Piers lost no time in going to town to interview Dr Greatman, but the
result was not encouraging. He came back to Vanna with a worn face, and
the restless discontent of older days eclipsing the happiness of his
eyes.
"If it were only my own risk, I would take it a thousand times over," he
declared; "but when he tells me that it would be worse for you, that I
should be increasing your danger, there is nothing to be said. I would
kill myself rather than do that. I have racked my brain, I paced the
floor the whole of last night, but no inspiration will come. There
seems no way out."
"There is no way," said Vanna quietly. They were sitting in the
morning-room in the Cottage, that little room which seemed so empty
without the familiar figure on the sofa by the window. In deference to
Miggles's wishes, Vanna was wearing a simple white dress; but although
the melancholy aspect of mourning robes was removed, her face also
looked bleached and wan. The waiting hours had been terribly long to
the woman whose fate hung on the verdict. "There is no way! You made
me hope in spite of myself, for it seemed impossible that any one could
refuse you what you wished; but nothing is changed since I saw him last.
There was no reason why he should alter his opinion. I can see now
that he spoke to me so plainly just to try to avoid this crisis; but it
has come, and it is my fault. I ran away from another man who was
beginning to love me, but when it came to my own turn my courage gave
way. I knew that the day would come when I should have to suffer for
every hour of joy, but I was prepared to pay the price. I am prepared
still. I have had my day. I know what happiness is--the greatest
happiness which a human soul can know; and nothing can take that away.
I never dared to think that you would love me, but you do; and it's such
perfect bliss to know that, and to feel your arms round me, and to be
able to say all I feel, instead of bottling it up in my heart as I have
had to do all these months, that for my own sake I can't regret. Only
for yours, dearest; only for yours!"
"What do you think it means to me? Before I met you I was lonely and
dissatisfied--you know what I was like! People talk of _joie de vivre_.
I never knew it--never until this last year, since I have known you.
When we have been together I've wanted nothing. I've been more than
happy: I've been content. When we have been apart I have lived for the
time when I should see you again. If you love me, how can you regret
having given me the great joy of my life?"
"If it could last! If it could last! But when it is only to bring a
worse pain upon you, how can I help regretting? Oh, it is hard. To
think what this moment means to other couples, and that we should be
shut out. I feel like you--my own risk is nothing; it is the dread of
its consequences for you that weighs, and he said--he said, that the
worst time, the time of the worst danger lay ahead. Piers, how _can_
you love me with that knowledge in your mind? I thought when I told
you, I honestly thought that it would stop every possibility of your
caring."
"Nothing could have stopped me. I told you then, as I tell you now,
that you are the sweetest, the sanest woman I have ever met, and you are
mine. I will never give you up; never to my dying day."
"Piers, Piers, we have no choice."
He drew her towards him, a hand on each arm; drew her roughly,
passionately, his dark face twitching with emotion.
"No! It is true. We have no choice. You have said it, and it is the
truth. We belong to each other, and nothing that any one can say or do
can alter that. For better or worse we belong; till death us do part.
There is no choice. You can't get away--Vanna, does it strike you that
we are doing a wrong, a wicked thing? We are killing our golden hour
almost as soon as it is born. Those other lovers that you speak of, do
they trouble their heads about marriage the first moment they are alone
with their love? I don't believe they do. I don't believe it is even
mentioned. It is enough joy, enough wonder, to realise the present.
Can't we follow their example? Can't we be content just to be
together--like this? Isn't the present rich enough to content us? It
is more, a hundred times more than I ever dared to expect. You could
not be so cruel, Vanna, as to take it from me."
"If it could last! If it could last!" moaned Vanna once more. "Oh,
Piers, it is heaven just to sit here, with my head on your shoulder, and
your arms around me; but I must go away, far away to the other end of
the world. We can't even be `engaged' like other people, and have the
right to meet and be alone. How could we be engaged when we can never
marry?"
"How could we not? If we cannot have the best thing, we must take the
next. Do all engaged lovers marry and live happily ever after? You
know they don't. They can't see what is waiting one day ahead. There
are a hundred risks. At the last moment death may divide them. The
only thing that is secure is the present; they grasp that, and are
happy. That's the philosophy of life, darling; that must be our
philosophy. You are mine. I am not going to give up my rights. We
must be able to meet, to see each other when we wish. If to do that and
satisfy conventions, we must call ourselves `engaged,' engaged we will
be. I shall tell my mother to-night, you must tell the Gorings. We are
engaged, and we adore one another, and are gloriously happy. Do you
remember Jean when she was engaged? Weren't _they_ gloriously happy?"
"For three months!" Cruel memory flashed back echoes of impatient words
and sighs which had escaped the lovers' lips even during that short
period: "These eternal good-byes, these eternal interruptions! When
shall we be alone?"--"For three months! If it had been three years--
thirteen--thirty! I can't imagine Robert waiting for long indefinite
years. Oh, Piers, you would grow tired--impatient--"
He pressed her to him with a groan of anguish.
"Of course I shall be tired; of course I shall be impatient. Don't
torture me, darling--and yourself. It's a second best, and it must be
hard; but it is all that's left, and for a time at least it will be
bliss. One never knows what may happen. We are not particularly strong
people, you and I; we may not have long to live. Vanna, knowing the
uncertainty of life, dare you, _dare_ you refuse me my joy? You say
this has come upon us by your fault; then surely you feel your
responsibility also. You owe me something, and you must pay. Vanna, is
it so hard?"
"Hard! Do you think I want to refuse? Do you think it would not be
bliss to me to give way too? For myself it would be all gain--your
love, your companionship, your help; but for you it would be a barrier,
shutting out better things--a wife, children, a home. You need them,
Piers; you are not made for solitude. As you grow older you will need
them more. How dare I shut them out?"
He did not answer. Vanna felt his cheek twitch against her own, heard
the sharp indrawing of the breath. Her words had gone home; she felt a
wild surge of anger against herself--against the morbid
conscientiousness which had sought to wreck her own joy. The gods had
thrust a gift into her hands, and because it was not pure gold she had
thrust it aside, leaving herself to starve. The slackening of Piers's
arms brought with it a stab of anguish. Had she convinced him against
his will? Was he about to take her at her word?
But instead of turning away he drew her to her feet, holding her by both
hands so that they stood face to face.
"Vanna, you remember what I said to you about Miggles? The lesson of
her death? You believe--I believe that this world is not all; that it
is only a beginning--the portal of life. Can't we lift our love above
the ordinary human conception? Can't we be content to wait--to suffer
if it must be, in the hope of all that is to come? I don't pretend that
it will be easy; but we have no choice. The love has come; we can't
alter it; we don't want to alter it. We belong to each other for life
and eternity; we must help each other to live on the heights. We must
not allow ourselves to regret and to pine for what we cannot have; we
must be thankful, and look forward. You are so good, so strong; you
must help me! We must go on with our lives; but if this love is worth
anything, it will be a strength to us--not a bar. It would be folly to
part. Should we think of each other any the less because we were at
opposite ends of the world? Vanna! surely you of all women should be
the last to deny the possibility of a spiritual love."
But Vanna did not answer. Her head fell forward until her face was
hidden from sight; her hands burned within his. She was a woman, and
for the moment there was no place in her heart for Piers's lofty
self-abnegation. A spiritual love--self-sacrifice and suffering in the
hope of future bliss! And she was to be strong and brave, and help him
when he failed; she, who was filled with a passion of longing for the
dear, human, everyday joys; to whom for the moment they towered above
the far-off, spiritual gain. The woman's birthright of intuition
revealed the future with flashlight clarity. Her heart was torn with a
presage of the pangs which would rend it afresh, as she beheld happy
wives, rich in home, husband, and children, while she wandered outcast,
unsatisfied, athirst. The man, with shorter vision, could content
himself in the present, and in the fulness of love's revelations delude
himself that joy would remain; but to the woman, for whom the love of
him was an aching longing of body and soul, the sharpest pang of all
came from the certainty of his mistake. She looked forward and beheld
him restless and rebellious, chafing against his chains--the old,
irritable discontent on lips and eyes. He would suffer; of a certainty
he would suffer. So surely as he was made in man's image, the day would
dawn when his joy would be changed into despair. A wild longing seized
Vanna to give her lover happiness while she might; to give him such a
summer of joy and content that when the winter came he should look back
and feel the price well paid.
Her fingers tightened on his arm, her eyes sought his in feverish
entreaty.
"Piers! if I do give in--I have no strength to oppose you--if I give in,
swear to me that if the time comes when you regret--when you feel bound,
because there is some one"--she gulped painfully--"some one else whom
you could take for a wife--swear that you will be honest with me; that
you will not let me spoil your life! Swear that you will tell me the
truth."
He smiled into her troubled face, taking possession of her hands in a
close, comforting grasp.
"What would you think if I asked the same promise of you? Can't you
give me credit for as much consistency as yourself? Is it possible that
I could grow tired of _you_?"
But at that moment Vanna had no ears for the sweet protestations of
love. Her grasp grew but the tighter, her gaze the more distressed.
"Swear to me! Swear!"
Piers gave a short, half-impatient laugh.
"I swear it. Now are you content?"