Other eyes besides Cecil's kept watch through the night that followed
that eventful day. Royston's never closed till the dawning. Sometimes
sitting motionless, sunk in his gloomy meditations, sometimes walking
restlessly to and fro, and cooling his hot forehead in the current of
the fresh night air, he kept his mind on a perpetual strain, calculating
all probable and improbable chances; and the dull red light was never
quenched, that told of perpetually-renewed cigars.
I fancy I hear an objection, springing from lips that are wont to be
irresistible, leveled against such an atrocious want of sentiment.
Fairest critic! we will not now discuss the merits or demerits of
nicotine, considered as an aid to contemplation, or an anodyne; but do
you allow enough for the force of habit? Putting aside the case of those
Indian captives, who are allowed a pipe in the intervals of torment (for
these poor creatures have had no advantages of education, and are beyond
the pale of civilized examples), do you not know that men have finished
their last weed while submitting to the toilette of the guillotine? We
are told that a Spaniard has begged of his confessor a light for his
_papelito_ within sight of a freshly dug grave, when the firing-party
was awaiting him one hundred paces off with grounded arms.
Only when the sky was gray did Royston lie down to rest; but he slept
heavily late into the morning. His first act, when he rose, was to send
a note to Cecil Tresilyan, begging her to meet him at a named place and
time: she did not answer it, nevertheless he felt certain she would
come. Assignations were no novelties to him, but he had gone forth to
bear his part in more than one stricken field, where the chances of life
and death were evenly poised, without any such despondency or
uncertainty as clung to him then on his way to the appointed spot. He
arrived there first, but he had not waited long when Cecil came slowly
along the path that led into the heart of the woodland. As she drew
near, Keene could not help thinking of the first time his eyes had
lighted on her, mounting the zigzags of the Castle-hill. There was still
the same elasticity of step, the same imperial carriage of the graceful
head; but a less observant eye would have detected the change in her
demeanor. The pretty petulance and provocative manner which, contrasting
with the royalty of her form and feature, contributed so much to her
marvelous fascinations, had departed, he feared, never to return.
Many instances occur daily where the same painfully unnatural gravity
exasperates us, when its cause can not be traced up to either guilt or
sorrow. Ah! Lilla, there are many who think that your wild-flower wreath
was a more becoming ornament than that diamond circlet--bridal gift of
the powerful baron. Sweet Eugenia! faces that were never absent from
your _levées_ in old times you have missed at your court since you
wedded Cæsar.
Both were outwardly quite calm, but who can guess which of those two
strong hearts was most conscious of tremor or weakness when Royston and
Cecil met? His hand at least was the steadier, for her slight fingers
quivered nervously in his grasp. He did not let them go till he began to
speak.
"Whatever your decision may be after hearing me, I shall always thank
you for coming here. It was like you--to give me the chance of speaking
for myself. At least no falsehood or misconception shall stand between
us. Will you listen to my story?"
"I came for no other purpose," Cecil said, and she sat down on the trunk
of a fallen olive: she knew there would be need to husband all her
strength. Thinking of these things, in after days, she never forgot how
carefully he arranged his plaid on the branches behind her, so as to
keep off the gusts of wind that ever and anon blew sharply. At that very
instant, as if there were some strange sympathy in the elements, the sun
plunged into the bosom of a dull leaden cloud, and there came a growl of
distant thunder.
"I shall not tax your patience long," Royston went on. "It shall only be
the briefest outline. But do not interrupt me till I have ended; it is
hard enough to have to begin and go through with it. I can not tell you
why I married. Many people asked me the question at the time, and I have
asked it of myself often since, but I never could find any satisfactory
answer. The woman I chose was then very beautiful, and it was not a
disadvantageous match, but I had seen fairer faces and fortunes go by
without coveting them. I think a certain obstinacy of purpose, and an
absurd pleasure in carrying off a prize (such a prize!) from many rivals
was at the bottom of it all. In six months I began to appreciate the
inconveniences of living with a statue; but I can say it truly, I never
dreamed of betraying her. Yet I had temptations. Remember I was not yet
twenty-two, and one does not bear disappointments well at that age. We
had not been married quite a year when an officer in a native regiment
died, up in the Hills, of _delirium tremens_. Do you know that, under
such circumstances, there is always a commission appointed to examine
the dead man's papers. I could not help seeing that, for some days past,
my wife's manner had been strangely sullen and cold, but I had no
suspicion of the truth. I don't think I have ever been so surprised as
when the president of the commission brought me a bundle of her letters.
I never saw her paramour: he must have been more fool than scoundrel to
have kept what he ought to have burned. I did not thank the man who gave
me those papers, and I never spoke to him again. I only read one of
them: it was written soon after our marriage. I went to my wife with
_this_ in my hand. She listened to me in her own icy way, not denying or
confessing any thing; but she defied me to prove actual infidelity
either before or after my authority began. I could not do it, whatever I
might think. I could only prove a course of lies and _chicanerie_,
worked out by her and all her family, that would have sickened the most
unscrupulous schemer alive. I told her I would never sleep under the
same roof with her again. She laughed--if you could hear her laugh, you
would excuse me for more than I have done--and said, 'You can't get a
divorce.' She was right there. So it was settled that we were to live
apart without any public scandal. But her people would not accept this
position. They sent a brother to bully me. It was an unwise move. My
temper was wilder in those days, and I had strong provocation; yet I
repent that I did not keep my hands off the throat of that wretched,
blustering civilian. It was all arranged peacefully at last, and I have
not seen her since, though I hear of her from time to time, as I did
yesterday. This happened eleven long years ago, and she has never given
me a chance of ridding myself of her since. She is always carefully
circumspect, and so works out a patient revenge, though I believe I did
her no wrong. You have heard all I dare to tell you, and all the truth.
Judge me now."
For the last few minutes a great battle had been waging in Cecil
Tresilyan's heart. Can the wisest of us, before the armies meet,
prophesy aright as to the issue of such an Armageddon?
Twice she tried to speak, and found her voice rebellious; at last she
answered, in a faint, broken tone, "I can not say how I pity you."
He threw back his lofty head in anger or disdain.
"I will not accept groundless compassion, even from you. Do not deceive
yourself. I have learned how to bear my burden; it scarcely cumbers me
now. It has fretted me more in the last three weeks than it has done for
years. I only wish you to decide whether I did very wrong in keeping
back the knowledge of all this from you; and, if I have offended
unpardonably, what my punishment shall be."
There was something more than reproach in the glance that flashed upon
him out of the violet eyes; for an instant they glittered almost
scornfully; her lip, too, had ceased to tremble, and the silver in her
voice rang clear and true--
"You are not afraid to ask that question--remembering many words
addressed to me, each one of which was an insult--from you? You dare not
yet dishonor me in your thoughts so far as to doubt how I should have
acted _at first_, if I had known your true position. Or are you amusing
yourself still at my expense? I had thought you more generous."
The gloom on Royston's face deepened sullenly: though he had schooled
himself up to a certain point of humility, even from her he could ill
brook reproof.
"Those insults were not premeditated, at least," he retorted. "Have you
not got accustomed yet to men's losing their heads in your presence, and
then talking as the spirit moved them? And you think I am amusing myself
now. _Merci!_ there runs something in my veins warmer than ice-water."
His accent was abrupt, even to rudeness, yet Cecil felt a thrill of
guilty triumph as she heard it, and marked the shiver of passion that
shot through the colossal frame from brow to heel. A more perfect
specimen of immaculate womanhood might not have been insensible to that
acknowledgment of her power. But she shook her head in sorrowful
incredulity.
"You do less than justice to your self-control. But it is too late for
reproaches. I forgive you for any wrong that you may have done me, even
in thought or intention. I wish the past could be buried. For the
future, I can say only this--we must part, and that instantly; it is
more than time."
Keene had expected some such answer, and it did not greatly disconcert
him. After pausing a second or two he said,
"I did not ask you for your decision without meaning to abide by it. But
it would be well to pause before you make it final. Remember--we shall
not part for days, or months, if you send me away now. At least, you
need not fear persecution. Yet it is difficult to reconcile one's self
to banishment. Will you not give me a chance of making amends for the
folly you complain of? I can not promise that my words shall always be
guarded, and my manner artificial; but I think I would rather keep your
friendship than win the love of any living woman, and I would try hard
never to offend you. Let us finish this at once. You have only to say
'leave me,' and I swear that you shall be obeyed to the letter."
On that last card hung all the issue of the game that he would have sold
his soul to win; yet he spoke not eagerly, though very earnestly, and
waited quietly for her reply, with a face as calm as death.
Cecil ought not to have hesitated for an instant: we all know that. But
steady resolve and stoical self-denial, easy enough in theory, are often
bitterly hard in practice. It is very well to preach to the wayfarer
that his duty is to go forward and not tarry. But fresh and green grow
the grasses round the Diamond of the Desert; pleasantly over its bright
waters droop the feathery palms. How drearily the gray arid sand
stretches away to the sky-line! Who knows how far it may be to the next
oasis? Let us rest yet another hour by the fountain.
From any deliberate intention to do wrong Cecil was as pure as any
canonized saint in the roll of virgins and martyrs; but if she had been
a voluptuary as elaborate as La Pompadour, she could not have felt more
keenly that her love had increased tenfold in intensity since it became
a crime to indulge it. The passionate energy that had slumbered so long
in her temperament was thoroughly roused at last, and would make itself
heard clamorously enough to drown the still small voice, that said
"beware and forbear." Her principles were good, but they were not strong
enough to hold their own. O pride of the Tresilyans! that had tempted to
sin so many of that haughty house, when you might have saved its fairest
descendant, was it the time to falter and fail? She looked up piteously
in her great extremity; there was a prayer for help in her eyes, but
between them and heaven was interposed a stern bronze face, not a line
of it softening.
At length the faint, broken whisper came--"God help me! I _can not_ say
it."
There was a pause, but not a stillness, for the beating of her
companion's heart was distinctly audible. Then Cecil spoke again in her
own natural caressing tones:
"You will be good and generous, I know. See how I trust you!"
The thought of how their continued intimacy might touch her fair fame
never seemed to suggest itself for an instant. Yet, remember, The
Tresilyan was no longer a guileless, romantic girl, believing and hoping
all things; she knew right well what scandals and jealousies lurk under
the smooth surface of the society in which she had borne so prominent a
part; she knew that there were women alive who would have given half
their diamonds to have her at their mercy, and torment her at their
will. Was it likely that such would let even a slander sleep? Let the
_Rosière_ of last season lay this reflection to her heart to temper the
immoderation of triumph--"For every one of my victories I have made one
mortal enemy." Not only while in supremacy is the potentate obnoxious to
conspiracies; the dagger is most to be dreaded when the dignity is laid
down. All dethroned and abdicating dictators have not the luck of Sylla.
Silently and unreservedly to accept such a sacrifice, while the offerer
was resolved not to count the cost, transcended even the cynicism of
Royston Keene. He grasped her arm as though to arrest her attention, and
almost involuntarily broke from his lips words of solemn warning.
"Let me go on my way alone, while there is time. It is hard to touch
pitch and keep undefiled. Child, you are too pure to estimate your
danger. If you remained as innocent as one of God's angels, the world
would still condemn you."
Her slender fingers twined themselves round his wrist, so tenderly!--and
she bent down her soft cheek till its blush was hidden on his hand. Then
she looked up in his face with a bright, trustful smile.
"Great happiness can not be bought without a price. I fear no reproach
so much as that of my own conscience. Do not think I delude myself as to
the risk I am incurring. But if I am innocent, I shall never hear or
heed what the world may say; if I am guilty, I have no right to complain
of its scorn."
Hardened unbeliever as he was, Royston could have bowed himself there,
and worshiped at her feet. But he would not confess his admiration,
still less betray his triumph. He raised the little white hand that was
free gently to his lips. Not with more reverent courtesy could he have
done homage to an anointed queen.
"I wish I were worthier of you," he murmured, and no more was said then.
As they walked slowly homeward, the sullen clouds broke away from the
face of the sun; but a weatherwise observer could have told that the
truce was only treacherous. The tempest bided its time.