REMORSE
It was five o’clock the following afternoon when Rees woke from his
long, heavy sleep. He opened his eyes wearily, they felt so oddly
weighted and a strange dull pain racked his head. He looked round the
room slowly--how did he come to be there, he wondered vaguely. Then
memory came back to him. The previous night and all which had taken
place rose in grotesque reality before him. He saw the smoke-laden
bar, the crowd of drinking men; he heard again the foolish voice of
the young Irishman. Was his absurd clamor to be made a Justice of the
Peace only a pitiful clutch at respectability, an attempt to retrieve
all he had lost? Or was it only an idiotic fancy conceived in numbed,
befooled brain cells? Rees saw again the woman he had mistaken for Iris
and--kissed! A dull red mounted to his pale face. Great God! What havoc
that liquor had wrought with his senses! He had kissed another woman, a
stranger and a _barmaid_; and he had been so steeped in drink that he
had actually imagined she was his beautiful Iris! A half-stifled moan
escaped his slightly parted lips.
Ah, how he had sunk during that one irretrievable night! Three years
of soberness, of fierce struggle to keep on the straight path, seemed
suddenly to have been swept away and he was back again in the old life
of misery and degradation, back once more in pollution and despair!
What had been the use of all his striving, his hard work, and his
constant renunciation of all that belonged to the past? Now he had
fallen. He had again slipped down among the sordid, repugnant things.
How he hated to be there and how he loathed himself! Yes, that was one
of the worst results of his debauchery, this hideous self-loathing!
During the last three years he had climbed out of the revolting past
and had in a measure recovered his self-respect; but now--it had
vanished again. He was back once more in the old miry, slippery place,
and he must begin the dreary climb afresh. But could he climb? Was it
possible for such as he? All confidence had gone. A terrible despair
distorted his white, quivering features.
Oh, if only he might climb back to the foothold he had reached during
the last few years! They had been hard, humiliating years, but they
had at least been clean, fresh and useful. If only this writhing,
torturing self-accusation could be silenced and he could win back
his self-respect. But that respite might not be his now--only utter
hopelessness stared back at him wherever he looked.
And there was Iris. What would she say when he returned and confessed
all? Would she not turn from him in abhorrence and disgust? Her love
might forgive the past--had forgiven it; but no love could or would
forgive this unpardonable fall. She was lost to him for ever now. She
had really been out of his reach all the time; there always had been
an impassable gulf between them. But before, the gulf was narrow enough
to be bridged by her kindness. Now it had widened so vastly that no
bridging was possible. Of course all had really been over between them
when he had given her up to Captain Barton. He had made that supreme
sacrifice to guard her from the possible degradation that a life united
to his might involve, and in doing this there had at least been the
consciousness that he had voluntarily renounced all she was willing to
give. He might have married her, but he had relinquished this wonderful
joy for her sake. But now it was no more a case of renunciation. He had
hopelessly disgraced himself, and his conduct would for ever cut him
off from all contact with her life.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a gentle knock at the door,
and, in response to his toneless “Come in,” the barmaid entered with a
tray.
He looked at her wonderingly with heavy, sad eyes. She was still
powdered, but her hair looked less red in the daytime, and small lines
round her lips and eyes were visible now.
“Mr. Rees,” she began, “we haven’t disturbed you all day because we
thought a long sleep would do you good, but you must have something to
eat now.”
The driver protested, and said he had no appetite. But the woman
insisted and at last he sat up, more to relieve her of the tray than
from any intention of taking what was on it.
“Try this fish, and drink this hot coffee, and you will feel much
better,” she said brightly.
His hand went up to his head as if the effort of sitting up was causing
him excruciating pain. His companion noticed it at once, and piled up
pillows behind him, making him lean comfortably back against them. “Now
you must have your meal,” she coaxed with an indulgent smile.
But he was not ready for his meal yet. “I am afraid I behaved
disgracefully last night,” he said looking at her steadily. “I owe you
an apology.”
She looked away from his quiet gaze and said a little confusedly, “Oh,
you were not too bad, Mr. Rees.”
“I thought I--kissed you?”
“Yes,” she admitted, turning her auburn head a little away, “but
then----”
“It was a detestable thing to do, and my only excuse, if it is one, is
that I was not--myself.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she stammered, finding the steady gaze
from those sad, grey eyes extraordinarily disconcerting. What a strange
man to apologise to her for his conduct! Lots of men had kissed her;
but they had not apologised afterwards. She had never met any man like
this handsome stranger before. Even last night she had felt sure he was
not a bad man; now she was certain he was a good one.
She watched his weary form reclining languidly among the pillows. The
air of refined aloofness had come back to him. As she stood beside him,
he looked up at her again and there was infinite sadness in his large
eyes as he said gently--
“Thank you for being so forgiving and kind.”
She blushed a little. “Oh, that’s nothing at all, but you must have
your meal at once or your fish will be quite cold,” and, with another
pat to his pillows, she left the room. But there was a curious flutter
somewhere within her as she went downstairs. The stranger’s sorrowful
eyes haunted her. They were such beautiful eyes, shaded by long dark
lashes, and there was a wonderful expression of purity in them.
They looked so unsullied, as if they belonged to a white soul who
had suddenly fallen into the mire and was in deep distress at being
smirched.
* * * * *
The next morning Rees was up at sunrise, and after a hasty breakfast
went to the stable to get Prince. It was very early, but the barmaid
was awake. Hearing the light footsteps of the horse, she jumped out of
bed, and, from behind lace curtains, watched his rider swing into the
saddle.
“That is the only gentleman and the only real man I have ever met,” she
said, dabbing a highly scented handkerchief to her dark eyes, while the
black thoroughbred bore the handsome stranger quickly away.