Vivian gazed down. He thought of what lay ahead for her now; and his
heart seemed to turn within him.... However, sympathy was not desired of
him: his lot was but to strengthen the hands of the brave.
"Miss Heth--indeed, I could envy you all the happiness you are going to
give. Think--just think what it means ... I know you must be eager--to
begin, to--"
"To begin?" she echoed again, feeling somehow that their privacy was
being invaded. "Why--what do you mean?... I don't understand."
"I jump ahead too fast, of course. But--you must be so anxious ... to
have it all off your mind, and not think of it any more. I know you must
be impatient to get word to Dal at the first possible moment--it means
so much to him. More than meat and drink.... And then there's his poor
old father ..."
Cally stared at him, speechless. There was no exaltation now; no more
soaring. Rooted in her tracks she stood, yet seemed to herself to
shrink and recoil from him, in her sudden self-horror. What, oh what,
had she done?
And by chance at this very moment--doubtless through some Settlementer's
opening a door for air--there came floating down to her the distinct
voice of her mother, the strong voice of authority and no nonsense, the
voice of Wealth and Permanence, of the victorious knowledge that God
thinks twice before he condemns a person of quality.... "_In accepting
the Chairmanship of the Finance Committee, I desire to say_ ..."
Cally raised a gloved little hand to her veiled lips. Plainer than
speech her frightened eyes said: _Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?_
"You--you've misunderstood. No ... no! I didn't mean that at all."
"Oh!... Do you mean--you don't wish to see Colonel
Dalhousie--personally? Of course not!... It wouldn't be necessary in the
least. Perhaps you would let me.... And as to a telegram to Dal--"
"_No_--_no!_... You mustn't go to see him. You mustn't send a telegram.
I can't allow that--you've misunderstood entirely. _You mustn't tell
anybody_...."
They stared at each other with the same colorless faces, and again the
rain became audible. In the man's too-confiding eyes, hope died hard.
"Not tell anybody? Why, I don't see ... There's no other way of making
it right, I'm afraid.... And you have told me--"
"But I didn't tell you to tell anybody else. I didn't. I only meant to
tell _you_, don't you see?..."
This subtlety was past the vision of the donator of the Dabney House.
North, south, east, or west, he could see nothing but a seraph-faced
girl whose misery it was to feel the penitential pangs, yet not be able
quite to rise to the fulness of reparation. That she had reached for
that fulness was to him the one thing certain in all the world. What
want of delicacy in him had caused her to falter and look backward?...
Into the lucid gray of his eyes had come that look which more than once
before Carlisle Heth had found intolerable. Little she recked for it
now. Was not this the heart of her present dilemma, that she had already
followed his ocular incitements too fatally far? By what religious
prestidigitation he had trapped her secret from her must remain a thick
mystery now. Nothing mattered but that he, having deceitfully seemed to
agree that it was all a matter between herself and him, should not now
turn and betray her.... _Tell now?_ The sudden vista of scandal
horrified her. How would she ever face mamma again? How would Hugo,
whose bride and pride she was, regard her then?...
"Don't you see?" she said, with gathering tensity--"I--I meant it as _a
confidence to you_. You mustn't dream of telling anybody else...."
"But neither you nor I own the truth. This belongs to Dalhousie...."
"Oh, it doesn't!--it doesn't! How can you! You misunderstand!--What I
said to you gave you a totally wrong impression. He was entirely to
blame for my upsetting. _Entirely!_ He behaved abominably--and I--"
"_Tell now!" _cried the man, with his strange stern passion. "Once it's
done, you'll always be glad. Don't you know you _must_, now! Don't you
see you can't be happy, till you let the truth be known?..."
There came from above the unmistakable movement of chairs, the sound of
many feet. It appeared that the Settlement meeting was breaking up. The
man's entreaties bounded back dead.
"I couldn't!--Don't you understand? There's nothing to tell. It was not
my fault. The story was distorted, distorted, and distorted! I regretted
that as much as any one. But I could do nothing, nothing to stop it. And
don't you understand I couldn't possibly tell this broadcast _now_, when
it's been done with for _months!_ What would people think of me?
Don't you--"
"What will you have to think of yourself if you don't tell?"
But the hard shot missed fire, the reason being that what she thought of
herself did not matter in the least just now. She was mamma's daughter,
Hugo Canning's betrothed, fighting for her own: and now that movement
upstairs warned her that she had no moment to lose.
Carlisle seized the slum doctor's arm with a resolute little hand. Her
voice, though panicky, was as inexorable as mamma's own.
"Promise me," said she, "that you will never repeat to anybody what I
told you in confidence."
The face of the young man, which was usually so harmless-looking, had
suddenly become quite stern. He looked as if he might ask God to pity
her again, given a very little more. When he spoke, he spoke brusquely:
"What you ask is a conspiracy of silence. I cannot make such a promise.
I cannot."
"Oh, how _can_ you be so hard! You've never meant anything but trouble
to me since the first minute I saw you! It isn't fair, don't you see it
isn't? This has happened so suddenly--I _must_ have time to think.
Promise that you won't say anything--at least till you hear from me
again...."
Silence. And then V. Vivian said, in a suddenly hopeless voice:
"I will agree to say nothing without first seeing you...."
Cally Heth dropped his arm instantly, turned from him. She fled, not up
the grand stairway, but over the court for the doors, with the
protecting arms of the House of Heth beyond. And none of her other routs
from the family enemy had been quite like this one.