That evening after supper Saunders and Mostyn were on the veranda
smoking together. The exchange of remarks was formal, even forced and
awkward. Presently Saunders said: "I saw Leach looking for you at the
arbor. Did you run across him?"
"Yes," Mostyn puffed, and Saunders heard him heave a sigh. "I had quite
a talk with him. I can't fully account for it, but I like the man very
much. It may be his optimism or wonderful faith. I know that he has a
very soothing effect on me. The truth is, I have promised to go to
California with him."
"Oh!" Saunders leaned against the balustrade, steadily scrutinizing the
face of his guest. "He told me something about his proposition, but I
thought that perhaps you would not be likely to go--not now, anyway."
"Oh yes, I shall go at once. I must go somewhere, and with him I'd have
the benefit of a companion."
"But, of course," Saunders flung out, tentatively, "you will not remain
away long?"
"I can't say for sure that I shall _ever_ come back," Mostyn said,
sadly. "Of course, I can't say positively as to that, but there is
nothing--absolutely nothing to hold me here now."
The eyes of the two met in a steady stare.
"You can't mean _that_--I'm sure you can't!" Saunders faltered.
Mostyn seemed about to speak, but a tremor of rising emotion checked
him. He smoked for a moment in silence; then, with a steadier voice, he
began:
"I must be more frank with you, Jarvis," he said. "You have been a true
friend to me, and I don't want to keep anything from you at all.
Besides, this concerns you directly. To tell you this I may be
betraying confidence, but even that, somehow, seems right. Saunders,
to-day at that meeting as I sat there--" Mostyn's voice began to shake
again, and he cleared his throat before going on. "As I sat there
looking at--at the purest, sweetest face God ever made I began to
_hope._ I confess it. I began to hope that God might intend to give me
one other chance at earthly happiness. I even fancied that He might
purposely have led me back here out of my awful darkness into light. I
might not have dared to go so far, but she had her uncle invite me to
lunch, and as I sat by her side the very benediction of Heaven seemed
to fall on her and me and all the rest. It made me bold. I was out of
my head. I was intoxicated by it all. Don't you see, I began to think,
late as it is--shamed as I am before the world--I began to think that I
might again take some sort of root among men and be worthy of--of the
only woman I ever really loved? She and I walked off together. Her
consenting to go gave me fresh courage. I determined to speak. I
determined to throw my soiled soul at her spotless feet. I did."
"Don't say any more; I know the rest," Saunders said, under his breath.
"I congratulate you. I congratulate you with all my heart." He held out
his hand, but Mostyn warded it off, his cigar cutting red zigzag lines
in the darkness.
"Congratulate me? My God, _you_ congratulate _me_. Are you blind? Have
you been blind all this time? She not only spurned my love, but in a
blaze of righteous indignation she told me she loved you. She said she
loved, adored, reverenced--_worshiped_ you. She seemed to look on my
hopes as some sort of insult to her womanhood. She didn't want _you_ to
know of her love, she said, but she wanted _me_ to know it. She seems
to feel--she seems to think that in all your kindness to her and
nobleness you deserve a wife who has never fancied another, even in
girlhood. She told me that her feeling for me was only the idle whim of
a child, and that she pitied me as a weak and stumbling creature. She
put it that way, with blazing eyes, and she put it right. I _am_
weak--I've always been weak; and to-day, in trying to win her from you,
I did the weakest act of my life. I confess it. You have the right to
strike me in the face. I knew you loved her. I knew she had become your
very life, and yet in my despair and damnable vanity I wanted to take
her from you. I am trying to get right, but I fell before that dazzling
temptation. In telling you of her love now I am tearing my soul from my
body, but I want to atone--I want to atone--as far as possible."
Saunders turned his transformed face away. He said nothing, and the two
stood in dead silence for a moment. Suddenly Saunders put out a
throbbing hand and laid it on Mostyn's shoulder.
"I thank you; I thank you," he said, huskily. "You must excuse me this
evening. I hope you can pass the time some way. I am going to her,
Mostyn. I can't wait another minute. I must see her to-night!"