the old days in India had he seen Ranjab in -native garb, and even then he was far from being the resplendent -creature of to-night, for Ranjab in his home land was a poor man and -without distinction. - -“Am I awake?” exclaimed Mr Riggs in such an awful voice that Mr Dawes -gave over staring at the cabinet and favoured him with an impatient kick -on the ankle. - -“I guess that'll wake you up if----” and then he saw the Hindu. “The -Ranjab!” - -Ranjab was smiling, and when he smiled his dark face was a joy to -behold. His white teeth gleamed and his sometime unfeeling eyes sparkled -with delight. He liked the two old men. They had stood, with Brood, -between him and grave peril far back in the old days when even the -faintest gleam of hope apparently had been blotted out. - -“Behold!” he cried, magnificently spreading his arms. “I am made -glorious! See before you the prince of magic! See!” - -With a swift, deft movement he snatched the half-smoked cigar from the -limp fingers of Mr Riggs and, first holding it before their blinking -eyes, tossed it into the air. It disappeared! - -“Well, of all the----” began Mr Riggs, sitting up very straight. His -eyes were following the rapid actions of the Hindu. Unlocking a drawer -in the big table, the latter peered into it and then beckoned the old -men to his side. There lay the cigar and beside it a much-needed match. - -“I don't want to smoke it,” said Mr Riggs, vigorously declining his -property. “The darned thing's bewitched.” Whereupon Ranjab took it out -of the drawer and again threw it into the air. Then he calmly reached -above his head and plucked a fresh cigar out of space, obsequiously -tendering it to the amazed old man, who accepted it with a sheepish -grin. - -“You haven't lost any of your old skill,” said Mr Dawes, involuntarily -glancing at his own cigar to make sure that he had it firmly gripped in -his stubby fingers. “You ought to be in a sideshow, Ranjab.” - -Ranjab paused, before responding, to extract a couple of billiard balls -and a small paper-knife from the lapel of Dawes's coat. - -“I am to perform to-night, _sahib_, for the mistress's guests. It is to -be--what you call him? A side-show? Ranjab is to do his tricks for her, -as the dog performs for his master.” - -The smile had disappeared. His face was an impenetrable mask once more. -Had their eyes been young and keen, however, they might have caught the -flash of anger in his. - -“Going to do all the old tricks?” cried Mr Riggs eagerly. “By George, -I'd like to see 'em again; wouldn't you, Dan? I'm glad we've got -our good clothes on. Now you see what comes of always being prepared -for----” - -“Sorry, _sahib_, but the master has request me to entertain you before -the guests come up. Coffee is to be served here.” - -“That means we'll have to clear out?” said Riggs slowly. - -“But see!” cried Ranjab, genuinely sorry for them. He became -enthusiastic once more. “See! I shall do them all--and better, too, for -you.” - -For ten minutes he astonished the old men with the mysterious feats of -the Indian fakir. They waxed enthusiastic. He grinned over the pleasure -he was giving them. Suddenly he whipped out a short, thin sword from its -scabbard in his sash. The amazing, incomprehensible sword-swallowing act -followed. - -“You see, Ranjab has not forgot,” he cried in triumph. “He have not lost -the touch of the wizard, _aih_.” - -“You'll lose your gizzard some day, doing that,” said Dawes grimly. “It -gives me the shivers.” - -Then, before their startled, horror-struck eyes, the Hindu coolly -plunged the glittering blade into his breast, driving it in to the hilt! - -“Good Lord!” shouted the two old men. - -Ranjab serenely replaced the sword in its scabbard. - -“It is not always the knife that finds the heart,” said he, so slowly, -so full of meaning, that even the old men grasped the significance of -the cryptic remark. - -“A feller can be fooled, no matter how closely he watches,” said Mr -Dawes, and he was not referring to the amazing sword trick. - -“No, sir,” said Mr Riggs, with gloomy irrelevance, “I don't like that -woman.” - -The old spell of the Orient had fallen upon the ancients. They were -hearing the vague whisperings of voices that came from nowhere, as they -had heard them years ago in the mystic silences of the East. - -“_Sh--h!_ One comes,” said Ranjab softly. “It will be the master's son.” - -An instant later his closet door closed noiselessly behind him and the -old men were alone, blinking at each other. There was no sound from -the hall. They waited, watching the curtained door. At last they heard -footsteps on the stairs, quick footsteps of the young. - -Frederic strode rapidly into the room. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -His face was livid with rage. For a moment he glowered upon the two -old men, his fingers working spasmodically, his chest heaving with the -volcanic emotions he was trying so hard to subdue. Then he whirled about -to glare into the hall. - -“In God's name, Freddy, what's happened?” cried Mr Riggs, all a-tremble. - -They had never seen him in a rage before. There had been occasions when -they had secretly criticised James Brood's treatment of the unhappy boy, -but from the youth himself there had come no complaint, only the hurt, -puzzled look of one who endures because an alternative does not suggest -itself. Intuitively the old men knew that his present condition was due -to something his father had said or done, and that it must have been -unusually severe to have provoked the wrath that he made no effort to -conceal. - -It was not in their honest old hearts to hold grievance against the -lad, notwithstanding his frequent periods of impatience where they were -concerned, periods when they were admittedly as much at fault as he, by -the way. Usually he made up for these lapses by a protracted season of -sweetness and consideration that won back not only their sympathy, but -the affection they had felt for him since his lonely boyhood days. - -Some minutes passed before he could trust himself to speak. Ugly veins -stood out on his pale temples as he paced the floor in front of them. -Eventually Mr Dawes ventured the vital question in a somewhat hushed -voice: - -“Have you--quarrelled with your father, Freddy?” - -The young man threw up his arms in a gesture of despair. There was a -wail of misery in his voice as he answered: - -“In the name of God, why should he hate me as he does? What have I done? -Am I not a good son to him?” - -“Hush!” implored Mr Dawes nervously. “He'll hear you.” - -“Hear me!” cried Frederic, and laughed aloud in his recklessness. “Why -shouldn't he hear me? I'll not stand it a day longer. He wouldn't think -of treating a dog as he treats me. I--I--why, he is actually forcing me -to hate him. I _do_ hate him! I swear to Heaven it was in my heart to -kill him down there just now. I------” He could not go on. He choked -up and the tears rushed to his eyes. Abruptly turning away, he threw -himself upon the couch and buried his face on his arms, sobbing like a -little child. - -The old men, distressed beyond the power of speech, mumbled incoherent -words of comfort as they slowly edged toward the door. They tiptoed into -the hall, and neither spoke until their bedroom door was closed behind -them. Mr Dawes even tried it to see that it was safely latched. - -“It's got to come,” said Mr Riggs, wiping his eyes but neglecting to -blow his nose--recollecting in good time the vociferous noise that -always attended the performance. “Yes, sir; it's bound to come. There's -going to be a smash, mark my words. It can't go on.” He sat down heavily -and stared rather pathetically at his friend, who was the picture of -lugubrious concern. - -“Yes, sir,” said Mr Dawes bleakly, “as sure as you're alive, Joey. That -boy's spunk is going to assert itself some day, and then--good Lord, -what then? He'll curse Jim to his teeth and--and Jim'll up and tell him -the truth. I--I don't know what will happen then.” - -Riggs swallowed hard--a gulping sound. - -“Freddy's the kind of a feller who'll kill himself, Danny. He's as high -strung as a harp. Something will snap. I hate to think of it. Poor lad! -It--it ain't his fault that things are not as they ought to be.” - -“If Jim Brood ever tells him he's no son of his, he'll break the boy's -heart.” - -“I'm not so sure of that,” said Riggs sagely. “Sometimes I think Freddy -would be darned glad to know it.” - -The curtains parted and Yvonne looked in upon the wretched Frederic. -There was a look of mingled pain and commiseration in her wide-open -eyes. For a moment she stood there regarding him in silence. Then -she swiftly crossed the room to the couch in the corner, where he sat -huddled up, his shoulders still shaking with the misery that racked him. - -Her eyes darkened into the hungry, yearning look of one who would gladly -share or assume all of the suffering of another whose happiness was dear -to her--the look of a gentle mother. The mocking, seductive gleam was -gone, and in its place was the glow of infinite pity. Her hand went out -to touch the tousled hair, but stopped before contact. Slowly she drew -back, with a glance of apprehension toward the door of the Hindu's -closet. An odd expression of alarm crept into her eyes. - -“Frederic,” she said softly, almost timorously. - -He lifted his head quickly and then sprang to his feet. His eyes were -wet and his lips were drawn. Shame possessed him. He tried to smile, but -it was a pitiful failure. - -“Oh, I'm so ashamed of--of----” he began in a choked voice. - -“Ashamed because you have cried?” she said quickly. “But no! It is good -to cry; it is good for men to cry. But when a strong man breaks down and -sheds tears, I am--oh, I am heartbroken. A woman's tears mean nothing, -but a man's? Oh, they are terrible! But come! You must compose yourself. -The others will be here in a few minutes. I ran away from them on the -pretext that I--but it is of no consequence. It is enough that I am -here. You must go to your room and bathe your face. Go at once. Your -father must not know that you have cried. He------” - -“Curse him!” came from between Frederic's clenched teeth. - -“Hush!” she cried, with another glance at Ranjab's door. She would have -given much to know whether the Hindu was there or still below-stairs. -“You must not say such----” - -“I will say it, Yvonne--I'll say it to his face! I don't care if the -others do see that I have been crying. I want them to know how he hurts -me, and I want them to hate him for it.” - -“For my sake, Frederic, calm yourself. I implore you to go to your room. -Come back later, but go now.” - -He was struck by the seriousness in her voice and manner. An ugly, -crooked smile writhed about the corners of his mouth. - -“I suppose you're trying to smooth it over so that they won't consider -him a brute. Is that it?” - -“Hush! Please, please! You know that my heart aches for you, _mon ami_. -It was cruel of him, it was cowardly--yes, cowardly! Now I have said -it!” She drew herself up and turned deliberately toward the little door -across the room. - -His eyes brightened. The crooked sneer turned into an imploring smile. - -“Forgive me, Yvonne! You must see that I'm beside myself. I--I------” - -“But you must be sensible. Remember he is your father. He is a strange -man. There has been a great deal of bitterness in his life. He------” - -“Have I been the cause of a moment's bitterness to him?” cried Frederic. -“Why should he hate me? Why------” - -“You are losing control of yourself again, Frederic.” - -“But I can't go on the way things are now. He's getting to be worse -than ever. I never have a kind word from him, seldom a word of any -description. Never a kind look. Can't you understand how it goads me -to------” - -“Yes, yes! You've said all this before, and I have listened to you when -I should have reminded you that he is my husband,” she said impatiently. - -“By Heaven, I don't see how you can love him!” he cried boldly. -“Sometimes I wonder if you do love him. He is as selfish, as unfeeling -as oh, there's no word for it. Why, in the name of God, did you ever -marry such a man? You couldn't have loved him.” Something in her -expression brought him up sharply. Her eyes had narrowed; they had the -look of a wary, hunted thing that has been driven into a corner. He -stared. “Forgive me, Yvonne. I--I------” - -“You don't know what you are saying,” she panted. “Are you accusing me?” - -“No, no! What a coward, what a dog I am!” he cried abjectly. - -A queer little smile stole into her face. It was even more baffling than -the expression it displaced. - -“I am your friend,” she said slowly. “Is this the way to reward me?” - -He dropped to his knees and covered her hands with kisses, mumbling his -plea for forgiveness. - -“I am so terribly unhappy,” he said over and over again. “I'd leave this -house to-night if it were not that I can't bear the thought of leaving -you, Yvonne. I adore you. You are everything in the world to me. -I------” - -“Get up!” she cried out sharply. He lifted his eyes in dumb wonder -and adoration, but not in time to catch the look of triumph that swept -across her face. - -“You will forgive me?” he cried, coming to his feet. “I--I couldn't help -saying it. It was wrong--wrong! But you _will_ forgive me, Yvonne?” - -She turned away, walking slowly toward the door. He remained rooted to -the spot, blushing with shame and dismay. - -“Where are you going? To tell _him?_” he gasped. - -She did not reply at once, but drew the _portières_ apart and peered -down the stairs beyond, her attitude one of tense anxiety. As she faced -him a smile of security was on her lips. She leaned gracefully against -the jamb of the door, her arms dropping to her sides. - -“Yes, I will forgive you,” she said calmly, and he realised in a -flash that the verdict would have been different if there had been -the remotest chance that his declaration was overheard. She would have -denied him. - -“I adore you, Yvonne,” he cried in low tones, striding swiftly toward -her, only to halt as he caught the smile of derision in her eyes. “I -don't mean it in the way you think. You are so good to me. You have -given me so much joy and happiness, and--and you understand me so well. -I could die for you, Yvonne. I _would_ die for you. It's not the kind of -love you are in the habit of commanding, you who are so glorious and so -beautiful. It's the love of a dog for his master.” - -She waited an instant, and then came toward him. He never could have -explained the unaccountable impulse that forced him to fall back a few -steps as she approached. Her eyes were gazing steadily into his, and her -red lips were parted. - -“That is as it should be,” she was saying, but he was never sure that he -heard the words. His knees grew weak. He was in the toils! “Now you must -pull yourself together,” she went on, in such a matter-of-fact tone that -he straightened up involuntarily. “Come! Wipe the tear-stains from your -cheeks.” - -He obeyed, but his lip still quivered with the rage that had been -checked by the ascendancy of another and even more devastating emotion. -She was standing quite close to him now, her slender figure swaying -slightly as if moved by some strange, rhythmic melody to which the heart -beat time. - -Her eyes were soft and velvety again, her smile tender and appealing. -The vivid white of her arms and shoulders seemed to shed a soft light -about her, so radiant was the sheen of the satin skin. Her gown was of -black velvet, cut very low, and with scarcely any ornamentation save -the great cluster of rubies at the top of her corsage. They gleamed like -coals of fire against the skin, which appeared to absorb and reflect -their warmth. - -There was a full red rose in her dark hair. She wore no ear-rings, -no finger-rings except the narrow gold band on her left hand. A wide, -exquisitely designed gold bracelet fitted tightly about her right -forearm, as if it had been welded to the soft white flesh. Yvonne's -ears were lovely; she knew better than to disfigure them. Her hands were -incomparably beautiful; she knew their full value unadorned. - -She moved closer to him and with deft fingers applied her tiny lace -handkerchief to his flushed cheeks and eyes, laughing audibly as she did -so; a low gurgle of infinite sweetness and concern. - -He stood like a statue, scarcely breathing, the veins in his throat -throbbing violently. - -“There!” she said, and deliberately touched the _mouchoir_ to her own -smiling lips before replacing it in her bodice next to the warm, soft -skin. “Lydia must not see that her big baby sweetheart has been crying,” - she went on, and if there was mockery in her voice it was lost on him. -He could only stare as if bereft of all his senses. - -“I have been thinking, Frederic,” she said, suddenly serious, “perhaps -it would be better if we were not alone when the others come up. Go at -once and fetch the two old men. Tell them I expect them here to witness -the magic. It appears to be a family party, so why exclude them? Be -quick!” - -He dashed off to obey her command. She lighted a cigarette at the table, -her unsmiling eyes fixed on the door to the Hindu's closet. Then, with -a little sigh, she sank down on the broad couch and stretched her supple -body in the ecstasy of complete relaxation. - -The scene at the dinner-table had been most distressing. Up to the -instant of the outburst her husband had been in singularly gay spirits, -a circumstance so unusual that the whole party wondered not a little. If -the others were vaguely puzzled by his high humour, not so Yvonne. She -understood him better than anyone else in the world; she read his mind -as she would have read an open book. - -There was riot, not joy, in the heart of the brilliant talker at the -head of the table. He was talking against the savagery that strained so -hard at its leash. - -At her right sat Frederic, at her left the renowned Dr Hodder, whose -feats at the operating table were vastly more successful than his -efforts at the dinner-table. He was a very wonderful surgeon, but -equally famous as a bore of the first rank. Yvonne could not endure him. -His jokes were antediluvian, and his laughter over them an abomination. - -He had an impression, as many famous men have, that the sole duty of a -dinner guest is to be funny in the loudest voice possible, drowning out -all competition, and to talk glowingly about the soup, as if nothing -else was required to convince the hostess that he considered her dinner -irreproachable and her cook a jewel. Still, it was agreed Dr Hodder was -a wonderful surgeon. - -Mrs Desmond and Lydia were there. (This was an excellent opportunity -to entertain them on an occasion of more or less magnitude.) There were -also present Bertie Gunning and his pretty wife, Maisie, both of whom -Yvonne liked; and the Followed sisters, with two middle-aged gentlemen -from one of the clubs. - -Miss Followed was forty, and proved it by cheerfully discussing events -that happened at least that far back in her life. Her sister Janey -was much younger, quite pretty, and acutely ingenuous. The middle-aged -gentlemen ate very little. They were going to a supper at the -Knickerbocker later on for someone whose name was Lilly. Occasionally it -was Lil. It rather gratified them to be chided about the lady. - -Frederic, deceived by his father's sprightly mood, entered rather -recklessly into the lively discussion. He seldom took his eyes from the -face of his beautiful stepmother, and many of his remarks were uttered -_sotto voce_ for her ear alone. - -Suddenly James Brood called out his name in a sharp, commanding tone. -Frederic, at the moment engaged in a low exchange of words with Yvonne, -did not hear him. Brood spoke again, loudly, harshly. There was dead -silence at the table. - -“We will excuse you, Frederic,” said he, a deadly calm in his voice. The -puzzled expression in the young man's face slowly gave way to a -steady glare of fury. He could not trust himself to speak. “I regret -exceedingly that you cannot take wine in moderation. A breath of fresh -air will be of benefit to you. You may join us upstairs later on.” - -“I haven't drunk a full glass of champagne,” began the young man in -amazed protest. - -Brood smiled indulgently, but there was a sinister gleam in his gray -eyes. “I think you had better take my advice,” he said. - -“Very well, sir,” said Frederic in a low, suppressed voice, his face -paling. Without another word he got up from the table and walked out of -the room. - -He spoke the truth later on when he told Yvonne that he could not -understand. But she understood. She knew that James Brood had endured -the situation as long as it was in his power to endure, and she knew -that it was her fault entirely that poor Frederic had been exposed to -this crowning bit of humiliation. - -As she sat in the dim study awaiting her stepson's reappearance with the -two old men, her active, far-seeing mind was striving to estimate the -cost of that tragic clash. Not the cost to herself or to Frederic, but -to James Brood! - -The Messrs Dawes and Riggs, inordinately pleased over the rehabitation, -were barely through delivering themselves of their protestations of -undying fealty when the sound of voices came up from the lower hall. -Frederic started to leave the room, not caring to face those who had -witnessed his unwarranted degradation. Yvonne hurried to his side. - -“Where are you going?” she cried sharply. - -“You cannot expect me to stay here----” - -“But certainly!” she exclaimed. “Listen! I will tell you what to do.” - -Her voice sank to an imperative whisper. He listened in sheer amazement, -his face growing dark with rebellion as she proceeded to unfold her plan -for a present victory over his father. - -“No, no! I can't do that! Never, Yvonne,” he protested. - -“For my sake, Freddy. Don't forget that you owe something to me. I -command you to do as I tell you. It is the only way. Make haste! Open -the window, get the breath of air he prescribed, and when they are all -here, _apologise for your condition!_” - -When Dr Hodder and Mrs Gunning entered the room a few minutes later -young Brood was standing in the open window, drinking in the cold night -air, and she was blithely regaling the blinking old men with an account -of her stepson's unhappy efforts to drink all the wine in sight! As she -told it, it was a most amusing experiment. - -James Brood was the last to enter, with Miss Followed. He took in the -situation at a glance. Was it relief that sprang into his eyes as he -saw the two old men? - -Frederic came down from the window, somewhat too swiftly for one who is -moved by shame and contrition, and faced the group with a well-assumed -look of mortification in his pale, twitching face. He spoke in low, -repressed tones, but not once did he permit his gaze to encounter that -of his father. - -“I'm awfully sorry to have made a nuisance of myself. It does go to my -head, and I--I dare say the heat of the room helped to do the work. I'm -all right now, however. The fresh air did me a lot of good. Hope you'll -all overlook my foolish attempt to be a devil of a fellow.” He hesitated -a moment and then went on, more clearly. “I'm all right now, father. It -shall not happen again, I can promise you that.” - -A close observer might have seen the muscles of his jaw harden as he -uttered the final sentence. He intended that his father should take it -as a threat, not as an apology. - -Brood was watching him closely, a puzzled expression in his eyes; -gradually it developed into something like admiration. In the clamour of -voices that ensued the older man detected the presence of an underlying -note of censure for his own behaviour. For the first time in many years -he experienced a feeling of shame. - -Someone was speaking at his elbow. Janey, in her young, -enthusiastic voice, shrilled something into his ear that caused him to -look at her in utter amazement. It was so astounding that he could not -believe he heard aright. He mumbled in a questioning tone, “I beg your -pardon,” and she repeated her remark. - -“How wonderfully like you Frederic is, Mr Brood.” Then she added: “Do -you know, I've never noticed it until to-night? It's really remarkable.” - -“Indeed,” Brood responded somewhat icily. - -“Don't you think so, Mr Brood?” - -“No, I do not, Miss Janey,” said he distinctly. - -“Maisie Gunning was speaking of it just a few minutes ago,” went on -the girl, unimpressed. “She says you are very much alike when you -are--are------” here she foundered in sudden confusion. - -“Intoxicated?” he inquired, without a smile. - -She blushed painfully. “No, no! When you are angry. There, I suppose I -shouldn't have said it, but------” - -“It is a most gratifying discovery,” said he, and turned to speak to -Mrs Desmond. He did not take his gaze from Frederic's white, set face, -however; and, despite the fact that he knew the girl had uttered an idle -commonplace, he was annoyed to find himself studying the features of -Matilde's boy with an interest that seemed almost laughable when he -considered it later on. - -His guests found much to talk about in the room. He was soon being -dragged from one object to another and ordered to reveal the history, -the use, and the nature of countless things that obviously were intended -to be just what they seemed; such as rugs, shields, lamps, and so forth. -He was ably assisted by Messrs Riggs and Dawes, who lied prodigiously in -a frenzy of rivalry. - -“What a perfectly delightful Buddha!” cried Miss Janey, stopping in -front of the idol. “How perfectly lovely he is--or is it a she, Mr -Brood?” - -He did not reply at once. His eyes were on Frederic and Yvonne, who had -come together at last and were conversing earnestly apart from the rest -of the group. He observed that Lydia was standing quite alone near the -table, idly handling a magazine. To the best of his recollection, -Frederic had scarcely spoken to the girl during the evening. - -“This is where I work and play and dream, Miss Janey, and practise the -ogre's art. It is a forbidden chamber, my sanctuary,”--with a glance at -the idol--“and here is where I sometimes chop off pretty young women's -heads and hang them from the window-ledge as a warning to all other -birds of prey.” - -Miss Janey laughed gleefully, attracting Yvonne's attention. Then she -sang out across the room: - -“Your husband says he is an ogre. Is he?” - -Yvonne came languidly toward them. - -“My husband manages to keep me in his enchanted castle without chains -and padlocks, and that is saying a great deal in this day and age, my -dear. Would you call him an ogre after that?” - -“Perhaps it is the old story of the fairy queen and the ogre.” - -“You may be sure I'd be an ogre if there was no other way of keeping -you, my dear,” said Brood. There was something in his voice that caused -her to look up into his face quickly. - -Dr Hodder, being a wonderful surgeon, managed to cut his finger with -a razor-edged kris at that instant, drawing a little shriek from Miss -Followed, to whom he was jocularly explaining that scientific Malays -used the thing in removing one another's appendices, the surgeon being -the one who survived the operation. - -During the excitement incident to the bloodletting the middle-aged -gentlemen glanced furtively at their watches and indulged in a mental -calculation from which they emerged somewhat easier in their minds. It -still wanted an hour before the theatres were out. - -“Dreadful bore,” yawned one of them behind his hand. - -“Stupidest woman I ever sat next to,” said the other, - -Then both looked at their watches again. - -Frederic joined Lydia at the table. - -“A delicious scene, wasn't it?” he asked bitterly in lowered tones. - -Her fingers touched his. - -“What did he mean, Freddy? Oh, I felt so sorry for you. It was -dreadful.” - -“Don't take it so seriously, Lyddy,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. -Both of them realised that it was the nearest thing to a caress that -had passed between them in a fortnight or longer. A wave of shame swept -through him. “Dear old girl--my dear old girl,” he whispered brokenly. - -Her eyes radiated joy, her lips parted in a wan, tremulous smile of -surprise, and a soft sigh escaped them. - -“My dear, dear boy,” she murmured, and was happier than she had been in -weeks. - -“See here, old chap,” said one of the middle-aged gentlemen, again -consulting his watch as he loudly addressed his host, “can't you hurry -this performance of yours along a bit? It is after ten, you know.” - -“A quarter after,” said the other middle-aged gentleman. - -“I will summon the magician,” said Brood. “Be prepared, ladies and -gentlemen, to meet the devil. Ranjab is the prince of darkness.” - -He lifted his hand to strike the gong that stood near the edge of the -table. - -Involuntarily four pairs of eyes fastened their gaze upon the door to -the Hindu's closet. Three mellow, softly reverberating “booms” filled -the room. Almost instantly the voice of the Hindu was heard. - -“_Aih, sahib!_” - -He came swiftly into the room from the hall, and not from his closet. -The look of relief in Yvonne's eyes was short-lived. She saw amazement -in the faces of the two old men--and knew! - -“After we have had the feats of magic,” Brood was saying, “Miss Desmond -will read to you, ladies and gentlemen, that chapter of our journal----” - -“My word!” groaned both of the middle-aged gentlemen, looking at their -watches. - -“Relating to----” - -“You'll have to excuse me, Brood, really, you know. Important engagement -up-town----” - -“Sit down, Cruger,” exclaimed Hodder. “The lady won't miss you.” - -“Relating to our first encounter with the great and only Ranjab,” - pursued Brood oracularly. “We found him in a little village far up in -the mountains. He was under the sentence of death for murder. By the -way, Yvonne, the kris you have in your hand is the very weapon the good -fellow used in the commission of his crime. He was in prison and was -to die within a fortnight after our arrival in the town. I heard of his -unhappy plight and all that had led up to it. His case interested -me tremendously. One night, a week before the proposed execution, my -friends and I stormed the little prison and rescued him. We were just -getting over the cholera and needed excitement. That was fifteen years -ago. He has been my trusted body-servant ever since. I am sure you will -be interested in what I have written about that thrilling adventure.” - -Yvonne had dropped the ugly knife upon the table as if it were a thing -that scorched her fingers. - -“Did he--really kill a man?” whispered Miss Janey with horror in her -eyes. - -“He killed a woman. His wife, Miss Janey. She had been faithless, you -see. He cut her heart out. And now, Ranjab, are you ready?” - -The Hindu salaamed. - -“Ranjab is always ready, _sahib_,” said he. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -The next day, after a sleepless night, Frederic announced to his -stepmother that he could no longer remain under his father's roof. -He would find something to do in order to support himself. It was -impossible to go on pretending that he loved or respected his father, -and the sooner the farce was ended the better it would be for both of -them. - -She, too, had passed a restless night. She slept but little. It was a -night filled with waking dreams as well as those which came in sleep. -There was always an ugly, wriggly kris in those dreams of hers, and a -brown hand that was for ever fascinating her with its uncanny deftness. - -Twice in the night she had clutched her husband's shoulder in the terror -of a dream, and he had soothed her with the comfort of his strong arms. -She crept close to him and slept again, secure for the moment against -the sorcery that haunted her. He had been surprised, even gratified, -when she came into his room long after midnight, to creep shivering into -his bed. She was like a little child “afraid of the dark.” - -Her influence alone prevented the young man from carrying out his -threat. At first he was as firm as a rock in his determination. He was -getting his few possessions together in his room when she tapped on -his door. After a while he abandoned the task and followed her rather -dazedly to the boudoir, promising to listen to reason. For an hour she -argued and pleaded with him, and in the end he agreed to give up what -she was pleased to call his preposterous plan. - -“Now, that being settled,” she said with a sigh of relief, “let us go -and talk it all over with Lydia.” - -“I'd--I'd rather not, Yvonne,” he said, starting guiltily. “There's no -use worrying her with the thing now. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer -that she--well, somehow I don't like the idea of explaining matters to -her.” - -“There's nothing to explain.” - -He looked away. He realised that he could not explain the thing even to -himself. - -“Well, then, I don't want her to know that I thought of leaving,” he -supplemented. “She wouldn't understand.” - -“No?” - -“She's so open and above-board about everything,” he explained -nervously. - -“It has seemed to me of late, Frederic, that you and Lydia are not quite -so--what shall I say?--so enamoured of each other. What has happened?” - she inquired so innocently, so naïvely, that he looked at her in -astonishment. She was watching him narrowly. “I am sure you fairly live -at her house. You are there nearly every day, and yet--well, I can feel -rather than see the change in both of you. I hope------” - -“I've been behaving like an infernal sneak, Yvonne!” cried he, -conscience-stricken. “She's the finest, noblest girl in all this world, -and I've been treating her shamefully.” - -“Dear me! In what way, may I inquire?” - -“Why, we used to--oh, but why go into all that? It would only amuse you. -You'd laugh at us for silly fools. But I can't help saying this much: -she doesn't deserve to be treated as I'm treating her now, Yvonne. It's -hurting her dreadfully, and----” - -“What have you been doing that she should be so dreadfully afflicted?” -she cried ironically. - -“I've been neglecting her, ignoring her, -humiliating her, if you will force me to say it,” he said firmly. “Good -Lord, if anyone had told me three months ago that I'd ever be guilty of -giving Lydia an instant's pain, I'd--I'd------” - -“You would do what?” - -“Don't laugh at me, Yvonne,” he cried miserably. - -She became serious at once. “Do you still love her?” - -“Yes! Yes!” he shouted, as if there was some necessity for convincing -himself as well as his listener. - -“And she loves you?” - -“I--I--certainly! At least I think she does,” he floundered. His -forehead was moist and cold. - -“Then why this sudden misgiving, this feeling of doubt, this -self-abasement?” - -“I don't understand it myself,” he said rather bleakly. “I--I give you -my word, I don't know what has come over me. I'm not as I used to be. -I'm------” - -She laughed softly. “I'm afraid you are seeing too much of your poor -stepmother,” she said. - -His eyes narrowed. - -“You've made me over, that's true. You've made all of us over--the house -as well. I am not happy unless I am with you. It used to make me happy -to be with Lydia--and we were always together. But I--I don't care -now--at least, I am not unhappy when we are apart. You've done it, -Yvonne. You've made life worth living. You've made me see everything -differently. You------” - -She stood up, facing him. She appeared to be frightened. - -“Are you trying to tell me that you are in love with me?” she demanded, -and there was no longer mockery or raillery in her voice. - -His eyes swept her from head to foot. He was deathly white. - -“If you were not my father's wife I would say yes,” said he hoarsely. - -“Do you know what it is that you have said?” she asked, suddenly putting -her hands to her temples. Her eyes were glowing like coals. - -He was silent. - -“You are a dear boy, Frederic, but you are a foolish one,” she went on, -the smile struggling back to her eyes. - -“I suppose you'll send me away after--what I've said,” he muttered -dully. - -“Not at all!” she laughed. “I shall pay no attention to such nonsense. -You are an honest fool, and I don't blame you. Wiser men than you have -fallen in love with me, so why not you? I like you, Freddy; I like you -very, very much. I------” - -“You like me because I am his son!” he cried hotly. - -“If you were not his son I should despise you,” she said deliberately, -cruelly. He winced. “There, now; we've said enough. You must be -sensible. You will discover that I am _very, very_ sensible. I have been -sorry for you. It may hurt you to have me say that I pity you; but I do. -You do not love me, Freddy. You are fooling yourself. You are like all -boys when they lose their heads and not their hearts. It is Lydia whom -you love, not I. You have just told me so.” - -“Before Heaven, Yvonne, I _do_ love her. That's what I cannot understand -about myself.” He was pacing the floor. - -“But _I_ understand,” she said quietly. “Now go away, please. And don't -let me hear another word about your leaving your father's house. You are -not to take that step until I command you to go. Do you understand?” - -He stared at her in utter bewilderment for a moment, and slowly nodded -his head. Then he turned abruptly toward the door, shamed and humiliated -beyond words. - -As he went swiftly down the stairs his father came out upon the landing -above and leaned over the railing to watch his descent. A moment later -Brood was knocking at Yvonne's door. He did not wait for an invitation -to enter, but strode into the room without ceremony. - -She was standing at the window that opened out upon the little stone -balcony, and had turned swiftly at the sound of the rapping. Surprise -gave way to an expression of displeasure. - -“What has Frederic been saying to you?” demanded her husband curtly, -after he had closed the door. - -A faint sneer came to her lips. - -“Nothing, my dear James, that you would care to know,” she said, -smouldering anger in her eyes. - -“You mean something that I _shouldn't_ know,” he said sternly. - -“Are you not forgetting yourself, James?” - -“I beg your pardon. I suppose the implication was offensive.” - -“It was. You have no right to pry into my affairs, James, and I shall be -grateful to you if you will refrain from doing so again.” - -He stared at her incredulously. - -“Good Lord! Are you trying to tell me what I shall do or say------” - -“I am merely reminding you that I am your wife, not your------” She did -not deem it necessary to complete the sentence. - -“You are content to leave a good deal to my imagination, I see.” He -flushed angrily. - -She came up to him slowly. - -“James, we must both be careful. We must not quarrel.” Her hands grasped -the lapels of his long lounging robe. There was an appealing look in -her eyes that checked the harsh words even as they rose to his lips. He -found himself looking into those dark eyes with the same curious wonder -in his own that had become so common of late. Time and again he had been -puzzled by something he saw in their liquid depths, something that he -could not fathom, no matter how deeply he probed. - -“What is there about you, Yvonne, that hurts me--yes actually hurts -me--when you look at me as you're looking now?” he cried almost roughly. - -“We have been married a scant four months,” she said gently. “Would you -expect a woman to shed her mystery in so short a time as that?” - -“There is something in your eyes------” he began, and shook his head in -utter perplexity. “You startle me once in a while. There are times -when you seem to be looking at me through eyes that are not your own. -It's--it's--quite uncanny. If you------” - -“I assure you my eyes are all my own,” she cried flippantly, and yet -there was a slight trace of nervousness in her manner. “Do you intend to -be nice and good and reasonable, James? I mean about poor Frederic.” - -His face clouded again. - -“Do you know what you are doing to that boy?” he asked bluntly. - -“Quite as well as I know what you are doing to him,” she replied -quickly. - -He stiffened. “Can't you see what it is coming to?” - -“Yes. He was on the point of leaving your house, never to come back to -it again. That's what it is coming to,” she said. - -“Do you mean to say------” - -“He was packing his things to go away to-day------” - -“Why--why, he'd starve!” cried the man, shaken in spite of himself. “He -has never done a day's labour; he doesn't know how to earn a living. -He------” - -“And who is to blame? You, James; you! You have tied his hands, you have -penned him up in------” - -“We will not go into that,” he interrupted coldly. - -“Very well. As you please. I said that he was going away, perhaps to -starve, but he has changed his mind. He has taken my advice.” - -“Your advice?” - -“I have advised him to bide his time.” - -“It sounds rather ominous.” - -“If he waits long enough you may discover that you love him and his -going would give you infinite pain. Then is the time for him to go.” - -“Good Heaven!” he cried in astonishment. “What a remarkable notion of -the fitness------” - -“That will be his chance to repay you for all that you have done for -him, James,” said she, as calm as a May morning. - -“Have I ever said that I do not love him?” he demanded shortly. - -“For that matter, have you ever said that you do not hate him?” - -“By Jove, you are a puzzle to me!” he exclaimed, and a fine moisture -came out on his forehead. - -“Let the boy alone, James,” she went on earnestly. “He is------” - -“See here, Yvonne,” he broke in sternly, “that is a matter we can't -discuss. You do not understand, and I cannot explain certain things to -you. I came here just now to ask you to be fair to him, even though I -may not appear to be. You are------” - -“That is also a matter we cannot discuss,” said she calmly. - -“But it is a thing we are going to discuss, just the same,” said he. -“Sit down, my dear, and listen to what I have to say. Sit down!” - -For a moment she faced him defiantly. He was no longer angry, and -therein lay the strength that opposed her. She could have held her -own with him if he had maintained the angry attitude that marked the -beginning of their interview. As it was, her eyes fell after a brief -struggle against the dominant power in his, and she obeyed, but not -without a significant tribute to his superiority in the shape of an -indignant shrug. - -“No one has ever lectured me before, James,” she said, affecting a yawn. -“It will be a new and interesting experience.” - -“And I trust a profitable one,” said he rather grimly. “I shouldn't call -it a lecture, however. A warning is better.” - -“That should be more thrilling, in any event.” - -He took one of her hands in his and stroked it gently, even patiently. - -“I will come straight to the point. Frederic is falling in love with -you. Wait! I do not blame him. He cannot help himself. No more could I, -for that matter, and he has youth, which is a spur that I have lost. I -have watched him, Yvonne. He is--to put it cold-bloodedly--losing his -head. Leaving me out of the question altogether, if you choose, do you -think you are quite fair to him? I am not disturbed on your account or -my own, but--well, can't you see what a cruel position we are likely to -find ourselves------” - -“Just a moment, James,” she interrupted, sitting up very straight in -the chair and meeting his gaze steadfastly. “Will you spare me the -conjectures and come straight to the point as you have said? The -warning, if you please.” - -He turned a shade paler. - -“Well,” he began deliberately, “it comes to this, my dear: one or the -other of you will have to leave my house if this thing goes on.” - -She shot a glance of incredulity at his set face. Her body became rigid. - -“Do you know what you are saying?” - -“Yes.” - -“You would serve me as you served his real mother more than twenty years -ago?” - -“The cases are not parallel,” said he, wincing. - -“You drove her out of your house, James.” - -“I have said that we cannot discuss------” - -“But I choose to discuss it,” she said firmly. “The truth, please. You -drove her out?” - -“She made her bed, Yvonne,” said he huskily. - - “Did you warn her -beforehand?” - -“It--it wasn't necessary.” - -“What was her crime?” - -“Good God, Yvonne! I can't allow------” - -“Was it as great as mine?” she persisted. - -“Oh, this is ridiculous. I------” - -“Did she leave you cheerfully, gladly, as I would go if I loved another, -or did she plead with you--oh, I know it hurts! Did she plead with you -to give her a chance to explain? Did she?” - -“She was on her knees to me,” he said, the veins standing out on his -temples. - -“On her knees to you? Begging? For what? Forgiveness?” - -“No! She was like all of her kind. She was innocent! Ha, ha!” - -Yvonne arose. She stood over him like an accusing angel. - -“And to this day, James Brood, to this very hour, you are not certain -that you did right in casting her off!” - -“Oh, I say!” He sprang to his feet. - -“You have never really convinced yourself that she was untrue to you, in -spite of all that you said and did at the time.” - -“You are going too far! I------” - -“All these years you have been trying to close your ears to the voice -of that wretched woman, and all these years you have been -wondering--wondering--wondering! You have been mortally afraid, my -husband.” - -“I tell you, I was certain--I was sure of------” - -“Then why do you still love her?” - -He stared at her open-mouthed, speechless. - -“Why do you still love her?” - -“Are you mad?” he gasped. “Good God, woman, how can you ask that -question of me, knowing that I love you with all my heart and soul? -How------” - -“With all your heart, yes! But with your soul? No! That other woman has -your soul. I have heard your soul speak, and it speaks of her--yes, to -her!” - -“In God's name, what------” - -“Night after night, in your sleep, James Brood, you have cried out to -'Matilde.' You have sobbed out your love for her, as you have been doing -for twenty years or more. In your sleep your soul has been with her. -With me at your side, you have cried on 'Matilde'! You have passed your -hand over my face and murmured 'Matilde'! Not once have you uttered the -word 'Yvonne'! And now you come to me and say: 'We will come straight -to the point'! Well, now you may come straight to the point. But do not -forget, in blaming me, that you love another woman!” - -He was petrified. Not a drop of blood remained in his face. - -“Is this true, this that you are telling me?” he cried, dazed and -shaken. - -“You need not ask. Call upon your dreams for the answer, if you must -have one.” - -“It is some horrible, ghastly delusion. It cannot be true. Her name has -not passed my lips in twenty years. It is not mentioned in my presence. -I have not uttered that woman's name------” - -“Then how should I know her name? Her own son does not know it, I firmly -believe. No one appears to know it except the man who says he despises -it.” - -“Dreams! Dreams!” he cried scornfully. “Shall I be held responsible for -the unthinkable things that happen in dreams?” - -“No,” she replied significantly; “you should not be held accountable. -She must be held accountable. You drove out her body, James, but not her -spirit. It stands beside you every instant of the day and night. By day -you do not see her; by night--ah, you tremble! Well, she is dead, they -say. If she were still alive I myself might tremble, and with cause.” - -“Before God, I love you, Yvonne. I implore you to think nothing of my -maunderings in sleep. They--they may come from a disordered brain. God -knows there was a time when I felt that I was mad, raving mad. These -dreams are----” - -To his surprise she laid her hand gently on his arm. - -“I pity you sometimes, James. My heart aches for you. You are a man--a -strong, brave man, and yet you shrink and cringe when a voice whispers -to you in the night. You sleep with your doubts awake. Yes, yes, I -believe you when you say that you love me. I am sure that you do; but -let me tell you what it is that I have divined. It is Matilde that you -are loving through me. When you kiss me there is in the back of your -mind somewhere the thought of kisses that were given long ago. When you -hold me close to you it is the body of Matilde that you feel, it is her -breath that warms your cheeks. I am Matilde, not Yvonne, to you. I am -the flesh on which that starved love of yours feeds; I represent the -memory of all that you have lost; I am the bodily instrument.” - -“This is--madness!” he exclaimed, and it was not only wonder that filled -his eyes. There was a strange fear in them, too. - -“I do not expect you to admit that all this is true, James,” she went -on patiently. “You will confess one day that I am right, however; to -yourself, if not to me. If the time should ever come when I give to you -a child------” She shivered and turned her eyes away from his. - -He laid an unsteady hand upon the dark head. “There, there,” he murmured -brokenly. - -“It would be Matilde's child to you,” she concluded, facing him again -without so much as a quaver in her voice, she spoke calmly, as if the -statement were the most commonplace remark in the world. - -“Good Heaven, Yvonne!” he exclaimed, drawing back in utter dismay. “You -must compose yourself. This is------” - -“I am quite myself, James,” she said coolly. “Can you deny that you -think of her when you hold me in your arms? Can you------” - -“Yes!” he almost shouted. “I can and do deny!” - -“Then you are lying to yourself, my husband,” she said quietly. - -He fairly gasped. - -“Good God! What manner of woman are you?” he cried hoarsely. “A -sorceress? A--but no, it is not true!” - -She smiled. “All women are sorceresses. They feel. Men only think. Poor -Frederic! You try to hate him, James, but I have watched you when you -were not aware. You search his face intently, almost in agony--for -what? For the look that was his mother's--for the expression you loved -in------” - -He burst out violently. - -“No! By Heaven, you are wrong there! I am not looking for Matilde in -Frederic's face.” - -“For his father, then?” she inquired slowly. - -The perspiration stood out on his brow. He made no response. His lips -were compressed. - -“You have uttered her name at last,” she said wonderingly, after a long -wait for him to speak. - -Brood started. “I--I--oh, this is torture!” - -“We must mend our ways, James. It may please you to know that I shall -overlook your mental faithlessness to me. You may go on loving Matilde. -She is dead. I am alive. I have the better of her there, _aïe?_ The -day will come when she will be dead in every sense of the word. In the -meantime, I am content to enjoy life. Frederic is quite safe with me, -James; very much safer than he is with you. And now let us have peace. -Will you ring for tea?” - -He sat down abruptly, staring at her with heavy eyes. She waited for a -moment and then crossed over to pull the old-fashioned bell-cord. - -“We will ask Lydia and Frederic to join us, too,” she said. “It shall be -a family party, the five of us.” - -“Five?” he muttered. - -“Yes,” she said, without a smile. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A fortnight passed. Yvonne held the destiny of three persons in her -hand. They were like figures on a chess-board, and she moved them with -the sureness, the unerring instinct of any skilled disciple of the -philosopher's game. They were puppets; she ranged them about her stage -in swift-changing pictures, and applauded her own effectiveness. There -were no rehearsals. The play was going on all the time, whether tragedy, -comedy, or chess. - -Brood's uneasiness increased. His moody eyes were seldom lifted to meet -the question that he knew lurked in hers. She had given him a tremendous -shock. There was seldom a moment in which he was not making strange -inquiries of himself. - -Was it possible that she had spoken the truth about him? Could such -a condition of mind exist without his knowledge? Was this love he -professed to feel for her but the flame springing into life from those -despised embers of long ago? Was it true that his inner self, his -subconscious being, recognised no other claim to his love than the one -held so insecurely by its original possessor? Was it true that his soul -went back to her the instant slumber came to close up the gap of years? - -This strange, new wife of his had uttered amazing words; she had spoken -without rancour; she had called his dreams to life; she had told him how -he lived while asleep! - -He arose in the mornings, haggard from lack of reposeful sleep. In a -way, he slept with one ear open, constantly striving to catch himself -with the dream-name on his lips. He would awake with a start many times -in the night, and always there seemed to be the vague, ghostlike -whisper of a name dying away in the stillness that greeted his return to -wakefulness. - -Now he confessed to himself that his dreams were of Matilde, as they -had been during all the years. Heretofore they had been mere impressions -upon his intelligence, and seldom remembered. They did not represent -pictures or incidents in which she appeared as a potent factor, but -brief monodies, with her name as the single note, her face a passing, -yet impressive, vision. He had not realised how frequent, how real these -dreams were until now. - -He sometimes lay perfectly still after these awakenings, wondering if -Yvonne was listening at his closed door, straining his ears for the -sound of a creaking board that would betray her presence as she stole -back to her own bed. - -What surprised and puzzled him most was her serenity in the face of -these involuntary revelations. She did not appear to be disturbed by the -fact that his dreams, his most secret thoughts, were of another woman. -There was nothing in her manner to indicate that she suffered any of the -pangs of jealousy, humiliation, dismay, or doubt that might reasonably -have been expected under the circumstances. She seemed to put the matter -entirely out of her mind as trivial, unimportant, unvexing. He found -himself wondering what his own state of mind would be if the conditions -were reversed and it was she who cried out in her sleep. - -Frederic was alert, shifty, secretive. He knew himself to be the link in -the chain that would offer the least resistance of any if it came to the -question of endurance. He realised that the slightest tug at the chain -would cause it to snap, and that the break would never be repaired. His -stepmother for the present fortified the weak spot in the chain; but -would her strength be sufficient to support the strain that was to be -imposed upon both links in the end? - -He watched her like a hawk, ever on the lookout for the slightest -signs of commendation, reproof, warning, encouragement. She alone stood -between him and what appeared to be the inevitable. The truce was a mask -that hid none of the real features of the situation. When would it be -discarded? - -After that illuminating hour in her boudoir he saw himself in a far from -noble position. The situation was no longer indefinite. He had taken a -step that could not be recalled. His loyalty to Lydia had been tested, -and the sickening truth came out--he was a traitor! He knew in his soul -that he loved the girl. His conscience told him so. But his conscience -suddenly had become an elastic thing that stretched over a pretty wide -scope of emotions. These he tried to analyse and, failing to do so with -credit to himself, settled back into a state of apathy better described -as sullen self-pity. He even went so far as to blame his father for the -new blight that had been put upon him. - -Of the three, Lydia alone faced the situation with courage. She was -young, she was good, she was inexperienced, but she saw what was -going on beneath the surface with a clarity of vision that would have -surprised an older and more practised person; and, seeing, was favoured -with the strength to endure pain that otherwise would have been -insupportable. - -She knew that Frederic was infatuated. She did not try to hide the truth -from herself. The boy she loved was slipping away from her, and only -chance could set his feet back in the old path from which he blindly -strayed. Her woman's heart told her that it was not love he felt for -Yvonne. The strange mentor that guides her sex out of the ignorance of -youth into an understanding of hitherto unpresented questions revealed -to her the nature of his feeling for this woman. - -He would come back to her in time, she knew, chastened; the same instinct -that revealed his frailties to her also defended his sense of honour. -The unthinkable could never happen! - -She judged Yvonne, too, in a spirit of fairness that was amazing, -considering the lack of perspective that must have been hers to contend -with. Despite a natural feeling of antagonism, present even before she -saw the new wife of James Brood, and long before her influence affected -Brood's son, Lydia found herself confronted by a curious faith in -Yvonne's goodness of heart. It never entered the girl's mind to question -the honour of this woman--no more than she would have questioned her -own. - -Vanity, love of admiration, the inherent fear of retrogression, greed -for attention--any one of these might have been responsible for her -conduct covering the past three months. There was certainly a reckless -disregard for consequences on her part so far as others--notably -Frederic--were concerned. She could not be blind to his plight, and -yet it was her pleasure to drag him out beyond his depth where he might -struggle or drown while she, sirenlike, looked on for the moment and -then turned calmly to the more serious business of combing her hair. - -Her mother saw the suffering in the girl's eyes, but saw also the proud -spirit that would have resented sympathy from one even so close as she. -Down in the heart of that quiet, reserved mother smouldered a hatred for -Yvonne Brood that would have stopped at nothing had it been in her power -to inflict punishment for the wrong that was being done. She, too, saw -tragedy ahead, but her vision was broader than Lydia's. It included the -figure of James Brood. - -Lydia worked steadily, almost doggedly, at the task she had undertaken -to complete for the elder Brood. Every afternoon found her seated at -the desk in the study opposite the stern-faced man who laboured with her -over the seemingly endless story of his life. Something told her that -there were secret chapters which she was not to write. She wrote those -that were to endure; the others were to die with him. - -He watched her as she wrote, and his eyes were often hard. He saw the -growing haggardness in her gentle, girlish face; the wistful, puzzled -expression in her dark eyes. A note of tenderness crept into his voice -and remained there through all the hours they spent together. -The old-time brusqueness disappeared from his speech; the sharp, -authoritative tone was gone. He watched her with pity in his heart, for -he knew it was ordained that one day he, too, was to hurt this loyal, -pure-hearted creature even as the others were wounding her now. - -He frequently went out of his way to perform quaint little acts of -courtesy and kindness that would have surprised him only a short time -before. He sent theatre and opera tickets to Lydia and her mother. He -placed bouquets of flowers at the girl's end of the desk, obviously for -her alone. He sent her home--just around the corner--in the automobile -on rainy or blizzardy days. - -But he never allowed her an instant's rest when it came to the work in -hand, and therein lay the gentle shrewdness of the man. She was better -off busy. There were times when he studied the face of Lydia's mother -for signs that might show how her thoughts ran in relation to the -conditions that were confronting all of them. But more often he searched -the features of the boy who called him father. - -Not one of them knew that there were solemn hours in all the days when -Yvonne sat shivering in her room and stared, dry-eyed and bleak, at the -walls which surrounded her, seeing not them, but something far beyond. -Often she sat before her long cheval-glass, either with lowering eyes -or in a sort of wistful wonder, never removing her steady gaze from the -face reflected there. There were other times when she stood before the -striking photograph of her husband on the dressing-table, studying -the face through narrowed lids, as if she searched for something that -baffled, yet impressed her. - -Always, always there was music in the house. Behind the closed doors -of his distant study James Brood listened in spite of himself to the -persistent thrumming of the piano downstairs. Always were the airs light -and seductive; the dreamy, plaintive compositions of Strauss, Ziehrer, -and others of their kind and place. - -Frederic, with uncanny fidelity to the preferences of the mother he had -never seen, but whose influence directed him, affected the same general -class of music that had appealed to her moods and temperament. Times -there were, and often, when he played the very airs that she had loved, -and then, despite his profound antipathy, James Brood's thoughts leaped -back a quarter of a century and fixed themselves on love-scenes and -love-times that would not be denied. - -And again there were the wild, riotous airs that she had played with -Feverelli, her soft-eyed music-master! Accursed airs--accursed and -accusing! - -He gave orders that these airs were not to be played, but failed to make -his command convincing for the reason that he could not bring himself to -the point of explaining why they were distasteful to him. When Frederic -thoughtlessly whistled or hummed fragments of those proscribed airs he -considered himself justified in commanding him to stop on the pretext -that they were disturbing, but he could not use the same excuse for -checking the song on the lips of his gay and impulsive wife. Sometimes -he wondered why she persisted when she knew that he was annoyed. Her -airy little apologies for her forgetfulness were of no consequence, for -within the hour her memory was almost sure to be at fault again. - -Mr Dawes fell ill. He ventured out one day when the winds of March were -fierce and sharp, and, being an adventurer, caught the most dangerous -sort of a cold. He came in shivering and considerably annoyed because -Jones or Ranjab or some other incompetent servant had failed to advise -him to wear an overcoat and galoshes. To his surprise Mrs Brood ordered -a huge, hot drink of whisky and commanded him to drink it--“like a good -boy.” Then she had him stowed away in bed with loads of blankets about -him. - -Just before dinner she came up to see him. He was still shivering. -So was Mr Riggs, for that matter, but Mr Riggs failed to shiver -convincingly and did not receive the treatment he desired. Their -unexpected visitor felt the pulse and forehead of the sick man, uttered -a husky little cry of dismay, and announced that he had a fever. -Whereupon Mr Dawes said, rather shamefacedly, that he would be all right -in the morning and that it was nothing at all. - -“We will have the doctor at once, Mr Dawes,” said she, and instructed Mr -Riggs to call Jones. - -“I don't want a doctor,” said Mr Dawes stoutly. - -“I know you don't,” said she, with her rarest smile; “but I _do_, you -see.” - -“They're no good,” said Mr Dawes. - -“Better have one,” advised Mr Riggs with sudden solemnity. - -“Never had one in my life,” said Mr Dawes. “Don't believe in 'em. I'll -take a couple of stiff drinks before I go to bed and------” - -“But you've gone to bed, you old dear,” cried she, stroking his burning -hand gently. - -He was too astonished to say a word. - -“Jumping Jees----” began Mr Riggs, completely staggered. “I mean, what -doctor, Mrs Brood?” - -“Jones will know. Now, Mr Dawes, you must do just as I tell you to do. -You are nothing but a child, you know. If------” - -“Hey, Joe!” called out the sick man desperately, but his comrade was -gone. “Don't let him call a--doctor, Mrs Brood; please don't!” he -implored. - -She sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his hand between her soft, -cool palms, and smiled at him so tenderly that he stared for a moment in -utter bewilderment and then gulped mightily. “Hush!” she said. - -“I--I don't want to be sick here, bothering you and upsetting -everything------” he blubbered. - -“We will have you up and about in a day or two,” she said. - -“But it's such an infernal nuisance. You oughtn't to be sitting here, -either. It may be catching.” - -“Nonsense! I'm not afraid.” - -“It's--it's mighty good of you,” he muttered, his eyes blinking. - -“What are friends for, Mr Dawes, if they can't be depended upon in times -of sickness?” - -“Friends?” he gasped. - -“Certainly. Am I not your friend?” - -“I--I--well, by gosh!” he exploded. “I--I must tell this to Joe. -He'll--I beg your pardon, I guess I'm a little flighty. Maybe I'm worse -than I think. Delirious or something like that. Say, you don't think -it's--it's serious, do you?” - -“Of course not. A heavy cold, that's all. The doctor will break it up -immediately.” - -“Maybe it's the grippe, eh?” - -“Possibly.” - -“What's my temperature?” - -“You mustn't worry, Mr Dawes. It's all right.” - -He was silent for a moment, steadfastly regarding the hand that stroked -his wrinkled old paw so gently. - -“If--if it should turn out to be pneumonia or lung fever, I wish you -wouldn't let on to Joe,” said he anxiously. “It would worry him almost -to death. He's not very strong, you see. Nothing like me. I'm as strong -as a bull. Never been sick in my------” - -“I know,” she said quietly. “He isn't half so strong as you, Mr Dawes. -You are so strong you will be able to throw off this cold in a jiffy, as -Jones would say. It won't amount to anything.” - -“If I get much worse you'd better send me to a hospital. Awful nuisance -having a sick man about the place. Spoils everything. Don't hesitate -about sending me off, Mrs Brood. I wouldn't be a trouble to you or Jim -for------” - -“You poor old dear! You shall stay right where you are, no matter what -comes to pass, and I shall take charge of you myself.” - -“You?” She nodded her head briskly. “Well, by jiggers, I--I don't know -what Joe'll say when I tell him this. Blast him; I'll bet my head he -calls me a liar. If he does, blast him, I'll--oh, I beg your pardon! I -don't seem to be able to get over the habit of------” - -“Here is Mr Riggs--and my husband,” she interrupted, as the door opened -and the two men strode into the room. “Is Jones telephoning?” - -“Yes,” said Brood. “Why, what's gone wrong, old man?” - -“It's all my fault,” groaned Mr Riggs, sitting down heavily on the -opposite side of the bed. “I let him go out without his overcoat. He's -not a strong man, Jim. Least breath of air goes right through----” - -“See here, Riggs, you know better than that,” roared the sick man -wrathfully. “I can stand more------” - -“There, there!” cried Mrs Brood reprovingly. “It isn't fair to quarrel -with Mr Riggs. He can't very well abuse you in return, Mr Dawes, can -he?” - -“You may be on your death-bed,” said Mr Riggs mournfully, as if that -were reason enough for not abusing him. - -“Nonsense,” said Brood; but it was an anxious look that he shot at -Yvonne. Mr Dawes's face was fiery hot. - -“I shall come back to see you immediately after dinner, Mr Dawes,” said -she, and again stroked his hand. - -The two old men stared after her rather blankly as she left the room. -They couldn't believe their ears. - -“She says she'll look after me herself,” murmured Mr Dawes hazily. -Mr Riggs tucked the covers about his chin. “Don't do that, Joe! Leave -things alone, darn you. She fixed 'em as they ought to be.” Mr Riggs -obediently undid his work. “That's right. Now don't you do anything -without askin' her, d'ye hear?” - -“I was only trying to make you------” - -“Well, don't do it. Leave everything to her.” The upshot of it all was -that Mr Dawes came near to dying. Pneumonia set in at once, and for -many days he fought what appeared to be a losing fight. Then came the -splendid days of convalescence, the happiest days of his life. The -amazing Mrs Brood did “look after him.” Nurses there were, of course, -and doctors in consultation, but it was the much-berated mistress of the -house who “pulled him through,” as he afterward and always declared in -acrimonious disputes with Mr Riggs who, while secretly blessing the wife -of Brood, could not be driven into an open admission that she had -done “anything more than anybody else would have done under the -circumstances,”--and not “half as much, for that matter, as he could have -done had he been given a chance.” - -It may be well to observe here that Mr Riggs was of no earthly use -whatever during the trying days. Indeed, he gave up hope the instant -the doctor said “pneumonia,” and went about the house saying “My God” to -himself and everybody else in sepulchral whispers, all the while urging -Heaven to “please do something.” He was too pathetic for words. - -A new and totally unsuspected element in Yvonne's make-up came to light -at this troublous period. She forsook many pleasures, many comforts in -her eagerness to help the suffering old man who, she must have known, in -his heart had long despised her. She did not interfere with the nurses, -yet made herself so indispensable to old Mr Dawes in the capacity of -“visiting angel” that his heart overflowed with gratitude and love. -Even when death hung directly above his almost sightless eyes he saw -her smile of encouragement in the shadows, and his spirit responded with -what might justly have been called the battle-cry of life. - -To Brood this new side to Yvonne's far from understandable character -was most gratifying. Seeing her in the rôle of good Samaritan was not -so surprising to him as the real, unaffected sincerity with which she -ministered to the wants of the querulous old man. - -Even the nurses, habitually opposed to the good offices of “the family,” - were won over by this woman whose unparalleled sweetness levelled them -into a condition of respect and love that surprised not only themselves -but the doctors. They were quite docile from the start, and seldom, if -ever, spoke of Mr Dawes as “the patient” or of his state as “the case.” - They got into the habit of alluding to him as the “dear old man,” and -somehow envied each other the hours “on duty.” They were never sour. - -And so, when it came time for Mr Dawes to thank the Lord for his escape, -he refused to commit himself to anything so ridiculous! He even went so -far as to declare that the doctor had nothing to do with it, a statement -which rather staggered the nurses. - -For hours Yvonne read to the blissful old chap. Sometimes she read to -him in French, again in Russian, and occasionally in German. It was all -one to him. He did not understand a word of it, but he was happy. He -felt surprisingly young. - -She gave up a month to him and he was prepared to give up his life to -her. To his utter amazement, however, she did not exact anything so -valuable as that. Indeed, when his recovery was quite complete, she -calmly forgot his existence and he sank back into the oblivion from -which calamity had dragged him; sank back to the unhappy level of -Mr Riggs and all the others who failed to interest her; and there he -dreamed of exalted days when she wanted him to live, contrasting them -with these days in which he might just as well be dead for all she -seemed to care! He was one of the “old men” again. - -Mr Riggs, writhing with jealousy, repeatedly remarked, “I told you -so,” and somehow felt revenged for the insolent orders she had given to -Jones, depriving him of the right to even approach the door of the room -in which his lifelong friend was dying. It had been a hard week for Mr -Riggs. He hated her as he had never hated anyone in his life before. -And yet he thanked God for her, and would have died for her! Nothing, -nothing in the world would have given him more pleasure than to be -critically ill for her! - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -“Is there anything wrong with my hair, Mr Brood?” asked Lydia, with a -nervous little laugh. - -They were in the study, and it was ten o'clock of a wet night in -April. Of late he had required her to spend the evenings with him in -a strenuous effort to complete the final chapters of the journal. The -illness of Mr Dawes had interrupted the work, and he was now in a -fever of impatience to make up for the lost time. He had declared his -intention to go abroad with his wife as soon as the manuscript was -completed. The editor of a magazine, a personal friend, had signified -his willingness to edit the journal and to put it into shape for -publication during the summer months, against Brood's return in the fall -of the year. - -The master of the house spared neither himself nor Lydia in these last -few weeks. He wanted to clear up everything before he went away. Lydia's -willingness to devote the extra hours to his enterprise would have -pleased him vastly if he had not been afflicted by the same sense of -unrest and uneasiness that made incessant labour a boon to her as well -as to him. - -Her query followed a long period of silence on his part. He had been -suggesting alterations in her notes as she read them to him, and there -were frequent lulls when she made the changes as directed. Without -looking at him she felt, rather than knew, that he was regarding her -fixedly from his position opposite. The scrutiny was disturbing to her. -She hazarded the question for want of a better means of breaking the -spell. Of late he had taken to watching her with moody interest. She -knew that he was mentally commenting on the changes he could not help -observing in her appearance and her manners. This intense, though -perhaps unconscious, scrutiny annoyed her. Her face was flushed with -embarrassment, her heart was beating with undue rapidity. - -Brood started guiltily. - -“Your hair?” he exclaimed. “Oh, I see. You women always feel that -something is wrong with it. I was thinking of something else, however. -Forgive my stupidity. We can't afford to waste time in thinking, you -know, and I am a pretty bad offender. It's nearly half-past ten. We've -been hard at it since eight o'clock. Time to knock off. I will walk -around to your apartment with you, my dear. It looks like an all-night -rain.” - -He went up to the window and pulled the curtains aside. Her eyes -followed him. - -“It's such a short distance, Mr Brood,” she said. “I am not afraid to go -alone.” - -He was staring down into the court, his fingers grasping the curtains in -a rigid grip. He did not reply. - -There was a light in the windows opening out upon Yvonne's balcony. - -“I fancy Frederic has come in from the concert,” he said slowly. “He -will take you home, Lydia. You'd like that better, eh?” - -He turned toward her, and she paused in the nervous collecting of her -papers. His eyes were as hard as steel, his lips were set. - -“Please don't ask Frederic to------” she began hurriedly. - -“They must have left early,” he muttered, glancing at his watch. -Returning to the table he struck the big, melodious gong a couple -of sharp blows. For the first time in her recollection it sounded a -jangling, discordant note, as of impatience. - -She felt her heart sink; an oppressing sense of alarm came over her. - -“Good night, Mr Brood. Don't think of coming home with------” - -“Wait, Frederic will go with you.” It was a command. Ranjab appeared in -the doorway. “Have Mrs Brood and Mr Frederic returned, Ranjab?” - -“Yes, _sahib_. At ten o'clock.” - -“If Mr Frederic is in his room, send him to me.” - -“He is not in his room, _sahib_.” - -The two, master and man, looked at each other steadily for a moment. -Something passed between them. - -“Tell him that Miss Desmond is ready to go home.” - -“Yes, _sahib_.” The curtains fell. - -“I prefer to go home alone, Mr Brood,” said Lydia, her eyes flashing. -“Why did you send------” - -“And why not?” he demanded harshly. She winced, and he was at once -sorry. “Forgive me. I am tired and--a bit nervous. And you, too, are -tired. You've been working too steadily at this miserable job, my dear -child. Thank Heaven, it will soon be over. Pray sit down. Frederic will -soon be here.” - -“I am not tired,” she protested stubbornly. “I love the work. You don't -know how proud I shall be when it comes out, and--and I realise that -I helped in its making. No one has ever been in a position to tell the -story of Tibet as you have told it, Mr Brood. Those chapters will make -history. I------” - -“Your poor father's share in those explorations is what really makes the -work valuable, my dear. Without his notes and letters I should have been -feeble indeed.” He looked at his watch. “They were at the concert, you -know--the Hungarian orchestra. A recent importation, 'Tzigane's' music. -Gipsies.” His sentences as well as his thoughts were staccato, -disconnected. - -Lydia turned very cold. She dreaded the scene that now seemed -unavoidable. Frederic would come in response to his father's command, -and then------ - -Someone began to play upon the piano downstairs. She knew, and he knew, -that it was Frederic who played. For a long time they listened. The -air, no doubt, was one he had heard during the evening, a soft, sensuous -waltz that she had never heard before. The girl's eyes were upon Brood's -face. It was like a graven image. - -“God!” fell from his stiff lips. Suddenly he turned upon the girl. “Do -you know what he is playing?” - -“No,” she said, scarcely above a whisper. - -“It was played in this house by its composer before Frederic was born. -It was played here on the night of his birth, as it had been played many -times before. It was written by a man named Feverelli. Have you heard of -him?” - -“Never,” she murmured, and shrank, frightened by the deathlike pallor in -the man's face, by the strange calm in his voice. The gates were being -opened at last! She saw the thing that was to stalk forth. She would -have closed her ears against the revelations it carried. “Mother will be -worried if I am not at home------” - -“Guido Feverelli. An Italian born in Hungary. Budapest, that was his -home, but he professed to be a gipsy. Yes, he wrote the devilish thing. -He played it a thousand times in that room down------ And now Frederic -plays it, after all these years. It is his heritage. God, how I hate the -thing! Ranjab! Where is the fellow? He must stop the accursed thing. -He------” - -“Mr Brood! Mr Brood!” cried Lydia, appalled. She began to edge toward -the door. - -By a mighty effort Brood regained control of himself. He sank into a -chair, motioning for her to remain. The music had ceased abruptly. - -“He will be here in a moment,” said Brood. “Don't go.” - -They waited, listening. Ranjab entered the room; so noiseless was his -approach that neither heard his footsteps. - -“Well?” demanded Brood, looking beyond. - -“Master Frederic begs a few minutes' time, _sahib_. He is putting down -on paper the music, so that he may not forget. He writes the notes, -_sahib. Madame_ assists.” - -Brood's shoulders sagged. His head was bent, but his gaze never left the -face of the Hindu. - -“You may go, Ranjab,” he said slowly. - -“Ten minutes he asks for, _sahib_, that is all.” The curtains fell -behind him once more. - -“So that he may not forget!” fell from Brood's lips. He was looking -at the girl, but did not address his words to her. “So that he may not -forget! So that I, too, may not forget!” - -Suddenly he arose and confronted the serene image of the Buddha. For a -full minute he stood there with his hands clasped, his lips moving as if -in prayer. No sound came from them. - -The girl remained transfixed, powerless to move. Not until he turned -toward her and spoke was the spell broken. Then she came quickly to his -side. He had pronounced her name. - -“You are about to tell me something, Mr Brood,” she cried in great -agitation. “I do not care to listen. I feel that it is something I -should not know. Please let me go now. I------” - -He laid his hands upon her shoulders, holding her off at arm's length. - -“I am very fond of you, Lydia. I do not want to hurt you. Sooner would I -have my tongue cut out than it should wound you by a single word. Yet I -must speak. You love Frederic. Is not that true?” - -She returned his gaze unwaveringly. Her face was very white. - -“Yes, Mr Brood.” - -“I have known it for some time, although I was the last to see. You -love him, and you are just beginning to realise that he is not worthy.” - -“Mr Brood!” - -“Your eyes have been opened.” She stared, speechless. “My poor girl, -he was born to prove that honest love is the rarest thing in all this -world.” - -“Oh, I beg of you, Mr Brood, don't------” - -“It is better that we should talk it over. We have ten minutes. No doubt -he has told you that he loves you. He is a lovable boy, he is the kind -one _must_ love. But it is not in his power to love nobly. He loves -lightly as”--he hesitated, and then went on harshly--“as his father -before him loved.” - -Anger dulled her understanding; she did not grasp the full meaning of -his declaration. Her honest heart rose to the defence of Frederic. - -“Mr Brood, I do care for Frederic,” she flamed, standing very erect -before him. “He is not himself, he has not been himself since she came -here. Oh, I am fully aware of what I am saying. He is not to be blamed -for this thing that has happened to him. No one is to blame. It had to -be. I can wait, Mr Brood. Frederic loves me. I know he does. He will -come back to me. You have no right to say that he loves lightly, -ignobly. You do not know him as I know him. You have never tried to know -him, never wanted to know him. You--oh, I beg your pardon, Mr Brood. -I--I am forgetting myself.” - -“I am afraid you do not understand yourself, Lydia,” said he levelly. -“You are young, you are trusting. Your lesson will cost you a great -deal, my dear.” - -“You are mistaken. I do understand myself,” she said gravely. “May I -speak plainly, Mr Brood?” - -“Certainly. I intend to speak plainly to you.” - -“Frederic loves me. He does not love Yvonne. He is fascinated, as I also -am fascinated by her, and you, too, Mr Brood. The spell has fallen over -all of us. Let me go on, please. You say that Frederic loves like his -father before him. That is true. He loves but one woman. You love but -one woman, and she is dead. You will always love her. Frederic is like -you. He loves Yvonne as you do--oh, I know it hurts! She cast her spell -over you, why not over him? Is he stronger than you? Is it strange that -she should attract him as she attracted you? You glory in her beauty, -her charm, her perfect loveliness, and yet you love--yes, _love_, Mr -Brood--the woman who was Frederic's mother. Do I make my meaning plain? -Well, so it is that Frederic loves me. I am content to wait. I know he -loves me.” - -Through all this Brood stared at her in sheer astonishment. He had no -feeling of anger, no resentment, no thought of protest. - -“You--you astound me, Lydia. Is this your own impression, or has it been -suggested to you by--by another?” - -“I am only agreeing with you when you say that he loves as his father -loved before him--but not lightly. Ah, not lightly, Mr Brood.” - -“You don't know what you are saying,” he muttered. - -“Oh, yes, I do,” she cried earnestly. “You invite my opinion; I trust -you will accept it for what it is worth. Before you utter another word -against Frederic, let me remind you that I have known both of you for a -long, long time. In all the years I have been in this house I have never -known you to grant him a tender, loving word. My heart has ached for -him. There have been times when I almost hated you. He feels your -neglect, your harshness, your--your cruelty. He------” - -“Cruelty!” - -“It is nothing less. You do not like him. I cannot understand why you -should treat him as you do. He shrinks from you. Is it right, Mr Brood, -that a son should shrink from his father as a dog cringes at the voice -of an unkind master? I might be able to understand your attitude toward -him if your unkindness was of recent origin, but------” - -“Recent origin?” he demanded quickly. - -“If it had begun with the advent of Mrs Brood,” she explained frankly, -undismayed by his scowl. “I do not understand all that has gone before. -Is it surprising, Mr Brood, that your son finds it difficult to love -you? Do you deserve------” - -Brood stopped her with a gesture of his hand. - -“The time has come for frankness on my part. You set me an example, -Lydia. You have the courage of your father. For months I have had it in -my mind to tell you the truth about Frederic, but my courage has always -failed me. Perhaps I use the wrong word. It may be something very unlike -cowardice that has held me back. I am going to put a direct question to -you first of all, and I ask you to answer truthfully. Would you say -that Frederic is like--that is, resembles his father?” He was leaning -forward, his manner intense. - -Lydia was surprised. - -“What an odd thing to say! Of course he resembles his father. I have -never seen a portrait of his mother, but------” - -“You mean that he looks like me?” demanded Brood. - -“Certainly. What do you mean?” - -Brood laughed, a short, ugly laugh--and then fingered his chin -nervously. - -“He resembles his mother,” he said. - -“When he is angry he is very much like you, Mr Brood. I have often -wondered why he is unlike you at other times. Now I know. He is like his -mother. She must have been lovely, gentle, patient------” - -“Wait! Suppose I were to tell you that Frederic is not my son?” - -“I should not believe you, Mr Brood,” she replied flatly. “What is it -that you are trying to say to me?” - -He turned away abruptly. - -“I will not go on with it. The subject is closed. There is nothing to -tell--at present.” - -She placed herself in front of him, resolute and determined. - -“I insist, Mr Brood. The time _has_ come for you to be frank. You must -tell me what you meant by that remark.” - -“Has your mother never told you anything concerning my past life?” he -demanded. - -“What has my mother to do with your past life?” she inquired, suddenly -afraid. - -“I refer only to what she may have heard from your father. He knew more -than any of them. I confided in him to a great extent. I had to unburden -myself to someone. He was my best friend. It is not improbable that he -repeated certain parts of my story to your mother.” - -“She has told me that you--you were not happy, Mr Brood.” - -“Is that all?” - -“I--I think so.” - -“Is that all?” he insisted. - -“When I was a little girl I heard my father say to her that your life -had been ruined by--well, that your marriage had turned out badly,” she -confessed haltingly. - -“What more did he say?” - -“He said--I remember feeling terribly about it--he said you had driven -your wife out of this very house.” - -“Did he speak of another man?” - -“Yes. Her music-master.” - -“You were too young to know what that meant, eh?” - -“I knew that you never saw her after--after she left this house.” - -“Will you understand how horrible it all was if I say to you now -that--Frederic is not my son?” - -Her eyes filled with horror. - -“How can you say such a thing, Mr Brood? He is your son. How can you -say------” - -“His father is the man who wrote the accursed waltz he has just been -playing! Could there be anything more devilish than the conviction it -carries? After all these years, he------” - -“Stop, Mr Brood!” - -“I am sorry if I hurt you, Lydia. You have asked me why I hate him. Need -I say anything more?” - -“You have only made me love him more than ever before. You cannot hurt -me through Frederic.” - -“I am sorry that it has come to such a pass as this. It is not right -that you should be made to suffer, too.” - -“I do not believe all that you have told me. He _is_ your son. He _is_, -Mr Brood.” - -“I would to God I could believe that!” he cried in a voice of agony. “I -would to God it were true!” - -“You could believe it if you chose to believe your own eyes, your own -heart.” She lowered her voice to a half whisper. “Does--does Frederic -know? Does he know that his mother--oh, I can't believe it!” - -“He does not know.” - -“And you did drive her out of this house?” Brood did not answer. “You -sent her away and and kept her boy, the boy who was nothing to you? -Nothing!” - -“I kept him,” he said, with a queer smile on his lips. - -“All these years? He never knew his mother?” - -“He has never heard her name spoken.” - -“And she?” - -“I only know that she is dead. She never saw him after--after that day.” - -“And now, Mr Brood, may I ask why you have always intended to tell me -this dreadful thing?” she demanded, her eyes gleaming with a fierce, -accusing light. - -He stared. “Doesn't--doesn't it put a different light on your estimate -of him? Doesn't it convince you that he is not worthy of------” - -“No! A thousand times no!” she cried. “I love him. If he were to ask me -to be his wife tonight I would rejoice--oh, I would rejoice! Someone is -coming. Let me say this to you, Mr Brood: you have brought Frederic up -as a butcher fattens the calves and swine he prepares for slaughter. You -are waiting for the hour to come when you can kill his very soul -with the weapon you have held over him for so long, waiting, waiting, -waiting! In God's name, what has _he_ done that you should want to -strike him down after all these years? It is in my heart to curse you, -but somehow I feel that you are a curse to yourself. I will not say that -I cannot understand how you feel about everything. You have suffered. -I know you have, and I--I am sorry for you. And knowing how bitter life -has been for you, I implore you to be merciful to him who is innocent.” - -The man listened without the slightest change of expression. The lines -seemed deeper about his eyes, that was all. But the eyes were bright and -as hard as the steel they resembled. - -“You would marry him?” - -“Yes, yes!” - -“Knowing that he is a scoundrel?” - -“How dare you say that, Mr Brood?” - -“Because,” said he levelly, “he _thinks_ he is my son.” Voices were -heard on the stairs, Frederic's and Yvonne's. “He is coming now, my -dear,” he went on, and then, after a pause fraught with significance, -“and my wife is with him.” - -Lydia closed her eyes, as if in dire pain. A dry sob was in her throat. - -A strange thing happened to Brood, the man of iron. Tears suddenly -rushed to his eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -Yvonne stopped in the doorway. Ranjab was holding the curtains aside -for her to enter. The tall figure of Frederic loomed up behind her, his -dark face glowing in the warm light that came from the room. She had -changed her dress for an exquisite orchid-coloured tea-gown of chiffon -under the rarest and most delicate of lace. For an instant her gaze -rested on Lydia, and then went questioningly to Brood's face. The girl's -confusion had not escaped her notice. Her husband's manner was but -little less convicting. Her eyes narrowed. - -“Ranjab said you were expecting us,” she said slowly, with marked -emphasis on the participle. She came forward haltingly, as if in doubt -as to her welcome. “Are we interrupting?” - -“Of course not,” said Brood, a flush of annoyance on his cheek. “Lydia -is tired. I sent Ranjab down to ask Frederic to----” - -Frederic interrupted, a trifle too eagerly. “I'll walk around with you, -Lydia. It's raining, however. Shall I get the car out, father?” - -“No, no!” cried Lydia, painfully conscious of the rather awkward -situation. “And please don't bother, Freddy. I can go home alone. It's -only a step.” She moved toward the door, eager to be away. - -“I'll go with you,” said Frederic decisively. He stood between her and -the door, an embarrassed smile on his lips. “I've got something to say -to you, Lydia,” he went on, lowering his voice. - -“James dear,” said Mrs Brood, shaking her finger at her husband, and -with an exasperating smile on her lips, “you are working the poor girl -too hard. See how late it is! And how nervous she is. Why, you are -trembling, Lydia! For shame, James.” - -“I am a little tired,” stammered Lydia. “We are working so hard, you -know, in order to finish the------” - -Brood interrupted, his tone sharp and incisive. - -“The end is in sight. We're a bit feverish over it, I suppose. You -see, my dear, we have just escaped captivity in Thassa. It was a bit -thrilling, I fancy. But we've stopped for the night.” - -“So I perceive,” said Yvonne, a touch of insolence in her voice. “You -stopped, I dare say, when you heard the tread of the vulgar world -approaching the inner temple. That is what you broke into and -desecrated, wasn't it?” - -“The inner temple at Thassa,” he said coldly. - -“Certainly. The place you were escaping from when we came in.” - -It was clear to all of them that Yvonne was piqued, even angry. She -deliberately crossed the room and threw herself upon the couch, an act -so childish, so disdainful, that for a full minute no one spoke, but -stared at her, each with a different emotion. - -Lydia's eyes were flashing. Her lips parted, but she withheld the angry -words that rose to them. - -Brood's expression changed slowly from dull anger to one of incredulity, -which swiftly gave way to positive joy. His wife was jealous! - -Frederic was biting his lips nervously. He allowed Lydia to pass him on -her way out, scarcely noticing her, so intently was his gaze fixed upon -Yvonne. When Brood followed Lydia into the hall to remonstrate, the -young man sprang eagerly to his stepmother's side. - -“Good Lord, Yvonne!” he whispered, “that was a nasty thing to say. -What will Lydia think? By gad, is it possible that you are jealous? Of -Lydia?” - -“Jealous?” cried she, struggling with her fury. “Jealous of that girl? -Poof! Why should I be jealous of her? She hasn't the blood of a potato!” - -“I can't understand you,” he said in great perplexity. “You--you told me -to-night that you are not sure that you really love him. You------” - -She stopped him with a quick gesture. Her eyes were smouldering. “Where -is he? Gone away with her? Go and look; do.” - -“They're in the hall. I shall take her home, never fear. I fancy he's -trying to explain your insinuating------” - -She turned on him furiously. “Are you lecturing me? What a tempest in a -teapot!” - -“Lydia's as good as gold. She------” - -“Then take her home at once,” sneered Yvonne. “This is no place for -her.” - -Frederic paled. “You're not trying to say my father would--good -Lord, Yvonne, you must be crazy! Why, that is impossible! If--if I -thought------” He clenched his fists and glared over his shoulder, -missing the queer little smile that flitted across her face. - -“You do love her then,” she said, her voice suddenly soft and caressing. - -He stared at her in complete bewilderment. - -“I--I--Lord, you gave me a shock!” He passed his hand across his moist -forehead. “It can't be so. Why, the very thought of it------” - -“I suppose I shall have to apologise to Lydia,” said she calmly. “Your -father will exact it of me, and I shall obey. How does it sound, coming -from me? 'I am sorry, Lydia.' Do I say it prettily?” - -“I don't understand you at all, Yvonne. I adore you, and yet, by Heaven, -I--I actually believe I hated you just now. Listen to me. I've been -treating Lydia vilely for a long, long time, but--she's the finest, -best, dearest girl in the world. You--even you, Yvonne--shall not utter -a word against------” - -“_Aïe!_ What heroics!” she cried ironically. -“You are splendid when you are angry, my son. Yes, you are almost as -splendid as your father. He, too, has been angry with me. He, too, -has made me shudder. But he, too, has forgiven me, as you shall this -instant. Say it, Freddy. You do forgive me? I was mean, nasty, ugly, -vile--oh, everything that's horrid. I take it all back. Now be nice to -me!” - -She laid her hand on his arm, an appealing little caress that conquered -him in a flash. He clasped her fingers fiercely in his and mumbled -incoherently as he leaned forward, drawn resistlessly nearer by the -strange magic that was hers. - -“You--you are wonderful,” he murmured. “I knew you'd regret what you -said. You couldn't have meant it.” - -She smiled, patted his hand gently, and allowed her swimming eyes to -rest on his for an instant to complete the conquest. Then she motioned -him away. Brood's voice was heard in the doorway. She had, however, -planted an insidious thing in Frederic's mind, and it would grow. - -Her husband re-entered the room, his arm linked in Lydia's. Frederic was -at the table lighting a cigarette. - -“You did not mean all that you said a moment ago, Yvonne,” said Brood -levelly. “Lydia misinterpreted your jest. You meant nothing unkind, -I am sure.” - -He was looking straight into her rebellious eyes. The last gleam of -defiance died out of them as he spoke. - -“I am sorry, Lydia darling,” she said, and reached out her hand to the -girl who approached reluctantly, uncertainly. “I confess that I was -jealous. Why shouldn't I be jealous? You are so beautiful, so splendid.” - She drew the girl down beside her. “Forgive me, dear.” - -Lydia, whose honest heart had been so full of resentment the moment -before, could not withstand the humble appeal in the voice of the -penitent. - -She smiled, first at Yvonne, then at Brood, and never quite understood -the impulse that ordered her to kiss the warm, red lips that so recently -had offended. - -“James dear,” fell softly, alluringly, from Yvonne's now tremulous lips. -He sprang to her side. She kissed him passionately. “Now we are all -ourselves once more,” she gasped a moment later, her eyes still fixed -inquiringly on those of the man beside her. “Let us be gay! Let us -forget! Come, Frederic! Sit here at my feet. Lydia is not going home -yet. Ranjab, the cigarettes!” - -Frederic, white-faced and scowling, remained at the window, glaring out -into the rain-swept night. A steady sheet of raindrops thrashed against -the window-panes. - -“Hear the wind!” cried Yvonne, after a single sharp glance at his -tall, motionless figure. “One can almost imagine that ghosts from every -graveyard in the world are whistling past our windows. Should we not -rejoice? We have them safely locked outside. There are no ghosts in -here to make us shiver--and--shake.” - -The sentence that began so glibly trailed off in a slow crescendo, -ending abruptly. Ranjab was holding the lighted taper for her cigarette. -As she spoke her eyes were lifted to his dark, saturnine face. She was -saying there were no ghosts when his eyes suddenly fastened on hers. In -spite of herself her voice rose in response to the curious dread that -chilled her heart as she looked into the shining mirrors above her. -She shivered as if in the presence of death! For an incalculably brief -period their gaze remained fixed and steady, each reading a mystery. -Then the Hindu lowered his heavy lashes and moved away. The little -by-scene did not go unnoticed by the others, although its meaning was -lost. - -“There's nothing to be afraid of, Yvonne,” said Brood, pressing the hand -which trembled in his. -“Your imagination carries you a long way. Are you really afraid of -ghosts?” - -She answered in a deep, solemn voice that carried conviction. - -“I believe in ghosts. I believe the dead come back to us, not to -flit about as we are told by superstition, but to lodge--actually to -dwell--inside these warm, living bodies of ours. They come and go at -will. Sometimes we feel that they are there, but--oh, who knows? Their -souls may conquer ours and go on inhabiting------” - -“Nonsense!” cried her husband. “Once dead, always dead, my dear.” - -“Do you really believe that, James?” she demanded seriously. “Have -you never felt that something that was not you was living, breathing, -speaking in this earthly shell of yours? Something that was not you, I -say. Something that------” - -“Never!” he exclaimed quickly, but his eyes were full of the wonder that -he felt. - -“Frederic,” she called imperatively, “come away from that window!” - -The young man joined the group. The sullen look in his face had given -way to one of acute inquiry. The new note in her voice produced a -strange effect upon him. It seemed like a call for help, a cry out of -the darkness. - -“It is raining pitchforks,” he said, as if to explain his failure to -respond at the first call. - -“Oh, dear,” sighed Lydia uncomfortably. - -“You can't go out in the storm, my dear,” cried Yvonne, tightening her -grip on the girl's arm. “Draw up a chair, Freddy. Let's be cosy. - -“Really, Mrs Brood, I should go at once. Mother------” - -“Your mother is in bed and asleep,” protested Yvonne. - -“We should all be in bed,” said Frederic. - -“A bed is a sepulchre. We bury half our lives in it, Frederic. We spend -too much time in bed. Why live in our dreams when we should be enjoying -to-day and not our yesterdays? Do you want to hear about the concert, -James? It was wonderful. The------” - -“If it was so wonderful, why did you leave before it was over?” demanded -her husband, his lips straightening. - -She looked at him curiously. - -“How do you know that we left before it was over?” - -“You have been at home since ten.” - -They were all playing for time. They all realised that something -sinister was attending their little conclave, unseen but vital. Each -one knew that united they were safe, each against the other! Lydia was -afraid because of Brood's revelations. Yvonne had sensed peril with -the message delivered by Ranjab to Frederic. Frederic had come upstairs -prepared for rebellion against the caustic remarks that were almost -certain to come from his father. Brood was afraid of--himself! He was -holding himself in check with the greatest difficulty. He knew that the -smallest spark would create the explosion he dreaded and yet courted. -Restraint lay heavily, yet shiftingly, upon all of them. - -“Oh,” said Yvonne easily, “there were still two numbers to be played, -and I loathe both of them. Frederic was ready to come away, too.” - -“And Dr Hodder? Did he come away with you?” inquired Brood. - -“No. He insisted on staying to the bitter end. We left him there.” - -Brood laughed shortly. “I see.” - -“He said he would come down with the Gunnings,” explained Yvonne, her -eyes flickering. “Besides, I always feel as though I were riding in an -ambulance when he is in the car. He dissected every bit of music they -played to-night. Now, James dear, you know he is quite dreadful.” She -said it pleadingly, poutingly. - -“I offered to send the car back for him,” said Frederic, speaking for -the first time. - -Brood drew a long breath. His glance met Lydia's and recognised the mute -appeal that lay in her eyes. He smiled faintly, and hope rose in her -troubled breast. - -“The Gunnings were there,” put in Yvonne, puffing more rapidly than -usual at her cigarette. “They came to the box with Mr and Mrs Harbison -during the intermission.” - -“What spiteful things did Mrs Harbison say about me?” demanded Brood, -affecting a certain lightness of manner. “A cigarette, Ranjab. She -despises me, I'm sure. Didn't she ask why I was not there to look after -my beautiful and much-coveted wife?” - -“She said that you interested her more than any man she knew, and, of -course, I considered that particularly spiteful. Her husband declared -he would rather shoot with you than with any man in the world. He's very -tiresome.” - -“We've hunted a good bit together,” said Brood. - -“Harbison says you are the most deadly shot he's ever seen,” said -Frederic, relaxing slightly. - -“What was it he said about your wonderful accuracy with a revolver? What -was it, Frederic? Hitting a shilling at some dreadful distance--thirty -yards, eh?” - -“Thirty paces,” said Frederic. - -“My father often spoke of your shooting with a revolver, Mr Brood,” said -Lydia. “He said it was really marvellous.” - -Yvonne laughed. “How interesting to have a husband who can even see as -far as thirty paces. But revolver shooting is a doubtful accomplishment -in these days of peace, isn't it? What is there to shoot at?” - -“Mad dogs and--men,” said Brood. Lydia's look required an answer. “No, -I've never shot a mad dog, Lydia.” - -“Who was the young woman with the lisp, Freddy?” asked Yvonne abruptly. - -“Miss Dangerfield. Isn't she amusing? I love that soft Virginia drawl of -hers. She's pretty, too. Old Hodder was quite taken with her.” - -A long, reverberating roll of thunder, ending in an ear-splitting -crash that seemed no farther away than the window casement behind them, -brought sharp exclamations of terror from the lips of the two women. The -men, appalled, started to their feet. - -“Good Lord, that _was_ close!” cried Frederic. “There was no sign of a -storm when we came in--just a steady, gentle spring rain.” - -“I am frightened,” shuddered Yvonne, wide-eyed with fear. “Do you -think------” - -“It struck near by, that's all,” said Brood. “Lightning bolts are -deceptive. One may think they strike at one's very elbow, and yet the -spot is really miles away. I hope your mother is not distressed, my -dear,” turning to Lydia. “She is afraid of the lightning, I know.” - -Lydia sprang to her feet. “I must go home at once, Mr Brood. She will be -dreadfully frightened. I----” - -There came another deafening crash. The glare filled the room with a -brilliant, greenish hue. Ranjab was standing at the window, holding the -curtains apart while he peered upward across the space that separated -them from the apartment building beyond the court. - -“Take me home, Frederic!” cried Lydia frantically. She ran toward the -door. - -“Let me telephone to your mother, Lyddy,” he cried, hurrying after her -into the hall. - -“No! no! no!” she gasped as she ran. “Don't come with me if you----” - -“I will come!” he exclaimed, as they raced down the stairs. “Don't be -frightened, darling. It's all right. Listen to me! Mrs Desmond is as -safe as------” - -“Oh, Freddy, Freddy!” she wailed, breaking under a strain that he was -not by way of comprehending. “Oh, Freddy dear!” Her nerves gave way. She -was sobbing convulsively when they came to the lower hall. - -In great distress he clasped her in his arms, mumbling incoherent words -of love, encouragement--even ridicule for the fear she betrayed. Far -from his mind was the real cause of her unhappy plight. - -He held her close to his breast, and there she sobbed and trembled as -with a mighty, racking chill. Her fingers clutched his arm with the grip -of one who clings to the edge of a precipice with death below. Her face -was buried against his shoulder. - -“There! There!” he murmured, appalled by this wild display of fear. -“Don't worry, darling. Everything is all right. Oh, you dear, dear -girlie! Please, please! My little Lyddy!” - -“Take me home, Freddy--take me home,” she whispered brokenly. “I cannot -stay here another second. Come, dearest--come home with me.” - -Still they stood there in the dark hall, clasped in each other's -arms--stood there for many minutes without realising the lapse of time, -thinking not of Mrs Desmond nor the storm that raged outside, but of the -storm they were weathering together with the lightning racing through -their veins, thunder in their heart-beats. - -A footstep in the hall. Frederic looked up, dazed, bewildered. Jones, -the butler, was retreating through a door near by, having come upon them -unexpectedly. - -“I--I beg pardon, sir. I------” - -“Oh, Jones! Listen! My raincoat--and father's, quick. And Miss Lydia's -things. Yes, yes, it's all right, Jones. It's quite all right.” Frederic -was calling out the sentences jerkily. - -“Quite all right,” repeated Jones, his throat swelling, his eyes -suddenly dim. “Quite, sir. Yes, yes!” He rushed into the closet at the -end of the hall, more grievously upset than he ever had been in all his -life before. - -“You will come with me, Freddy?” she was whispering, clinging to him as -one in panic. - -“Yes, yes. Don't be frightened, Lyddy. I--I know everything is all right -now. I'm sure of it.” - -“Oh, I am sure, too, dear. I have always been sure,” she cried, and he -understood, as she had understood. - -Despite the protests of Jones they dashed out into the blighting -thunderstorm. The rain beat down in torrents, the din was infernal. -As the door closed behind them Lydia, in the ecstasy of freedom from -restraint bitterly imposed, gave vent to a shrill cry of relief. Words, -the meaning of which he could not grasp, babbled from her lips as they -descended the steps. One sentence fell vaguely clear from the others, -and it puzzled him. He was sure that she said: - -“Oh, I am so glad, so happy we are out of that house--you and I -together.” - -Close together, holding tightly to each other, they breasted the -swirling sheets of rain. The big umbrella was of little protection to -them, although held manfully to break the force of the cold flood of -waters. They bent their strong young bodies against the wind, and a sort -of wild, impish hilarity took possession of them. It was freedom, after -all! They were fighting a force in nature that they understood, and the -sharp, staccato cries that came from their lips were born of an exultant -glee which neither of them could have suppressed or controlled. Their -hearts were as wild as the tempest about them. - -They turned the corner and were flanked by the wind and rain. The long -raincoats flattened their sleek, dripping folds tightly against their -bodies. It was almost impossible to push forward into this mad deluge. -The umbrella, caught by a gust, was turned inside out, and the full -force of the storm struck upon their faces, almost taking the breath -away. And they laughed as their arms tightened about each other. As one -person they breasted the gale. - -They were fairly blown through the doors of the apartment-house. Mrs -Desmond threw open the door as their wet, soggy feet came sloshing down -the hall. Frederic's arm was about Lydia as they approached, and both of -their drenched faces were wreathed in smiles--gay, exalted smiles. The -mother, white-faced and fearful, stared for a second at the amazing -pair, and then held out her arms to them. - -She was drenched in their embrace, but no one thought of the havoc that -was being created in that swift, impulsive contact. - -“It's a fine mess we've made of your rug, Mrs Desmond,” said Frederic -ruefully a few minutes later. - -“Goodness!” cried Lydia, aghast. Then they all realised. - -“Take those horrid things off at once, both of you,” commanded Mrs -Desmond. Her voice trembled. “And your shoes--and stockings. Dear, -dear!” - -“I must run back home!” exclaimed Frederic. - -Lydia placed herself between him and the door. - -“No! I want you to stay!” she cried. - -“Stay?” - -“You shall not go out in that dreadful storm again. I will not let you -go, Frederic. Stay--stay here with me.” - -He stared. “What a funny idea!” - -“Wait until the rain is over,” added Mrs Desmond. - -“No, no!” cried Lydia. “I mean for him to stay here the rest of the -night. We can put you up, Freddy. I--I don't want you to go back there -until--until to-morrow.” - -A glad light broke in his face. “By Jove, I--do you know, I'd like to -stay? I--I really would, Mrs Desmond. Can you find a place for me?” His -voice was eager, his eyes sparkling. - -“Yes,” said the mother quietly, almost serenely. “You shall have Lydia's -bed, Frederic. She can come in with me. Yes, you must stay. Are you not -our Frederic?” - -“Thank you,” he stammered, and his eyes fell. - -“I will telephone to Jones when the storm abates,” said Mrs Desmond. -“Now get out of those coats, and--oh, dear, how wet you are! A hot drink -for both.” - -“Would you mind asking Jones to send over something for me to wear in -the morning?” said Frederic, grinning as he stood forth in his evening -clothes. - -Ten minutes later, in a dressing-gown and bare feet, he sat with them -before an open fire and sipped the toddy she had brewed. - -“I say, this is great!” - -Lydia was suddenly shy and embarrassed. - -“Good night,” she whispered. Her fingers brushed his cheek lightly. - -He drew her down to him and kissed her passionately. - -“Good night, my Lyddy!” he said softly, his cheek flushing. - -She went quickly from the room. - -Later he stood in her sweet, dainty little bedroom and looked about him -with a feeling of mingled awe and wonder. All of her intimate, exquisite -belongings, the sanctified treasures of her most secret domain, were all -about him. - -He fingered the articles on her dressing-table; smelled of the perfume -bottles and smiled as he recognised the sweet odours as being a part -of her, and not a thing unto themselves; grinned delightedly at his own -photograph in its silver frame that stood where she could see it -the last thing at night and the first in the morning; caressed--aye, -caressed--the little hand-mirror that had reflected her gay or troubled -face so many times since the dear Christmas Day when he had given it to -her with his love. - -He stood beside her bed where she had stood, and the soft rug seemed to -respond to the delightful tingling that ran through his bare feet. Her -room! Her bed! Her domain! - -Suddenly he dropped to his knees and buried his hot face in the cool -white sheets and kissed them over and over again. Here was sanctuary! -His eyes were wet with tears when he arose to his feet, and his arms -went out to the closed door. - -“My Lyddy!” he whispered chokingly. - -Back there in the rose-hued light of James Brood's study Yvonne cringed -and shook in the strong arms of her husband all through that savage -storm. She was no longer the defiant, self-possessed creature he had come -to know so well, but a shrinking, trembling child, stripped of all her -bravado, all her arrogance, all her seeming guile. A pathetic whimper -crooned from her lips in response to his gentle words of reassurance. -She was afraid--desperately afraid--and she crept close to him in her -fear. - -And he? He was looking backward to another who had nestled close to him -and whimpered as she was doing now--another who lived in terror when it -stormed. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -Frederic opened his eyes at the sound of a gentle, persistent -tapping on the bedroom door. Resting on his elbow, he looked blankly, -wonderingly, about the room, and--remembered. The sun streamed into the -chamber, filling it with a radiance that almost dazzled him. He rubbed -his eyes, and again, as in the night just gone, his thought absorbed the -contents of the room. - -He had not dreamed it, after all. He was there in Lydia's bed, attended -by all the mute, inanimate sentinels that stood guard over her while she -slept. The knocking continued. He dreamed on, his blinking eyes still -seeking out the dainty, Lydia-like treasures in the enchanted room. - -“Frederic!” called a voice outside the door. - -He started guiltily. - -“All right,” was his cheery response. - -“Get up! It's nine o'clock. Or will you have your breakfast in bed, -sir?” It was Lydia who spoke, assuming a fine Irish brogue in imitation -of their little maid of all work. - -“I'll have to, unless my clothes have come over!” - -“They are here. Now do hurry.” - -He sprang out of bed and bounded across the room. She passed the -garments through the partly opened door. - -“Morning!” he greeted, sticking his tousled head around the edge. - -“Morning!” she responded as briefly. - -“Don't wait breakfast for me. I'll skip over home------” - -“It will be ready in fifteen minutes,” she said arbitrarily. “Don't -dawdle.” - -“How pretty, how sweet you are this morning,” he cried, his dark eyes -dancing. - -“Silly!” she scoffed, but with a radiant smile. Then, with a perfectly -childish giggle, she slammed the door and scurried away as if in fear of -pursuit. - -He was artistic, temperamental. Such as he have not the capacity for -haste when there is the slightest opportunity to dream and dawdle. He -was a full quarter of an hour taking his tub, and another was consumed -in getting into his clothes. At home he was always much longer than -this, for he was delayed by the additional task of selecting shirts, -ties, socks, and scarf-pins, and changing his mind and all of them three -or four times before being satisfied with the effect. He sallied forth -in great haste at nine thirty-five, and was extremely proud of himself, -although unshaved. - -His first act, after warmly greeting Mrs Desmond, was to sit down at the -piano. Hurriedly he played a few jerky, broken snatches of the haunting -air he had heard the night before. - -“I've been wondering if I could remember it,” he apologised, as he -followed them into the dining-room. “What's the matter, Lyddy? Didn't you -sleep well? Poor old girl, I was a beast to deprive you of your bed.” - -“I have a mean headache, that's all,” said the girl quickly. He noticed -the dark circles under her eyes and the queer expression, as of trouble, -in their depths. “It will go as soon as I've had my coffee.” - -Night, with its wonderful sensations, was behind them. Day revealed the -shadow that had fallen. They unconsciously shrank from it and drew back -into the shelter of their own misgivings. The joyous abandon of the -night before was dead. Over its grave stood the leering spectre of -unrest. - -When he took her in his arms later on, and kissed her, there was not the -shadow of a doubt in the mind of either that the restraining influence -of a condition over which they had no control was there to mock their -endeavour to be natural. They were not to be deceived by the apparent -earnestness of the embrace. Each knew that the other was asking a -question, even as their lips met and clung in the rather pathetic -attempt to confirm the fond dream of the night before. They kissed -as through a veil. They were awake once more, and they were wary, -unconvinced. The answer to their questions came in the kiss itself, and -constraint fell upon them. - -Drawn by an impulse that had been struggling within him, Frederic found -himself standing at the sitting-room window. It was a sly, covert, -though intensely eager look that he directed at another window far -below. If he hoped for some sign of life in his father's study he was -to be disappointed. The curtains hung straight and motionless. He would -have denied the charge that he longed to see Yvonne sitting in the -casement, waiting to waft a sign of greeting up to him; he would have -denied that the thought was in his mind when he went to the window; and -yet he was conscious of a feeling of disappointment, even annoyance. - -With considerable adroitness Lydia engaged his attention at the piano. -Keyed up as she was, his every emotion was plain to her perceptions. She -had anticipated the motive that led him to the window. She knew that -it would assert itself in spite of all that he could do to prevent. She -waited humbly for the thing to happen, pain in her heart, and when her -reading proved true she was prepared to combat its effect. Music was her -only ally. - -“How does it go, Freddy--the thing you were playing before breakfast?” - She was trying to pick up the elusive air. “It is such a fascinating, -adorable thing. Is this right?” - -He looked at his watch. The few bars she had mastered in her eagerness -fell upon inattentive ears at first. But she persisted. He came over and -stood beside her. His long, slim fingers joined hers on the keyboard, -and the sensuous strains of the waltz responded to his touch. He smiled -patiently as she struggled to repeat what he had played. The fever of -the thing took hold of him at last, as she had known it would. Leaning -over her shoulder, his cheek quite close to hers, he played. Her hands -dropped into her lap. - -She retained her seat on the bench. Her cunning brain told her that it -would be a mistake to relinquish her place at the keyboard. He would -play it through a time or two, mechanically perhaps, and then his -interest would be gone. He would have gratified her simple request, and -that would have been the end. She led him on by interrupting time and -again in her eagerness to grasp the lesson he was giving. Finally she -moved over on the bench, and he sat down beside her. He was absorbed in -the undertaking. His brow cleared. His smile was a happy, eager one. - -“It's a tricky thing, Lyddy,” he said enthusiastically, “but you'll get -it. Now listen.” - -For an hour they sat there, master and pupil, sweetheart and lover. -The fear was less in the heart of one when, tiring at last, the other -contentedly abandoned the rôle of taskmaster and threw himself upon the -couch, remarking, as he stretched himself in luxurious ease: - -“I like this, Lyddy. I wish you didn't have to go over there and dig -away at that confounded journal. I like this so well that, 'pon my soul, -I'd enjoy loafing here with you the whole day long.” - -Her heart leaped. “You shall have your wish, Freddy,” she said, barely -able to conceal the note of eagerness in her voice. “I am not going to -work to-day. I--my head, you know. Mother telephoned to Mr Brood this -morning before you were up.” - -“You're going to loaf?” he cried gladly. “Bully! And I may stay? But, -gee, I forgot your headache. It will------” He was staring up from the -couch when she hastily broke in, shaking her head vigorously. - -“Lie still. My head is much better. I want you to stay, dear. I--I want -to have you all to myself again. Oh, it will be so good--so good to -while away an idle day with you!” - -She was standing beside the couch. He reached forth and took her hand in -his, laying it against his lips. - -“It won't be an idle day,” said he seriously. “We shall be very busy.” - -“Busy?” she inquired apprehensively. - - “Talking things over,” he said -briefly. “Of course, I ought to go home and face the music.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“It's something I can't talk about, Lyddy. Let's forget our troubles for -to-day.” - -“Better still, let us share them. Stay here with me. Don't go home -to-day, Freddy. I------” - -“Oh, I've got to have it out with father some time,” he said -bitterly. “It may as well be now as later on. We've got to come to an -understanding.” - -Her heart was cold. She was afraid of what would come out of that -“understanding.” All night long she had lain with wide-staring eyes, -thinking of the horrid thing James Brood had said to her. Far in the -night she aroused her mother from a sound sleep to put the question that -had been torturing her for hours. Mrs Desmond confessed that her husband -had told her that Brood had never considered Frederic to be his son, -and then the two lay side by side for the remainder of the night without -uttering a word, and yet keenly awake. They were thinking of the hour -when Brood would serve notice on the intruder! - -Lydia now realised that the hour was near. Frederic himself would -challenge the wrath of all these bitter years, and it would fall upon -his unsuspecting head with cruel, obliterating force. - -The girl shivered as with a racking chill. “Have it out with father,” - he had said in his ignorance. He was preparing to rush headlong to his -doom. To prevent that catastrophe was the single, all-absorbing thought -in Lydia's mind. Her only hope lay in keeping the men apart until she -could extract from Brood a promise to be merciful, and this she intended -to accomplish if she had to go down on her knees and grovel before the -man. - -“Oh, Freddy,” she cried earnestly, “why take the chance of making a bad -matter worse?” Even as she uttered the words she realised how stupid, -how ineffectual they were. - -“It can't be much worse,” he said gloomily. “I am inclined to think he'd -relish a straight-out, fair, and square talk, anyhow. Moreover, I mean -to take Yvonne to task for the thing she said--or implied last night. -About you, I mean. She------” - -“Oh, I beg of you, don't!” - -“It was--unspeakable. I don't see what could have come over her.” - -“She was jealous. She admitted it, dear. If I don't mind, why should you -incur------” - -“Do you really believe she--she loves the governor enough to be as -jealous as all that?” he exclaimed, a curious gleam in his eyes--an -expression she did not like. - -“Of course I think so!” she cried emphatically. “What a question! Have -you any reason to suspect that she does not love your father?” - -“No--certainly not,” he said in some confusion. Then, after a moment: -“Are you quite sure this headache of yours is real, Lyddy?” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Isn't it an excuse to stay away from--from Yvonne, after what happened -last night? Be honest, dear.” - -She was silent for a long time, weighing her answer. Was it best to be -honest with him? - -“I confess that it has something to do with it,” she admitted. Lydia -could not be anything but truthful. - -“I thought so. It's--it's a rotten shame, Lyddy. That's why I want to -talk to her. I want to reason with her. It's all so perfectly silly, -this misunderstanding. You've just got to go on as you were before, -Lyddy--just as if it hadn't happened. It------” - -“I shall complete the work for your father, Freddy,” she said quietly. -“Two or three days more will see the end. After that neither my services -nor my presence will be required over there.” - -“You don't mean to say----” he began, unbelievingly. - -“It isn't likely I'd go there for pleasure, is it?” she interrupted -dryly. - -“But think of the old times, the------” - -“I can think of them just as well here as anywhere else. No; I shan't -annoy Mrs Brood, Freddy.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say more, -but she thought better of it. - -“They're going abroad soon,” he ventured. “At least, that's father's -plan. Yvonne isn't so keen about it. She calls this being abroad, you -know. Besides,” he hurried on in his eagerness to excuse Yvonne, “she's -tremendously fond of you.” - -Lydia was wise. “I would give a great deal to be able to really believe -so, Freddy. I--I could be very fond of her.” - -He warmed to the cause. - -“No end of times she's said you were the finest------” Her smile--an -odd one, such as he had never seen on her lips before--checked his -eager speech. He bridled. “Of course, if you don't choose to believe me, -there's nothing more to be said. She meant it, however.” - -“I am sure she said it, Freddy,” she hastened to declare. “Will she be -pleased with our--our marriage?” - -It required a great deal of courage on her part to utter these words, -but she was determined to bring the true situation home to him. - -He did not even hesitate, and there was conviction in his voice as he -replied: - -“It doesn't matter whether she's pleased or displeased. We're pleasing -ourselves, are we not? There's no one else to consider, dear.” - -Her eyes were full upon his, and there was wonder in them. - -“Thank you--thank you, Freddy,” she cried. -“I--I knew you'd------” The sentence remained unfinished. - -“Has there ever been a doubt in your mind?” he asked uneasily, after -a moment. He knew there had been misgivings, and he was ready, in his -self-abasement, to resent them if given the slightest opening. Guilt made -him arrogant. - -“No,” she answered simply. - -The answer was not what he expected. He flushed painfully. - -“I--I thought perhaps you'd--you'd get a notion in your head that------” - He, too, stopped for want of the right words to express himself without -committing the egregious error of letting her see that it had been in -his thoughts to accuse her of jealousy. - -She waited for a moment. “That I might have got the notion in my head -you did not love me any longer? Is that what you started to say?” - -“Yes,” he confessed, averting his eyes. - -“I've been unhappy at times, Freddy, but that is all,” she said -steadily. “You see, I know how honest you really are. I know it far -better than you know it yourself.” - -“I wonder just how honest I am,” he muttered. -“I wonder what would happen if------ But nothing can happen. Nothing -ever will happen. Thank you, old girl, for saying what you said just -now. It's--it's bully of you.” - -He got up and began pacing the floor. She leaned back in her chair, -deliberately giving him time to straighten out his thoughts for himself. -Wiser than she knew herself to be, she held back the warm, loving words -of encouragement, of gratitude, of belief. - -But she was not prepared for the impetuous appeal that followed. He -threw himself down beside her and grasped her hands in his. His face -seemed suddenly old and haggard, his eyes burned like coals of fire. -Then, for the first time, she had an inkling of the great struggle that -had been going on inside of him for weeks and weeks. - -“Listen, Lyddy,” he began nervously; “will you marry me to-morrow? Are -you willing to take the chance that I'll be able to support you, to earn -enough------” - -“Why, Freddy!” she cried, half starting up from the couch. She was -dumbfounded. - -“Will you? Will you? I mean it,” he went on, almost argumentatively. - -He was very much in earnest, but alas! the fire, the passion of the -importunate lover was missing. She shrank back into the corner of the -couch, staring at him with puzzled eyes. Comprehension was slow in -arriving. As he hurried on with his plea she began to see clearly, her -sound brain grasped the significance of this sudden decision on his -part. - -“There's no use waiting, dear. I'll never be more capable of earning -a living than I am right now. I can go into the office with Brooks any -day, and I--I think I can make good. God knows, I can try hard enough. -Brooks says he's got a place there for me in the bond department. It -won't be much at first, but I can work into a pretty good--what's the -matter? Don't you think I can do it? Have you no faith in me? Are you -afraid to take a chance?” - -She had smiled sadly--it seemed to him reprovingly. His cheek flushed. - -“What has put all this into your head, Freddy dear?” she asked shrewdly. - -“Why, good Lord, haven't we had this very thing in mind for years?” he -cried. “Haven't we talked about my------” - -“What put it into your head--just now?” she insisted. - -“I don't know what you're driving at,” he floundered. - -“Don't you think it would be safer--I mean wiser if you were to wait -until you are quite certain of yourself, Freddy?” - -“I am certain of myself,” he exploded. “What do you mean? What sort of -talk is this you are------” - -“Hush! Don't be angry, dear. Be honest now. Don't you understand just -what I mean?” They looked squarely into each other's eyes. - -“I want you to marry me at once,” said he doggedly. “You know I love -you, Lyddy. Is there anything more to say than that?” - -“Don't you want to tell me, Freddy?” - -His eyes wavered. “I can't go on living as I have been for the past few -months. I've just got to end it, Lyddy. You don't understand--you can't, -and there isn't any use in trying to explain the----” - -“I think I do understand, dear,” she said quietly, laying her hand on -his. “I understand so completely that there isn't any use in your trying -to explain. But don't you think you are a bit cowardly?” - -“Cowardly?” he gasped, and then the blood rushed to his face. - -“Is it quite fair to me--or to yourself?” He was silent. She waited for -a moment and then went on resolutely. “I know just what it is that you -are afraid of, Freddy. I shall marry you, of course. I love you more -than anything else in all the world. But are you quite fair in asking me -to marry you while you are still afraid, dear?” - -“Before God, Lyddy, I love no one else but you!” he cried earnestly. “I -know what it is you are thinking, and I--I don't blame you. But I want -you _now_--you don't know how much I need you now! I want to begin a new -life with you. I want to feel that you are with me--just you--strong and -brave and enduring. I am adrift. I need you.” - -“I know you love me, Frederic. I am absolutely certain of it,” she said -slowly, weighing her words carefully. “But I cannot marry you -to-morrow--nor for a long time after to-morrow. In a year--yes. But not -now, dear; not just now. You--you understand, don't you? Say that you -understand.” - -His chin sank upon his breast. “Of course I understand,” he said in a -very low voice. - -“I shall never love you any more than I love you now, Freddy--never so -much, perhaps, as at this moment.” - -“I know, Lyddy; I know,” he said dully. - -“If you insist, I will marry you to-morrow; but you cannot--you will not -ask it of me, will you?” - -“But you know I do love you,” he cried. “There isn't any doubt in your -mind, Lyddy. There is no one else I tell you.” - -“I think I am just beginning to understand men,” she remarked -enigmatically. - -“And to wonder why they call women the weaker sex, eh?” - -“Yes,” she said, so seriously that the wry smile died on his lips. “I -don't believe there are many women who would ask a man to be sorry for -them. That's really what all this amounts to, isn't it, Freddy?” - -“By Jove!” he exclaimed wonderingly. - -“You are a strong, self-willed, chivalrous man, and yet you think -nothing of asking a woman to protect you against yourself; You are -afraid to stand alone. Wait! You need me because you are a strong -man and are afraid that your very strength will lead you into ignoble -warfare. You are afraid of your strength, not of your weakness. So you -ask me to help you. Without thinking, you ask me to marry you to-morrow. -The idea came to you like a flash of light in the darkness. Five -minutes--yes, one minute before you asked it of me, Freddy dear, you -were floundering in the darkness, uncertain which way to turn. You were -afraid of the things you could not see. You looked for some place in -which to hide. The flash of light revealed a haven of refuge. So you -asked me to to marry you to-morrow.” - -All through this indictment she had held his hand clasped tightly in -both of hers. He was looking at her with a frank acknowledgment growing -in his eyes. - -“Are you ashamed of me, Lyddy?” he asked. - - “No,” she said, meeting his -gaze steadily. “I am a little disappointed, that's all. It is you who -are ashamed.” - -“I am,” said he simply. “It wasn't fair.” - -“Love will endure. I am content to wait,” she said with a wistful smile. - -“You will be my wife, no matter what happens? You won't let this make -any difference?” - -“You are not angry with me?” - -“Angry? Why should I be angry with you, Lyddy? For shaking some sense -into me? For seeing through me with that wonderful, far-sighted brain of -yours? Why, I could go down on my knees to you. I could------” - -“Let me think, Freddy,” she cried, suddenly confronted by her own -declaration of the night before. She had told James Brood that she would -marry this discredited son of his the instant he was ready to take her -unto himself. She had flung that in the older man's face, and she had -meant every word of it. - -“I--I take back what I said, dear. I will marry you to-morrow.” She -spoke rapidly, jerkily; her eyes were very dark and luminous. - -“What has come over you?” He stared at her in astonishment. “What--oh, I -see! You are not sure of me. You------” - -“Yes, yes, I am! It isn't that. I did not know what I was saying when I -refused to------” - -“Oh, there you go, just like a woman!” he cried triumphantly. “Spoiling -everything! You dear, lovable, inconsequent, regular girl! Hurray! Now -we're back where we began, and I'm holding the whip. You bring me to my -senses and then promptly lose your own.” He clasped her in his arms and -held her close. “You dear, dear Lyddy!” - -“I mean it, dear heart.” The whisper smothered in his embrace. -“To-morrow--to-day, if you will. We will go away. We will------” - -“No,” he said, quite resolutely; “you have shown me the way. I've -just got to make good in your estimation before I can hold you to your -promise. You're splendid, Lyddy; you're wonderful, but--well, I was -unfair a while ago. I mean to be fair now. We'll wait. It's better so. -I will come again and ask you, but it won't be as it was just now. It -would not be right for me to take you at your word. We'll wait.” - -Neither spoke for many minutes. It was she who broke the silence. - -“You must promise one thing, Frederic. For my sake, avoid a quarrel with -your father. I could not bear that. You will promise, dear? You must.” - -“I don't intend to quarrel with him; but if I am to remain in his house -there has got to be------” -He paused, his jaw set stubbornly. - -“Promise me you will wait. He is going away in two weeks. When he -returns--later on--next fall------” - -“Oh, if it really distresses you, Lyddy, I'll------” - -“It does distress me. I want your promise.” - -“I'll do my part,” he said resignedly, “and next fall will see us -married, so------” - -The telephone-bell in the hall was ringing. Frederic released Lydia's -hand and sat up rather stiffly, as one who suddenly suspects that he is -being spied upon. The significance of the movement did not escape Lydia. -She laughed mirthlessly. - -“I will see who it is,” she said, and arose. Two red spots appeared in -his cheeks. Then it was that she realised he had been waiting all along -for the bell to ring; he had been expecting a summons. - -“If it's for me, please say--er--say I'll------” he began, somewhat -disjointedly, but she interrupted him. - -“Will you stay here for luncheon, Frederic? And this afternoon we will -go to--oh, is there a concert or a recital------” - -“Yes, I'll stay if you'll let me,” he said wistfully. “We'll find -something to do.” - -She went to the telephone. He heard the polite greetings, the polite -assurances that she had not taken cold, two or three laughing rejoinders -to what must have been amusing comments on the storm and its effect on -timid creatures, and then: - -“Yes, Mrs Brood, I will call him to the phone.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -Frederic had the feeling that he slunk to the telephone. The girl -handed the receiver to him and he met her confident, untroubled gaze for -a second. Instead of returning to the sitting-room where she could have -heard everything that he said, she went into her own room down the hall -and closed the door. He was not conscious of any intention to temporise, -but it was significant that he did not speak until the door closed -behind her. Afterward he realised and was ashamed. - -Almost the first words that Yvonne uttered were of a nature to puzzle -and irritate him, although they bore directly upon his own previously -formed resolution. Her voice, husky and low, seemed strangely plaintive -and lifeless to him. - -“Have you and Lydia made any plans for the afternoon?” she inquired. He -made haste to declare their intention to attend a concert. “I am glad -you are going to do that,” she went on. - -“Are you ill, Yvonne?” he queried suddenly. “I? Oh, no. I think I never -felt better in my life than I do at this moment. The storm must have -blown the cobwebs out of my brain. I believe I'm quite happy to-day, -Frederic.” - -“Aren't you always happy?” he cried chidingly. “What an odd thing to -say.” - -She did not respond to this. - -“You will stay for luncheon with Lydia?” - -“Yes. She's trying to pick up that thing of Feverelli's--the one we -heard last night.” There was silence at the other end of the wire, “Are -you there?” - -“Yes.” - -“I'm teaching it to her.” - -“I see.” - -“I will be home for dinner, of course. You--you don't need me for -anything, do you?” - -“No,” she said. Then, with a low laugh: “You may be excused for the day, -my son.” - -“What's wrong?” he demanded, lowering his voice. - -“Wrong? Nothing is wrong. Everything seems right to me. Your father and -I have been discussing the trip abroad.” - -“Is--is it settled?” - -“Yes. We are to sail on the twenty-fifth--in ten days.” - -“Settled, eh?” - -“Yes.” - -“I thought you--you were opposed to going.” - -“I've changed my mind. As a matter of fact, I've changed my heart.” - -“You speak in riddles.” - -“Your father has gone out to arrange for passage on the _Olympic_. He is -lunching at the Lawyers' Club.” - -“You will lunch alone, then?” - -“Naturally.” - -He suppressed an impulse. - -“I'm sorry, Yvonne.” - -She was silent for a long time. - -“Frederic, I want you to do something for me.” - -“I--I've promised Lydia to stay here------” - -“Oh, it isn't that. Will you try to convince Lydia that I meant no -offence last night when I------” - -“She understands all that perfectly, Yvonne.” - -“No, she doesn't. A woman _wouldn't_ understand.” - -“I will square everything,” he said. - -“It means a great deal to me,” - -“In what way?” - -There was a pause. - -“No woman likes to be regarded as a fool,” she said at last, apparently -after careful reflection. -“Oh, yes; there is something else. We are dining out this evening.” - -“You and I?” he asked, after a moment. - -“Certainly not. Your father and I. I was about to suggest that you dine -with Lydia--or, better still, ask her over here to share your dinner -with you.” - -He was scowling. - -“Where are you going?” - -“Going? Oh, dining. I see. Well,” slowly, deliberately, “we thought -it would be great fun to dine alone at Delmonico's and see a play -afterward.” - -“Just--you and father?” - -“We two--no more.” - -“How cunning,” he sneered. - -“Will you ask Lydia to dine with you?” - -“No.” - -“Perhaps you will go out somewhere?” - -“I'll have dinner with Mr Dawes and------” - -“That would be jolly. They will be pleased. A sort of--what do you call -it--a sort of reunion, eh?” - -“Are you making sport of me?” he demanded angrily. - -“But no! It will be making sport for the old gentleman, though, _aïe?_ -And now _au revoir!_ You will surely convince Lydia that I love her? -I am troubled. You will------” - -“What play are you going to see?” he cut in. She mentioned a Belasco -production. “Well, I hope you enjoy it, Yvonne. By the way, how is the -governor to-day? In a good humour?” - -There was no response. He waited for a moment and then called out: “Are -you there?”. - -“Good-bye,” came back over the wire. - -He started, as if she had given him a slap in the face. Her voice was -cold and forbidding. - -When Lydia rejoined him in the sitting-room he was standing at the -window, staring across the courtyard far below. - -“Are you going?” she asked steadily. - -He turned toward her, conscious of the tell-tale scowl that was -passing from his brow. It did not occur to him to resent her abrupt, -uncompromising question. As a matter of fact, it seemed quite natural -that she should put the question in just that way, flatly, incisively. -He considered himself, in a way, to be on trial. - -“No, I'm not,” he replied. “You did not expect me to forget, did you?” - -He was uncomfortable under her honest, inquiring gaze. A sullen anger -against himself took possession of him. He despised himself for the -feeling of loneliness and homesickness that suddenly came over him. - -“I thought------” she began, and then her brow cleared. “I have been -looking up the recitals in the morning paper. The same orchestra you -heard last night is to appear again to-day at------” - -“We will go there, Lydia,” he interrupted, and at once began to hum the -gay little air that had so completely charmed him. “Try it again, Lyddy. -You'll get it in no time.” - -After luncheon, like two happy children they rushed off to the concert, -and it was not until they were on their way home at five o'clock that -his enthusiasm began to wane. She was quick to detect the change. He -became moody, preoccupied; his part of the conversation was kept up with -an effort that lacked all of the spontaneity of his earlier and more -engaging flights. - -They rode down town on the top of a Fifth Avenue stage, having it all -to themselves. She found herself speculating on the change that had come -over him, and soon lapsed into a reserve quite as pronounced as his -own. By the time they were ready to get down at the corner above Brood's -house there was no longer any pretence at conversation between them. -The day's fire had burned out. Its glow had given way to the bleak, gray -tone of dead coals. - -Lydia went far back in her calculations and attributed his mood to the -promise she had exacted in regard to his attitude toward his father. It -occurred to her that he was smarting under the restraint that promise -involved. She realised now, more than ever before, that there could be -no delay, no faltering on her part. She would have to see James Brood at -once; go down on her knees to him. - -“I feel rather guilty, Freddy,” she said as they approached the house. -“Mr Brood will think it strange that I should plead a headache and yet -run off to a concert and enjoy myself when he is so eager to finish the -journal--especially as he is to sail so soon. I ought to see him; don't -you think so? Perhaps there is something I can do to-night that will -make up for the lost time.” She was plainly nervous. - -“He'd work you to death if he thought it would serve his purpose,” said -Frederic gloomily. And back of that sentence lay the thought that made -it absolutely imperative for her to act without delay. - -“I will go in for a few minutes,” she said, at the foot of the steps. -“Are you not coming, too?” - -He had stopped. “Not just now, Lyddy. I think I'll run up to Tom's flat -and smoke a pipe with him. Thanks, old girl, for the happy day we've -had. You don't mind if I leave you here?” - -Her heart gave a great throb of relief. It was best to have him out of -the way for the time being. - -“No, indeed,” she said. “Do go and see Tom. I shan't be here long. We -have had a glorious day, haven't we?” There was something wistful in her -smile as she held out her hand to him. - -He searched her face with tired, yearning eyes. - -“We have thousands of them ahead of us, Lyddy--days that will be all our -own, with nothing else in them but ourselves. I--I wish we could begin -them to-morrow, after all.” - -A flush mounted to her cheek. - -“Good-bye, Freddy.” - -He seemed reluctant to release her hand; her hand was cold, but her eyes -were shining with a glorious warmth. - -“I--I may run in to see you this evening,” he said. “You won't mind?” - -“Come, by all means.” - -“Well--so-long,” he said diffidently. “So-long, Lyddy.” - -“So-long,” she repeated, dropping into his manner of speech without -thinking. There was a smothering sensation in her breast. - -He looked back as he strode off in the direction from which they had -come. She was at the top of the steps, her finger on the electric -button. He wondered why her face was so white. He had always thought of -it as being full of colour, rich, soft, and warm. - -Inside the door Lydia experienced a strange sinking of the heart. Her -limbs seemed curiously weak, and she was conscious of a feeling of utter -loneliness, such as she had never known before. She looked about her in -wonder, as if seeking an explanation for the extraordinary but fleeting -impression that she was in a strange house. Never was she to find an -interpretation of the queer fantasy that came and went almost in the -span of a single breath. - -“Is Mr Brood at------” she began nervously. - -A voice at the top of the stairway interrupted the question she was -putting to the footman. - -“Is it you, Lydia? Come up to my room.” - -The girl looked up and saw Mrs Brood leaning over the banister-rail. She -was holding her pink dressing-gown closely about her throat, as if -it had been hastily thrown about her shoulders. One bare arm was -visible--completely so. - -“I came to see Mr Brood. Is he------” - -“He is busy. Come up to my room,” repeated Yvonne, somewhat imperiously. - -As Lydia mounted the stairs she had a fair glimpse of the other's face. -Always pallid--but of a healthy pallor--it was now almost ghastly. -Perhaps it was the light from the window that caused it; Lydia was not -sure, but a queer greenish hue overspread the lovely, smiling face. The -lips were red, very red--redder than she had ever seen them. The girl -suddenly recalled the face she had once seen of a woman who was addicted -to the drug habit. - -Mrs Brood met her at the top of the stairs. She was but half dressed. -Her lovely neck and shoulders were now almost bare. Her hands were -extended toward the visitor; the filmy lace gown hung loose and -disregarded about her slim figure. - -“Come in, dear. Shall we have tea? I have been so lonely. One cannot -read the books they print nowadays. Such stupid things, _aïe?_” - -She threw an arm about the tall girl, and Lydia was surprised to find -that it was warm and full of a gentle strength. She felt her flesh -tingle with the thrill of contact. Yes, it must have been the light -from the window, for Yvonne's face was now aglow with the peculiar -iridescence that was so peculiarly her own. - -A door closed softly on the floor above them. Mrs Brood glanced over her -shoulder and upward. Her arm tightened perceptibly about Lydia's waist. - -“It was Ranjab,” said the girl, and instantly was filled with amazement. -She had not seen the Hindu, had not even been thinking of him, and yet -she was impelled by some mysterious intelligence to give utterance to a -statement in which there was conviction, not conjecture. - -“Did you see him?” asked the other, looking at her sharply. - -“No,” admitted Lydia, still amazed. “I don't know why I said that.” - -Mrs Brood closed her boudoir door behind them. For an instant she stood -staring at the knob, as if expecting to see it turn. - -“I know,” she said, “I know why you said it. Because it _was_ Ranjab.” - She shivered slightly. -“I am afraid of that man, Lydia. He seems to be watching me all the -time. Day and night his eyes seem to be upon me.” - -“Why, should he be watching you?” asked Lydia bluntly. - -Yvonne did not notice the question. - -“Even when I am asleep in my bed, in the dead hour of night, he is -looking at me. I can feel it. Oh, it is not a dream, for my dreams are -of something or someone else--never of him. And yet he is there, looking -at me. It--it is uncanny.” - -“Imagination,” remarked Lydia quietly. “He never struck me as especially -omnipresent.” - -“Didn't you _feel_ him a moment ago?” demanded Yvonne irritably. - -The other hesitated, reflecting. - -“I suppose it must have been something like that.” They were still -facing the door, standing close together. “Why do you feel that he is -watching you?” - -“I don't know. I just feel it, that's all. Day and night. He can read my -thoughts, Lydia, as he would read a book. Isn't--isn't it disgusting?” - Her laugh was spiritless, obviously artificial. - -“I shouldn't object to his reading my thoughts,” said Lydia. - -“Ah, but you are Lydia. It's different. I have thoughts sometimes, my -dear, that would not--but there! Let us speak of more agreeable things. -Take off your coat--here, let me help you. What a lovely waist! You -will pardon my costume, won't you, or rather the lack of one? I shan't -dress until dinner-time. Sit down here beside me. No tea? A cigarette, -then. No?” - -“I never smoke, you remember,” said the other. She was looking at Yvonne -now with a curious, new-found interest in her serious eyes. “I came to -explain to Mr Brood how it happens that------” - -“Poof! Never explain, my dear, never explain anything to a man!” cried -Yvonne, lighting a cigarette. The flare of the match in the partially -darkened room lit up her face with merciless candour. Lydia was -conscious once more of the unusual pallor and a certain haggardness -about the dark eyes. - -“But he is so eager to complete the------” - -“Do you forgive me for what I said to you last night?” demanded Yvonne, -sitting down beside the girl on the _chaise longue_. The interruption -was rude, perhaps, but it was impossible to resent it, so appealing was -the expression in the offender's eyes. - -“It was so absurd, Mrs Brood, that I have scarcely given it a moment's -thought. Of course, I was hurt at the time. It was so unjust to Mr -Brood. It was------” - -“It is like you to say that!” cried Yvonne. “You are splendid, Lydia. -Will you believe me when I tell you that I love you--that I love you -very dearly?” - -Lydia looked at her in some doubt, and not without misgivings. - -“I should like to believe it,” she said noncommittally. - -“Ah, but you doubt it. I see. Well, I do not blame you. I have given you -much pain, much distress. When I am far away you will be glad--you will -be happy. Is not that so?” - -“But you are coming back,” said Lydia with a frank smile, not meant to -be unfriendly. - -Yvonne's face clouded. - -“Yes, I shall probably come back. Nothing is sure in this queer world of -ours.” She threw her cigarette away. “I don't like it to-day. Ugh! how -it tastes in my mouth!” She drew closer to the girl's side. Lydia's -nostrils filled with the strange, sweet perfume that she affected, so -individually hers, so personally Yvonne. “Oh, yes; I shall come back. -Why not? Is not this my home?” - -“You may call it your home, Mrs Brood,” said -Lydia, “but are you quite sure your thoughts always abide here? I mean -in the United States, of course.” - -Yvonne had looked up at her quickly. - -“Oh, I see. No; I shall never be an American.” Then she abruptly changed -the subject. “You have had a nice day with Frederic? You have been -happy, both of you?” - -“Yes--very happy, Mrs Brood,” said the girl simply. - -“I am glad. You must always be happy, you two. It is my greatest wish.” - -Lydia hesitated for a moment. - -“Frederic asked me to be his wife--to-morrow,” she said, and her heart -began to thump queerly. She felt that she was approaching a crisis of -some sort. - -“To-morrow?” fell from Yvonne's lips. The word was drawn out, as if in -one long breath. Then, to Lydia's astonishment, an extraordinary change -came over the speaker. - -“Yes, yes; it should be--it must be to-morrow. Poor boy--poor, poor boy! -You will marry, yes, and go way at once, _aïe?_” Her voice was almost -shrill in its intensity, her eyes were wide and eager and--anxious. - -“I------ Oh, Mrs Brood, is it for the best?” cried Lydia. “Is it the -best thing for Frederic to do? I--I feared you might object. I am sure -his father will refuse permission------” - -“But you love each other--that is enough. Why ask the consent of anyone? -Yes, yes, it is for the best. I know--oh, you cannot realise how well I -know. You must not hesitate.” The woman was trembling in her eagerness. -Lydia's astonishment gave way to perplexity. - -“What do you mean? Why are you so serious--so intent on this------” - -“Frederic has no money,” pursued Yvonne, as if she had not heard Lydia's -words. “But that must not deter you--it must not stand in the way. I -shall find a way; yes, I shall find a way. I------” - -“Do you mean that you would provide for him for us?” exclaimed Lydia. - -“There is a way, there is a way,” said the other, fixing her eyes -appealingly on the girl's face, to which the flush of anger was slowly -mounting. - -“His father will not help him--if, that is what you are counting upon, -Mrs Brood,” said the girl coldly. - -“I know. He will not help him; no.” - -Lydia started. - -“What do you know about--what has Mr Brood said to you?” Her heart was -cold with apprehension. “Why are you going away next week? What has -happened?” - -Brood's wife was regarding her with narrowing eyes. - -“Are you attributing my motives to something that my husband has said to -me? Am I expected to say that he has--what you call it--that he has put -his foot down?” - -“I am sorry you misunderstood my------” - -“Oh, I see now. You think my husband suspects that Frederic is too -deeply interested in his beautiful stepmother; is not that so? Poof! -It has nothing to do with it.” Her eyes were sullen, full of resentment -now. She was collecting herself. - -The girl's eyes expressed the disdain that suddenly took the place of -apprehension in her thoughts. A sharp retort leaped to her lips, but she -suppressed it. - -“Mr Brood does not like Frederic,” she said instead, and could have cut -out her tongue the instant the words were uttered. Yvonne's eyes -were glittering with a light that she had never seen in them before. -Afterward she described it to herself as baleful. - -“So! He has spoken ill--evil--of his son to you?” she said, almost in -a monotone, “He has hated him for years--is not that so? I am not the -original cause, _aïe?_ It began long ago--long, long ago?” - -“Oh, I beg of you, Mrs Brood------” began -Lydia, shrinking back in dismay. - -“You are free to speak your thoughts to me. I shall not be offended. -What has he said to you about Frederic--and me?” - -“Nothing, I swear to you; nothing!” cried the girl. - -“But you have the power of observation. You do not have to be told in so -many words. You have been with him a great deal, alone. His manner -tells you what his lips hold back. Tell me.” Lydia resolved to take the -plunge. Now was the time to speak plainly to this woman of the thing -that was hurting her almost beyond the limits of endurance. Her voice -was rather high-pitched. She had the fear that she would not be able to -control it. - -“I should be blind not to have observed the cruel position in which you -are placing Frederic. Is it surprising that your husband has eyes -as well as I? What must be his thoughts, Mrs Brood?” - - She expected an -outburst, a torrent of indignation, an angry storm of words, and was -therefore unprepared for the piteous, hunted expression that came -swiftly into the lovely eyes, bent so appealing upon her own, which were -cold and accusing. Here was a new phase to this extraordinary creature's -character. She was a coward, after all, and Lydia despised a coward. The -look of scorn deepened in her eyes, and out from her heart rushed -all that was soft and tender in her nature, leaving it barren of all -compassion. - -“I do not want to hurt Frederic,” murmured -Yvonne. “I--I am sorry if------” - -“You are hurting him dreadfully,” said Lydia, suddenly choking up with -emotion. - -“He is not--not in love with me,” declared Yvonne, - -“No,” said the girl, regaining control of herself, “he is not in love -with you. That is the whole trouble. He is in love with me. But--but -can't you see?” - -“You are a wise young woman to know men so well,” said the other -enigmatically. “I have never believed in St Anthony.” - -“Nor I,” said Lydia, and was surprised at herself. - -“I prefer to put my faith in the women who tempted him,” said Yvonne, -drawing a little closer to the girl. - -“Perhaps you are right. They at least were not pretending.” - -“I am not so sure of that. At any rate, they succeeded in making a saint -of him eventually.” - -“I suppose you are undertaking a similar office in--in Frederic's -behalf,” said Lydia with fine irony. - -“Do you consider me to be a bad woman, Lydia?” Her lips trembled. There -was a suspicious quiver to her chin. - -“No; I do not,” pronounced the girl flatly. “If I could only think that -of you it would explain everything, and I should know just how to treat -you. But I do not think it of you.” - -With a long, deep sigh Yvonne crept closer and laid her head against -Lydia's shoulder. The girl's body stiffened, her brow grew dark with -annoyance. - -“I am afraid you do not understand, Mrs Brood. The fact still remains -that you have not considered Frederic's peace of mind.” - -“Nor yours,” murmured the other. - -“Nor mine,” confessed Lydia, after a moment. - -“I did not know that you and Frederic were in love with each other until -I had been here for some time,” Mrs Brood explained, suddenly fretful. - -Lydia stared hard at the soft white cheek that lay exposed below the -black crown of hair. - -“What had that to do with it?” - -“A great deal more than you can imagine,” said the other, looking up -into Lydia's face with a curious gleam in her eyes. - -“You admit, then, that you deliberately------” - -“I admit nothing, except that I am sorry to have made you unhappy.” - -“What kind of a woman are you?” burst out Lydia's indignant soul. “Have -you no conception of the finer, nobler------” - -Yvonne deliberately put her hand over the girl's lips, checking the -fierce outburst. She smiled rather plaintively as Lydia tried to jerk -her head to one side in order to continue her reckless indictment. - -“You shall not say it, Lydia. I am not all that you think I am. No, no; -a thousand times no. God pity me, I am more accursed than you may think -with the finer and nobler instincts. If it were not so, do you think -I should be where I am now--cringing here like a beaten child? No, you -cannot understand--you never will understand. I shall say no more. It -is ended. I swear on my soul that I did not know you were Frederic's -sweetheart. I did not know------” - -“But you knew almost immediately after you came here!” exclaimed Lydia -harshly. “It is not myself I am thinking of, Mrs Brood, but of Frederic. -Why have you done this abominable thing to him? Why?” - -“I--I did not realise what it would mean to him,” said the other -desperately. “I--I did not count all the cost. But, dearest Lydia, it -will come out all right. Everything shall be made right again, I promise -you. I have made a horrible, horrible mistake. I can say no more. -Now let me lie here with my head upon your breast. I want to feel the -beating of your pure, honest heart--the heart I have hurt. I can tell -by its throbs whether it will ever soften toward me. Do not say anything -now--let us be still.” - -It would be difficult to describe the feelings of -Lydia Desmond as she sat there with the despised, though to be adored, -head pillowed upon her breast, where it now rested in a sort of -confident repose, as if there was safety in the very strength of the -young girl's disapproval. Yvonne had twisted her lithe body on the -_chaise longue_ so that she half faced Lydia. Her free arm, from which -the loose sleeve had fallen, leaving it bare to the shoulder, was about -the girl's neck. - -For a long time Lydia stared straight before her, seeing nothing, -positively dumb with wonder, and acknowledging a sense of dismay over -her own disposition to submit to this extraordinary situation. She was -asking herself why she did not cast the woman away, why she lacked the -power to resent by deed as well as by thought. - -At last she lowered her eyes, conquered by an impulse she had resisted -for many minutes. Her now perplexed gaze rested upon the gleaming white -arm, and then moved wonderingly to the smooth cheek and throat. She saw -the pulse beating in that slender neck. Fascinated, she watched it for a -long, long time. - -Suddenly there ran through her heart a strange wave of tenderness. That -faint, delicate throb in the throat of this woman represented the -rush of life's blood--the warm, sweet flood of a lovely living thing. -Yvonne's eyes were closed. The long, dark lashes lay feathery above the -alabaster cheek; there were delicate blue lines in the lids. A faint, -almost imperceptible depression as of pain appeared between the -eyebrows. The black, glossy hair filled Lydia's nostrils with its living -perfume. - -Life--marvellous, adorable life rested there on her breast. This woman -had hurt her--had hurt her wantonly--and yet there came stealing over -her, subtly, the conviction that she could never hurt her in return. She -could never bring herself to the point of hurting this wondrous living, -breathing, throbbing creature who pleaded, not only with her lips and -eyes, but with the gentle heart-beats that rose and fell in her throat. - -Like velvet was the smooth, glossy skin of her arm and breast. Never had -Lydia dreamed that flesh could be so soft and white and so aglow with -vitality. There was a sheen to it, a soft sheen that seemed fairly to -radiate light itself. - -Still in a maze of wonder and something bordering on sheer delight, she -fell to studying the perfections that the cheek and lips revealed. - -Scarlet, pensively drooping were the lips, and almost opalescent the -clear-cut cheek and chin. The delicate nostrils vibrated with the -quickened breath that stirred the firm, full breast which rose and fell -softly, gently; there were firm, hitherto invisible blue lines in the -gleaming skin. Slowly, resistlessly Lydia's arm tightened about the -slender, seductive body. - -After a long time, in which there was conflict, she suddenly pressed her -warm lips to Yvonne's in a kiss that thrilled through every nerve in her -body--a kiss that lingered because it was returned with equal fervour -and abandon. They were clasped tightly in each other's arms and their -eyes were closed as with pain. - -Then, in an abrupt revulsion of feeling, in a desperate awakening, -Lydia relaxed. Her arms fell away from the warm, sweet body and her -eyes widened with something that passed for confusion, but which was in -reality shame. Almost roughly she pushed Yvonne away from her. - -“I--I didn't mean to do that!” she gasped. - -The other withdrew her arm and straightened up slowly, all the time -regarding the girl with a strange, wondering look in her eyes--a look -that quickly resolved itself into sadness so poignant that the girl, -even in her confused state of mind, recognised it as such and was -abashed. - -“I knew that you would,” said Yvonne in a very low voice, and shook her -head drearily. - -“I am sorry,” murmured Lydia in great distress. - -The other smiled, but it was a sad, plaintive effort on her part. - -“I knew that you would,” she repeated. - -Lydia sprang to her feet, her face suddenly flaming with embarrassment. -She felt unaccountably guilty of--she knew not what. - -“I must see Mr Brood. I stepped in to tell him that------” she began, -trying to cover her confusion, but Yvonne interrupted. - -“I know that you could not help it, my dear,” she said. Then, after a -pause: “You will let me know what my husband has to say about it?” - -“To--to say about it?” - -“About your decision to marry Frederic in spite of his objections.” - -Lydia felt a little shiver race over her as she looked toward the door. - -“You will help us?” she said tremulously, turning to Yvonne. Again she -saw the drawn, pained look about the dark eyes and was startled. - -“You can do more with him than I,” was the response. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -Lydia stopped for a moment in the hall, after closing the door behind -her, to pull herself together for the ordeal that was still to come. -She was trembling; a weakness had assailed her. She had left Yvonne's -presence in a dazed, unsettled condition of mind. - -There was a lapse of some kind that she could neither account for nor -describe even to herself. She tried to put it into seconds and minutes, -and then realised that it was not a matter to be reckoned as time. Yet -there had been a distinct, unmistakable gap in her existence. Something -had stopped--she knew not for how long--and then she had found herself -breathing, thinking once more. In spite of the conviction that she had -passed through a period of utter oblivion, she could account for every -second of time with an absolute clearness of memory. - -There was not an instant, nor a sensation, nor an impulse that was not -fully recorded in her alert brain. She remembered everything; she could -have described every emotion; and yet she felt that there had been a -period of complete absence, as real as it was improbable. - -She felt now as she always felt after sipping champagne--in a warm glow -of intoxication. She was drunk with the scent that filled her nostrils, -the scent that lay on her lips, that lived and breathed with her. Her -heart was throbbing rapidly, as if earnestly seeking to regain the beats -that it had lost. - -Suddenly there came to her an impulse to go back and lay bare before -Yvonne all of the wretched story that had fallen from the lips of James -Brood the night before. She conceived the strange notion that Yvonne -alone could avert the disaster, that she could be depended upon to save -Frederic from the blow that seemed so sure to fall. She even went so far -as to turn toward the door and to take a step in its direction. - -Then came the revolt against the impulse. Was it fair to Frederic? Had -she the right to reveal this ugly thing to one whose sympathies might, -after all, be opposed to the wife who had preceded her in James Brood's -affections--the wife who had been first in his heart, and whose memory, -for all she knew, might still be a worthy adversary even in this day of -apparent supremacy? - -What right had she to conclude that this woman would take up the cause -of Frederic's mother and jeopardise her own position by seeking to -put her husband in the wrong in that unhappy affair of long ago? Would -Yvonne do this for Frederic? Would she do all this for Frederic's -mother? - -Lydia turned away and went slowly toward the stairs, despising herself -for the thought. The black velvet coat that formed a part of her trig -suit hung limply in her hand, dragging along the floor as she moved with -hesitating steps in the direction of James Brood's study. A sickening -estimate of her own strength of purpose confronted her. She was suddenly -afraid of the man who had always been her friend. Somehow she felt that -he would turn upon and rend her, this man who had always been gentle and -considerate--and who had killed things! - -She found herself at last standing stock-still at the bottom of the -steps, looking upward, trying to concentrate all of her determination on -what now appeared to her to be an undertaking of the utmost daring, as -one who risks everything in an encounter in the dark. - -Ranjab appeared at the head of the stairs. She waited for his signal to -ascend, somehow feeling that Brood had sent him forth to summon her. Her -hand sought the stair-rail and gripped it tightly. Her lips parted in -a stiff smile. Now she knew that she was turning coward, that she longed -to put off the meeting until to-morrow--_to-morrow!_ - -The Hindu came down the stairs, quickly, noiselessly. - -“The master say to come to-morrow, to-morrow as usual,” he said, as he -paused above her on the steps. - -“It--it must be to-day,” she said doggedly, even as the chill of relief -shot through her. - -“To-morrow,” said the man. His eyes were kindly inquiring. “_Sahib_ say -you are to rest.” There was a pause. “To-morrow will not be too late.” - -She started. Had he read the thought that was in her mind? - -“Thank you, Ranjab,” she said, after a moment of indecision. “I will -come to-morrow.” - -Then she slunk downstairs and out of the house, convinced that she had -failed Frederic in his hour of greatest need, that to-morrow would be -too late. - -Frederic did not come in for dinner until after his father and Yvonne -had gone from the house. He did not inquire for them, but instructed -Jones to say to the old gentlemen that he would be pleased to dine with -them if they could allow him the time to “change.” He also told Jones to -open a single bottle of champagne and to place three glasses. - -“If you please, sir, Mrs Brood has given strict orders----” - -“That's all right, Jones. She won't mind for to-night. We expect to -drink the health of the bride, Jones.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“That is to say, _my_ bride.” - -“Your bride, Mr Frederic?” - -“I'm going to be married.” - -“Bless my soul, sir!” - -“You seem surprised.” - -“Ahem! I should 'ave said, 'God be praised,' sir.” - -“Now that I think of it, don't mention it to Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs. Let -me make the announcement, Jones.” - -“Certainly, sir. It is most confidential, of course. Bless my--I mean to -say, Golden Seal, sir?” - -“Any old thing, Jones.” - -“May I offer my congratulations, Mr Frederic? Thank you, sir. Ahem! -Aw--ahem! Anyways soon, sir?” - -“Very soon, Jones.” - -“Bless--very good, sir. Of course, if I may be so bold as to inquire, -sir, it's--it's--ahem?” - -“Certainly, Jones. Who else could it be?” - -“To be sure, sir, it _couldn't_ be anyone else. Thank you, sir. Yes, -sir. She is the finest young lady in this 'ere world, Mr Frederic. -You did say Golden Seal, Cliquot, ninety-eight, sir? It's the best in -the 'ouse, sir, quite the best at present.” - -Later on Frederic made his announcement to the old men. In the fever of -an excitement that caused him to forget that Lydia might be entitled to -some voice in the matter, he deliberately committed her to the project -that had become a fixed thing in his mind the instant he set foot in the -house and found it empty--oh, so empty! - -Jones's practised hand shook slightly as he poured the wine. The old men -drank rather noisily. They, too, were excited. Mr Riggs smacked his lips -and squinted at the chandelier, as if trying to decide upon the vintage, -but in reality doing his best to keep from coughing up the wine that had -gone the wrong way in a moment of profound paralysis. - -“The best news I've heard since Judas died,” said Mr Dawes manfully. -“Fill 'em up again, Jones. I want to propose the health of Mrs Brood.” - -“The future Mrs Brood,” hissed Mr Riggs wheezily, glaring at his -comrade. “Ass!” - -“I'm not married yet, Mr Dawes,” explained Frederic, grinning. - -“Makes no difference,” said Mr Dawes stoutly. “Far as I'm concerned, you -are. We'll be the first to drink to Lydia Brood! The first to call her -by that name, gentlemen. God bless her!” - -“God bless her!” shouted Mr Riggs. - -“God bless her!” echoed Frederic, and they drained their glasses to -Lydia Brood. - -“Jones, open another bottle,” commanded Mr Dawes loftily. - -Frederic shook his head, and two faces fell. Right bravely, however, -the old men maintained a joyous interest in the occasion. They expounded -loudly upon the virtues and graces of John Desmond's daughter; they -plied the young man with questions and harangued him with advice; they -threatened him with hell-fire if he ever gave the girl a minute of -unhappiness; they were very firm in their contention that he “oughtn't -to let the grass grow under his feet,” not for an instant! In the -end they waxed tearful. It was quite too much joy to be borne with -equanimity. - -The young man turned moody, thoughtful; the unwonted exhilaration died -as suddenly as it had come into existence. A shadow crossed his vision -and he followed it with his thoughts. The gabbling of the old men -irritated him as the makeshift feast of celebration grew old, and he -made no pretence of keeping up his end of the conversation. - -The gloomy, uneasy look deepened in his face. It was a farce, after all, -this attempt to glorify an impulse conceived in desperation. A sense of -utter loneliness came over him with a swiftness that sickened, -nauseated him. The food was flat to his taste; he could not eat. -Self-commiseration stifled him. He suddenly realised that he had never -been so lonely, so unhappy, in all his life as he was at this moment. - -His thoughts were of his father. A vast, inexplicable longing possessed -his soul--a longing for the affection of this man who was never tender, -who stood afar off and was lonely, too. He could not understand this -astounding change of feeling. He had never felt just this way before. -There had been times--and many--when his heart was sore with longing, -but they were of other days, childhood days. To-night he could not crush -out the thought of how ineffably happy, how peaceful life would be if -his father were to lay his hands upon his shoulders and say: “My son, -I love you--I love you dearly.” There would be no more lonely days; all -that was bitter in his life would be swept away in the twinkling of an -eye; the world would be full of joy for him and for Lydia. - -If anyone had told him an hour earlier that he would have been possessed -of such emotions as these he could have sneered in the face of him. When -he entered the house that evening he was full of resentment toward -his father and sullen with the remains of an ugly rage. And now to be -actually craving the affection of the man who humbled him, even in -the presence of servants. It was unbelievable. He could not understand -himself. A wonderful, compelling tenderness filled his heart. He longed -to throw himself at his father's feet and crave his pardon for the -harsh, vengeful thoughts he had spent upon him in those black hours. He -hungered for a word of kindness or of understanding on which he could -feed his starving soul. He wanted his father's love. He wanted, more -than anything else in the world, to love his father. - -Lydia slipped out of his mind, Yvonne was set aside in that immortal -moment. He had not thought of them except in their relation to a -completed state of happiness for his father. Indistinctly he recognised -them as essentials. - -In the library, later on, he smoked with the old men, moodily staring -up through the blue clouds into a space that seemed limitless. The -expression of pain, and the self-pity that attended it, increased in his -eyes. The old men rambled on, but he scarcely heard them. They wrangled, -and he was not impatient with them. He was lonely. He felt deserted, -forsaken. The sweet companionship of the day just closing stood for -naught in this hour of a deeper longing. He wanted to hear his father -say, from his heart: “Frederic, my son, here is my hand. It is no longer -against you.” - -Aye, he was lonely. The house was as bleak as the steppes of Siberia. -He longed for companionship, friendship, kindness, and suddenly in the -midst of it all he leaped to his feet. - -“I'm going out, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, breaking in upon an -unappreciated tale that Mr Riggs was relating at some length and with -considerable fierceness in view of the fact that Mr Dawes had pulled him -up rather sharply once or twice in a matter of inaccuracies. “Excuse me, -please.” - -He left them gaping with astonishment and dashed out into the hall for -his coat and hat. Even then he had no definite notion as to what his -next move would be, save that he was going out--somewhere, anywhere; -he did not care. All the time he was employed in getting into his light -overcoat his eyes were fixed on the front door, and in his heart was the -strange, indescribable hope that it would open to admit his father, -who, thinking of him in his loneliness and moved by a suddenly aroused -feeling of love, had abandoned an evening of selfish pleasure in order -to spend it with him. - -And if his father should walk in, with eagerness in his long unfriendly -eyes, what joy it would be for him to rush up to him and cry out: -“Father, let's be happy! Let's make each other happy!” - -Somehow, as he rushed down the front steps with the cool night air -blowing in his face, there surged up within him a strong, overpowering -sense of filial duty. It was his duty to make the first advances. It -was for him to pave the way to peace and happiness. Something vague but -disturbing tormented him with the fear that his father faced a great -peril and that his own place was beside him and not against him, as he -had been for all these illy directed years. He could not put it away -from him, this thought that his father was in danger--in danger of -something that was not physical, something from which, with all his -valour, he had no adequate form of defence. - -At the corner he paused, checked by an irresistible impulse to look -backward at the house he had just left. To his surprise there was a -light in the drawing-room windows facing the street. The shade in one of -them had been thrown wide open and a stream of light flared out across -the sidewalk. - -Standing in this stream of light was the figure of a man. Slowly, as if -drawn by a force he could not resist, the young man retraced his steps -until he stood directly in front of the window. A questioning smile was -on his lips. He was looking up into Ranjab's shadowy, unsmiling face, -dimly visible in the glow from the distant street-lamp. For a long time -they stared at each other, no sign of recognition passing between them. -The Hindu's face was as rigid, as emotionless as if carved out of stone; -his eyes were unwavering. Frederic could see them, even in the shadows. -He had the queer feeling that, though the man gave no sign, he had -something he wanted to say to him, that he was actually calling to him -to come back into the house. - -Undecided, the man outside took several halting steps toward the -doorway, his gaze still fixed on the face in the window. Then he broke -the spell. It was a notion on his part, he argued, If he had been -wanted, his father's servant would have beckoned to him. He would not -have stood there like a graven image, staring out into the night. - -Having convinced himself of this, Frederic wheeled and swung off up the -street once more, walking rapidly, as one who is pursued. Turning, -he waved his hand at the man in the window. He received no response. -Farther off, he looked back once more. The Hindu still was there. Long -after he was out of sight of the house he cast frequent glances over -his shoulder, as if still expecting to see the lighted window and its -occupant. - -Blocks away, in his hurried, aimless flight, he slackened his pace and -began to wonder whither he was going. He had no objective point in mind. -He was drifting. His footsteps lagged and he looked about him for marks -of locality. Union Square lay behind him, and beyond, across Eighteenth -Street, was the Third Avenue Elevated. He had not meant to come in this -direction. It was not his mind alone that wandered. - -As he made his way back to Broadway, somewhat hazily bent on following -that thoroughfare up to the district where the night glittered and the -stars were shamed, he began turning over in his mind a queer notion -that had just suggested itself to him, filtering through the maze of -uncertainty in which he had been floundering. It occurred to him that -he had been mawkishly sentimental in respect to his father. He was -seriously impressed by the feelings that had mastered him, but he -found himself ridiculing the idea that his father stood in peril of any -description. And suddenly, out of no particular trend of thought, -groped the sly, persistent suspicion that he had not been altogether -responsible for the sensations of an hour ago. Some outside influence -had moulded his emotions, some cunning brain had been doing his thinking -for him! - -Then came the sharp recollection of that motionless, commanding figure -in the lighted window, and his own puzzling behaviour on the side-walk -outside. He recalled his impression that someone has called out to -him just before he turned to look up at the window. It was all quite -preposterous, he kept on saying over and over again to himself, and yet -he could not shake off the uncanny feeling. - -Like a shot there flashed into his brain the startling question: was -Ranjab the solution? Was it Ranjab's mind and not his own that had moved -him to such tender resolves? Could such a condition be possible? Was -there such a thing as mind control? - -He laughed aloud, and was startled by the sound of his own voice. The -idea was preposterous! Such a thing could not have been possible. They -were his own thoughts, his own emotions, coming from his own brain, his -own heart. - -An hour later Frederic approached the box-office of the theatre -mentioned by Yvonne over the telephone that morning. The play was -half over and the house was sold out. He bought a ticket of admission, -however, and lined up with others who were content to stand at the back -to witness the play. - -He had walked past the theatre three or four times before finally making -up his mind to enter, and even then his intentions were not quite clear. -He only knew that he was consciously committing an act that he was -ashamed of, an act so inexcusable that his face burned as he thought of -the struggle he had had with himself up to the moment he stood at the -box-office window. - -Inside the theatre he leaned weakly against the railing at the back -of the auditorium and wiped his brow. What was it that had dragged him -there against his will, in direct opposition to his dogged determination -to shun the place? The curtain was up, the house was still, save for the -occasional coughing of those who succumb to a habit that can neither be -helped nor explained. - -There were people moving on the stage, but Frederic had no eyes for -them. He was seeking in the darkness for the two figures that he knew -were somewhere in the big, tense throng. - -Hundreds of backs confronted him, no faces. A sensation not far removed -from stealth took possession of him. His searching eyes were furtive -in their quest. If he had been lonely before, he was doubly so now. -The very presence of the multitude filled him with a sickening sense of -emptiness. He was friendless there, with all those contented backs for -company. Not one among them all had a thought for him, not one turned -so much as an inch from the engrossing scene that held them in its grip. -Straight, immovable, unresponsive backs--nothing but backs! - -Again he asked of himself, why was he there? And he pitied himself so -vastly that his throat contracted as with pain. His soul sickened. The -truth was being revealed to him as he stood there and with aching eyes -searched throughout the serried rows of backs. It came home to him -all of a sudden that his quest was a gleaming white back and a small, -exquisitely poised head crowned with black. - -With a sharp execration, a word of disgust for himself, he tore himself -away from the railing and rushed toward the doors. At the same instant -a tremendous burst of applause filled the house and he whirled just in -time to see the curtain descending. Curiously interested, he paused near -the door, his gaze fixed on the great velvet wall that rose and fell -at least a half-dozen times in response to the clamour of the delighted -crowd. - -The backs all at once seemed to become animated and friendly. He drew -near the last row of seats again and stared at the actor and the actress -who came out to take the “curtain-call”--stared as if at something he -had never seen before. - -And they had been up there all the time, developing the splendid climax -that had drawn people out of their seats, that had put life into all -those insufferable backs. - -The lights went up and the house was bright. Men began scurrying up -the aisles. Here and there broad, black backs rose up in the centre of -sections and moved tortuously toward the aisles. Pretty soon, when the -theatre was dark again and the curtain up, they would return, politely -hiss something about being sorry or “Don't get up, please,” and even -more tortuously move into their places, completing once more the sullen, -arrogant row of backs. - -Frederic experienced a sudden shock of dismay. It was not at all -unlikely that his father would be among those heading for the lobby, -although the chance was remote. His father was the peculiar type of -gentleman, now almost extinct, that subsists without fresh air quite -as long as the lady who sits in the seat beside him. He was a -bit old-fashioned for a New Yorker, no doubt, but he was rather -distinguished for his good manners. In fact, he was almost unique. He -would not leave Yvonne between the acts, Frederic was quite sure. In -spite of this, the young man discreetly hid himself behind two stalwart -figures and watched the aisles with alert, shifty eyes. - -Presently the exodus was over and the danger past. He moved up to the -railing again and resumed his eager scrutiny of the throng. He could not -find them. At first he was conscious of disappointment, then he gave way -to an absurd rage. Yvonne had misled him, she had deceived him--aye, -she had _lied_ to him. They were not in the audience, they had not even -contemplated coming to this theatre. He had been tricked, deliberately -tricked. - -No doubt they were seated in some other place of amusement, serenely -enjoying themselves. - -The thought of it maddened him. And then, just as he was on the point of -tearing out of the house, he saw them, and the blood rushed to his head -so violently that he was almost blinded. - -He caught sight of his father far down in front, and then the dark, -half-obscured head of Yvonne. He could not see their faces, but there -was no mistaking them for anyone else. He only marvelled that he had not -seen them before, even in the semi-darkness. They now appeared to be the -only people in the theatre; he could see no one else. - -James Brood's fine, aristocratic head was turned slightly toward his -wife, who, as Frederic observed after changing his position to one of -better advantage, apparently was relating something amusing to him. -They undoubtedly were enjoying themselves. Once more the great, -almost suffocating wave of tenderness for his father swept over him, -mysteriously as before and as convincing. He experienced a sudden, -inexplicable feeling of pity for the strong, virile man who had never -revealed the slightest symptoms of pity for him. The same curious desire -to put his hands on his father's shoulders and tell him that all was -well with them came over him again. - -Involuntarily he glanced over his shoulder, and the fear was in his -heart that somewhere in the shifting throng his gaze would light upon -the face of Ranjab. - -Long and intently his searching gaze went through the crowd, seeking -the remote corners and shadows of the foyer, and a deep breath of relief -escaped him when it became evident that the Hindu was not there. He had, -in a measure, proved his own cause; his emotions were genuinely his own -and not the outgrowth of an influence for good exercised over him by the -Brahmin. - -He began what he was pleased to term a systematic analysis of his -emotions covering the entire evening, all the while regarding the couple -in the orchestra chairs with a gaze unswerving in its fidelity to the -sensation that now controlled him--a sensation of impending peril. - -All at once he slunk farther back into the shadow, a guilty flush -mounting to his cheek. Yvonne had turned and was staring rather fixedly -in his direction. Despite the knowledge that he was quite completely -concealed by the intervening group of loungers, he sustained a distinct -shock. He had the uncanny feeling that she was looking directly into his -eyes. She had turned abruptly, as if someone had called out to attract -her attention and she had obeyed the sudden impulse. A moment later her -calmly impersonal gaze swept on, taking the sections to her right and -the balcony, and then went back to her husband's face. - -Frederic was many minutes in recovering from the effects of the queer -shock he had received. He could not get it out of his head that she -knew he was there, that she actually turned in answer to the call of his -mind. She had not searched for him; on the contrary, she directed her -gaze instantly to the spot where he stood concealed. - -Actuated by a certain sense of guilt, he decided to leave the theatre as -soon as the curtain went up on the next act, which was to be the last. -Instead of doing so, however, he lingered to the end of the play, secure -in his conscienceless espionage. It had come to him that if he met them -in front of the theatre as they came out he could invite them to join -him at supper in one of the near-by restaurants. The idea pleased him. -He coddled it until it became a sensation. - -When James Brood and his wife reached the side-walk they found him -there, directly in their path as they wedged their way to the curb to -await the automobile. He was smiling frankly, wistfully. There was an -honest gladness in his fine, boyish face and an eager light in his eyes. -He no longer had the sense of guilt in his soul. It had been a passing -qualm, and he felt regenerated for having experienced it, even so -briefly. Somehow it had purged his soul of the one longing doubt as to -the sincerity of his impulses. - -“Hello!” he said, planting himself squarely in front of them. - -There was a momentary tableau. He was vividly aware of the fact that -Yvonne had shrunk back in alarm and that a swift look of fear leaped -into her surprised eyes. She drew closer to Brood's side--or was it the -jostling of the crowd that made it seem to be so? He realised then that -she had not seen him in the theatre. Her surprise was genuine. It was -not much short of consternation, a fact that he realised with a sudden -sinking of the heart. - -Then his eyes went quickly to his father's face. James Brood was -regarding him with a cold, significant smile, as one who understands and -despises. - -“They told me you were here,” faltered Frederic, the words rushing -hurriedly through his lips, “and I thought we might run in somewhere -and have a bite to eat. I--I want to tell you about Lydia and myself and -what------” - -The carriage-man bawled a number in his ear and jerked open the door of -a limousine that had pulled up to the curb. - -Without a word James Brood handed his wife into the car and then turned -to the chauffeur. - -“Home,” he said, and, without so much as a glance at Frederic, stepped -inside. The door was slammed and the car slid out into the maelstrom. - -Yvonne had sunk back into a corner, huddled down as if suddenly deprived -of all her strength. Frederic saw her face as the car moved away. She -was staring at him with wide-open, reproachful eyes, as if to say: “Oh, -what have you done? What a fool you are!” - - For a second or two he stood -as if petrified, then everything turned red before him, a wicked red -that blinded him. He staggered, as if from a blow in the face. - -“My God!” slipped from his stiff lips, and tears leaped to his -eyes--tears of supreme mortification. Like a beaten dog he slunk away, -feeling himself pierced by the pitying gaze of every mortal in the -street. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -Long past midnight the telephone in the Desmond apartment rang sharply, -insistently. Lydia, who had just fallen asleep, awoke with a start and -sat bolt upright in her bed. A clammy perspiration broke out all over -her body. There in the darkness she shivered with a dread so desolating -that every vestige of strength forsook her and she could only stare -helplessly into the black pall that surrounded her. - -Never before in all her life had she been aroused from sleep by the -jangling of a telephone-bell. The sound struck terror to her heart. She -knew that something terrible had happened. She knew there had been a -catastrophe. - -She sat there chattering until she heard her mother's door open and then -the click of the receiver as it was lifted from the hook. Then she -put her fingers to her ears and closed her eyes. The very worst had -happened; she was sure of it. The blow had fallen. The one thought that -seared her brain was that she had failed him, failed him miserably in -the crisis. Oh, if she could only reclaim that lost hour of indecision -and cowardice! - -The light in the hallway suddenly smote her in the face, and she -realised for the first time that her eyes were tightly closed, as if to -shut out some abhorrent sight. - -“Lydia!” Her mother was standing in the open door. “Oh, you are awake?” - Mrs Desmond stared in amazement at the girl's figure. - -“What is it, mother? Tell me what has happened? Is he--------” - -“He wants to speak to you. He is on the wire. His voice sounds -queer----” - -The girl sprang out of bed and hurried to the telephone. - -“Don't go away, mother--stay here,” she cried as she sped past the -white-clad figure in the doorway. Mrs Desmond flattened herself against -the wall and remained there as motionless as a statue, her sombre gaze -fixed on her daughter's face. - -“Yes, Frederic, it is I, Lydia. What is it, dear?” Her voice was high -and thin. - -His words came jerking over the wire, sharp and querulous. She closed -her eyes in anticipation of the blow, her body rigid. - -“I'm sorry to disturb you,” he was saying, “but I just had to call you -up.” The words were disjointed, as if he forced them from his lips in a -supreme effort at coherency. - -“Yes, yes--it's all right. I don't mind. You did right. What is it?” - -“I want you to release me from my promise.” - -“Release you? Oh, Freddy!” It was a wail that issued from her lips. Her -body sagged limply, she steadied herself by leaning against the wall for -support. - -“You've got to, Lydia. There's no other way. Something has happened -to-night, dear. You've got to------” - -“Has he--has he------” Her throat closed up as if gripped by a strong -hand. - -“I'm sorry to drag you out of bed to tell you------” - -“Freddy, Freddy!” - -“To tell you that I must withdraw my promise, even if you refuse to -release me. Oh, I'm not excited, I'm not crazy, I'm not drunk! I never -was so steady in my life. To-night has made a man of me. I know just -where I stand at last. Now go back to bed, dearest, and don't worry -about anything. I couldn't go ahead until I'd asked you to release me -from the promise I made.” - -“You mean--the promise--but, Freddy, I can't release you. I love you. I -_will_ be your wife, no matter what has happened, no matter------” - -“Oh, Lord, Lyddy--it isn't that! It's the other--the promise to say -nothing to my father------” - -“Oh!” she sighed weakly, a vast wave of relief almost suffocating her. - -“He has made it impossible for me to go on without------” - -“Where are you, Frederic?” she cried in sudden alarm. - -“Oh, I'm all right. I shan't go home, you may be sure of that. To-morrow -will be time enough.” - -“Where are you? I must know. How can I reach you by telephone--” - -“Don't be frightened, dear. It's got to be, that's all. It might as well -be ended now as later on. The last straw was laid on to-night. Now don't -ask questions. I'll see you in the morning. Good night, sweetheart. -I've--I've told you that I can't stick to my promise. You'll understand. -I couldn't rest until I'd told you and heard your dear voice. Forgive me -for calling you up. Tell your mother I'm sorry. Good night!” - -“Freddy, listen to me! You must wait until I------ Oh!” He had hung up -the receiver. She heard the whir of the open wire. - -There was little comfort for her in the hope held out by her mother as -they sat far into the night and discussed the possibilities of the day -so near at hand. She could see nothing but disaster, and she could -think of nothing but her own lamentable weakness in shrinking from the -encounter that might have made the present situation impossible. Between -them mother and daughter constructed at random a dozen theories as to -the nature of the fresh complication that had entered into the already -serious situation, and always it was Lydia who advanced the most -sickening of conjectures. - -Nor was it an easy matter for Mrs Desmond to combat these fears. In her -heart she felt that an irreparable break had occurred and that the final -clash was imminent. She tried to make light of the situation, however, -prophesying a calmer attitude for Frederic after he had slept over his -grievance, which, after all, she argued was doubtless exaggerated. - -She promised to go with Lydia to see James Brood in the morning, and -to plead with him to be merciful to the boy she was to marry, no matter -what transpired. The girl at first insisted on going over to see him -that night, notwithstanding the hour, and was dissuaded only after the -most earnest opposition. - -It was four o'clock before they went back to bed, and long after five -before either closed her eyes. - -Mrs Desmond, utterly exhausted, was the first to awake. She glanced -at the little clock on her dressing-table and gave a great start of -consternation. It was long past nine o'clock. She arose at once and -hurried to her daughter's door, half expecting to find the room empty -and the girl missing from the apartment. - -But Lydia was lying there sound asleep. Mrs Desmond's lips parted to -give voice to a gentle call, but it was never uttered. A feeling of -infinite pity for the tired, harassed girl came over her. For a long -time she stood there watching the gentle rise and fall of the sleeper's -breast. Then she closed the door softly and stole back to her own room, -inspired by a sudden resolve. - -While she was dressing the little maid-servant brought in her coffee and -toast and received instructions not to awaken Miss Lydia but to let -her have her sleep out. A few minutes later she left the apartment and -walked briskly around the corner to Brood's home. - -She had resolved to take the matter out of her daughter's hands. As she -stood at the bedroom door watching Lydia's sweet, troubled face, there -arose within her the mother instinct to fight for her young. It was not -unlikely that James Brood could be moved by Lydia's pleading, in spite -of his declaration that Frederic should never marry her, but the mother -recognised the falseness of a position gained by such means. - -Over Lydia's head would hang the perpetual reminder that he had -submitted out of consideration for her, and not through fairness or -justice to Frederic; all the rest of her life she would be made to feel -that he tolerated Frederic for her sake. The girl would never know a -moment in which she could be free from that ugly sense of obligation. -God willing, Frederic would be her daughter's husband. Lydia might spare -him the blow that James Brood could deal, but all of her life would be -spent in contemplation of that one bitter hour in which she went on her -knees to beg for mercy. - -The mother saw all this with a foresightedness that stripped the -situation of every vestige of romance. Lydia might rejoice at the -outset, but there would surely come a time of heartache for her. It -would come with the full realisation that James Brood's pity was hard to -bear. - -Fearing that she might be too late, she walked so rapidly that she was -quite out of breath when she entered the house. Mr Riggs and Mr Dawes -were putting on their coats in the hall preparatory to their short -morning constitutional. They greeted her profusely, and with one accord -proceeded to divest themselves of the coats, announcing in one voice -their intention to remain for a good, old-fashioned chat. - -“It's dear of you,” she said hurriedly, “but I must see Mr Brood at -once. Why not come over to my apartment this afternoon for a cup of tea -and----” - -Mrs Brood's voice interrupted her. - -“What do you want, Mrs Desmond?” came from the landing above. - -The visitor looked up with a start, not so much of surprise as -uneasiness. There was something sharp, unfriendly, in the low, level -tones. - -Yvonne, fully dressed--a most unusual circumstance at that hour of the -day--was leaning over the banister-rail. - -“I came to see Mr Brood on a very important--” - -“He is occupied. Won't I do as well?” - -“It is really quite serious, Mrs Brood. I am afraid it would be of no -avail to--to take it up with you.” - -“Have you been sent here by someone else?” demanded Mrs Brood. - -“I have not seen Frederic,” fell from the other's lips before she -thought. - -“I dare say you haven't,” said the other with ominous clearness. “He has -been here since seven this morning, waiting for a chance to speak to his -father in private.” - -“Heaven help me! I--I am too------” - -“Unless he spent the night in your apartment, I fancy you haven't seen -him,” went on Yvonne languidly. - -She was descending the stairs slowly, almost lazily as she uttered the -remark. - -“They are together now?” gasped Mrs Desmond. - -“Will you come into the library? Good morning, gentlemen. I trust you -may enjoy your long walk.” - -Mrs Desmond followed her into the library. Yvonne closed the door -almost in the face of Mr Riggs, who had opened his mouth to accept the -invitation to tea, but who said he'd “be blasted” instead, so narrow was -his escape from having his nose banged. He emphasised the declaration by -shaking his fist at the door. - -The two women faced each other. For the first time since she had known -Yvonne Brood, Mrs Desmond observed a high touch of colour in her cheeks. -Her beautiful eyes were alive with an excitement she could not conceal. -Neither spoke for a moment. - -“You are accountable for this, Mrs Brood,” said Lydia Desmond's mother -sternly, accusingly. She expected a storm of indignant protest. Instead, -Yvonne smiled slightly. - -“It will not hurt my husband to discover that Frederic is a man and not -a milksop,” she said, but despite her coolness there was a perceptible -note of anxiety in her voice. - -“You know, then, that they are--that they will quarrel?” - -“I fancy it was in Frederic's mind to do so when he came here this -morning. He was still in his evening clothes, Mrs Desmond.” - -“Where are they now?” - -“I think he has them on,” said Yvonne lightly. - -Mrs Desmond regarded her for a moment in perplexity. Then her eyes -flashed dangerously. - -“I do not think you misunderstood me, Mrs Brood. Where are Frederic and -his father?” - -“I am not accustomed to that tone of voice, Mrs Desmond.” - -“I am no longer your housekeeper,” said the other succinctly. “You do -not realise what this quarrel may mean. I insist on going up to them -before it has gone too far.” - -“My husband can take care of himself, thank you.” - -“I am not thinking of your husband, but of that poor boy who is------” - -“And if I am to judge by Frederic's manner this morning, he is also able -to take care of himself,” said Yvonne coolly. Her voice shook a little. - -Mrs Desmond shot a quick glance of comprehension at the speaker. - -“You are worried, Mrs Brood. Your manner betrays you. I command you to -tell me how long they have been upstairs together. How long------” - -“Will you be so good, Mrs Desmond, as to leave this house instantly?” - cried Yvonne angrily. - -“No,” said the other quietly. “I suppose I am too late to prevent -trouble between those two men, but I shall at least remain here to -assure Frederic of my sympathy, to help him if I can, to offer him the -shelter of my home.” - -A spasm of alarm crossed Yvonne's face. - -“Do you really believe it will come to that?” she demanded nervously. - -“If what I fear should come to pass, he will not stay in this house -another hour. He will go forth from it cursing James Brood with all the -hatred that his soul can possess. And now, Mrs Brood, shall I tell you -what I think of you?” - -“No. It isn't at all necessary. Besides, I've changed my mind. I'd like -you to remain. I do not want to mystify you any farther, Mrs Desmond, -but I now confess to you that I am losing my courage. Don't ask me to -tell you why, but------” - -“I suppose it is the custom with those who play with fire. They shrink -when it burns them.” - -Mrs Brood looked at her steadily. The rebellious, sullen expression died -out of her eyes. She sighed deeply, almost despairingly. - -“I am sorry you think ill of me, but yet I cannot blame you for -considering me to be a--a------ I'll not say it. Mrs Desmond, I--I wish -I had never come to this house.” - -“Permit me to echo your words.” - -“You will never be able to understand me. And, after all, why should I -care? You are nothing to me. You are merely a good woman who has no real -object in life. You------” - -“No real object in life?” - -“Precisely. Sit down. We will wait here together, if you please. I--I -_am_ worried. I think I rather like to feel that you are here with me. -You see, the crisis has come.” - -“You know, of course, that he turned one wife out of this house, Mrs -Brood,” said Mrs Desmond deliberately. - -Something like terror leaped into the other's eyes. The watcher -experienced an incomprehensible feeling of pity for her--she who had -been despising her so fiercely the instant before. - -“He--he will not turn me out,” murmured Yvonne, and suddenly began -pacing the floor, her hands clenched. Stopping abruptly in front of the -other woman, she exclaimed: “He made a great mistake in driving that -other woman out. He is not likely to repeat it, Mrs Desmond.” - -“Yes--I think he _did_ make a mistake,” said Mrs Desmond calmly. “But he -does not think so. He is a man of iron. He is unbending.” - -“He is a wonderful man--a great, splendid man,” cried Yvonne fiercely. -“It is I--Yvonne Lestrange--who proclaim it to the world. I cannot bear -to see him suffer. I------” - -“Then, why do you------” - -“Ah, you would say it, eh? Well, there is no answer. Poof! Perhaps it -will not be so bad as we think. Come! I am no longer uneasy. See! I -am very calm. Am I not an example for you? Sit down. We will wait -together.” - -They sat far apart, each filled with dark misgivings, though radically -opposed in their manner of treating the situation. Mrs Desmond was cold -with apprehension. She sat immovable, tense. Yvonne sank back easily in -a deep, comfortable chair and coolly lighted a cigarette. It would have -been remarked by a keen observer that her failure to offer one to her -visitor was evidence of an unwonted abstraction. As a matter of fact, -inwardly she was trembling like a leaf. - -“I suppose there is nothing to do,” said Mrs Desmond in despair, after a -long silence. “Poor Lydia will never forgive herself.” - -Yvonne blew rings of smoke toward the ceiling. - -“I dare say you think I am an evil person, Mrs Desmond.” - -“Curiously, Mrs Brood, I have never thought of you in that light. Your -transgressions are the greater for that reason.” - -“Transgressions? An amiable word, believe me.” - -“I did not come here, however, to discuss your actions.” - -Yvonne leaned forward suddenly. - -“You do not ask what transpired last night to bring about this crisis. -Why do you hesitate?” - -Mrs Desmond shook her head slowly. “I do not want to know.” - -“Well, it was not what you have been thinking it was,” said Yvonne -levelly. - - “I am relieved to hear it,” said the other rather grimly. - -Mrs Brood flushed to the roots of her hair. - -“I do not want to appear unfair to my husband, but I declare to you, Mrs -Desmond, that Frederic is fully justified in the attitude he has taken -this morning. His father humiliated him last night in a manner that made -forbearance impossible. That much I must say for Frederic. And permit -me to add, from my soul, that he is vastly more sinned against than -sinning.” - -“I can readily believe that, Mrs Brood.” - -“This morning Frederic came into the breakfast-room while we were having -our coffee. You look surprised. Yes, I was having breakfast with my -husband. I knew that Frederic would come. That was my reason. When I -heard him in the hall I sent the servants out of the dining-room. He had -spent the night with a friend. His first words on entering the room were -these--I shall never forget them: 'Last night I thought I loved you, -father, but I have come home just to tell you that I hate you. I can't -stay in this house another day. I'm going to get out. But I just wanted -you to know that I thought I loved you last night, as a son should love -his father. I just wanted you to know it.' - -“He did not even look at me, Mrs Desmond. I don't believe he knew I was -there. I shall never forget the look in James Brood's face. It was as -if he saw a ghost or some horrible thing that fascinated him. He did not -utter a word, but stared at Frederic in that terrible, awe-struck way. - -“'I'm going to get out,' said Frederic, his voice rising. 'You've -treated me like a dog all of my life, and I'm through. I shan't even say -good-bye to you. You don't deserve any more consideration from me than -I've received from you. I hope I'll never see you again. If I ever have -a son I'll not treat him as you've treated your son. You don't deserve -the honour of being called father; you don't deserve to have a son. I -wish to God I had never been obliged to call you father! I don't know -what you did to my mother, but if you treated her as------' - -“Just then my husband found his voice. He sprang to his feet, and -I've never seen such a look of rage. I thought he was going to strike -Frederic, and I think I screamed--just a little scream, of course. I -was so terrified. But he only said--and it was horrible the way he said -it--'You fool--you bastard!' And Frederic laughed in his face and cried -out, unafraid: 'I'm glad you call me a bastard! I'd rather be one than -be your son. It would at least give me something to be proud of--a real -father!'” - -“Good Heaven!” fell from Mrs Desmond's white lips. - -Yvonne seemed to have paused to catch her breath. Her breast heaved -convulsively, the grip of her hands tightened on the arms of the chair. - -Suddenly she resumed her recital, but her voice was hoarse and -tremulous. - -“I was terribly frightened. I thought of calling out to Jones, but I--I -had no voice! Ah, you have never seen two angry men waiting to spring at -each other's throats, Mrs Desmond. My husband suddenly regained control -of himself. He was very calm. 'Come with me,' he said to Frederic. -'This is not the place to wash our filthy family linen. You say you want -something to be proud of. Well, you shall have your wish. Come to my -study.' And they went away together, neither speaking a word to me--they -did not even glance in my direction. They went up the stairs. I heard -the door close behind them--away up there. That was half an hour ago. -I have been waiting, too--waiting as you are waiting now--to comfort -Frederic when he comes out of that room a wreck.” - -Mrs Desmond started up, an incredulous look in her eyes. - -“You are taking his side? You are against your husband? Oh, now I know -the kind of woman you are. I know------” - -“Peace! You do not know the kind of woman I am. You will never know. -Yes, I shall take sides with Frederic.” - -“You do not love your husband!” - -A strange, unfathomable smile came into Yvonne's face and stayed there. -Mrs Desmond experienced the same odd feeling she had had years ago on -first seeing the Sphinx. She was suddenly confronted by an unsolvable -mystery. - -“He shall not drive me out of his house, Mrs Desmond,” was her answer to -the challenge. - -A door slammed in the upper regions of the house. Both women started to -their feet. - -“It is over,” breathed Yvonne with a tremulous sigh. - -“We shall see how well they were able to take care of themselves, Mrs -Brood,” said Mrs Desmond in a low voice. - -“We shall see--yes,” said the other mechanically. Suddenly she turned on -the tall, accusing figure beside her. “Go away! Go now! I command you to -go. This is _our_ affair, Mrs Desmond. You are not needed here. You were -too late, as you say. I beg of you, go!” She strode swiftly toward the -door. As she was about to place her hand on the knob it was opened from -the other side, and Ranjab stood before them. - -“_Sahib_ begs to be excused, Mrs Desmond. He is just going out.” - -“Going out?” cried Yvonne, who had shrunk back into the room. - -“Yes, _sahibah_. You will please excuse, Mrs Desmond. He regret very -much.” - -Mrs Desmond passed slowly through the door, which he held open for her. -As she passed by the Hindu she looked full into his dark, expressive -eyes, and there was a question in hers. He did not speak, but she read -the answer as if it were on a printed page. Her shoulders drooped. - -She went back to Lydia. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -When James Brood and Frederic left the dining-room, nearly an hour -prior to the departure of Mrs Desmond, there was in the mind of each the -resolution to make short work of the coming interview. Each knew that -the time had arrived for the parting of the ways, and neither had the -least desire to prolong the suspense. - -Frederic, far from suspecting the ordeal in store for him, experienced -a curious sense of exaltation as he followed the master of the house up -the stairway. He was about to declare his freedom; the very thought of -it thrilled him. He had at last found the courage to revolt, and there -was cause for rejoicing in the prospect of a lively triumph over what he -was pleased to call oppression. - -He would not mince matters! Oh, no; he would come straight to the point. -There wasn't any sense in temporising. There were years of pent-up -grievances that he could fling at his father, but he would crystallise -them into a few withering minutes and have done with the business. He -knew he was as pale as a ghost and his legs were strangely weak, but -he was not cognisant of the slightest sensation of fear, nor the least -inclination to shrink from the consequences of that brief, original -challenge. - -The study door was closed. James Brood put his hand on the knob, but -before turning it faced the young man with an odd mixture of anger and -pity in his eyes. - -“Perhaps it will be better if we had nothing more to say to each other,” - he said with an effort. -“I have changed my mind. I cannot say the thing to you that I----” - -“Has it got anything to do with Yvonne and me?” demanded Frederic -ruthlessly, jumping at conclusions in his new-found arrogance. - -Brood threw open the door. - -“Step inside,” he said in a voice that should have warned the younger -man, it was so prophetic of disaster. Frederic had touched the open -sore with that unhappy question. Not until this instant had James Brood -admitted to himself that there was a sore and that it had been festering -all these weeks. Now it was laid bare and it smarted with pain. Nothing -could save Frederic after that reckless, deliberate thrust at the very -core of the malignant growth that lay so near the surface. - -It had been in James Brood's heart to spare the boy. An unaccountable -wave of compassion had swept through him as he mounted the stairs, -leading his victim to the sacrifice. He would have allowed him to go -his way in ignorance of the evil truth; he would have spared the son of -Matilde and been happier, far happier, he knew, for having done so. He -would have let him fare forth, as he elected to go, rejoicing in his -foolish independence, scorning to the end of his days, perhaps, the man -who posed as father to him. - -But Frederic had touched the hateful sore. His chance was gone. - -Hot words were on Frederic's lips. Brood held up his hand, and there was -in the gesture a command that silenced the young man. He was somewhat -shocked to find that he still recognised the other's right to command. -The older man went quickly to the door of the Hindu's closet. He rapped -on the panel, and in an instant the door was opened. Ranjab stepped out -and quickly closed the door behind him. A few words, spoken in lowered -tones and in the language of the East, passed between master and man. - -Frederic turned his back to them. Moved by a sudden impulse, he strode -to the window and pulled the curtains apart. A swift glance upward -showed him the drawn shades in Lydia's bedroom windows. Somehow he was -glad that she was asleep. An impulse as strong as the other ordered him -to shift his glance downward to the little balcony outside of Yvonne's -windows. Then he heard the door close softly behind him and turned to -face his father. - -They were alone in the room. He squared his shoulders. - -“I suppose you think I am in love with her,” he said defiantly. He -waited a moment for the response that did not come. Brood was regarding -him with eyes from which every spark of compassion had disappeared. -“Well, it may interest you to know that I intend to marry Lydia this -very day.” - -Brood advanced a few steps toward him. In the subdued light of the room -his features were not clearly distinguishable. His face was gray and -shadowy; only the eyes were sharply defined. They glowed like points of -light, unflickering. - -“I shall be sorry for Lydia,” he said levelly. - -“You needn't be,” said Frederic hotly. “She understands everything.” - -“You were born to be dishonest in love.” - -“What do you mean by that?” - -“It is my purpose to tell you precisely what I mean. Lydia understands -far more than you think. If she marries you it will be with her eyes -open; she will have no one to blame but herself for the mistake.” - -“Oh, I haven't tried to deceive her as to my prospects. She knows how -poor we will be at the------” - -“Does she know that this love you profess for her is at the very outset -disloyal?” - -Frederic was silent for a moment. A twinge shot through his heart. - -“She understands everything,” he repeated stubbornly. - -“Have you lied to her?” - -“Lied? You'd better be careful how you------” - -“Have you told her that you love her and no one else?” - -“Certainly!” - -“Then you _have_ lied to her.” - -There was silence--tense silence. - -“Do you expect me to strike you for that?” came at last from Frederic's -lips, low and menacing. - -“You have always considered yourself to be my son, haven't you?” pursued -Brood deliberately. “Can you say to me that you have behaved of late as -a son should------” - -“Wait! We'll settle that point right now. I _did_ lose my head. Head, I -say, not heart. I shan't attempt to explain--I can't, for that matter. -As for Yvonne--well, she's as good as gold. She understands me far -better than I understand myself. She knows that even honest men lose -their heads sometimes--and she knows the difference between love -and--the other thing. I can say to you now that I would sooner have cut -my own throat than do more than envy you the possession of someone you -do not deserve. I _have_ considered myself your son. I have no apology -to make for my--we'll call it infatuation. I shall only admit that it -has existed and that I have despaired. So God is my witness, I have -never loved anyone but Lydia. I have given her pain, and the amazing -part of it is that I can't help myself. Naturally, you can't understand -what it all means. You are not a young man any longer. You cannot -understand.” - -“Good God!” burst from Brood's lips. Then he laughed -aloud--grotesquely. - -“Yvonne is the most wonderful thing that has ever come into my life. She -has shown me that life is beautiful and rich and full of warmth. I -had always thought it ugly and cold. Something inside of me awoke the -instant I looked into her eyes--something that had always been there, and -yet undeveloped. She spoke to me with her eyes, if you can believe such -a thing possible, and I understood. I adored her the instant I saw her. -I have felt sometimes that I knew her a thousand years ago. I have felt -that I loved her a thousand years ago.” A calm seriousness now attended -his speech, in direct contrast to the violent mood that had gone before. -“I have thought of little else but her. I confess it to you. But through -it all there has never been an instant in which I did not worship Lydia -Desmond. I--I do not pretend to account for it. It is beyond me.” - -Brood waited patiently to the end. - -“Your mother before you had a somewhat similar affliction,” he -said, still in the steady, repressed voice. “Perhaps it is a gift--a -convenient gift--this ability to worship without effort.” - -“Better leave my mother out of it,” said Frederic sarcastically. A look -of wonder leaped to his eyes. “That's the first time you've condescended -to acknowledge that I ever had a mother.” - -“I shall soon make you regret that you were ever so blessed as to have -had one.” - -“You've always made it easy for me to regret that I ever had a father.” - -Brood's smile was deadly. - -“If you have anything more to say to me, you had better get it over. -Purge your soul of all the gall that embitters it. I grant you that -privilege. Take your innings.” - -A spasm of pain crossed Frederic's face. - -“Yes, I am entitled to my innings. I'll go back to what I said -downstairs. I thought I loved and honoured you last night. I would have -forgiven everything if you had granted me a friendly--friendly, that's -all--just a friendly word. You denied------” - -“I suppose you want me to believe that it was love for me that brought -you slinking to the theatre,” said the other ironically. - -“I don't expect you to believe anything. I was lonely. I wanted to be -with you and Yvonne. Curse you! Can't you understand how lonely I've -been all my life? Can't you understand how hungry I am for the affection -that every other boy I've known has had from his parents? I've never -asked you about my mother. I used to wonder a good deal. Every other boy -had a mother. I never had one. I couldn't understand it. And they all -had fathers, but they were not like my father. Their fathers were kind -and loving, they were interested in everything their sons did--good or -bad. I used to love the fathers of all those other lucky boys at school. -They came often--and so did the mothers. No one ever came to see me--no -one! - -“I used to wonder why you never told me of my own mother. Long ago -I gave up wondering. Something warned me not to ask you about her. -Something told me it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. I never inquired -of anyone after I was old enough to think for myself. I was afraid to -ask, so I waited, hoping all the time that you would some day tell me -of her. But you've never breathed her name to me. I no longer wonder. I -know now that she must have hated you with all the strength of her soul. -God, how she must have hated to feel the touch of your hands upon -her body! Something tells me she left you, and if she did, I hope she -afterward found someone who--but no, I won't say it. Even now I haven't -the heart to hurt you by saying that.” He stopped, choking up with the -rush of bitter words. “Well, why don't you say something?” - -“I'm giving you your innings. Go on,” said Brood softly. - -“She must have loved you once--or she wouldn't have married you. She -must have loved you or I wouldn't be here in this world. She------” - -“Ha!” came sharply from Brood. - - “--didn't find you out until it was too -late. She was lovely, I know. She was sweet and gentle and she loved -happiness. I can see that in her face, in her big, wistful eyes. -You------” - -“What's this?” demanded Brood, startled. “What are you saying?” - -“Oh, I've got her portrait--an old photograph. For a month I've carried -it here in this pocket-case over my heart. I wouldn't part with it for -all the money in the world. When I look at the dear, sweet, girlish face -and her eyes look back into mine, I know that _she_ loved me.” - -“Her portrait?” said Brood, unbelieving. - -“Yes--and I have only to look at it to know that she couldn't have hurt -you--so it must have been the other way round. She's dead now, I know, -but she didn't die for years after I was born. Why was it that I never -saw her? Why was I kept up there in that damnable village------” - -“Where did you get that photograph?” demanded Brood hoarsely. “Where, I -say? What interfering fool------” - -“I wouldn't be too nasty, if I were you,” said Frederic, a note of -triumph in his voice. “Yvonne gave it to me. I made her promise to say -nothing to you about it. She------” - -“Yvonne? Are you------ Impossible! She could not have had------” - -“It was lying under the marble top of that old bureau in her bedroom. -She found it there when the men came to take it away to storage. It -hadn't been moved in twenty years or more.” - -“In--her--bedroom?” murmured Brood, passing his hand over his eyes. -“The old bureau--marble top--good Lord! It was our bedroom. Let me see -it--give it to me this instant!” - -“I can't do that. It's mine now. It's safe where it is.” - -“Yvonne found it? Yvonne? And gave it to you? What damnable trick of -fate is this? But------ Ah, it may not be a portrait of your--your -mother. Some old photograph that got stuck under the------” - -“No; it is my mother. Yvonne saw the resemblance at once and brought it -to me. And it may interest you to know that she advised me to treasure -it all my life, because it would always tell me how lovely and sweet my -mother was--the mother I have never seen.” - -“I insist on seeing that picture,” said Brood with deadly intensity. - -“No,” said Frederic, folding his arms tightly across his breast. “You -didn't deserve her then and you------” - -“You don't know what you are saying, boy!” - -“Ah, don't I? Well, I've got just a little bit of my mother safe here -over my heart--a little faded card, that's all--and you shall not rob me -of that. I wish to God I had her here, just as she was when she had the -picture taken. Don't glare at me like that. I don't intend to give it -up. Last night I was sorry for you. I had the feeling that somehow you -have always been unhappy over something that happened in the past, and -that my mother was responsible. And yet when I took out this photograph, -this tiny bit of old cardboard--see, it is so small that it can be -carried in my waistcoat pocket--when I took it out and looked at the -pure, lovely face, I--by Heaven, I knew she was not to blame!” - -“Have you finished?” asked Brood, wiping his brow. It was dripping. - -“Except to repeat that I am through with you for ever. I've had all that -I can endure, and I'm through. My greatest regret is that I didn't get -out long ago. But like a fool--a weak fool--I kept on hoping that you'd -change and that there were better days ahead for me. I kept on hoping -that you'd be a real father to me. Good Lord, what a libel on the name!” - He laughed raucously. “I'm sick of calling you father. You did me the -honour downstairs of calling me 'bastard.' You had no right to call me -that; but, by Heaven, if it were not for this bit of cardboard here -over my heart, I'd laugh in your face and be happy to shout from the -housetops that I am no son of yours. But there's no such luck as that! -I've only to look at my mother's innocent, soulful face to------” - -“Stop!” shouted Brood in an awful voice. His clenched hands were raised -above his head. “The time has come for me to tell you the truth about -this innocent mother of yours. Luck is with you. I am not your father. -You are------” - -“Wait! If you are going to tell me that my mother was not a good woman, -I want to go on record in advance of anything you may say, as being glad -that I am her son no matter who my father was. I am glad that she loved -me because I was her child, and if you are not my father, then I -still have the joy of knowing that she loved some one man well enough -to------” He broke off the bitter sentence and with nervous fingers -drew a small leather case from his waistcoat pocket. “Before you go -any farther, take one look at her face. It will make you ashamed -of yourself. Can you stand there and lie about her after looking -into------” - -He was holding the window curtains apart, and a stream of light fell -upon the lovely face, so small that Brood was obliged to come quite -close to be able to see it. His eyes were distended. - -“It is not Matilde--it is like her, but--yes, yes; it is Matilde! I must -be losing my mind to have thought------” He wiped his brow. “But it -was startling--positively uncanny.” He spoke as to himself, apparently -forgetting that he had a listener. - -“Well, can you lie about her now?” demanded Frederic. - -Brood was still staring, as if fascinated, at the tiny photograph. - -“But I have never seen that picture before. She never had one so small -as that. It------” - -“It was made in Vienna,” interrupted Frederic, not without a strange -thrill of satisfaction in his soul, “and before you were married, I'd -say. On the back of it is written 'To my own sweetheart,' in Hungarian, -Yvonne says. There! Look at her. She was like that when you married her. -How adorable she must have been. 'To my own sweetheart'! O--ho!” - -A hoarse cry of rage and pain burst from Brood's lips. The world grew -red before his eyes. - -“'To my own sweetheart'!” he cried out. He sprang forward and struck -the photograph from Frederic's hand. It fell to the floor at his feet. -Before the young man could recover from his surprise, Brood's foot was -upon the bit of cardboard. “Don't raise your hand to me! Don't you dare -to strike me! Now I shall tell you who that sweetheart was!” - -Half an hour later James Brood descended the stairs alone. He went -straight to the library, where he knew that he could find Yvonne. -Ranjab, standing in the hall, peered into his white, drawn face as he -passed, and started forward as if to speak to him. But Brood did not see -him. He did not lift his gaze from the floor. The Hindu went swiftly up -the stairs, a deep dread in his soul. - -The shades were down. Brood stopped inside the door and looked dully -about the library. He was on the point of retiring when Yvonne spoke to -him out of the shadowy corner beyond the fireplace. - -“Close the door,” she said huskily. Then she emerged slowly, almost like -a spectre, from the dark background formed by the huge mahogany -bookcases that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. “You were a long -time up there,” she went on. - -“Why is it so dark in here, Yvonne?” he asked lifelessly. - -“So that it would not be possible for me to see the shame in your eyes, -James.” - -He leaned heavily against the long table. She came up and stood across -the table from him, and he felt that her eyes were searching his very -soul. - -“I have hurt him beyond all chance of recovery,” he said hoarsely. - -She started violently. - -“You--you struck him down? He--he is dying?” Her voice trailed off into -a whisper. - -“He will be a long time in dying. It will be slow. I struck him down, -not with my hand, not with a weapon that he could parry, but with words--words! -Do you hear? I have crushed his soul with words!” - -“Oh, you coward!” she cried, leaning over the table, her eyes blazing. -“I can understand it in you. You have no soul of your own. What have you -done to your son, James Brood?” - -He drew back as if from the impact of a blow. “Coward? If I have crushed -his soul, it was done in time, Yvonne, to deprive you of the glory of -doing it.” - -“What did he say to you about me?” - -“You have had your fears for nothing. He did not put you in jeopardy,” - he said scornfully. - -“I know. He is not a coward,” she said calmly. - -“In your heart you are reviling me. You judge me as one guilty soul -judges another. Suppose that I were to confess to you that I left him -up there with all the hope, all the life blasted out of his eyes--with -a wound in his heart that will never stop bleeding--that I left him -because I was sorry for what I had done and could not stand by and look -upon the wreck I had created. Suppose------” - -“I am still thinking of you as a coward. What is it to me that you are -sorry now? What have you done to that wretched, unhappy boy?” - -“He will tell you soon enough. Then you will despise me even more than I -despise myself. He--he looked at me with his mother's eyes when I kept on -striking blows at his very soul. Her eyes--eyes that were always -pleading with me! But, curse them--always scoffing at me! For a moment -I faltered. There was a wave of love--yes, love, not pity, for him--as -I saw him go down before the words I hurled at him. It was as if I had -hurt the only thing in all the world that I love. Then it passed. He was -not meant for me to love. He was born for me to despise. He was born to -torture me as I have tortured him.” - -“You poor fool!” she cried, her eyes glittering. - -“Sometimes I have doubted my own reason,” he went on, as if he had not -heard her scathing remark. “Sometimes I have felt a queer gripping -of the heart when I was harshest toward him. Sometimes, his eyes--_her -eyes_--have melted the steel that was driven into my heart long ago, -his voice and the touch of his hand have gently checked my bitterest -thoughts. Are you listening?” - -“Yes.” - -“You ask what I have done to him. It is nothing in comparison to what he -would have done to me. It isn't necessary to explain. You know the thing -he has had in his heart to do. I have known it from the beginning. It is -the treacherous heart of his mother that propels that boy's blood along -its craven way. She was an evil thing--as evil as God ever put life -into.” - -“Go on.” - -“I loved her as no woman was ever loved before--or since. I thought she -loved me; I believe she did. He--Frederic had her portrait up there to -flash in my face. She was beautiful; she was as lovely as--but no more! -I was not the man. She loved another. You may have guessed, as others -have guessed, that she betrayed me. Her lover was that boy's father.” - -Dead silence reigned in the room, save for the heavy breathing of -the man. Yvonne was as still as death itself. Her hands were clenched -against her breast. - -“That was years ago,” resumed the man hoarsely. - -“You--you told him this?” she cried, aghast. - -“He stood before me up there and said that he hoped he might some day -discover that he was not my son.” - -“You told him _then?_” - -“He cursed me for having driven his mother out of my house.” - -“You told him?” - -“He uttered the hope that she might come back from the grave to torture -me for ever--to pay me back for what I had done to her.” - -“Then you told him!” - -“He said she must have loathed me as no man was ever loathed before. -Then I told him.” - -“You told him because you knew she did _not_ loathe you!” - -“Yvonne! You are laughing!” - -“I laugh because after he had said all these bitter things to you, and -you had paid him back by telling him that he was not your son, it was -you--not he--who was sorry!” - -“I did not expect sympathy from you, but--to have you laugh in my face! -I------” - -“Did you expect sympathy from him?” she cried. - -“I told him in the end that as he was not my son he need feel no -compunction in trying to steal my wife away from me. I------” - -“And what did he say to that?” she broke in shrilly. - -“Nothing! He did not speak to me after that. Not one word!” - -“Nor should I speak to you again, James Brood!” - -“Yvonne--I--I love you. I------” - -“And you loved Matilde--God pity your poor soul! For no more than I have -done, you drove her out of your house. You accuse me in your heart when -you vent your rage on that poor boy. Oh, I know! You suspect _me!_ And -you suspected the other one. I swear to you that you have more cause to -suspect me than Matilde. She was not untrue to you. She could not have -loved anyone else but you. I know--I know! Don't come near me! Not now! -I tell you that Frederic is your son. I tell you that Matilde loved no -one but you. You drove her out. You drive Frederic out. _And you will -drive me out!_” - -She stood over him like an accusing angel, her arms extended. He shrank -back, glaring. - -“Why do you say these things to me? You cannot know--you have no right -to say------” - -“I _am_ sorry for you, James Brood,” she murmured, suddenly relaxing. -Her body swayed against the table, and then she sank limply into the -chair alongside. - -“Yvonne!” - -“You will never forget that you struck a man who was asleep, absolutely -asleep, James Brood. That's why I am sorry for you.” - -“Asleep!” he murmured, putting his hand to his eyes. “Yes, yes--he was -asleep! Yvonne, I--I have never been so near to loving him as I am now. -I--I------” - -“I am going up to him. Don't try to stop me. But first let me ask you -a question. What did Frederic say when you told him his mother was was -what you claim?” - -Brood lowered his head. - -“He said that I was a cowardly liar.” - -“And it was then that you began to feel that you loved him. Ah, I -see what it is that you need, James. You are a great, strong man, a -wonderful man in spite of all this. You have a heart--a heart that still -needs breaking before you can ever hope to be happy.” - -“As if my heart hasn't already been broken,” he groaned. - -“Your head has been hurt, that's all. There is a vast difference. Are -you going out?” - -He looked at her in dull amazement. Slowly he began to pull himself -together. - -“Yes. I think you should go to him. I--I gave him an hour to--to------” - -“To get out?” - -“Yes. He must go, you see. See him, if you will. I shall not oppose you. -Find out what he expects to do.” - -She passed swiftly by him as he started toward the door. In the hall, -which was bright with the sunlight from the upper windows, she turned to -face him. To his astonishment her cheeks were aglow and her eyes bright -with eagerness. She seemed almost radiant. - -“Yes; it needs breaking, James,” she said, and went up the stairs, -leaving him standing there dumbfounded. Near the top she began to hum a -blithe tune. It came down to him distinctly--the weird little air that -had haunted him for years--Feverelli's! - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -To Brood's surprise she came half-way down the steps again, and, -leaning over the railing, spoke to him with a voice full of irony. - -“Will you be good enough to call off your spy, James?” - -“What do you mean?” He had started to put on his light overcoat. - -“I think you know,” she said briefly. - -“Do you consider me so mean, so infamous as------” he began hotly. - -“Nevertheless, I feel happier when I know he is out of the house. Call -off your dog, James.” - -He smothered an execration and then called out harshly to Jones: - -“Ask Ranjab to attend me here, Jones. He is to go out with me,” he said -to the butler a moment later. - -Yvonne was still leaning over the banister, a scornful smile on her -lips. - -“I shall wait until you are gone. I intend to see Frederic alone,” she -said, with marked emphasis on the final word. - -“As you like,” said he coldly. - -She crossed the upper hall and disappeared from view down the corridor -leading to her own room. Her lips were set with decision; a wild, -reckless light filled her eyes, and the smile of scorn had given way -to one of exaltation. Her breath came fast and tremulously through -quivering nostrils as she closed her door and hurried across to the -little vine-covered balcony. - -“The time has come--the time has come, thank God!” she was saying to -herself, over and over again. The French doors stuck. She was jerking -angrily at them when her maid hurried in from the bedroom, attracted by -the unusual commotion. - -“_Que faites vous, madame?_” she cried anxiously. - -Her mistress turned quickly. - -“Listen! Go downstairs at once and tell them that I have dismissed you. -At once, do you hear?” - -“_Oui madame!_” cried Céleste, her eyes dancing with a sudden, -incomprehensible delight. - -“You are to leave the house immediately. I dismiss you. You have been -stealing from me, do you understand?” - -“_Oui, madame. Je comprendes parfaitement, madame!_” cried the maid, -actually clapping her hands. - -“You will pack two steamer-trunks and get them out of the house before -five o'clock. You are going back to Paris. You are dismissed.” - -The little Frenchwoman beamed. - -“_Certainement, madame! Par le premier bateau. Je comprend_.” - -“The first boat for Havre--do you know the hour for sailing? Consult the -morning paper, Céleste.” - -“_En bien, madame. La Provence. Il part demain. Je------_” - -“Go at once!” cried the mistress, waving her hands excitedly. - -“_Vous me renvoyez!_” And the little maid dashed out of the room. - -As she descended the back stairs an amazing change came over her. Her -sprightly face became black with sullen rage and her eyes snapped with -fury. So violent was her manner when she accosted Jones in the servants' -hall that he fell back in some alarm. She was not long in making him -understand that she had been dismissed, however, and that she would -surely poison the diabolical creature upstairs if she remained in the -house another hour. Even the cook, who had a temper of her own, was -appalled by the exhibition; other servants were struck dumb. - -Jones, perspiring freely, said something about calling in an officer, -and then Céleste began to weep bitterly. All she wanted was to get out -of the house before she did something desperate to the cruel tyrant -upstairs, and she'd be eternally grateful to Jones if he'd get her -trunks out of the storeroom as soon as------ But Jones was already on -his way to give instructions to the furnace-man. - -Céleste took the occasion to go into hysterics, and the entire servant -body fell to work hissing “_Sh--h!_” in an agony of apprehension lest -the turmoil should penetrate the walls and reach the ears of the “woman -upstairs.” They closed all of the doors and most of the windows, and the -upstairs maid thought it would be a good idea to put a blanket over the -girl's head. - -Left alone, Yvonne turned her attention to the window across the -court and two floors above her the heavily curtained window in Brood's -“retreat.” There was no sign of life there, so she hurried to the front -of the house to wait for the departure of James Brood and his man. -The two were going down the front steps. At the bottom Brood spoke to -Ranjab, and the latter, as imperturbable as a rock, bowed low and moved -off in an opposite direction to that taken by his master. She watched -until both were out of sight. Then she rapidly mounted the stairs to the -top floor. - -Frederic was lying on the couch near the jade room door. She was able -to distinguish his long, dark figure after peering intently about the -shadowy interior in what seemed at first to be a vain search for him. -She shrank back, her eyes fixed in horror upon the prostrate shadow. -Suddenly he stirred and then half raised himself on one elbow to stare -at the figure in the doorway. - -“Is it _you?_” he whispered hoarsely, and dropped back with a great sigh -on his lips. - -Her heart leaped. The blood rushed back to her face. Quickly closing the -door, she advanced into the room, her tread as swift and as soft as a -cat's. - -“He has gone out. We are quite alone,” she said, stopping to lean -against the table, suddenly faint with excitement. - -He laughed, a bitter, mirthless, snarling laugh. - -“Get up, Frederic. Be a man! I know what has happened. Get up! I want to -talk it over with you. We must plan. We must decide now at once--before -he returns.” The words broke from her lips with sharp, staccato-like -emphasis. - -He came to a sitting posture slowly, all the while staring at her with a -dull wonder in his heavy eyes. - -“Pull yourself together,” she cried hurriedly. “We cannot talk here. I -am afraid in this room. It has ears, I know. That awful Hindu is always -here, even though he may seem to be elsewhere. We will go down to my -boudoir.” - -He slowly shook his head and then allowed his chin to sink dejectedly -into his hands. With his elbows resting on his knees, he watched her -movements in a state of increasing interest and bewilderment. She turned -abruptly to the Buddha, whose placid, smirking countenance seemed to be -alive to the situation in all of its aspects. Standing close, her hands -behind her back, her figure very erect and theatric, she proceeded to -address the image in a voice full of mockery. - -“Well, my chatterbox friend, I have pierced his armour, haven't I? He -will creep up here and ask you, his wonderful god, to tell him what to -do about it, _aïe?_ His wits are tangled. He doubts his senses. And -when he comes to you, my friend, and whines his secret doubts into your -excellent and trustworthy ear, do me the kindness to keep the secret I -shall now whisper to you, for I trust you, too, you amiable fraud.” - -Standing on tiptoe, she put her lips to the idol's ear and whispered. -Frederic, across the room, roused from his lethargy by the strange -words and still stranger action, rose to his feet and took several steps -toward her. - -“There! Now you know everything. You know more than James Brood knows, -for you know what his charming wife is about to do next.” She drew back -and regarded the image through half-closed, smouldering eyes. “But he -will know before long--before long.” - -“What are you doing, Yvonne?” demanded Frederic unsteadily. - -She whirled about and came toward him, her hands still clasped behind -her back. - -“Come with me,” she said, ignoring his question. - -“He--he thinks I am in love with you,” said he, shaking his head. - -“And are you not in love with me?” - -He was startled. “Good Lord, Yvonne!” - -She came quite close to him. He could feel the warmth that travelled -from her body across the short space that separated them. The -intoxicating perfume filled his nostrils; he drew a deep breath, his -eyes closing slowly as his senses prepared to succumb to the delicious -spell that came over him. When he opened them an instant later she was -still facing him, as straight and fearless as a soldier, and the light -of victory was in her dark, compelling eyes. - -“Well,” she said deliberately, “I am ready to go away with you.” - -He fell back stunned beyond the power of speech. His brain was filled -with a thousand clattering noises. - -“He has turned you out,” she went on rapidly. “He disowns you. Very -well; the time has come for me to exact payment of him for that and for -all that has gone before. I shall go away with you. I------” - -“Impossible!” he cried, finding his tongue and drawing still farther -away from her. - -“Are you not in love with me?” she whispered softly. - -He put his hands to his eyes to shut out the alluring vision. - -“For God's sake, Yvonne--leave me. Let me go my way. Let me------” - -“He cursed your mother! He curses you! He damns you--as he damned her. -You can pay him up for everything. You owe nothing to him. He has killed -every------” - -Frederic straightened up suddenly and, with a loud cry of exultation, -raised his clenched hands above his head. - -“By Heaven, I will break him! I will make him pay! Do you know what -he has done to me? Listen to this: he boasts of having reared me to -manhood, as one might bring up a prize beast, that he might make me pay -for the wrong that my poor mother did a quarter of a century ago. All -these years he has had in mind this thing that he has done to-day. All -my life has been spent in preparation for the sacrifice that came an -hour ago. I have suffered all these years in ignorance of------” - -“Not so loud!” she whispered, alarmed by the vehemence of his reawakened -fury. - -“Oh, I'm not afraid!” he cried savagely. “Can you imagine anything more -diabolical than the scheme he has had in mind all these years? To pay -back my mother--whom he loved and still loves--yes, by Heaven, he still -loves her--he works to this beastly end! He made her suffer the agonies -of the damned up to the day of her death by refusing her the right to -have the child that he swears is no child of his. Oh, you don't know -the story--you don't know the kind of man you have for a husband--you -don't------” - -“Yes, yes; I do know!” she cried violently, beating her breast with -clenched hands. “I _do_ know! I know that he still loves the poor girl -who went out of this house with his curses ringing in her ears a score -of years ago, and who died still hearing them. And I had almost come -to the point of pitying him--I was failing--I was weakening. He is -a wonderful man. I--I was losing myself. But that is all over. Three -months ago I could have left him without a pang--yesterday I was afraid -that it would never be possible. To-day he makes it easy for me. He has -hurt you beyond all reason, not because he hates you, but because he -loved your mother.” - -“But you do love him!” cried Frederic in stark wonder. “You don't -care the snap of your fingers for me. What is all this you are saying, -Yvonne? You must be mad. Think! Think what you are saying.” - -“I have thought--I am always thinking. I know my own mind well enough. -It is settled: I am going away, and I am going with you.” - -“You can't be in earnest!” - -“I am desperately in earnest. You owe nothing to him now. He says you -are not his son. You owe nothing but hatred to him, and you should pay. -You owe vengeance for your mother's sake--for the sake of her whose face -you have come to love, who loved you to the day she died, I am sure. He -will proclaim to the world that you are not his son, he will brand you -with the mark of shame, he will drive you out of New York. You are the -son of a music-master, he shouts from the housetops! Your mother was a -vile woman, he shouts from the housetops! You cannot remain here. You -_must_ go. You must take me with you. Ah, you are thinking of Lydia! -Well, are you thinking of dragging her through the mire that he will -create? Are you willing to give her the name he declares is not yours to -give? Are you a craven, whipped coward who will not strike back when the -chance is offered to give a blow that will------” - -“I cannot listen to you, Yvonne!” cried Frederic, aghast. His heart was -pounding so fiercely that the blood surged to his head in great waves, -almost stunning him with its velocity. - -“We go to-morrow!” she cried out in an ecstasy of triumph. She was -convinced that he would go! “La Provence!” - -“Good Heaven!” he gasped, dropping suddenly into a chair and burying his -face in his shaking hands. “What will this mean to Lydia--what will she -do--what will become of her?” - -A quiver of pain crossed the woman's face, her eyelids fell as if to -shut out something that shamed her in spite of all her vainglorious -protestations. Then the spirit of exaltation resumed its sway. She -lifted her eyes heavenward, and inaudible words trembled on her lips. A -moment later she stood over him, her hands extended as if in blessing. - -Had he looked up at that instant he would have witnessed a Yvonne he did -not know. No longer was she the alluring, sensuous creature who had been -in his thoughts for months, but a transfigured being whose soul looked -out through gentle, pitying eyes, whose wiles no longer were employed -in the devices of which she was past-mistress, whose real nature was -revealed now for the first time since she entered the house of James -Brood. - -There was pain and suffering in the lovely eyes, and there was a strange -atmosphere of sanctuary attending the very conquest she had made. But -Frederic did not look up until all this had passed and the smile of -triumph was on her lips again and the glint of determination in her -eyes. He had missed the revelation that would have altered his estimate -of her for the future. - -“You cannot marry Lydia now,” she said, affecting a sharpness of tone -that caused him to shrink involuntarily. “It is your duty to write her -a letter to-night, explaining all that has happened to-day. She would -sacrifice herself for you to-day, but there is--to-morrow! A thousand -to-morrows, Frederic. Don't forget them, my dear. They would be ugly, -after all, and she is too good, too fine to be dragged into------” - -“You are right!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “It would be the -vilest act that a man could perpetrate. Why--why, it would be proof of -what he says of me--it would stamp me for ever the dastard he--no, no; -I could never lift my head again if I were to do this utterly vile thing -to Lydia. He said to me here--not an hour ago--that he expected me to -go ahead and blight that loyal girl's life, that I would consider it a -noble means of self-justification! What do you think of that? He------ -But wait! What is this that we are proposing to do? Give me time to -think! Why--why, I can't take you away from him, Yvonne! What am I -thinking of? Have I no sense of honour? Am I------” - -“You are not his son,” she said significantly. - -“But that is no reason why I should stoop to a foul trick like this. -Do--do you know what you are suggesting?” He drew back from her with a -look of disgust in his eyes. “No! I'm not that vile! I----” - -“Frederic, you must let me------” - -“I don't want to hear anything more, Yvonne. What manner of woman are -you? He is your husband, he loves you, he trusts you; oh, yes, he does! -And you would leave him like this? You would------” - -“Hush! Not so loud!” she cried in great agitation. - -“And let me tell you something more. Although I can never marry Lydia, -by Heaven, I shall love her to the end of my life. I will not betray -that love. To the end of time she shall know that my love for her is -real and true and------” - -“Frederic, you must listen to me,” she cried, wringing her hands. “You -must hear what I have to say to you. Wait! Do not leave me!” - -“What is it, Yvonne--what is it?” he cried, pausing in utter amazement -after taking a few steps toward the door. - -“Where are you going?” she whispered, following him with dragging steps. -“Not to _him?_” - -“Certainly not! Do you think I would betray you to him?” - -“Wait! Give me time to think,” she pleaded. He shook his head -resolutely. “Do not judge me too harshly. Hear what I have to say before -you condemn me. I am not the vile creature you think, Frederic. Wait! -Let me think!” - -He stared at her for a moment in deep perplexity and then slowly drew -near. - -“Yvonne, I do not believe you mean to do wrong--I do not believe it of -you. You have been carried away by some horrible------” - -“Listen to me,” she broke in fiercely. “I would have sacrificed -you--aye, sacrificed you, poor boy--in order to strike James Brood the -cruellest blow that man ever sustained. I would have destroyed you in -destroying him--God forgive me! But you have shown me how terrible I am, -how utterly terrible! Love you? No! No! Not in that way. I would have -put a curse, an undeserved curse, upon your innocent head, and all for -the joy it would give me to see James Brood grovel in misery for the -rest of his life. Oh!” - -She uttered a groan of despair and self-loathing so deep and full of -pain that his heart was chilled. - -“Yvonne!” he gasped, dumbfounded. - -“Do not come near me!” she cried out, covering her face with her hands. -For a full minute she stood before him, straight and rigid as a statue, -a tragic figure he was never to forget. Suddenly she lowered her hands. -To his surprise, a smile was on her lips. - -“You would never have gone away with me. I know it now. All these -months I have been counting on you for this very hour, this culminating -hour--and now I realise how little hope I have really had, even from the -beginning. You are honourable. There have been times when my influence -over you was such that you resisted only because you were loyal to -yourself--not to Lydia, not to my husband--but to yourself. I came to -this house with but one purpose in mind. I came here to take you away -from the man who has always stood as your father. I would not have -become your mistress--pah! how loathsome it sounds!--but I would have -enticed you away, believing myself to be justified. I would have struck -James Brood that blow. He would have gone to his grave believing himself -to have been paid in full by the son of the woman he had degraded, by -the boy he had reared for the slaughter, by the blood------” - -“In God's name, Yvonne, what is this you are saying? What have you -against my--against him?” - -“Wait! I shall come to that. I did not stop to consider all that I -should have to overcome. First, there was your soul, your honour, your -integrity to consider. I did not think of all those things. I did not -stop to think of the damnable wrong I should be doing to you. I was -blind to everything except my one great, long-enduring purpose. I could -see nothing else but triumph over James Brood. To gain my end it was -necessary that I should be his wife. I became his wife--I deliberately -took that step in order to make complete my triumph over him. I became -the wife of the man I had hated with all my soul, Frederic. So you can -see how far I was willing to go to--ah, it was a hard thing to do! But -I did not shrink. I went into it without faltering, without a single -thought of the cost to myself. He was to pay for all that, too, in the -end. Look into my eyes, Frederic. I want to ask you a question. Will you -go away with me? Will you take me?” - -He returned her look steadily. - -“No!” - -“That is all I want to hear you say. It means the end. I have done all -that could be done, and I have failed. Thank God, I have failed!” She -came swiftly to him and, before he was aware of her intention, clutched -his hand and pressed it to her lips. He was shocked to find that a -sudden gush of tears was wetting his hand. - -“Oh, Yvonne!” he cried miserably. - -She was sobbing convulsively. He looked down upon her dark, bowed head -and again felt the mastering desire to crush her slender, beautiful body -in his arms. The spell of her was upon him again, but now he realised -that the appeal was to his spirit and not to his flesh--as it had been -all along, he was beginning to suspect. - -“Don't pity me,” she choked out. “This will pass, as everything else has -passed. I am proud of you now, Frederic. You are splendid. Not many men -could have resisted in this hour of despair. You have been cast off, -despised, degraded, humiliated. You were offered the means to retaliate. -You------” - -“And I was tempted!” he cried bitterly. “For the moment I was------” - -“And now what is to become of _me?_” she wailed. - -His heart grew cold. - -“You--you will leave him? You will go back to Paris? Yvonne, it will be -a blow to him. He has had one fearful slash in the back. This will break -him.” - -“At least, I may have that consolation,” she cried, straightening up in -an effort to revive her waning purpose. “Yes, I shall go. I cannot stay -here now. I--” She paused and shuddered. - -“What, in Heaven's name, have you against my--against him? What does it -all mean? How you must have hated him to------” - -“Hated him? Oh, how feeble the word is! Hate! There should be a word -that strikes more terror to the soul than that one. But wait! You shall -know everything. You shall have the story from the beginning. There is -much to tell, and there will be consolation--aye, triumph for you in the -story I shall tell. First, let me say this to you: when I came here I -did not know that there was a Lydia Desmond. I would have hurt that poor -girl; but it would not have been a lasting pain. In my plans, after I -came to know her, there grew a beautiful alternative through which she -should know great happiness. Oh, I have planned well and carefully, but -I was ruthless. I would have crushed her with him rather than to have -failed. But it is all a dream that has passed, and I am awake. - -“It was the most cruel, but the most magnificent dream--ah, but I dare -not think of it. As I stand here before you now, Frederic, I am shorn of -all my power. I could not strike him as I might have done a month ago. -Even as I was cursing him but a moment ago I realised that I could not -have gone on with the game. Even as I begged you to take your revenge, I -knew that it was not myself who urged, but the thing that was having its -death-struggle within me.” - -“Go on. Tell me. Why do you stop?” - -She was glancing fearfully toward the Hindu's door. “There is one man in -this house who knows. He reads my every thought. He does not know all, -but he knows _me_. He has known from the beginning that I was not to be -trusted. That man is never out of my thoughts. I fear him, Frederic--I -fear him as I fear death. If he had not been here I--I believe I should -have dared anything. I _could_ have taken you away with me months ago. -But he worked his spell and I was afraid. I faltered. He knew that I was -afraid, for he spoke to me one day of the beautiful serpents in his land -that were cowards in spite of the death they could deal with one flash -of their fangs. You were intoxicated. I _am_ a thing of beauty. I can -charm as the------” - -“God knows that is true,” he said hoarsely. - -“But enough of that! I am stricken with my own poison. Go to the door! -See if he is there. I fear------” - -“No one is near,” said he, after striding swiftly to both doors, -listening at one and peering out through the other. - -“You will have to go away, Frederic. I shall have to go. But we shall -not go together. In my room I have kept hidden the sum of ten thousand -dollars, waiting for the day to come when I should use it to complete -the game I have played. I knew that you would have no money of your -own. I was prepared even for that. Look again! See if anyone is there? I -feel--I feel that someone is near us. Look, I say!” - -He obeyed. - -“See! There is no one near.” He held open the door to the hall. “You -must speak quickly. I am to leave this house in an hour. I was given the -hour.” - -“Ah, I can see by your face that you hate him! It is well. That is -something. It is but little, I know, after all I have wished for--but it -is something for me to treasure--something for me to take back with me -to the one sacred little spot in this beastly world of men and women.” - -“Yvonne, you are the most incomprehensible------” - -“Am I not beautiful, Frederic? Tell me!” She came quite close to him. - -“You are the most beautiful woman in all the world,” he said abjectly. - -“And I have wasted all my beauty--I have lent it to unloveliness, and it -has not been destroyed! It is still with me, is it not? I have not lost -it in------” - -“You are beautiful beyond words--beyond anything I have ever imagined,” - said he, suddenly passing his hand over his brow. - -“You would have loved me if it had not been for Lydia?” - -“I couldn't have helped myself. I--I fear I--faltered in my--are you -still trying to tempt me? Are you still asking me to go away with you?” - -A hoarse cry came from the doorway behind them--a cry of pain and anger -that struck terror to their souls. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -Transfixed, they watched James Brood take two or three steps into the -room. At his back was the swarthy Hindu, his eyes gleaming like coals of -fire in the shadowy light. - -“James!” fell tremulously from the lips of Yvonne. She swayed toward him -as Ranjab grasped his arm from behind. - -Frederic saw the flash of something bright as it passed from the brown -hand to the white one. He did not at once comprehend. - -“It happened once,” came hoarsely from the throat of James Brood. “It -shall not happen again. Thank you, Ranjab.” - -Then Frederic knew. The Hindu had slipped a revolver into his master's -hand! - -“It gives me great pleasure, Yvonne, to relieve you of that worthless -thing you call your life.” - -As he raised his arm Frederic sprang forward with a shout of horror. -Scarcely realising what he did, he hurled Yvonne violently to one side. - -It was all over in the twinkling of an eye. There was a flash, the crash -of an explosion, a puff of smoke, and the smell of burned powder. - -Frederic stood perfectly still for an instant, facing the soft cloud -that rose from the pistol-barrel, an expression of vague amazement in -his face. Then his hand went uncertainly to his breast. - -Already James Brood had seen the red blotch that spread with incredible -swiftness--blood-red against the snowy white of the broad shirt bosom. -Glaring with wide-open eyes at the horrid spot, he stood there with the -pistol still levelled. - -“Good God, father, you've--why, you've------” struggled from Frederic's -writhing lips, and then his knees sagged; an instant later they gave way -with a rush and he dropped heavily to the floor. - -There was not a sound in the room. Suddenly Brood made a movement, quick -and spasmodic. At the same instant Ranjab flung himself forward and -grasped his master's arm. He had turned the revolver upon himself! The -muzzle was almost at his temple when the Hindu seized his hand in a grip -of iron. - -“_Sahib! Sahib!_” he hissed. “What would you do?” Wrenching the weapon -from the stiff, unresisting fingers, he hurled it across the room. - -Brood groaned. His tall body swerved forward, but his legs refused to -carry him. The Hindu caught him as he was sinking limply to his knees. -With a tremendous effort of the will, Brood succeeded in conquering the -black unconsciousness that was assailing him. He straightened up to his -full height and with trembling fingers pointed to the prostrate figure -on the floor. - -“The pistol, Ranjab! Where is it? Give it to me! Man, can I live after -_that?_ I have killed my son--my own son! Quick, man!” - -“_Sahib!_” cried the Hindu, wringing his hands. “I cannot! I cannot!” - -“I command you! The pistol!” - -Without a word the Hindu, fatalist, slave, pagan that he was, turned to -do his master's bidding. It was not for him to say nay, it was not for -him to oppose the will of the master, but to obey. - -All this time Yvonne was crouching against the table, her horrified -gaze upon the great red blotch that grew to terrible proportions as she -watched. She had not moved, she had not breathed, she had not taken -her hands from her ears where she had placed them at the sound of the -explosion. - -“Blood! It is blood!” she moaned, and for the first time since the -shot was fired her husband glanced at the one for whom the bullet had -originally been intended. - -An expression of incredulity leaped into his face, as if he could not -believe his senses. She was alive and unhurt! His bullet had not touched -her. His brain fumbled for the explanation of this miracle. He had not -aimed at Frederic, he had not fired at him, and yet he lay stretched out -there before him, bleeding, while the one he had meant to destroy was -living--incomprehensively living! How had it happened? What agency had -swept his deadly bullet out of its path to find lodgment in the -wrong heart? There was no blood gushing from her breast; he could not -understand it. - -She did not take her eyes from the great red blot; she was fascinated -by the horror that spread farther and farther across the gleaming white. -She was alone, utterly alone with the most dreadful thing she had ever -known; alone with that appalling thing called death. A life was leaving -its warm, beautiful home as she watched, leaving in a path of red, -creeping away across a stretch of white! - -“Blood!” she wailed again, a long, shuddering word that came not from -her lips but from the very depths of her terror-stricken soul. - -Slowly Brood's mind worked out of the maze. His shot had gone straight, -but Frederic himself had leaped into its path to save this miserable -creature who would have damned his soul if life had been spared to him. - -Ranjab crawled to his side, his eyes covered with one arm, the other -extended. Blindly the master felt for the pistol, not once removing his -eyes from the pallid figure against the table. His fingers closed upon -the weapon. Then the Hindu looked up, warned by the strange voice that -spoke to him from the mind of his master. He saw the arm slowly extend -itself with a sinister hand directed straight at the figure of the -woman. This time Brood was making sure of his aim, so sure that the -lithe Hindu had time to spring to his feet weapon. - -“Master! Master!” he cried out. - -Brood turned to look at his man in sheer bewilderment. What could all -this mean? What was the matter with the fellow? - -“Down, Ranjab!” he commanded in a low, cautious tone, as he would have -used in speaking to a dog when the game was run to earth. - -“There is but one bullet left, _sahib!_” cried the man. - -“Only one is required,” said the master hazily. - -“You have killed your son. This bullet is for yourself.” - -“Yes! But--but see! She lives! She------” - -The Hindu struck his own breast significantly. - -“Thy faithful servant remains, _sahib_. Die, if thou wilt, but leave her -to Ranjab. There is but one bullet left. It is for you. You must not be -here to witness the death Ranjab, thy servant, shall inflict upon her. -Shoot thyself now, if so be it, but spare thyself the sight of------” - -He did not finish the sentence, but his strong, bony fingers went -through the motion that told a more horrible story than words could have -expressed. There was no mistaking his meaning. He had elected himself -her executioner. - -A ghastly look of comprehension flitted across Brood's face. For a -second his mind slipped from one dread to another more appalling. He -knew this man of his. He remembered the story of another killing in -the hills of India. His gaze went from the brown fanatic's face to the -white, tender, lovely throat of the woman, and a hoarse gasp broke from -his lips. - -“No! No! Not that!” he cried, and as the words rang out Yvonne removed -her horrified gaze from the blot of red and fixed it upon the face of her husband. She straightened -up slowly and her arms fell limply to her sides. - -“It was meant for me. Shoot, James!” she said, almost in a whisper. - -The Hindu's grasp tightened at the convulsive movement of his master's -hand. His fingers were like steel bands. - -“Shoot!” she repeated, raising her voice. “Save yourself, for if he is -dead I shall kill you with my own hands! This is your chance--shoot!” - -Brood's fingers relaxed their grip on the revolver. A fierce, wild hope -took all the strength out of his body; he grew faint with it. - -“He--he can't be dead! I have not killed him. He shall not die, he shall -not!” - -Flinging the Hindu aside, he threw himself down beside the body on the -floor. The revolver, as it dropped, was caught in the nimble hand of the -Hindu, who took two long, swift strides toward the woman who now faced -him instead of her husband. There was a great light in his eyes as he -stood over her, and she saw death staring upon her. - -But she did not quail. She was past all that. She looked straight into -his eyes for an instant and then, as if putting him out of her thoughts -entirely, turned slowly toward the two men on the floor. The man -half-raised the pistol, but something stayed his hand, something -stronger than any mere physical opposition could have done. - -He glared at the half-averted face, confounded by the most -extraordinary impression that ever had entered his incomprehensible -brain. Something strange and wonderful was transpiring before his very -eyes, something so marvellous that even he, mysterious seer of the -Ganges, was stunned into complete amazement and unbelief. - -That strange, uncanny intelligence of his, born of a thousand mysteries, -was being tried beyond all previous exactions. It was as if he now saw -this woman for the first time, as if he had never looked upon her face -before. A mist appeared to envelop her, and through this veil he saw a -face that was new to him, the face of Yvonne, and yet _not_ hers at all. -Absolute wonder crept into his eyes. - -As if impelled by the power of his gaze, she faced him once more. For -what seemed hours to him, but in reality only seconds, his searching -eyes looked deep into hers. He saw at last the soul of this woman, and -it was not the soul he had known as hers up to that tremendous moment. -And he came to know that she was no longer afraid of him or his powers. -His hand was lowered, his eyes fell, and his lips moved; but there were -no words, for he addressed a spirit. All the venom, all the hatred fled -from his soul. His knee bent in sudden submission, and his eyes were -raised to hers once more, but now in their sombre depths was the -fidelity of the dog. - -“Go at once,” she said, and her voice was as clear as a bell. - -He shot a swift glance at the prostrate Frederic and straightened his -tall figure, as would a soldier under orders. His understanding gaze -sought hers again. There was another command in her eyes. He placed the -weapon on the table. It had been a distinct command to him. - -“One of us will use it,” she said monotonously. “Go!” - -With incredible swiftness he was gone. The curtains barely moved as he -passed between them, and the heavy door made no sound in opening and -closing. There was no one in the hall. The sound of the shot had not -gone beyond the thick walls of that proscribed room on the top floor. -Somewhere at the rear of the house an indistinct voice was uttering a -jumbled stream of French. - -Many minutes passed. There was not a sound, not a movement in the room. -Brood, kneeling beside the outstretched figure of his unintended victim, -was staring at the graying face with wide, unblinking eyes. He looked -at last upon features that he had searched for in vain through all the -sullen years. There was blood on his hands and on his cheek, for he had -listened at first for the beat of the heart. Afterward his agonised gaze -had gone to the bloodless face. There it was arrested. - -A dumb wonder possessed his soul. He knelt there petrified by the shock -of discovery. In the dim light he no longer saw the features of Matilde, -but his own, and his heart was still. In that revealing moment he -realised that he had never seen anything in Frederic's countenance save -the dark, never-to-be-forgotten eyes, and they were his Matilde's. -Now those eyes were closed. He could not see them, and the blindness was -struck from his own. - -He had always looked into the boy's eyes, he had never been able to seek -farther than those haunting, inquiring eyes, but now he saw the lean, -strong jaw and the firm chin, the straight nose and the broad forehead, -and none of these was Matilde's. These were the features of a man, and -of but one man. He was seeing himself as he was when he looked into his -mirror at twenty-one. - -All these years he had been blind; all these years he had gone on -cursing his own image. In that overpowering thought came the realisation -that it was too late for him to atone. His mind slowly struggled out of -the stupefied bondage of years. He was looking at his own face. Dead, he -would look like that! Matilde was gone for ever, the eyes were closed, -but he was there; James Brood was still there, turning grayer and grayer -of face all the time. - -All the pent-up rage of years rushed suddenly to his lips and an awful -curse issued, but it was delivered against himself. He started to rise -to his feet, his mind bent on the one way to end the anguish that was -too great to bear. The revolver! - -It had been cruel, it should be kind. His heart leaped. He had a few -seconds to live, not longer than it would take to find the weapon and -place it against his breast--just so long and no longer would he be -compelled to live. - -He had forgotten the woman. She was standing just beyond the body that -stretched itself between them. Her hands were clasped against her breast -and her eyes were lifted heavenward. She had not moved throughout that -age of oblivion. - -He saw her and suddenly became rigid. Slowly he sank back, his eyes -distended, his jaw dropping. He put out a hand and saved himself from -falling, but his eyes did not leave the face of the woman who prayed, -whose whole being was the material representation of prayer. But it -was not Yvonne, his wife, that he saw standing there. It was another -Matilde! - -A hoarse, inarticulate sound came from his gaping mouth, and then issued -the words that his mind had created unknown to him while he knelt, but -now were uttered in a purely physical release from the throat that had -held them back through a period of utter unconsciousness. He never knew -that he spoke them; they were not the words that his conscious mind was -now framing for deliverance. He said what he had already started to say -when his soul was full of hatred for Yvonne. - -“You foul, cringing------” and then came the new cry--“Matilde, Matilde! -Forgive! Forgive!” - -Slowly her eyes were lowered until they fell full upon his stricken -face. - -“Am I going mad?” he whispered hoarsely. As he stared the delicate, wan -face of Matilde began to fade and he again saw the brilliant, undimmed -features of Yvonne. “But it _was_ Matilde! What trick of------” - -He sprang to his feet and advanced upon her, stepping across the body -of his son in his reckless haste. For many seconds they stood with their -faces close together, he staring wildly, she with a dull look of agony -in her eyes, but unflinching. What he saw caused an icy chill to sweep -through his tense body and a sickness to enter his soul. He shrank back. - -“Who--who are you?” he cried out in sudden terror. He felt the presence -of Matilde. He could have stretched out his hand and touched her, so -real, so vivid was the belief that she was actually there before him. -“Matilde was here--I saw her, I saw her. And--and now it is you! She is -still here. I can feel her hand touching mine--I can feel--no, no! It is -gone--it--has passed. She has left me again. I--I------” - -The cold, lifeless voice of Yvonne was speaking to him, huskier than -ever before. - -“Matilde _has_ been here. She has always been with her son. She is -always near you, James Brood.” - -“What--are--you--saying?” he gasped. - -She turned wearily away and pointed to the weapon on the table. - -“Who is to use it--you or I?” - -He opened his mouth, but uttered no sound. His power of speech was gone. - -She went on in a deadly monotone. - -“You intended the bullet for me. It is not too late. Kill me, if you -will. I give you the first chance--take it, for if you do not I shall -take mine.” - -“I--I cannot kill you, I cannot kill the woman who stood where you are -standing a moment ago. Matilde was there! She was alive; do you hear me? -Alive and--ah!” - -The exclamation fell from his lips as she suddenly leaned forward, her -intense gaze fixed on Frederic's face. - -“See! Ah, see! I prayed, and I have been answered. See!” - -He turned. Frederic's eyes were open. He was looking up at them with a -piteous appeal, an appeal for help, for life, for consciousness. - -“He is not dead! Frederic, Frederic, my son----” Brood dropped to his -knees and frantically clutched at the hand that lay stretched beside the -limp figure. The pain-stricken eyes closed slowly. - -Yvonne knelt beside Brood. He saw a slim, white hand go out and touch -the pallid brow. - -“I shall save your soul, James Brood,” a voice was saying, but it seemed -far away. “He shall not die. Your poor, wretched soul may rest secure. I -shall keep death away from him. You shall not have to pay for this; no, -not for this. The bullet was meant for me. I owe my life to him, you -shall owe his to me. But you have yet to pay a greater debt than this -can ever become. He is your son. You owe another for his life, and you -will never be out of her debt, not even in hell, James Brood!” - -Slowly Frederic's eyes opened again. They wavered from one face to the -other and there was in them the unsolvable mystery of divination. As the -lids drooped once more, Brood's manner underwent a tremendous change. -The stupefaction of horror and doubt fell away in a flash and he was -again the clear-headed, indomitable man of action. The blood rushed -back into his veins, his eyes flashed with the returning fire of hope, -his voice was steady, sharp, commanding. - -“The doctor!” he cried in Yvonne's ear, as his strong fingers went out -to tear open the shirt-bosom. “Be quick! Send for Hodder; we must save -him.” She did not move. He whirled upon her fiercely. “Do as I tell you! -Are you so----” - -“Dr Hodder is on the way now,” she said dully. - -His hands ceased their operations as if checked by a sudden paralysis. - -“On the way here?” he cried incredulously. “Why------” - -“He is coming,” she said fiercely. “I sent for him. Don't stop now, be -quick! You know what to do. Stanch the flow of blood. Do something, man! -You have seen men with mortal wounds, and this man _must_ be saved!” - -He worked swiftly, deftly, for he did know what to do. He had worked -over men before with wounds in their breasts, and he had seen them -through the shadow of death. But he could not help thinking, as he now -worked, that he was never known to miss a shilling at thirty paces. - -She was speaking. Her voice was low, with a persistent note of -accusation in it. - -“It was an accident, do you understand? You did not shoot to kill him. -The world shall never know the truth, unless he dies, and that is not to -happen. You are safe. The law cannot touch you, for I shall never speak. -This is between you and me. Do you understand?” - -He glanced at her set, rigid face. - -“Yes. It was an accident. And this is between you and me. We shall -settle it later on. Now I see you as you are--as Yvonne. I--wonder------” - His hand shook with a sudden spasm of indecision. He had again caught -that baffling look in her dark eyes. - -“Attend!” she cried, and he bent to the task again. “He is not going to -die. It would be too cruel if he were to die now and miss all the joy of -victory over you, his lifelong foe. He------” - -The door opened behind them and they looked up to see the breathless -Hindu. He came straight to the woman. - -“He comes. Ranjab has obey. I have told him that the revolver was -discharge accidentally, by myself, by the unhappy son of a dog, I. It is -well. Ranjab is but a dog. He shall die to-day and his lips be sealed -for ever. Have no fear. The dead shall be silent.” His voice trailed off -into a whisper, for his eyes were looking into hers. “No,” he whispered, -after a moment, “no; the dead are not silent. One who is dead has spoken -to Ranjab.” - -“Hush!” said the woman. Brood's hands were shaking again, shaking and -uncertain. “The doctor? He comes?” - -“Even now,” said the Hindu, turning toward the door. - -Dr Hodder came blinking into the room. A gaping assistant from his -office across the street followed close behind, carrying a box of -instruments. - -“Turn up the lights,” said the surgeon crisply. It seemed hours before -the soft glow was at its full and the room bathed in its mellow light. -All this time not a word was uttered. “Ah!” exclaimed Dr Hodder at -last. “Now we'll see.” - -He was kneeling beside Frederic an instant later. - -“Bad!” he said after a single glance. “Wiley, get busy now. Clear that -table, Ranjab. Water, quick, Wiley. Lively, Ranjab. Shove 'em off, don't -waste time like that. Ah, now lend a hand, both of you. Easy! So!” Three -strong, nerveless pairs of hands raised the inert figure. - -“Hello! What's this?” The incomprehensible Hindu in his ruthless -clearing of the table had left the revolver lying where Yvonne had -placed it. “Good Lord, take it away! It's done enough damage already.” - It was Wiley, the assistant, who picked it up gingerly and laid it on -a chair near by. “Now, where's the butler? Send for an ambulance, -and--you, Wiley, call up the hospital and say------” - -“No!” came in Yvonne's husky, imperative voice. “No, not the hospital. -He is not to be taken away.” - -“But, madam, you------” - -“I insist! It is not to be thought of, Dr Hodder. He must remain in this -house. I will get his room ready for him. He is--to--stay--here!” - -“Well, we'll see,” said the surprised surgeon, and forthwith put her out -of his mind. - -James Brood was standing stock-still and rigid in the centre of the -room. He had not moved an inch from the position he had taken when the -doctor pushed him aside in order to clear the way to the table. Yvonne -came straight to him. The matter of half a yard separated them as she -stopped and spoke to him, her voice so low that the bustling doctor -could not have distinguished a word. - -“You owe it to Frederic to allow Ranjab's story to stand. There is no -one to dispute it. I command you to protect the good name of your son. -That weapon was accidentally discharged by your servant, and you will -have to swear to it, James Brood, if called upon to do so, for I shall -swear to it, and Ranjab, too.” - -“I shall conceal nothing,” he groaned. “Do you think I am a craven -coward as well as a------” - -“Nevertheless, you will do as I command. He is going to live. That is -why I demand it of you. If he were to die--well, even then you would not -be permitted to speak. I shall stand here beside you, James Brood, and -if you utter one word to contradict Ranjab's story I shall shoot you -down. Can you not see how desperately in earnest I am?” She reached over -and caught up the revolver from the chair as she was speaking. - -For a full minute they looked into each other's eyes, and he--the -strong, invulnerable Brood--was the first to give way. The steely -glitter faded before the swift rush of a new feeling that swept over -him--an extraordinary feeling of tenderness toward this woman who fought -him with something more than her own cause at stake. - -“I understand. You are right. If he gets well, this beastly thing must -never be known. We will leave it to him. If he chooses to tell the -truth, then------” - -“I have your promise--_now?_” she demanded intensely. - -“Yes. Now go!” Involuntarily he straightened his tall figure and pointed -toward the door. - -“He is not to be removed from this house,” she insisted. - -“Ten minutes ago you were suggesting a different------” he began -sneeringly. - -“The whole world has changed since then, James Brood,” she said, and her -shoulders drooped. Almost instantly she recovered her poise. “I have a -great deal to say to you later on.” - -“Not a great deal,” he said meaningly. - -He saw her flinch and was conscious of a curious pang, a poignant yet -indefinable pang of remorse. - -She went swiftly from the room. He looked for the revolver. It was gone. -Somehow he found himself wondering if she had taken it away with her in -the fear that he would turn it against himself in case---- - -“No powder stains,” he heard Hodder saying to his assistant. “Not a sign -of 'em.” - -“That's right,” said the assistant, shaking his head. - -“Couldn't have been--no, of course not,” went on the first speaker in a -matter-of-fact tone. - -“Doesn't look that way,” agreed the assistant. - -“Fired from some little distance, I'd say.” - -“Fifteen or twenty feet, perhaps.” - -It suddenly dawned upon Brood that they were talking of suicide. - -“Good Heaven, Hodder, it--it wasn't _that!_” he cried hoarsely. “What -right have you to doubt my word? I tell you I------” - -“Your word, Jim? This is the first word you've spoken since I came into -the room.” - -“Is--is it a mortal wound?” broke from the other's lips. - -“Can't tell. First aid now, that's the point. We'll get him downstairs -in a few minutes. More light. I can't see a thing in this--hello! What's -this? A photograph? Fell out of his pocket when I--oh, I see! Your wife. -Sorry I got blood on it.” He laid the small bit of pasteboard on the -table. “Wiley! See if you can get a mattress. We'll move him at once. -Lively, my lad. He's alive, all right, Jim. Do our best. Looks bad. Poor -kid. He's not had a very happy life of it, I'm afraid--I beg pardon!” - -In considerable embarrassment he brought his comments to an end and bent -lower to examine the small black hole in the left breast of his patient. - -Frederic's lips moved. The doctor's ear caught the strangled whisper -that issued. - -“Curious,” he remarked, turning to Brood with something like awe in his -eyes. “I'm sure he said 'Mother.' But he never knew his mother, did he?” - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -Hours afterward Brood sat alone in the room where the tragedy occurred. -Much had transpired in the interim to make those hours seem like -separate and distinct years to him, each hour an epoch in which a vital -and memorable incident had been added to his already overfull measure of -experience. - -He had refused to see the newspaper men who came. Dr Hodder wisely had -protested against secrecy. - -“Murder will out,” he had said fretfully, little realising how closely -the trite old saying applied to the situation. He had accepted the -statements of Yvonne and Ranjab as to the accidental discharge of the -weapon, but for some reason had refrained from asking Brood a single -question, although he knew him to be a witness to the shooting. - -Yvonne saw the reporters and, later on, an inspector of police. Ranjab -told his unhappy story. He had taken the weapon from a hook on the wall -for the purpose of cleaning it. It had been hanging there for years, -and all the time there had been a single cartridge left in the cylinder -unknown to anyone. He had started to remove the cylinder as he left the -room. - -All these years the hammer had been raised; death had been hanging over -them all the time that the pistol occupied its insecure position on the -wall. Somehow, he could not tell how, the hammer fell as he tugged at -the cylinder. No one could have known that the revolver was loaded. That -was all that he could say, except to declare that if his master's son -died he would end his own miserable, valueless life. - -His story was supported by the declarations of Mrs Brood, who, while -completely exonerating her husband's servant, had but little to say -in explanation of the affair. She kept her wits about her. Most people -would have made the mistake of saying too much. She professed to know -nothing except that they were discussing young Mr Brood's contemplated -trip abroad and that her husband had given orders to his servants to -pack a revolver in his son's travelling-bag. - -She had paid but little attention to the Hindu's movements. All she -could say was that it was an accident--a horrible, blighting accident. -For the present it would not be possible for anyone to see the -heart-broken father. Doubtless later on he would be in the mood to -discuss the dreadful catastrophe, but not now. He was crushed with the -horror of the thing that had happened. And so she explained. - -The house was in a state of subdued excitement. Servants spoke in -whispers and tiptoed through the halls. Nurses and other doctors came. -Two old men, shaking as with palsy, roamed about the place, intent only -on worming their way into the presence of their friend and supporter to -offer consolation and encouragement to him in his hour of tribulation. -They shuddered as they looked into each other's faces, and they shook -their heads without speaking, for their minds were filled with doubt. -They did not question the truth of the story as told, but they had their -own opinions. - -In support of the theory that they did not believe there was anything -accidental in the shooting of Frederic it is only necessary to speak of -their extraordinary attitude toward Ranjab. They shook hands with him -and told him that Allah would reward him. Later on, after they had -had time to think it all out for themselves, being somewhat slow of -comprehension, they sought out James Brood and offered to accept all -the blame for having loaded the revolver without consulting him, their -object having been to destroy a cat that infested the alley hard by. -They felt that it was absolutely necessary to account for the presence -of the unexploded cartridge. - -“As a matter of fact, Jim, old man,” insisted Mr Riggs, “I am entirely -to blame for the whole business. I ought to have had more sense than to -leave a shell in------” - -“You had nothing to do with it,” said Mr Dawes fiercely. “It was I who -loaded the devilish thing, and I'm going to confess to the police. To be -perfectly honest about it, I sort of recollect cocking it before I hung -it up on the nail. I sort of recollect it, I say, and that's more than -you can do. No, sir, Jim; I'm the one to blame. I ought to be shot for -my carelessness. It was------” - -“There's no sense in your lying at a time like this,” said Mr Riggs -caustically, glaring at his lifelong friend. “I suppose it's because -he can't help it, Jim. Lying has got to be such a habit with him -that------” - -“Well,” interrupted Mr Dawes vigorously, “to show you that I am not -lying, I intend to give myself up to the police and take the full -penalty for criminal and contributory negligence. I suppose you'll -still say I'm lying after they've sent me to jail for a couple of years -for------” - -“Yes, sir; I will,” said Mr Riggs with conviction. “And I shall have you -arrested for perjury if you try any of your tricks on me. I loaded it, -I cocked sir; I will,” said Mr Riggs with conviction. - -“And I suppose you fired it off!” exclaimed Mr Dawes savagely. - -Mr Riggs took a long breath. “Yes, sir, you scoundrel, I am ready to -swear that I _did_ fire it off!” They glared at each other with such -ferocity that Brood, coming between them, laid his hands on their -shoulders, shaking his head as he spoke to them gently. - -“Thank you, old pals. I understand what it is you are trying to do. It's -no use. I fired the shot. It isn't necessary to say anything more to -you, I'm sure, except that, as God is my witness, I did not intend the -bullet for Frederic. It was an accident in that respect. Thank you for -what you would do. It isn't necessary, old pals. The story that Ranjab -tells must stand for the time being. Later on--well, I may _write_ my -own story and give it to the world.” - -“Write it?” said Mr Dawes, and Brood nodded his head slowly, -significantly. - -“Oh, Jim, you--you mustn't do that!” groaned Mr Dawes, appalled. “You -ain't such a coward as to do that!” - -“There is one bullet left in that revolver. Ranjab advised me to save -it--for myself. He's a thoughtful fellow,” said Brood. - -“Jim,” said Mr Riggs, squaring himself, “it's too bad that you didn't -hit what you shot at.” - -Mr Dawes turned on him in a flash. “None o' that, Joe,” he said, and -this time he was very much in earnest. “She's all right. You'll all find -out she's all right. I tell you a woman can't nurse a feller back from -the edge of the grave, yes, from the very bottom of it almost, and not -betray her true nature to that same feller in more------” - -“Jim,” interrupted Mr Riggs, ignoring his comrade's defence, “I see -she's going to nurse Freddy. Well, sir, if I was you, I'd------” - -Brood stopped him with an impatient gesture. - -“I must ask you not to discuss Mrs Brood.” - -“I was just going to say, Jim, that if I was you I'd thank the Lord that -she's going to do it,” substituted Mr Riggs somewhat hastily. “She's a -wonderful nurse. She told me a bit ago that she was going to save his -life in spite of the doctor.” - -“What does Dr Hodder say?” demanded Brood, pausing in his restless -pacing of the floor. - -“He says the poor boy is as good as dead,” said Mr Riggs, - -“Ain't got a chance in a million,” said Mr Dawes. - -They were surprised to see Brood wince. He hadn't been so thin-skinned -in the olden days. His nerve was going back on him, that's what it was; -poor Jim! Twenty years ago he would have stiffened his back and taken -it like a man. It did not occur to them that they might have broken the -news to him with tact and consideration. - -“But you can depend on us, Jim, to pull him through,” said Mr Riggs -quickly. “Remember how we saved you back there in Calcutta when all the -fool doctors said you hadn't a chance? Well, sir, we're still------” - -“If any feller can get well with a bullet through his----” began Mr -Dawes encouragingly, but stopped abruptly when he saw Brood put his -hands over his eyes and sink dejectedly into a chair, a deep groan on -his lips. - -“I guess we'd better go,” whispered Mr Riggs, after a moment of -indecision, and then, inspired by a certain fear for his friend, struck -the gong resoundingly. Silently they made their way out of the room, -encountering Ranjab just outside the door. - -“You must stick to it, Ranjab,” said Mr Riggs sternly. - -“With your dying breath,” added Mr Dawes, and the Hindu, understanding, -gravely nodded his head. - -“Well?” said Brood, long afterward, raising his haggard face to meet the -gaze of the motionless brown man who had been standing in his presence -for many minutes. - -“She ask permission of _sahib_ to be near him until the end,” said the -Hindu. “She will not go away. I have heard the words she say to the -_sahibah_, and the _sahibah_ is silent as the tomb. She say no word for -herself, just sit and look at the floor and never move. Then she accuse -the _sahibah_ of being the cause of the young master's death, and the -_sahibah_ only nod her head to that and go out of the room and up to the -place where the young master is, and they cannot keep her from going in. -She just look at the woman in the white cap and the woman step aside. -The _sahibah_ is now with the young master and the doctors. She is not -of this world, _sahib_, but of another.” - -“And Miss Desmond? Where is she?” - -“She wait in the hall outside his door. Ranjab have speech with her. -She does not believe Ranjab. She look into his eye and his eye is -not honest; she see it all. She say the young master shoot himself -and------” - -“I shall tell her the truth, Ranjab,” said Brood stolidly. “She must -know, she and her mother. To-night I shall see them, but not now. -Suicide! Poor, poor Lydia!” - -“Miss Lydia say she blame herself for everything. She is a coward, she -say, and Ranjab he understand. She came yesterday and went away. Ranjab -tell her the _sahib_ no can see her.” - -“Yesterday? I know. She came to plead with me. I know,” groaned Brood -bitterly. - -“She will not speak her thoughts to the world, _sahib_,” asserted -Ranjab. “Thy servant have spoken his words and she will not deny him. It -is for the young master's sake. But she say she _know_ he shoot himself -because he no can bear the disgrace------” - -“Enough, Ranjab,” interrupted the master. “To-night I shall tell her -everything. Go now and fetch me the latest word.” - -The Hindu remained motionless just inside the door. His eyes were -closed. - -“Ranjab talk to the winds, _sahib_. The winds speak to him. The young -master is alive. The great doctor he search for the bullet. It is bad. -But the _sahibah_ stand between him and death. She hold back death. She -laugh at death. She say it no can be. Ranjab know her now. Here in this -room he see the two woman in her, and he no more will be blind. She -stand there before Ranjab, who would kill, and out of the air came a new -spirit to shield her. Her eyes are the eyes of another who does not live -in the flesh, and Ranjab bends the knee. He see the inside. It is not -black. It is full of light, a great big light, _sahib_. Thy servant -would kill his master's wife, but, Allah defend! He cannot kill the -wife who is already dead. His master's wives stand before him--two, not -one--and his hand is stop.” - -Brood was regarding him through wide--open, incredulous eyes. “You--you -saw it, too?” he gasped. - -“The serpent is deadly. Many time Ranjab have take the poison from its -fangs and it becomes his slave. He would have take the poison from the -serpent in his master's house, but the serpent change before his eye and -he become the slave. She speak to him on the voice of the wind and he -obey. It is the law. Kismet! His master have of wives two. Two, _sahib_, -the living and the dead. They speak with Ranjab to-day and he obey.” - -There was dead silence in the room for many minutes after the remarkable -utterances of the mystic. Master and man looked into each other's eyes -and spoke no more, yet something passed between them. - -“The _sahibah_ has sent Roberts for a priest,” said the Hindu at last. - -“A priest? But I am not a Catholic--nor Frederic.” - -“Madam is. The servants are saying that the priest will be here too -late. They are wondering why you have not already killed me, _sahib_.” - -“Kill you, _too?_” - -“They are now saying that the last stroke of the gong, _sahib_, was the -death-sentence for Ranjab. It called me here to be slain by you. I have -told them all that I fired the------” - -“Go down at once, my friend,” said Brood, laying his hand on the man's -shoulder. “Let them see that I do not blame you, even though we permit -them to believe this lie of ours. Go, my friend!” - -The man bent his head and turned away. Near the door he stopped -stock-still and listened intently. - -“The _sahibah_ comes.” - -“Aye, she said she would come to me here,” said Brood, and his jaw -hardened. “Hodder--sent for me, Ranjab, an hour ago, but--but he was -conscious then. His eyes were open. I--I could not look into them. There -would have been hatred in them--hatred for me, and I--I could not go. -I was a coward. Yes, a coward, after all. She would have been there to -watch me as I cringed. I was afraid of what I might do to her then.” - -“He is not conscious now, _sahib_” said the Hindu slowly. - -“Still,” said the other, compressing his lips, “I am afraid--I am -afraid. Ranjab, you do not know what it means to be a coward! You------” - -“And yet, _sahib_, you are brave enough to stand on the spot where he -fell, where his blood flowed, and that is not what a coward would do.” - -The door opened and closed swiftly and he was gone. Brood allowed his -dull, wondering gaze to sink to his feet. He was standing on the spot -where Frederic had fallen. There was no blood there now. The rug had -been removed, and before his own eyes the swift-moving Hindu had washed -the floor and table and put the room in order. All this seemed ages -ago. Since that time he had bared his soul to the smirking Buddha, and -receiving no consolation from the smug image, had violently cursed the -thing. - -Since then he had waited--he had waited for many things to happen. He -knew all that took place below stairs. He knew when Lydia came and he -denied himself to her. The coming of the police, the nurses and the -anæsthetician, and later on Mrs John Desmond and the reporters. All this -he had known, for he had listened at a crack in the open door. And he -had heard his wife's calm, authoritative voice in the hall below, giving -directions. Now for the first time he looked about him and felt himself -attended by ghosts. In that instant he came to hate this once-loved -room, this cherished retreat, and all that it contained. He would never -set his foot inside of its four walls again. It was filled with ghosts! - -On the corner of the table lay a great heap of manuscript, the story -of his life up to the escape from Thassa. The sheets of paper had been -scattered over the floor by the surgeon, but now they were back in -perfect order, replaced by another hand. He thought of the final chapter -that would have to be written if he went on with the journal. It would -have to be written, for it was the true story of his life. He strode -swiftly to the table. In another instant the work of many months would -have been torn to bits of waste paper. But his hand was stayed. Someone -had stopped outside his door. He could not hear a sound, and yet he knew -that a hand was on the heavy latch. He suddenly recalled his remark to -the old men. He would have to _write_ the final chapter, after all. - -He waited. He knew that she was out there, collecting all of her -strength for the coming interview. She was fortifying herself against -the crisis that was so near at hand. To his own surprise and distress -of mind he found himself trembling and suddenly deprived of the fierce -energy that he had stored up for the encounter. He wondered whether he -would command the situation, after all, notwithstanding his righteous -charge against her. - -She had wantonly sought to entice Frederic, she had planned to dishonour -her husband, she had proved herself unwholesome and false, and her heart -was evil. And yet he wondered whether he would be able to stand his -ground against her. - -So far she had ruled. At the outset he had attempted to assert his -authority as the master of the house in this trying, heart-breaking -hour, and she had calmly waved him aside. His first thought had been to -take his proper place at the bedside of his victim and there to remain -until the end, but she had said: “You are not to go in. You have done -enough for one day. If he must die, let it be in peace and not in fear. -You are not to go in,” and he had crept away to hide! - -He remembered her words later on when Hodder sent for him to come down. -“Not in fear,” she had said. - -On the edge of the table, where it had reposed since Dr Hodder dropped -it there, was the small photograph of Matilde. He had not touched it, -but he had bent over it for many minutes at a time, studying the sweet, -never-to-be-forgotten, and yet curiously unfamiliar features of that -long-ago loved one. He looked at it now as he waited for the door to -open, and his thoughts leaped back to the last glimpse he had ever had -of that adorable face. Then it was white with despair and misery; -here it looked up at him with smiling eyes and the languor of unbroken -tranquillity. - -Suddenly he realised that the room was quite dark. He dashed to the -window and threw aside the broad, thick curtains. A stream of afternoon -sunshine rushed into the place. He would have light this time; he would -not be deceived by the darkness, as he had been once before. This time -he would see her face plainly. There should be no sickening illusion. He -straightened his tall figure and waited for the door to open. - -The window at his back was open. He heard a penetrating but hushed -voice speaking from one of the windows across the court, from his wife's -window, he knew without a glance of inquiry. - -Céleste, her maid, was giving orders in great agitation to the -furnace-man in the yard below. - -“No, no, you big fool! I am not dismiss. I am not going away--no. Tak' -_zem_ back. _Madame_ has change her mind. I am not fire non, _non!_ Tak' -zem back, _vitement!_ I go some other day!” - -The door was opened suddenly and Yvonne came into the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -If she had hesitated outside the room to summon the courage to face -the man who would demand so much of her, there was nothing in her manner -when she entered to indicate that such had been the case. She approached -him without a symptom of nervousness or irresolution. Her dark eyes met -his without wavering, and there was purpose in them. - -She devoted a single glance of surprise to the uncurtained window on -entering the door, and an instant later scrutinised the floor with -unmistakable interest, as if expecting to find something there to -account for his motive in admitting the glare of light, something to -confound and accuse her. But there was no fear in the look. - -She had put on a rather plain white blouse, open at the neck. The cuffs -were rolled up nearly to the elbows, evidence that she had been -using her hands in some active employment and had either forgotten or -neglected to restore the sleeves to their proper position. A chic -black walking-skirt lent to her trim, erect figure a suggestion of -girlishness. - -Her arms hung straight down at her sides, limply it would have seemed at -first glance, but in reality they were rigid. - -“I have come, as I said I would,” she said, after a long, tense -silence. Her voice was low, huskier than ever, but without a tremor of -excitement. “You did not say you would wait for me here, but I knew you -would do so. The hour of reckoning has come. We must pay, both of us. -I am not frightened by your silence, James, nor am I afraid of what you -may say or do. First of all, it is expected that Frederic will die. Dr -Hodder has proclaimed it. He is a great surgeon. He ought to know. But -he doesn't know--do you hear? He does not know. I shall not let him -die.” - -“One moment, if you please,” said her husband coldly. “You may spare me -the theatrics. Moreover, we will not discuss Frederic. What we have to -say to each other has little to do with that poor boy downstairs. This -is _your_ hour of reckoning, not his. Bear that------” - -“You are very much mistaken,” she interrupted, her gaze growing more -fixed than before. “He is a part of our reckoning. He is the one great -character in this miserable, unlooked-for tragedy. Will you be so kind -as to draw those curtains? And do me the honour to allow me to sit in -your presence.” - -There was infinite scorn in her voice. “I am very tired. I have not been -idle. Every minute of my waking hours belongs to your son, James Brood, -but I owe this half-hour to you. You shall know the truth about me, as -I know it about you. I did not count on this hour ever being a part of -my life, but it has to be, and I shall face it without weeping over what -might have been. Will you draw the curtains?” - -He hesitated a moment and then jerked the curtains together, shutting -out the pitiless glare. - -“Will you be seated there?” he said quietly, pointing to a chair at the -end of the table. - -She switched on the light in the big lamp, but instead of taking the -chair indicated, sank into one on the opposite side of the table, with -the mellow light full upon her lovely, serious face. - -“Sit there,” she said, signifying the chair he had requested her to -take. “Please sit down,” she went on impatiently, as he continued to -regard her forbiddingly from his position near the window. - -“I shall be better able to say what I have to say standing,” he said -significantly. - -“Do you expect me to plead with you for forgiveness?” she inquired, with -an unmistakable look of surprise. - -“You may save yourself the humiliation of such----” - -“But you are gravely mistaken,” she interrupted. “I shall ask nothing of -you.” - -“Then we need not prolong the------” - -“I have come to explain, not to plead,” she went on resolutely. “I want -to tell you why I married you. You will not find it a pleasant story, -nor will you be proud of your conquest. It will not be necessary for -you to turn me out of your house. I entered it with the determination to -leave it in my own good time. I think you had better sit down.” - -He looked at her fixedly for a moment, as if striving to materialise -a thought that lay somewhere in the back of his mind. He was vaguely -conscious of an impression that he could unfathom all this seeming -mystery without a suggestion from her if given the time to concentrate -his mind on the vague, hazy suggestion that tormented his memory. - -He sat down opposite her and rested his arms on the table. The lines -about his mouth were rigid, uncompromising, but there was a look of -wonder in his eyes. - -She leaned forward in her chair, the better to watch the changing -expression in his eyes as she progressed with her story. Her hands were -clenched tightly under the table's edge. - -“You are looking into my eyes, as you have looked a hundred times,” she -said after a moment. “There is something in them that has puzzled you -since the night when you looked into them across that great ballroom -in London. You have always felt that they were not new to you, that you -have had them constantly in front of you for ages. Do you remember when -you first saw me, James Brood?” - -He stared, and his eyes widened. - -“I never saw you in my life until that night in London, I------” - -“Look closely. Isn't there something more than doubt in your mind as you -look into them now?” - -“I confess that I have always been puzzled by by something I cannot -understand in--but all this leads to nothing,” he broke off harshly. “We -are not here to mystify each other, but to------” - -“To explain mysteries, that's it, of course. You are looking. What do -you see? Are you not sure that you looked into my eyes long, long ago? -Are there not moments when my voice is familiar to you, when it speaks -to you out of------” - -He sat up, rigid as a block of stone. - -“Yes, by Heaven, I have felt it all along! To-day I was convinced that -the unbelievable had happened. I saw something that------” He stopped -short, his lips parted. - -She waved her hand in the direction of the Buddha. - -“Have you never petitioned your too-stolid friend over there to unravel -the mystery for you? In the quiet of certain lonely, speculative hours -have you not wondered where you had seen me before, long, long before -the night in London? In all the years that you have been trying to -convince yourself that Frederic is not your son has there not been the -vision of------” - -“What are you saying to me? Are you trying to tell me that you are -Matilde?” - -“If not Matilde, then who am I, pray?” she demanded. - -He sank back frowning. - -“It cannot be possible. I would know her a thousand years from now. You -cannot trick me into believing--but, who are you?” He leaned forward -again, clutching the edge of the table. “I sometimes think you are a -ghost come to haunt me, to torture me. What trick, what magic is -behind all this? Has her soul, her spirit, her actual being found a -lodging-place in you, and have you been sent to curse me for------” - -She rose half-way out of her chair, leaning farther across the table. - -“Yes, James Brood, I represent the spirit of Matilde Valeska, if you -will have it so. Not sent to curse you, but to love you. That's the pity -of it all. I swear to you that it is the spirit of Matilde that urges -me to love you and to spare you now. It is the spirit of Matilde that -stands between her son and death. But it is not Matilde who confronts -you here and now, you may be sure of that. Matilde loved you. She loves -you now, even in her grave. You will never be able to escape from that -wonderful love of hers. If there have been times--and God help me, there -were many, I know--when I appeared to love you for myself, I swear -to you that I was moved by the spirit of Matilde. I--I am as much -mystified, as greatly puzzled as yourself. I came here to hate you, and -I have loved you; yes, there were moments when I actually loved you.” - -Her voice died away into a whisper. For many seconds they sat looking -into each other's eyes, neither possessing the power to break the -strange spell of silence that had fallen upon them. - -“No, it is not Matilde who confronts you now, but one who would not -spare you as she did up to the hour of her death. You are quite safe -from ghosts from this hour on, my friend. You will never see Matilde -again, though you look into my eyes till the end of time. Frederic may -see, may feel the spirit of his mother, but you--ah, no! You have seen -the last of her. Her blood is in my veins, her wrongs are in my heart. -It was she with whom you fell in love, and it was she you married six -months ago, but now the curtain is lifted. Don't you know me now, James? -Can your memory carry you back twenty-three years and deliver you from -doubt and perplexity? Look closely, I say. I was six years old then, -and------” - -Brood was glaring at her as one stupefied. Suddenly he cried out in a -loud voice. “You are you are the little sister? The little Thérèse?” - -She was standing now, leaning far over the table, for he had shrunk down -into his chair. - -“The little Thérèse, yes! Now do you begin to see? Now do you begin to -realise what I came here to do? Now do you know why I married you? Isn't -it clear to you? Well, I have tried to do all these things so that I -might break your heart as you broke hers. I came to make you pay!” - -She was speaking rapidly, excitedly now. Her voice was high-pitched and -unnatural. Her eyes seemed to be driving him deeper and deeper into the -chair, forcing him down as though with a giant's hand. - -“The little, timid, heart-broken Thérèse who would not speak to you, -nor kiss you, nor say goodbye to you when you took her darling sister -away from the Bristol in the _Kartnerring_ more than twenty years ago. -Ah, how I loved her, how I loved her! And how I hated you for taking -her away from me. Shall I ever forget that wedding night? Shall I ever -forget the grief, the loneliness, the hatred that dwelt in my poor -little heart that night? Everyone was happy, the whole world was happy; -but was I? I was crushed with grief. You were taking her away across the -awful sea, and you were to make her happy, so they said, _aïe_, so said -my beloved, joyous sister. - -“You stood before the altar in St Stephens's with her and promised, -promised, promised everything. I heard you. I sat with my mother and -turned to ice, but I heard you. All Vienna, all Budapest said that you -promised naught but happiness to each other. She was twenty-one. She -was lovely; ah, far lovelier than that wretched photograph lying there -in front of you. It was made when she was eighteen. She did not write -those words on the back of the card. I wrote them, not more than a month -ago, before I gave it to Frederic. To this house she came twenty-three -years ago. You brought her here the happiest girl in all the world. How -did you send her away? How?” - -He stirred in the chair. A spasm of pain crossed his face. - -“And I was the happiest man in all the world,” he said hoarsely. “You -are forgetting one thing, Thérèse.” He fell into the way of calling her -Thérèse as if he had known her by no other name. “Your sister was not -content to preserve the happiness that------” - -“Stop!” she commanded. “You are not to speak evil of her now. You will -never think evil of her after what I am about to tell you. You will -curse yourself. Somehow I am glad that my plans have gone awry. It gives -me the opportunity to see you curse yourself.” - -“Her sister!” muttered the man unbelievingly. “I have married the child -Thérèse. I have held her sister in my arms all these months and never -knew. It is a dream. I------” - -“Ah, but you have _felt_, even though------” - -He struck the table violently with his fist. His eyes were blazing. - -“What manner of woman are you? What were you planning to do to that -unhappy boy--her son? Are you a fiend to------” - -“In good time, James, you will know what manner of woman I am,” she -interrupted quietly. Sinking back in the chair, she resumed the broken -strain, all the time watching him through half--closed eyes. “She died -ten years ago. Her boy was twelve years old. She never saw him after the -night you turned her away from this house. On her death-bed, as she was -releasing her pure, undefiled soul to God's keeping, she repeated to -the priest who went through the unnecessary form of absolving her, -she repeated her solemn declaration that she had never wronged you by -thought or deed. I had always believed her, the holy priest believed -her, God believed her. You would have believed her, too, James Brood. -She was a good woman. Do you hear? And you put a curse upon her and -drove her out into the night. That was not all. You persecuted her to -the end of her unhappy life. You did that to my sister!” - -“And yet you married me,” he muttered thickly. - -“Not because I loved you; oh, no! She loved you to the day of her death, -after all the misery and suffering you had heaped upon her. No woman -ever endured the anguish that she suffered throughout those hungry -years. You kept her child from her. You denied him to her, even though -you denied him to yourself. Why did you keep him from her? She was his -mother. She had borne him; he was all hers. But no! It was your revenge -to deprive her of the child she had brought into the world. You worked -deliberately in this plan to crush what little there was left in life -for her. - -“You kept him with you, though you branded him with a name I cannot -utter; you guarded him as if he were your most precious possession, and -not a curse to your pride; you did this because you knew that you could -drive the barb more deeply into her tortured heart. You allowed her to -die, after years of pleading, after years of vain endeavour, without -one glimpse of her boy, without ever having heard the word mother on -his lips. That is what you did to my sister. For twelve long years you -gloated over her misery. Man, man, how I hated you when I married you!” - She paused, breathless. - -“You are creating an excuse for your devilish conduct!” he exclaimed -harshly. “You are like Matilde, false to the core. You married me for -the luxury I could provide, notwithstanding the curse I had put upon -your sister. I don't believe a word of what you are saying to------” - -“Don't you believe that I am her sister?” - -“You, yes; I must believe that. Why have I been so blind? You are the -little Thérèse, and you hated me in those other days. I remember well -the------” - -“A child's despairing hatred because you were taking away the being she -loved best of all. Will you believe me when I say that my hatred did not -endure for long? When her happy, joyous letters came back to us filled -with accounts of your goodness, your devotion, I allowed my hatred to -die. I forgot that you had robbed me. I came to look upon you as the -fairy prince, after all. It was not until she came all the way across -the ocean and began to die before our eyes--she was years in dying--it - was not until then that I began to hate you with a real, undying -hatred.” - -“And yet you gave yourself to me!” he cried. “You put yourself in her -place! In Heaven's name, what was to be gained by such an act as that?” - -“I wanted to take Matilde's boy away from you,” she hurried on, and for -the first time her eyes began to waver. “The idea suggested itself to -me the night I met you at the comtesse's dinner. It was a wonderful, -a tremendous thought that entered my brain. At first my real self -revolted, but as time went on the idea became an obsession. I married -you, James Brood, for the sole purpose of hurting you in the worst -possible way: by having Matilde's son strike you where the pain would be -the greatest. Ah, you are thinking that I would have permitted myself -to have become his mistress, but you are mistaken. I am not that bad. I -would not have damned his soul in that way. I would not have betrayed my -sister in that way. Far more subtle was my design. I confess that it was -my plan to make him fall in love with me and in the end to run away with -him, leaving you to think that the very worst had happened. But it would -not have been as you think. He would have been protected, my friend, -amply protected. He------” - -“But you would have wrecked him; don't you see that you would have -wrecked the life you sought to protect? How blind and unfeeling you -were. You say that he was my son and Matilde's, honestly born. What -was your object, may I inquire, in striking me at such cost to him? You -would have made a scoundrel of him for the sake of a personal vengeance. -Are you forgetting that he regarded himself as my son?” - -“No; I do not forget, James. There was but one way in which I could hope -to steal him away from you, and I went about it deliberately, with my -eyes open. I came here to induce him to run away with me. I would have -taken him back to his mother's home, to her grave, and there I would -have told him what you did to her. If, after hearing my story, he -elected to return to the man who had destroyed his mother, I should have -stepped aside and offered no protest. - -“But I would have taken him away from you in the manner that would have -hurt you the worst. My sister was true to you. I would have been just as -true, and after you had suffered the torments of hell, it was my plan to -reveal everything to you. But you would have had your punishment by that -time. When you were at the very end of your strength, when you trembled -on the edge of oblivion, then I would have hunted you out and laughed -at you and told you the truth. But you would have had years of -anguish--years, I say.” - -“I have already had years of agony, pray do not overlook that fact,” - said he. “I suffered for twenty years. I was at the edge of oblivion more -than once, if it is a pleasure for you to hear me say it, Thérèse.” - -“It does not offset the pain that her suffering brought to me. It does -not counterbalance the unhappiness you gave to her boy, nor the stigma -you put upon him. I am glad that you suffered. It proves to me that you -secretly considered yourself to be in the wrong. You doubted yourself. -You were never sure, and yet you crushed the life out of her innocent, -bleeding heart. You let her die without a word to show that you------” - -“I was lost to the world for years,” he said. “There were many years -when I was not in touch with------” - -“But her letters must have reached you. She wrote a thousand of--------” - -“They never reached me,” he said significantly. - -“You ordered them to be destroyed?” she cried in sudden comprehension. - -“I must decline to answer that question.” - -She gave him a curious, incredulous smile and then abruptly returned to -her charge. - -“When my sister came home, degraded, I was nine years of age, but I was -not so young that I did not know that a dreadful thing had happened to -her. She was blighted beyond all hope of recovery. It was to me, little -me, that she told her story over and over again, and it was I to whom -she read all of the pitiful letters she wrote to you. My father wanted -to come to America to kill you. He did come later on to plead with you -and to kill you if you would not listen to him. But you had gone--to -Africa, they said. I could not understand why you would not give to her -that little baby boy. He was hers, and------” - -She stopped short in her recital and covered her eyes with her hands. -He waited for her to go on, sitting as rigid as the image that faced him -from beyond the table's end. - -“Afterward my father and my uncles made every effort to get the child -away from you, but he was hidden; you know how carefully he was hidden -so that she might never find him. For ten years they searched for him, -and you. For ten years she wrote to you, begging you to let her have -him, if only for a little while at a time. She promised to restore him -to you. You never replied. You scorned her. We were rich, very rich. -But our money was of no help to us in the search for her boy. You had -secreted him too well. At last, one day, she told me what it was -that you accused her of doing. She told me about Guido Feverelli, her -music-master. I knew him, James. He had known her from childhood. He -was one of the finest men I have ever seen.” - -“He was in love with her,” grated Brood. - -“Perhaps. Who knows? But if so, he never uttered so much as one word of -love to her. He challenged you. Why did you refuse to fight him?” - -“Because she begged me not to kill him. Did she tell you that?” - -“Yes. But that was not the real reason. It was because you were not sure -of your ground.” - -“I deny that!” - -“Never mind! It is enough that poor Feverelli passed out of her life. -She did not see him again until just before she died. He was a noble -gentleman. He wrote but one letter to her after that wretched day in -this house. I have it here in this packet.” - -She drew a package of letters, tied with a white ribbon, from her bosom -and laid it upon the table before him. - -“But one letter from him,” she went on. “I have brought it here for you -to read. But not now. There are other letters and documents here for -you to consider. They are from the grave. Ah, I do not wonder that you -shrink and draw back from them. They convict you, James.” - -“Now I can see why you have taken up this fight against me. You--you -knew she was innocent,” he said in a low, unsteady voice. - -“And why I have hated you, _aïe?_ But what you do not understand is how -I could have brought myself to the point of loving you.” - -“Loving me! Good Heaven, woman, what do you------” - -“Loving you in spite of myself,” she cried, beating upon the table with -her hands. “I have tried to convince myself that it was not I, but the -spirit of Matilde that had come to lodge in my treacherous body. I hated -you for myself and I loved you for Matilde. She loved you to the end. -She never hated you. That was it. The pure, deathless love of Matilde -was constantly fighting against the hatred I bore for you. I believe as -firmly as I believe that I am alive that she has been near me all the -time, battling against my insane desire for vengeance. You have only -to recall to yourself the moments when you were so vividly reminded of -Matilde Valeska. At those times I am sure that something of Matilde was -in me. I was not myself. You have looked into my eyes a thousand times -with a question in your own. Your soul was striving to reach the soul -of Matilde. Ah, all these months I have known that you love Matilde, not -me. You loved Matilde that was in me. You------” - -“I have thought of her, always of her, when you were in my arms.” - -“I know how well you loved her,” she declared slowly. “I know that you -went to her tomb long after her death was revealed to you. I know that -years ago you made an effort to find Feverelli. You found his grave, -too, and you could not ask him, man to man, if you had wronged her. But -in spite of all that you brought up her boy to be sacrificed as------” - -“I--I--am I to believe you? If he should be my son!” he cried, starting -up, cold with dread. - -“He is your son. He could be no other man's son. I have her dying word -for it. She declared it in the presence of her God. Wait! Where are you -going?” - -“I am going down to him!” - -“Not yet, James. I have still more to say to you, more to confess. Here! -Take this package of letters. Read them as you sit beside his bed--not -his death-bed, for I shall restore him to health, never fear. If he -were to die I should curse myself to the end of time, for I and I alone -would have been the cause. Here are her letters, and the one Feverelli -wrote to her. This is her death-bed letter to you. And this is a letter -to her son and yours. You may some day read it to him. And here--this is -a document requiring me to share my fortune with her son. It is a pledge -that I took before my father died a few years ago. If the boy ever -appeared he was to have his mother's share of the estate, and it is not -an inconsiderable amount, James. He is independent of you. He need ask -nothing of you. I was taking him home to his own.” - -She shrank slightly as he stood over her. There was more of wonder and -pity in his face than condemnation. She looked for the anger she had -expected to arouse in him, and was dumbfounded to see that it was not -revealed in his steady, appraising eyes. - -“Your plan deserved a better fate than this, Yv--Thérèse. It was -prodigious! I--I can almost pity you.” - -“Have you no pain, no regret, no grief?” she cried weakly. - -“Yes,” he said, controlling himself with difficulty. “Yes, I know all -these and more.” He picked up the package of letters and glanced at the -superscription on the outer envelope. Suddenly he raised them to his -lips and, with his eyes closed, kissed the words that were written -there. Her head drooped and a sob came into her throat. She did not look -up until he began speaking to her again, quietly, even patiently. - -“But why should you, even in your longing for revenge, have planned to -humiliate and degrade him even more than I could have done? Was it just -to your sister's son that you should blight his life, that you should -turn him into a skulking, sneaking betrayer? What would you have gained -in the end? His loathing, his scorn. Thérèse, did you not think of all -this?” - -“I have told you that I thought of everything. I was mistaken. I did -not stop to think that I would be taking him away from happiness in the -shape of love that he might bear for someone else. I did not know that -there was a Lydia Desmond. When I came to know my heart softened and -my purpose lost most of its force. He would have been safe with me, but -would he have been happy? I could not give him the kind of love that -Lydia promised. I could only be his mother's sister to him. He was not -in love with me. He has always loved Lydia. I fascinated him, just as I -fascinated you. He would not have gone away with me, even after you had -told him that he was not your son. He would not do that to you, James, -in spite of the blow you struck him. He was loyal to Lydia and to -himself.” - -“And what did he think of _you?_” demanded Brood scornfully. - -“If you had not come upon us here he would have known me for who I am, -and he would have forgiven me. I had asked him to go away with me. He -refused. Then I was about to tell him the whole story of my life, of his -life, and of yours. Do you think he would have refused forgiveness to -me? No! He would have understood.” - -“But up to that hour he thought of you as--what shall I say?” - -“A bad woman? Perhaps. I did not care. It was part of the price I was to -pay in advance. I would have told him everything as soon as the ship on -which we sailed was outside the harbour yonder. That was my intention, -and I know you believe me when I say that there was nothing more in my -mind. Time would have straightened everything out for him. He could have -had his Lydia, even though he went away with me. Once away from here, do -you think that he would ever return? No! Even though he knew you to -be his father, he would not forget that he has never been your son. You -have hurt him since he was a babe. Would he forget? Would he forgive? -No! When you came into this room and found us, I was about to go down -on my knees to him to thank him for saving me from my own designs. I -realised then, as I had come to suspect in the past few months, that I -had not counted on my own conscience. - -“James, I--I would not have carried out my plan. I had faltered, and my -cause was lost. What have I accomplished? Am I able to gloat over you? -What have I wrought, after all? I weakened under the love she bore for -you, I permitted it to creep in and fill my heart. Do you understand? -I do not hate you now. It is something to know that you have worshipped -her all these years. You were true to her. What you did long, long ago -was not your fault. You believed that she had wronged you. But you went -on loving her. That is what weakened my resolve. You loved her to the -end, she loved you to the end. Well, in the face of that, could I go on -hating you? You must have been worthy of her love. She knew you better -than all the world. You came to me with love for her in your heart. You -took me, and you loved her all the time. I am not sure, James, that you -are not entitled to this miserable, unhappy love I have come to feel for -you--my own love, not Matilde's.” - -“You are saying this so that I may refrain from throwing you out into -the street------” - -“No!” she cried, coming to her feet. “I shall ask nothing of you. If -I am to go, it shall be because I have failed. I have been a blind, -vainglorious fool. The trap has caught me instead of you, and I shall -take the consequences. I have lost everything!” - -“You have lost _everything_,” said he steadily. - -“'You despise me?” - -“I cannot ask you to stay here after this.” - -“But I shall not go. I have a duty to perform before I leave this house. -I intend to save the life of that poor boy downstairs, so that he may -not die believing me to be an evil woman, a faithless wife. Thank God, I -have accomplished something! You know that he is your son. You know that -my sister was as pure as snow. You know that you killed her, and -that she loved you in spite of the death you brought to her. That is -something.” - -Brood dropped into the chair and buried his face on his quivering arms. -In muffled tones came the cry from his soul: - -“They've all said that he is like me. I have seen it at times, but I -would not believe. I fought against it resolutely, madly, cruelly! Now -it is too late and I _see!_ I see, I feel! You curse of mankind, you -have driven me to the killing of my own son!” - -She stood over him, silent for a long time, her hand hovering above his -head. - -“He is not going to die,” she said at last, when she was sure that she -had full command of her voice. “I can promise you that, James. I shall -not go from this house until he is well. I shall nurse him to health and -give him back to you and Matilde, for now I know that he belongs to both -of you and not to her alone. Now, James, you may go down to him. He is -not conscious. He will not hear you praying at his bedside. He------” - -A knock came at the door--a sharp, imperative knock. It was repeated -several times before either of them could summon the courage to call -out. They were petrified with the dread of something that awaited them -beyond the closed door. It was she who finally called out: - -“Come in!” - -Dr Hodder, coatless and bare-armed, came into the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -The doctor blinked for a moment. The two were leaning forward with -alarm in their eyes, their hands gripping the table. - -“Well, are we to send for an undertaker?” demanded Hodder irritably. - -Brood started forward. - -“Is--is he dead?” - -“Of course not, but he might as well be!” exclaimed the doctor. It was -plain to be seen that he was very much out of patience. “You've called -in another doctor and a priest, and now I hear that a Presbyterian -parson is in the library. Hang it all, Brood, why don't you send for the -coroner and undertaker and have done with it! I'm blessed if I------” - -Yvonne came swiftly to his side. - -“Is he conscious? Does he know?” - -“Hodder, is there any hope?” cried Brood. - -“I'll be honest with you, Jim. I don't believe there is. It went in -here, above the heart, and it's lodged back here by the spine somewhere. -We haven't located it yet, but we will. Had to let up on the ether for a -while, you see. He opened his eyes a few minutes ago, Mrs Brood, and -my assistant is certain that he whispered Lydia Desmond's name. Sounded -that way to him, but, of course------” - -“There! You see, James?” she cried, whirling upon her husband. - -“I think you'd better step in and see him now, Jim,” said the doctor, -suddenly becoming very gentle. “He may come to again, and it may be the -last time he'll ever open his eyes. Yes, it's as bad as that.” - -“I'll go,” said Brood, his face ashen. “You must revive him for a few -minutes, Hodder. There's something I've got to say to him. He must -be able to hear and understand me. It is the most important thing in -the------” He choked up suddenly. - -“You'll have to be careful, Jim. He's ready to collapse. Then it's all -off.” - -“Nevertheless, Dr Hodder, my husband has something to say to his son -that cannot be put off for an instant. I think it will mean a great deal -to him in his fight for recovery. It will make life worth living for -him.” - -Hodder stared for a second or two. - -“He'll need a lot of courage, and if anything can put it into him he'll -make a better fight. If you get a chance, say it to him, Jim. If it's -got anything to do with his mother, say it. He has moaned the word a -dozen times------” - -“It has to do with his mother!” Brood cried out. “Come! I want you to -hear it, too, Hodder.” - -“There isn't much time to lose, I'm afraid,” began Hodder, shaking his -head. His gaze suddenly rested on Mrs Brood's face. She was very erect, -and a smile such as he had never seen before was on her lips, a smile -that puzzled and yet inspired him with a positive, undeniable feeling of -encouragement. - -“He is not going to die, Dr Hodder,” she said quietly. Something went -through his body that warmed it curiously. He felt a thrill, as one who -is seized by a great, overpowering excitement. - -She preceded them into the hall. Brood came last. He closed the door -behind him after a swift glance about the room that had been his most -private retreat for years. - -He was never to set foot inside its walls again. In that single glance -he bade farewell to it for ever. -It was a hated, unlovely spot. He had spent an age in it during those -bitter morning hours, an age of imprisonment. - -On the landing below they came upon Lydia. She was seated on a -window-ledge, leaning wearily against the casement. She did not rise as -they approached, but watched them with steady, smouldering eyes in which -there was no friendliness, no compassion. They were her enemies; they -had killed the thing she loved. - -Brood's eyes met hers for an instant, and then fell before the bitter -look they encountered. His shoulders drooped as he passed close by her -motionless figure and followed the doctor down the hall to the bedroom -door. It opened and closed an instant later and he was with his son. - -For a long time Lydia's sombre, piteous gaze hung upon the door through -which he had passed and which was closed so cruelly against her, the one -who loved him best of all. At last she looked away; her attention was -caught by a queer, clicking sound near at hand. She was surprised to -find Yvonne Brood standing close beside her, her eyes closed and her -fingers telling the beads that ran through her fingers, her lips moving -in voiceless prayer. - -The girl watched her dully for a few moments, then with growing -fascination. The incomprehensible creature was praying! To Lydia this -seemed to be the most unnatural thing in all the world. She could not -associate prayer with this woman's character; she could not imagine her -having been in all her life possessed of a fervent religious thought. It -was impossible to think of her as being even hypocritically pious. - -Lydia began to experience a strange feeling of irritation. She turned -her face away, unwilling to be a witness to this shallow mockery. She -was herself innately religious. In her secret soul she resented an -appeal to Heaven by this luxurious worldling; she could not bring -herself to think of her as anything else. Prayer seemed a profanation on -her scarlet lips. - -Lydia believed that Frederic had shot himself. She put Yvonne down as -the real cause of the calamity that had fallen upon the house. But for -her, James Brood never would have had a motive for striking the blow -that crushed all desire to live out of the unhappy boy. She had made -of her husband an unfeeling monster, and now she prayed! She had played -with the emotions of two men, and now she begged to be pardoned for her -folly! An inexplicable desire to laugh at the plight of the trifler came -over the girl, but even as she checked it another and more unaccountable -force ordered her to obey the impulse to turn once more to look into the -face of her companion. - -Yvonne was looking at her. She had ceased telling the beads, and her -hands hung limply at her sides. For a full minute, perhaps, the two -regarded each other without speaking. - -“He is not going to die, Lydia,” said Yvonne gravely. - -The girl started to her feet. - -“Do you think it is your prayer, and not mine, that has reached God's -ears?'” she cried. - -“The prayer of a nobler woman than either of you or I has gone to the -throne,” said the other. - -Lydia's eyes grew dark with resentment. - -“You could have prevented all------” - -“Be good enough to remember that you have said all that to me before, -Lydia.” - -“What is your object in keeping me away from him at such a time as this, -Mrs Brood?” demanded Lydia. “You refuse to let me go in to him. Is it -because you are afraid of what------” - -“There are trying days ahead of us, Lydia,” interrupted Yvonne. “We will -have to face them together. I can promise you this: Frederic will be -saved for you. To-morrow, next day, perhaps, I may be able to explain -everything to you. You hate me to-day. Everyone in this house hates me, -even Frederic. There is a day coming when you will not hate me. That was -my prayer, Lydia. I was not praying for Frederic, but for myself.” - -“For yourself? I might have known you------” - -“You hesitate? Perhaps it is just as well.” - -“I want to say to you, Mrs Brood, that it is my purpose to remain in -this house as long as I can be------” - -“You are welcome, Lydia. You will be the one great tonic that is to -restore him to health of mind and body. Yes, I shall go further and say -that you are commanded to stay here and help me in the long fight that -is ahead of us.” - -“I thank you, Mrs Brood,” the girl was surprised into saying. - -Both of them turned quickly as the door to Frederic's room opened and -James Brood came out into the hall. His face was drawn with pain and -anxiety, but the light of exaltation was in his eyes. - -“Come, Lydia,” he said softly, after he had closed the door behind him. -“He knows me. He is conscious. Hodder can't understand it, but he seems -to have suddenly grown stronger. He------” - -“Stronger?” cried Yvonne, the ring of triumph in her voice. “I knew! -I could feel it coming--his strength--even out here, James. Yes, go -in now, Lydia. You will see a strange sight, my dear. James Brood will -kneel beside his son and tell him------” - -“Come!” said Brood, spreading out his hands in a gesture of admission. -“You must hear it, too, Lydia. Not you, Thérèse! You are not to come -in.” - -“I grant you ten minutes, James,” she said with the air of a dictator. -“After that I shall take my stand beside him and you will not be -needed.” She struck her breast sharply with her clenched hand. “His one -and only hope lies here, James. I am his salvation. I am his strength. -When you come out of that room again it will be to stay out until I give -the word for you to re-enter. Go, now, and put spirit into him. That is -all I ask of you.” - -He stared for a moment and then lowered his head. A moment later Lydia -followed him into the room and Yvonne was alone in the hall. Alone? -Ranjab was ascending the stairs. He came and stood before her and bent -his knee. - -“I forgot,” she said, looking down upon him without a vestige of the old -dread in her eyes. “I have a friend, after all.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -On a warm morning, toward the middle of June, Frederic and Lydia sat in -the quaint, old-world courtyard, almost directly beneath the balcony -of Yvonne's boudoir. He lounged comfortably, yet weakly, in the -invalid-chair that had been wheeled to the spot by Ranjab, and she sat -on a pile of cushions at his feet. - -Looking at him, one would not have thought that he had passed through -the valley of the shadow of death and was but now emerging into the -sunshine of security. His face was pale, but there was a healthy gloss -to the skin and a clear light in the eye. - -For a week or more he had been permitted to walk about the house and -into the garden, always leaning on the arm of his father or the faithful -Hindu. Each succeeding day saw his strength and vitality increase, and -each night he slept with the peace of a care-free child. He was filled -with contentment; he loved life as he had never dreamed it would be -possible for him to love it. There was a song in his heart and there was -a bright star always on the edge of his horizon. - -As for Lydia, she was radiant with happiness. The long fight was over. -She had gone through the campaign against death with loyal, unfaltering -courage; there had never been an instant when her staunch heart had -failed her; there had been distress, but never despair. If the strain -told on her it did not matter, for she was of the fighting kind. Her -love was the sustenance on which she throve, despite the beggarly -offerings that were laid before her during those weeks of famine. Her -strong, young body lost none of its vigour; her splendid spirit gloried -in the tests to which it was subjected, and now she was as serene as the -June day that found her wistfully contemplating the results of victory. - -Times there were when a pensive mood brought the touch of sadness to her -grateful heart. She was happy and Frederic was happy, but what of the -one who actually had wrought the miracle? That one alone was unhappy, -unrequited, undefended. There was no place for her in the new order -of things. When Lydia thought of her, as she often did, it was with an -indescribable craving in her soul. She longed for the hour to come when -Yvonne Brood would lay aside the mask of resignation and demand tribute; -when the strange defiance that held all of them at bay would disappear, -and they could feel that she no longer regarded them as adversaries. - -There was no longer a symptom of rancour in the heart of Lydia Desmond. -She realised that her beloved's recovery was due almost entirely to -the remarkable influence exercised by this woman at a time when mortal -agencies appeared to be of no avail. Her absolute certainty that she had -the power to thwart death, at least in this instance, had its effect not -only on the wounded man, but on those who attended him. - -Dr Hodder and the nurses were not slow to admit that her magnificent -courage, her almost scornful self-assurance, supplied them with an -incentive that otherwise might never have got beyond the form of a mere -hope. There was something positively startling in her serene conviction -that Frederic was not to die. No less a sceptic than the renowned Dr -Hodder confided to Lydia and her mother that he now believed in the -supernatural and never again would say “there is no God.” - -Hodder had gone to James Brood at the end of the third day and, with the -sweat of the haunted on his brow, had whispered hoarsely that the case -was out of his hands. He was no longer the doctor, but an agent governed -by a spirit that would not permit death to claim its own. And somehow -Brood understood far better than the man of science. - -The true story of the shooting had long been known to Lydia and her -mother. Brood confessed everything to them. He assumed all of the blame -for what had transpired on that tragic morning. He humbled himself -before them, and when they shook their heads and turned their backs upon -him he was not surprised, for he knew they were not convicting him of -assault with a deadly firearm. Later on the story of Thérèse was told -by him to Frederic and the girl. He did his wife no injustice in the -recital. - -Frederic laid his hand upon the soft brown head at his knee and voiced -the thought that was in his mind. - -“You are wondering, as I am, too, what is to become of Yvonne after -to-day,” he said. “There must be an end, and if it doesn't come now, -when will it come? To-morrow we sail. It is certain that she is not -to accompany us. She has said so herself, and father has said so. So -to-day must see the end of things.” - -“Frederic, I want you to do something for me,” said Lydia earnestly. -“There was a time when I could not have asked this of you, but now I -implore you to speak to your father in her behalf. I love her, Freddy -dear. I cannot help it. She asks nothing of any of us; she expects -nothing, and yet she loves all of us. If he only would unbend toward her -a little------” - -“Listen, Lyddy dear. I don't believe it's altogether up to him. There is -a barrier that we can't see, but they do, both of them. My mother stands -between them. You see, I've come to know my father lately, dear. He's -not a stranger to me any longer. I know what sort of a heart he's got. -He never got over loving my mother, and he'll never get over knowing -that Yvonne knows that _she_ loved him to the day she died. - -“We know what it was in Yvonne that attracted him from the first, and -she knows. He's not likely to forgive himself so easily. He didn't play -fair with either of them, that's what I'm trying to get at. I don't -believe he can forgive himself any more than he can forgive Yvonne for -the thing she set about to do. - -“You see, Lyddy, she married him without love. She debased herself, -even though she can't admit it even now. I love her, too. She's the most -wonderful woman in the world. But she did give herself to the man she -hated with all her soul and--well, there you are. He can't forget _that_, -you know, and she can't. She loves him for herself now, and that's what -hurts both of them. It hurts because they both know that he still loves -my mother.” - -“She's his wife, however,” said Lydia, with a stubborn pursing of the -lips. “She didn't wrong him, and, after all, she's only guilty of--well, -she isn't guilty of anything except being a sister of the girl _he_ -wronged.” - -“I'll have a talk with him if you think best,” said he, an eager gleam -in his eyes. - -“And I with Yvonne,” she said quickly. “You see, it's possible she is -the one to be persuaded.” - -“Of course, you've observed that they never see one another alone,” - said he. “They never meet except when someone else is about. He rather -resents the high-handed way in which she ordered him to stay away from -me until I was safely out of danger. He says she saved my life. He says -she performed a miracle. But he has never uttered a word of thanks or -gratitude or appreciation to her. I'm sure of that, for she has told me -so. And she is satisfied to go without his thanks.” - -“I see what you mean,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose we just can't -understand things.” - -“You've no idea how beautiful you are to-day, Lyddy,” he cried -suddenly, and she looked up into his glowing eyes with a smile of -ineffable happiness. Her hand found his, and her warm, red lips were -pressed to its palm in a hot, impassioned kiss. “It's great to be alive! -Great!” - -“Oh, it is,” she cried, “it is!” - -They might better have said that it is great to be young, for that is -what it all came to in the analysis. - -Later on Brood joined them in the courtyard. He stood, with his hand on -his son's shoulder, chatting carelessly about the coming voyage, all the -while smiling upon the radiant girl to whom he was promising paradise. -She adored the gentle, kindly gleam in those one-time steady, -steel-like eyes. His voice, too, of late was pitched in a softer key, -and there was the ring of happiness in its every note. It was as if -he had discovered something in life that was constantly surprising and -pleasing him. He seemed always to be venturing into fresh fields of -exploration and finding there something that was of inestimable value to -his new estate. - -Lydia left father and son after a few minutes, excusing herself on the -ground that she wished to have a good, long chat with Yvonne. She did -not delay her departure, but hurried into the house, having rather -adroitly provided Frederic with an opening for an intercession in behalf -of his lovely stepmother. Her meaning glance was not wasted on the young -man. - -He lost no time in following up the advantage. - -“See here, father, I don't like the idea of leaving Yvonne out in the -cold, so to speak. It's pretty darned rough, don't you think? Down in -your heart you don't blame her for what she started out to do, and, -after all, she's only human. Whatever happened in the past we--well, -it's all in the past. She------” - -Brood stopped him with a gesture. - -“My son, I will try to explain something to you. You may be able to -understand things better than I. I fell in love with her once because an -influence that was not her own overpowered me. There was something of -your mother in her. She admits that to be true, and I now believe it. -Well, that something, whatever it was, is gone. She is not the same. -Yvonne is Thérèse. She is not the woman I loved two months ago.” - -“Nor am I the boy you hated two months ago,” argued Frederic. “Isn't -there a parallel to be seen there, father? I am your son. She is your -wife. You------” - -“There was never a time when I really hated you, my son. I tried to, but -that is all over. We will not rake up the ashes. As for my wife--well, -I have tried to hate her. It is impossible for me to do so. She is a -wonderful woman. But you must understand, on the other hand, that I do -not love her. I did when she looked at me with your mother's eyes and -spoke to me with your mother's lips. But she is not the same.” - -“Give yourself a chance, dad. You will come to love her for herself if -only you will let go of yourself. You are trying to be hard. You------” - -Again Brood interrupted. His face was pale, his eyes grew dark with -pain. - -“You don't know what you are saying, Frederic. Let us discontinue the -subject.” - -“I want you to be happy, I want------” - -“I shall be happy. I am happy. Have I not found out the truth? Are you -not my beloved son? Are------” - -“And who convinced you of all that, sir? Who is responsible for your -present happiness, and mine?” - -“I know, I know!” exclaimed the father in some agitation. - -“You'll regret it all your life if you fail her now, dad. Why, hang it -all, you're not an old man! You are less than fifty. Your heart hasn't -dried up yet. Your blood is still hot. And she is glorious. Give -yourself a chance. You know that she's one woman in a million, and she's -yours! She has made you happy, she can make you still happier.” - -“No, I am not old. I am far younger than I was fifteen years ago. That's -what I am afraid of--this youth I really never possessed till now. If I -gave way to it now I'd--well, I would be like putty in her hands. She -could go on laughing at me, trifling with me, fooling me to------” - -“She wouldn't do that!” exclaimed his son hotly. - -“I don't blame you for defending her. It's right that you should. You -are forgetting the one important condition, however. She can never -reconcile herself to the position you would put her in if I permitted -you to persuade me that------” - -“I can tell you one thing, father, that you ought to know, if you are so -blind that you haven't discovered it for yourself. She loves you.” - -“You are very young, my boy.” Brood shook his head and smiled faintly. - -“What's to become of her? You are leaving her without a thought for her -future. You------” - -“I fancy she is quite capable of arranging her future. As a matter of -fact, she had arranged it pretty definitely before this thing happened. -Leave it to her, Frederic. It is impossible for me to take her away with -us. It is not to be considered.” - -“All right, but bear this in mind: Lydia loves Yvonne, and she's -heart-broken. Now we'll talk about her, if you like.” - -Lydia had as little success in her rather more tactful interview with -Yvonne. - -“Thank you, dear, I am satisfied,” said she. “Everything has turned out -as it should. The wicked enchantress has been foiled and virtue -triumphs. Don't be unhappy on my account, Lydia. It will not be easy to -say good-bye to you and Frederic, but--_là! là!_ What are we to do? Now -please don't speak of it again. Hearts are easily mended. Look at my -husband--_aïe!_ He has had his heart made over from top to bottom--in a -rough crucible, it's true, but it's as good as new, you'll admit. In a -way, I am made over, too. I am happier than I've ever been in my life. -I'm in love with my husband, I'm in love with you and Frederic, and I am -more than ever in love with myself. So there! Don't feel sorry for me. I -shall have the supreme joy of knowing that not one of you will ever -forget me or my deeds, good and bad. Who knows? I am still young, you -know. Time has the chance to be very kind to me before I die.” - -That last observation lingered in Lydia's mind. - -But despite her careless treatment of the situation, Yvonne awaited with -secret dread the coming of that hour when James Brood would say goodbye -to her and, instead of turning her away from his house, would go out of -it himself without a single _command_ to her. He would not tell her that -it was no longer her home, nor would he tell her that it was. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -The next day came, bright and sweet. - -The ship was to sail at noon. - -At ten o'clock the farewells were being said. There were tears and -heartaches, and there was fierce rebellion in the hearts of two of the -voyagers. Yvonne had declined to go to the pier to see them off, and -Brood was going away without a word to her about the future. That was -manifest to the anxious, soul-tried watchers. - -In silence they made their way out to the waiting automobile. As -Brood was about to pass through the broad front door a resolute figure -confronted him. For a moment master and man stared hard into each -other's eyes, and then, as if obeying an inflexible command, the former -turned to glance backward into the hallway. Yvonne was standing in the -library door. - -“_Sahib!_” said the Hindu, and there was strange authority in his voice. -“Tell her, _sahib_. It is not so cruel to tell her as it would be to go -away without a word. She is waiting to be told that you do not want her -to remain in your home.” - -Brood closed his eyes for a second, and then strode quickly toward his -wife. - -“Yvonne, they all want me to take you along with us,” he said, his voice -shaking with the pent-up emotion of weeks. - -She met his gaze calmly, almost serenely. - -“But, of course, it is quite impossible,” she said. “I understand, -James.” - -“It is not possible,” he said, steadying his voice with an effort. - -“That is why I thought it would be better to say good-bye here and not -at the pier. We must have some respect for appearances, you know.” - -He searched her eyes intently, looking for some sign of weakening on her -part. He did not know whether to feel disappointed or angry at what he -saw. - -“I don't believe you would have gone if I had----” - -“You need not say it, James. You did not ask me, and I have not asked -anything of you.” - -“Before I go,” he said nervously, “I want to say this to you: I have no -feeling of resentment toward you. I am able to look back upon what you -would have done without a single thought of anger. You have stood by -me in time of trouble. I owe a great deal to you, Yvonne. You will not -accept my gratitude--it would be a farce to offer it to you under the -circumstances. But I want you to know that I am grateful. You------” - -“Go on, please. This is the moment for you to say that your home cannot -be mine. I am expecting it.” - -His eyes hardened. - -“I shall never say that to you, Yvonne. You are my wife. I shall expect -you to remain my wife to the very end.” - -Now, for the first time, her eyes flew open with surprise. A bewildered -expression came into them almost at once. He had said the thing she -least expected. She put out her hand to steady herself against the door. - -“Do--do you mean that, James?” she said wonderingly. - -“You are my property. You are bound to me. I do not intend that you -shall ever forget that, Yvonne. I don't believe you really love me, but -that is not the point. Other women have not loved their husbands, and -yet--yet they have been true and loyal to them.” - -“You amaze me!” she cried, watching his eyes with acute wonder in her -own. “Suppose that I should refuse to abide by your--what shall I call -it?” - -“Decision is the word,” he supplied grimly. - -“Well, what then?” - -“You will abide by it, that's all. I am leaving you behind without the -slightest fear for the future. This is your home. You will not abandon -it.” - -“Have I said that I would?” - -“No.” - -She drew herself up. - -“Well, I shall now tell you what I intend to do, and have intended to -do ever since I discovered that I could think for myself and not for -Matilde. I intend to stay here until you turn me out as unworthy. I love -you, James. You may leave me here feeling very sure of that. I shall go -on caring for you all the rest of my life. I am not telling you this in -the hope that you will say that you have a spark of love in your soul -for me. I don't want you to say it now, James. But you will say it to me -one day, and I will be justified in my own heart.” - -“I _have_ loved you. There was never in this world anything like the -love I had for you. I know it now. It was not Matilde I loved when I -held you in my arms. I know it now. I loved _you_; I loved your body, -your soul------” - -“Enough!” she cried out sharply. “I was playing at love then. Now I -love in earnest. You've never known love such as I can really give. I -know you well, too. You love nobly, and without end. Of late I have come -to believe that Matilde could have won out against your folly if she had -been stronger, less conscious of the pain she felt. If she had stood her -ground, here, against you, you would have been conquered. But she did -not have the strength to stand and fight as I would have fought. To-day -I love my sister none the less, but I no longer fight to avenge her -wrongs. I am here to fight for myself. You may go away thinking that I -am a traitor to her, but you will take with you the conviction that I am -honest, and that is the foundation for my claim against you.” - -“I know you are not a traitor to her cause,” he replied. “You are its -lifelong supporter. You have done more for Matilde than------” - -“Than Matilde could have done for herself? Isn't that true? I have -forced you to confess that you loved her for twenty-five years with -all your soul. I have done my duty for her. Now I am beginning to take -myself into account. Some day we will meet again and--well, it will not -be disloyalty to Matilde that moves you to say that you love me.” - -He was silent for a long time. When at last he spoke his voice was full -of gentleness. - -“I do not love you, Yvonne. I cannot allow you to look forward to the -happy ending that you picture. You say that you love me. I shall give -you the opportunity to prove it to yourself, if not to me. I order you, -Thérèse, to remain in this house until I come to set you free.” - -She stared at him for a moment, and then an odd smile came into her -eyes. - -“A prisoner serving her time? Is that it, my husband?” - -“If you are here when I return, I shall have reason to believe that your -love is real, that it is good and true and enduring. I am afraid of you -now. I do not trust you.” - -“Is that your sentence?” - -“Call it that if you like, Thérèse.” - -“My keepers? Who are they to be? The old men of the sea----” - -“Your keeper will be the thing you call love,” said he. - -“Do you expect me to submit to this------” - -He held up his hand. - -“I did not intend to impose this condition upon you by word of mouth. I -was going away without a word, but you would have received from Mr Dawes -a sealed envelope as soon as the ship sailed. It contains this command -in writing. He will hand it to you, of course, but now that you know the -contents it will not be necessary to------” - -“And when you _do_ come back, am I to hope for something more than your -pardon and a release?” she cried. - -“I will not promise anything,” said he. - -She drew a long breath and there was the light of triumph in her eyes. -Laying her slim hand on his arm, she said: - -“I am content, James. I am sure of you now. You will find me here when -you choose to come back, be it one year or twenty. Now go; they are -waiting for you. Be kind to them, and tell to them all that you have -just told me. It will make them happy. They love me, you see.” - -“Yes, they _do_ love you,” said he, putting his hands upon her -shoulders. They smiled into each other's eyes. “Good-bye, Thérèse. I -_will_ return.” - -“Good-bye, James. No, do not kiss me. It would be mockery. Good luck, -and God speed you home again.” Their hands met in a warm, firm clasp. “I -will go with you as far as the door of my prison.” - -From the open door she smiled out upon the young people in the motor -and waved her handkerchief in gay farewell. Then she closed the door and -walked slowly down the hallway to the big library. - -“He has taken the only way to conquer himself,” she mused, half aloud. -“He is a wise man, a very wise man. I might have expected this of him.” - -She pulled the bell-cord, and Jones came at once to the room. - -“Yes, madam.” - -“When Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs return from the ship, tell them that I shall -expect them to have luncheon with me. That's all, thank you.” - -“Yes, madam.” - -“By the way, Jones, you may always set the table for three.” - -Jones blinked. He felt that he had never behaved so wonderfully in -all the years of service as he did when he succeeded in bowing in his -habitual manner, despite the fact that he was “everlawstingly bowled -over, so to speak.” - -“For three, madam. Very well.” - -A cold, blustery night in January, six months after the beginning of -Yvonne's voluntary servitude in the prison to which her husband had -committed her. In the big library, before a roaring fire, sat the two -old men, very much as they had sat on the December night that heralded -the approach of the new mistress of the house of Brood, except that on -this occasion they were eminently sober. On the corner of the table lay -a long, yellow envelope, a cablegram addressed to Mrs James Brood. - -“It's been here for two hours, and she don't even think of opening it to -see what's inside,” complained Mr Riggs, but entirely without reproach. - -“It's her business, Joe,” said Mr Dawes, pulling hard at his cigar. - -“Maybe someone's dead,” said Mr Riggs dolorously. - -“Like as not, but what of it?” - -“What of it, you infernal--but, excuse me, Danbury, I won't say it. It's -against the rules, God bless 'em. If anybody's dead, she ought to know -it.” - -“But supposing nobody is dead.” - -“There's no use arguing with you.” - -“She'll read it when she gets good and ready. At present she prefers to -read the letters from Freddy and Lyddy.” - -“Maybe it's from Jim,” said his friend, a wistful look in his old eyes. - -“I--I hope it is, by gee!” exclaimed the other, and then they got up -and went over to examine the envelope for the tenth time. “I wish he'd -telegraph or write, or do something, Dan. She's never had a line from -him. Maybe this is something at last.” - -“What puzzles me is that she always seems disappointed when there's -nothing in the post from him, and here's a cablegram that might be -the very thing she's looking for, and she pays no attention to it. It -certainly beats me.” - -“You know what puzzles me more than anything else? I've said it a -hundred times. She never goes outside this here house, except in the -garden, day or night.” - -“_Sh--h!_” - -Mrs Brood was descending the stairs, lightly, eagerly. In another -instant she entered the room. - -“How nice the fire looks!” she cried. Never had she been more -radiantly, seductively beautiful. “My cablegram, where is it?” - -The old men made a simultaneous dash for the long-neglected envelope. -Mr Dawes succeeded in being the first to clutch it in his eager fingers. - -“Better read it, Mrs Brood,” he panted, thrusting it into her hand. -“Maybe it's bad news.” - -She regarded him with one of her most mysterious smiles. - -“No, my friend, it is _not_ bad news. It is good news; it's from my -husband.” - -“But you haven't read it,” gasped Mr Riggs. - -“Ah, but I know, just the same.” She deliberately slit the envelope with -a slim finger and held it out to them. “Read it if you like.” - -They solemnly shook their heads, too amazed for words. She unfolded -the sheet and sent her eyes swiftly over the printed contents. Then, -to their further stupefaction, she pressed the bit of paper to her red -lips. Her eyes flashed like diamonds. - -“Listen! Here is what he says: 'Come by the first steamer. I want you to -come to me, Thérèse.' And see! It is signed 'Your husband.'” - -“Hurray!” shouted the two old men. - -“But,” she said, shaking her head slowly, “I shall not obey.” - -“What! You--you won't go?” gasped Mr Riggs. - -“No!” she cried, the ring of triumph in her voice. She suddenly clapped -her hands to her breast and uttered a long, deep sigh of joy. “No, I -shall not go to him.” - -The old men stared helplessly while she sank luxuriously into a big -chair and stuck her little feet out to the fire. They felt their knees -grow weak under the weight of their suddenly inert bodies. - -“He will come and unlock the door,” she went on serenely. “Ring for -Jones, please.” - -“Wha--what are you going to do?” Mr Dawes had the temerity to ask. - -“Send a cablegram to my husband saying------” - -She paused to smile at the flaming logs on the broad hearth, a sweet, -rapturous smile that neither of the old men could comprehend. - -“Saying--what?” demanded Mr Riggs anxiously. - -“That I cannot go to him,” she said, as she stretched out her arms -toward the East. - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Black is White, by George Barr McCutcheon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK IS WHITE *** - -***** This file should be named 54097-0.txt or 54097-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/0/9/54097/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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