But as he groped against the wall, two hands upon him fell,
The King behind his shoulder spake: "Dead man, thou dost not well."
--RUDYARD KIPLING.
Hugh had gone through the first room, and, after a quarter of an hour,
found himself in the door-way of the second. He had arrived late, and
the rooms were already thinning.
A woman in a pale-green gown was standing near the open window, her
white profile outlined against the framed darkness, as she listened with
evident amusement to the tall, ill-dressed man beside her.
Hugh's eyes lost the veiled scorn with which it was their wont to look
at society and the indulgent patronage which lurked in them for pretty
women.
Rachel West slowly turned her face towards him without seeing him, and
his heart leaped. She was not beautiful except with the beauty of
health, and a certain dignity of carriage which is the outcome of a head
and hands and body that are at unity with each other, and with a mind
absolutely unconscious of self. She had not the long nose which so
frequently usurps more than its share of the faces of the well-bred, nor
had she, alas! the short upper lip which redeems everything. Her
features were as insignificant as her coloring. People rarely noticed
that Rachel's hair was brown, and that her deep-set eyes were gray. But
upon her grave face the word "Helper" was plainly written--and something
else. What was it?
Just as in the faces of seamen we trace the onslaught of storm and sun
and brine, and the puckering of the skin round the eyes that comes of
long watching in half-lights, so in some faces, calm and pure as
Rachel's, on which the sun and rain have never beaten, there is an
expression betokening strong resistance from within of the brunt of a
whirlwind from without. The marks of conflict and endurance on a young
face--who shall see them unmoved! The Mother of Jesus must have noticed
a great difference in her Son when she first saw Him again after the
temptation in the wilderness.
Rachel's grave, amused glance fell upon Hugh. Their eyes met, and he
instantly perceived, to his astonishment, that she recognized him. But
she did not bow, and a moment later left the nearly empty rooms with the
man who was talking to her.
Hugh was excited out of recognition of his former half-scornful,
half-_blasé_ self. That woman must be his wife. She would save him from
himself, this cynical, restless self, which never remained in one stay.
The half-acknowledged weakness in his nature unconsciously flung itself
upon her strength, a strength which had been tried. She would love him,
and uphold him. There would be no more yielding to circumstances if that
pure, strong soul were close beside him. He would lean upon her, and the
ugly by-paths of these last years would know him no more. Her presence
would leaven his whole life. In the momentary insanity, which was
perhaps, after all, only a prophetic intuition, he had no fears, no
misgivings. He thought that with that face it was not possible that she
could be so wicked as to refuse him.
"She will marry me," he said to himself. "She must."
Lady Newhaven touched him gently on the arm.
"I dared not speak to you before," she said. "Nearly every one has gone.
Will you take me down to supper? I am tired out."
He stared at her, not recognizing her.
"Have I vexed you?" she faltered.
And with a sudden horrible revulsion of feeling he remembered. The poor
chromo had fallen violently from its nail. But the nail remained--ready.
He took her into the supper-room and got her a glass of champagne. She
subsided on to a sofa beside another woman, vaguely suspecting trouble
in the air. He felt thankful that Rachel had already gone. Dick, nearly
the last, was putting on his coat, arranging to meet Lord Newhaven the
following morning at his club. They had been in Australia together, and
were evidently old friends.
Lord Newhaven's listless manner returned as Dick marched out. Hugh had
got one arm in his coat. An instinct of flight possessed him, a vague
horror of the woman in diamonds furtively watching him under her lowered
eyelids through the open door.
"Oh, Scarlett!" said Lord Newhaven, detaining him languidly, "I want
three minutes of your valuable time. Come into my study."
"Another cross-bow for Westhope Abbey?" said Hugh, trying to speak
unconcernedly, as he followed his host to a back room on the ground
floor. Lord Newhaven was collecting arms for the hall of his
country-house.
"No; much simpler than those elaborate machines," said the older man,
turning on the electric light. Hugh went in, and Lord Newhaven closed
the door.
Over the mantel-shelf were hung a few old Japanese inlaid carbines, and
beneath them an array of pistols.
"Useless now," said Lord Newhaven, touching them affectionately. "But,"
he added, with a shade more listlessness than before, "Society has
become accustomed to do without them, and does ill without them, but we
must conform to her." Hugh started slightly, and then remained
motionless. "You observe these two paper lighters, Scarlett? One is an
inch shorter than the other. They have been waiting on the mantel-shelf
for the last month, till I had an opportunity of drawing your attention
to them. I am sure we perfectly understand each other. No name need be
mentioned. All scandal is avoided. I feel confident you will not
hesitate to make me the only reparation one man can make another in the
somewhat hackneyed circumstances in which we find ourselves."
Lord Newhaven took the lighters out of the glass. He glanced suddenly at
Hugh's stunned face and went on:
"I am sorry the idea is not my own. I read it in a magazine. Though
comparatively modern, it promises soon to become as customary as the
much-to-be-regretted pistols for two and coffee for four. I hold the
lighters thus, and you draw. Whoever draws or keeps the short one is
pledged to leave this world within four months, or shall we say five, on
account of the pheasant shooting? Five be it. Is it agreed? Just so!
Will you draw?"
A swift spasm passed over Hugh's face, and a tiger glint leaped into
Lord Newhaven's eyes, fixed intently upon him.
There was a brief second in which Hugh's mind wavered, as the flame of a
candle wavers in a sudden draught. Lord Newhaven's eyes glittered. He
advanced the lighters an inch nearer.
If he had not advanced them that inch Hugh thought afterwards that he
would have refused to draw.
He backed against the mantel-piece, and then put out his hand suddenly
and drew. It seemed the only way of escape.
The two men measured the lighters on the table under the electric light.
Lord Newhaven laughed.
Hugh stood a moment, and then went out.