WHEN SEVERANCE THREW DOWN THE KEY
Not far from the door of Zelie Marks's room another door stood open.
Marise would have whirled past it without noticing, had not her name
been called.
She turned her head, with a slight start, and saw Severance.
"Come here a moment, my dear one," he said. "I have to speak to you."
Marise hesitated. Her brain was not clear. She felt dazed, as if Zelie
had boxed her ears, as she had boxed Tony's earlier. She longed for
sympathy. No one--not even Garth himself!--had ever been so horrid to
her before, as Zelie had.
Severance took her hand and drew her gently over the threshold into a
private sitting-room much like Miss Marks's. Then, when she was safely
inside the room, he shut the door, locked it, and jerked out the key.
"Tony!" cried Marise. She felt as if some scene in one of her plays had
come true. Except that--Tony wasn't the villain who locked the heroine
in. _Surely_ he wasn't the villain!
"This isn't the right time for a joke," she said.
"And this isn't a joke," said Severance.
"Well, unlock the door at once, please, and let me out," she insisted.
"I must go----"
"Where must you go?" he asked.
"Where! Ho--back, of course."
"To Garth--after what happened between us three at his house this
evening? It's impossible for you to go back to him, Marise. He can't
expect it himself. When you came away to-night--if he knew you came--he
must have known the whole thing was finished, the farce played out."
The girl felt as if a chilly breeze blew over her. She did not answer
for a moment. She was wondering in an awed way if Tony were right. Was
that the reason Garth had let her go so easily, to answer Zelie's note
in person? But no. He had only just reminded her the moment before how
he'd never intended giving her up to Severance. Still--when she thought
of it--what _was_ there to go back for, unless she intended to stay
married to Garth--to be married to him as other women were married to
their husbands?
She had never contemplated that, even at the times--and there had been
times--when she'd admired Garth, admired him with a secret thrill.
Besides, no matter how much Garth had wanted her, in the first throes of
his infatuation, he didn't want her now--for good. Oh, such an end to
the play wasn't to be dreamed of, from whichever side you looked at it!
"If I go away anywhere from Vision House, it will be to my mother," she
said at last.
"Yes, of course. That's where I'm going to take you. We'll go to-night.
There's a train we----"
"I can't possibly go with you!" she cried. "Don't you see, to do that
would cause the very scandal we've all sacrificed so much to prevent?"
"I do see," said Tony. "But you said yourself to-day that 'everything
had changed.' We don't need to be afraid of scandal any more. It can't
hurt us now. It will do us good. Marise, I've been thinking things over,
and I believe that the only way we can get that brute to free you is by
deliberately making a scandal. All the trouble comes from your throwing
yourself at the fellow's head in such a hurry. If you'd waited, OEnone
dying when she did would have made your marriage useless. You and I
would both have been free----"
"We were both free before you decided you'd have to marry OEnone,"
broke in Marise.
"That was different. I was in debt and hadn't a penny to play with. I
couldn't live on you. Now my debts are paid, and though they've not left
me a very rich man, I've got something to go on with----"
"You have, because Jack Garth won't take your money."
"Oh, wouldn't he, if he could get it?"
"No!"
"Well, again, there'd be no question of money at present between him and
me if you'd waited, and hadn't tangled yourself up in this beastly knot
to spite me. Now I'll have to get you out of the tangle as best I can.
You can't do it yourself, and Garth will hang on to you for the same
motive you had--spite, if nothing more. Go with me to-night. Be brave.
_Make_ a scandal. Then for the sake of that mother of his--and for his
pride if he has any, if not, for the appearance of it--he'll free you."
Marise was very pale. "A little while ago," she said, "you spoke of
Zelie Marks being here to give--an excuse for divorce."
"Yes. That seems the likely thing. Garth probably arranged it when he
expected money from me, to make divorce worth his while. Now we've had a
row, more or less, and he knows that at best he can't get much. His cry
is 'all or nothing.' He won't use Miss Marks as a pretext."
"I tell you he never intended to accept money!" insisted Marise.
"That's a new opinion of yours, isn't it?"
"I never _felt_ he would touch it. But I didn't know surely. Now I do."
"I wonder how?"
"I do--that's all."
"Well, by Jove; I never expected to hear you taking Garth's part against
me!" Tony exploded.
"I'm not doing that," Marise said. "We've all been horrid and detestable
in this business, you and I, and even poor Mums--for my sake----"
"What about Garth? Is he on a higher plane?"
"Yes, he _is_!" exclaimed the girl. "He loved me once. He wanted to
marry me then--just for love. How he felt afterwards--or how he feels
now--I don't know. But--he's not a _beast_."
"And I am?"
"Oh, I put myself and Mums in the same box with you. I'm saying nothing
of you I don't say of ourselves."
"Well, so be it!" said Severance. "I'm a beast, if you like, and you're
the female of my kind. All the more reason why you belong to me. Nothing
shall separate us again. Even if we can't marry----"
"Let me go out of this room!" the girl cried sharply.
"No! Your _mother_ approved of my plan, I tell you, Marise. She saw it
was the only way, for me to take you----"
"I don't believe it! There's not an unconventional drop of blood in
Mums' veins. If she wanted me to be 'taken' anywhere, it would be to
her. She would have come to this hotel, and received me. Then, perhaps,
I would have stayed--but not for you. I don't _love_ you, Tony! I've
discovered that. I wouldn't marry you if I could."
"You're out of your senses!" he cried. "You may think what you say at
this minute, because you're angry. But your _heart's_ mine. I won't let
you go----"
"If you don't, I'll scream," threatened Marise. "Open that door at once,
or I'll yell at the top of my lungs."
"I don't think you will," said Severance. "You don't like scenes, except
on the stage. Besides, I don't care a damn if you do yell. It won't
change things in the end."
The girl's answer was to lift her voice and shriek as only a trained
actress can shriek.
Instantly, before she had reached her highest note, Garth stepped over
the low window-sill.
"I was waiting for that," he said. "I knew you were here, Marise, so I
lurked on the loggia. Unlock that door, Severance."
The other man was olive grey with rage and disappointment. It occurred
to Marise that he looked seasick.
"Unlock the damned thing yourself!" he spat, and flung the key on the
floor.
It landed near Garth's feet. But Garth did not stoop.
"Pick up the key," he said quietly.
"I'm damned if I will!" sputtered Severance.
"Not so many damns, please," said Garth. "They bore me." He took a
Browning from his pocket and aimed it neatly at the centre of
Severance's forehead. "Better pick up the key," he added.
Severance picked it up.
"Now unlock the door."
Severance unlocked it, and walked out into the hall. Then he slammed the
door after him. Voices were heard.
"Somebody's come to inquire why somebody screamed," said Garth,
pocketing the weapon again. "If they knock here, it's all right. Mr. and
Mrs. Garth have a right to a _tete-a-tete_ anywhere. I'll say you
thought you saw a mouse. That'll settle their doubts forever."
But nobody knocked.
"Don't be afraid," Garth went on. "Even if you came in here because you
wanted to come, I shan't make a row. But somehow I've got a 'hunch' that
you didn't want to."
"I didn't," said Marise.
"He pulled you in?"
"Yes. I didn't think much of it at first. But----"
"Well, I don't believe he'll trouble you again. Not ever. I felt he
might make a fool of himself to-night, though. So I came over, in case I
should be needed. Now, what do you want to do--I mean, _really_ want? I
consider Severance wiped off the map--_your_ map. So if you wish to be
free of me, I'll make you so. While Severance was in the offing I'd have
stuck to you like a leech, because you're too good for him. That
Browning wasn't loaded. But I'd have killed the fellow sooner than give
you up to him. It's different now. I'll take you to Los Angeles, to your
mother at Bell Towers to-night if you like."
Marise was silent.
"You've only got to say," he prompted her.
To his intense surprise and her own, Marise began to cry. Tears poured
down her cheeks. She flung herself on a sofa and sobbed. "I'm so--so
unhappy!"
Garth's face grew slowly red as he looked at her. "I'm sorry for that,"
he said. "Once I was willing you should be unhappy. I'm past that now.
But you needn't be unhappy long. You don't even have to spend another
night in Vision House. Your mother----"
"You want me to go," gulped Marise. "You really love Zelie Marks----"
"You're talking in your hat," he sharply cut her short. "You know I
don't love Zelie Marks. What Severance said about her and me to-day was
disgusting. She and I are friends. She's a good girl and a grand pal. I
wouldn't hurt her even for you. And I tell you this, Marise, now that I
know--for I do know!--that you won't marry that cad Severance, you can
divorce me. But it will have to be done decently. You can go to Reno and
live there for a few months with Mrs. Sorel. Then you can free yourself
on the grounds that our tempers are incompatible. But no woman's to be
lugged in, even a stranger. I won't stand for that. For the sake of
Mothereen and my Victoria Cross I won't be dragged in the dirt. I'll not
give you what the lawyers call 'cause.' So there you are. Now you know."
But Marise still sobbed. "I don't--don't wish to drag anyone in the
dust!" she wailed.
"I'm sure you don't," said Garth, in an impersonal tone, a tone of kind
encouragement. "You've changed quite a lot since New York, though the
time's been short. You can't measure these things by time! I _hoped_
you'd change. You were an adorable girl, but I told you once that you
were spoiled and selfish, and you were--all of that. You weren't a
woman. Now you are. I counted a bit on the effect of Mothereen. And I
counted a whole lot on the Canyon. They're both worked their spells more
or less, I shouldn't wonder. But you haven't changed to _me_. Not that I
ever really dared expect that. But I sort of _hoped_--at first. I'm not
blaming you, though. I took the risk--and let you take it. Now for the
next thing."
"Now for--the next thing!" repeated Marise, between sobs; and searched
wildly in her gold-mesh bag. "For Heaven's sake lend me a handkerchief,"
she wept.
Garth lent it, a linen one, not scented as Severance's handkerchief
would have been, but fresh and clean-smelling.
"We're still in that cad's room," Garth said, looking round with a
frown. "But he won't bother us. And we'd better thrash things out, now
we're about it. We must decide where you're to go. You know, Marise, I'm
on long leave. I never quite made up my mind whether to go back to my
regiment, or chuck the army for good, and stay over here. I thought some
day I'd hear a clear call, one way or the other, while there was time to
decide. And I knew Mothereen wouldn't long be far off from me, whatever
I did. But now I leave it to you to settle the matter for me. I expect I
owe you that, for all my sulkiness. If you want to live over on this
side, I'll go back to England--my father's country. If you'd like to
take up your career there again, rather than you should risk running up
against me all the time, I'll resign my commission--as Severance and a
lot of fellows like him hoped they could make me do!--settle down in
Arizona and--forget the war."
"Forget me, you mean!" said Marise.
His tone changed, and he spoke in a lower voice. "I don't expect ever to
forget you, Marise."
"But you'd like to!"
"I'm not so sure of that, in spite of all."
"You will be, when you marry Zelie Marks."
"Zelie Marks again!"
"Or somebody else."
"I shall never marry, Marise. That's as certain as that I'm alive. I
haven't any love to give another woman after you. You had it every bit.
But that's not an interesting subject to you, is it? Can you make up
your mind to-night and answer my question? Shall it be England for you
and America for me, or--_vice versa_?"
"You _liked_ the army, didn't you? You didn't want to give it up."
"I wasn't going to be driven out by Severance and Co. I shouldn't mind
so much going of my own accord."
"Wouldn't you like to stay in the Guards for some years anyhow, and reap
the reward of what you've done?--coming over here to Vision House now
and then on leave, till you're ready to rest and settle down for good?"
"Sounds pretty ideal, as you put it. But I'll be content enough either
way. It's for you to decide for me, as things stand. But oh, by the by,
I forgot! I'm really rather a rich man, Marise. I've made my fortune
three times over, and I've got umpteen thousands more than I need for
myself or Mothereen. I want you to have alimony----"
"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I'm rich too--quite rich, enough."
"But I _wish_ you to take something of mine, don't you understand? And
money's the only thing I have that you could possibly care to have."
Marise began to cry again, twice as hard as before.
"There is--something else of yours I'd care to have," she choked,
"if--if it isn't too late."
"It's never too late."
"But you don't know what I mean."
"No. Not yet----"
"I mean--your _love_. You said--I'd killed it."
Garth took one step from the middle of the little sitting-room to the
sofa, and sat down beside the girl. He crowded her as Severance had done
that afternoon, but she didn't move an inch.
"I didn't say that!" He spoke the words in her hair--that silky hair
which had seemed too divine to touch. "I asked you how much you thought
it took to kill love. But nothing could kill mine for you. Nothing on
earth or in hell. And I _have_ been in hell, Marise."
"Come to heaven with me, then," she whispered, and clasped his neck with
both her young arms. Her cheek, wet with tears, was pressed against his.
"You--_mean_ it?" he stammered.
"Yes--yes. I _love_ you! Because--you're so _queer_, you made me,
somehow. I know now I never really loved anyone but you. And I never
will if--you _care_!"
"Care? I'm in heaven already." He framed her face in his hands and
kissed her on the lips, a long, long kiss that made up for everything.
"In heaven?" she murmured. "So am I. But it will be better at Vision
House. _Dear_ Vision House. Dear _home_!"
Garth sprang up, bringing her with him, his arm round her waist.
"Let's go now!" he said.
THE END