"GIVE US LONG REST... DARE DEATH OR DREAMFUL EASE."
We left Lilian crushed beneath the weight of this fresh blow dealt her
by the man who had been the curse of her life.
To a night of anguish--anguish so poignant that she sometimes feared for
her very reason--succeeded days of dull and hopeless apathy. Her whole
being, body and soul alike, seemed to be numb and dead. She could not
talk, she dared not think, nor could she pray. Even that last resource
was denied her; for there came upon her a miserable feeling of fatality,
that her God had forsaken her, leaving her to be the sport of some cruel
demon. And, amid her apathy, her thoughts would, in spite of herself,
float dreamily back in a mechanical kind of way to all that had gone
before. She had been sad-hearted then in the temporary separation from
her lover; but now! that time was ecstasy itself in comparison with
this. Somehow, it never occurred to her to doubt one word of Truscott's
statement. He had been so positive, so resolute, that it must be true.
And then she remembered the hundred and one little incidents--hints that
her lover had let fall--uneasiness manifested on an occasion--the veiled
compunction with which he had touched upon his former life--all stood
out now in startling conspicuousness. Even that day had opened so
propitiously, and lo, within one single hour, life was ended for her.
Sorely anxious were the Paynes over this fell change which had come upon
her on that sunny afternoon. They could elicit nothing from her. She
was not well, she admitted, but would be all right in a day or two, no
doubt. And this, with such a ghost of a smile upon her white face, that
Payne, suddenly struck with an idea, snatched up his hat and rushed down
into the town to inquire if any fresh news had been received from the
seat of war. Had she, unknown to them, heard that harm had befallen her
lover? If so, that would amply account for the depression. So he went
diligently to work to hunt up news; but no telegrams of a dispiriting
nature had been received, quite the contrary--the enemy had had another
thrashing, and there was no mention of loss on the colonial side. All
this was a relief to Payne. But sorely puzzled; indeed, completely
baffled; he returned to his wife and reported accordingly.
"I tell you what, George," she began, and her face wore a troubled and
concerned expression. "I've heard something--something that makes me
think this Captain Truscott's at the bottom of it."
"Eh?"
"Well, he was here yesterday afternoon for more than two hours, and
Lilian hasn't been herself since. She didn't tell me, but I heard it
while you were out."
Payne stared at her blankly, but made no reply.
"You know I never did like that man," continued she. "I told you so at
first. And I'm perfectly certain that he and Lilian are something more
than merely old acquaintances." And then she told him of the latter's
dismayed look on first recognising Truscott in the crowd, and one or two
other things that had not escaped her observation. "He has been
persecuting her in some way, I'm sure, and I won't have her persecuted,"
concluded the warm-hearted little woman.
Payne was whistling meditatively. He had a high opinion of his wife's
intelligence in all matters relating to the idiosyncrasies of her sex,
so he would just let her go on.
"Well, what's to be done?" he said. "We can't ask the fellow what the
devil he's been up to, and Lilian won't tell us."
"Can't we? I think we can, and ought."
Payne shook his head, and looked gloomy. The affair was beginning to
assume a serious phase. It was a delicate business, and the honest
frontiersman felt thoroughly perplexed. He did not want to make a fool
of himself, or of any one else, through officiousness or meddling.
"I know a trick worth two of that, Annie," he said at last.
"What is it?"
"Wire to Claverton. Eh?"