"OH! HEART OF STONE, YET FLESH TO ALL SAVE ME"
This is exactly what happened after I regained the house. I went
upstairs for a few minutes to arrange my hair and bathe my eyes. Then
I walked straight down to the drawing-room, and I told myself that I
was prepared for anything that might take place.
Father Adrian did not hear me enter, so I had the advantage at the
onset of taking him by surprise. He was standing in the centre of
the hearthrug, with his arms folded and his eyes cast down upon the
ground. His eyebrows almost met in a black frown, and a curious grey
pallor had spread itself over his face. When I entered, noiselessly
moving the curtains, from the outer chamber, he was muttering to
himself, and I strained my hearing to catch the meaning of his words.
"To-night must end it!" I heard him say. "She herself shall decide.
Greater men have travelled the path before me! As for him, my pity
has grown faint! It is the will of the Church! I myself am but the
instrument. He stands between the Church and her rights! Between me
and--her!"
His cheeks flushed, and his expression suddenly changed. He whispered
a name! It was mine! His eyes were soft, and his lips were parted. The
priest had vanished. His face was human and manly. I saw it, but my
heart was as cold as steel.
"Father Adrian," I said quietly, "I am here."
He started, and looked towards me. If my heart could have been
softened even to pity, it would have been softened by that look. But
a woman's great selfishness was upon me! The man I loved was in some
sort of danger at his hands. There was no room in my heart for any
other thought. I was adamant.
He was silent for a moment, then he faced me steadily, and spoke. "So
you have learned to love this Englishman, this De Vaux, the son of old
Martin de Vaux! Answer me simply, Yes or No!"
"I have!"
I did not hesitate. What need was there for hesitation? I answered him
defiantly, and without faltering.
"You will never marry him! You will not even become his mistress!"
I made no answer at first; I laughed! that was all.
"Who will prevent me?"
"I shall!"
"How?"
"The means are ready to my hand!"
My heart sank, but I forced a smile. "What are they?"
He considered a moment. "I can strip Paul de Vaux of every acre
and every penny he possesses! I can break his mother's heart! I can
proclaim his father a murderer!"
"I do not understand! I do not believe!"
The words left me boldly enough, but there was a lump in my throat,
and my heart was sick.
"Listen!" He drew a small gold crucifix from his breast, and solemnly
kissed it. Then, holding it in his hand, he repeated,--
"I can beggar Paul de Vaux by my proven word. I can take from him
everything precious in life! I can take from him his name and his
honours! I can break his mother's heart! I can proclaim his father a
murderer! All this I can and will do, save you listen to me!"
He kissed the crucifix, and replaced it in his inner pocket. I had
begun to tremble. The stamp of truth was upon his words. Still I tried
to face him boldly.
"Even if this is so, what has it to do with me?" I cried.
"You know!" he answered. "In your heart you know! Yet, if you
will--listen!" he continued, in a low tone. "You love Paul de Vaux!"
"It is true!"
"And you believe that he loves you?"
"I do!"
"Listen, then! Three nights ago I lifted that curtain, by the side of
one who has left you for ever, and I saw you in his arms. I followed
him out of the house; I walked by his side to Vaux Abbey, and I told
him what I have told you. I wasted no time in idle threats. I told him
what power was mine, and I said 'Choose!' He was silent!"
"Choose between what?" I interrupted.
"I bade him swear that he would never willingly look upon your face
again, or prepare himself to face all the evils which it was in my
power to bring upon him."
"And he?"
"He asked for time--for a week!"
A storm of anger was suddenly stirred up within me. I turned upon him
with flashing eyes and quivering lips. Discretion and restraint were
gone; I was like a tigress. I lacked only the power to kill.
"And by what right did you dare to thrust yourself between us?" I
cried. "What have I to do with you, or you with me?"
He held up his hands for a moment, as though to shut out the sight of
my face, ablaze with scorn and hatred. There was a short silence. Then
he spoke in a low tone, vibrating with intensity of feeling.
"You know! In your heart you know!" he said. "Into my life has come
the greatest humiliation which can befall such as I am! In sorrow and
bitterness it has eaten itself into my heart. I am accursed in my own
sight, and in the sight of God!"
I mocked at him. "I am not your confessor!" I laughed. "Go and tell
your sins to those of your own order! I am a woman and you are a
priest! Why do you look at me with that light in your eyes? Am I a
prayer-book? Is there anything saintly in my face, that you should
keep your eyes fixed upon it so steadily?"
I had hoped that my words would madden him, and he would lose his
self-control. To my surprise, they had but little effect. He seemed
scarcely to have heard.
"What have you to do with me, or I with you?" he repeated, in a voice
which was rapidly gaining strength and passion. "God knows! Yet as
surely as we both live, our lots are intertwined the one with the
other."
"A godly priest!" I laughed. "What have you to do with me? What
of your vows? Oh, how dare you try to play the lover with me! You
hypocrite!"
He shrank back as though in pain. I laughed outright, glad that I had
made him feel.
"Adrea!" he said slowly. "I was never a hypocrite to you. In your
presence I have never breathed a word of my religion. Think for a
moment of those days at Cruta. Did I not refuse to confess you? Why?
You know! Because of those long, dreamy days we spent together, not as
priest and penitent, but as man and woman. Do you remember them--the
cliffs, with their giant shadows standing out across the blue waters
of the harbour; the hollows, where we sat amongst the perfumed wild
flowers, gazing across the sea, and watching the white sails in the
distance; the nights, with their white moonlight and silent grandeur!
Ay, Adrea! look me in the face, if you can, and tell me that you have
forgotten them! You cannot! You dare not! It was you who brought me
those books of wild, passionate poetry whose music entered into my
very soul! It was you who tempted me with soft words, with your music,
with your beauty, into that world of sense which holds me prisoner for
ever. What I once was, I can never be again! It is you who worked the
change--you who awoke my man's heart, and set it beating for ever
at your touch, at your movements, at the sight of you. It is you who
taught me how to love--who opened to me the rose-covered gates of
hell! There is no drawing back! You, who have dragged me down, shall
share my fall with me, for better or for worse! You shall not escape!
No other man shall have you! I have paid the price, and I will have
you!"
I wrenched myself free from the arms which were closing around me, and
stood trembling before him.
"Fool!" I cried. "You have dared to think of me like that because I
chose to make use of you at Cruta! Make use of you! Yes, that is what
I did! I wanted to escape! You and she were the only ones who could
help me! Save for that, I had never wasted a moment upon you. I never
thought of you as a man; you were only a priest. I never wished to see
you again! You are in my way now; you stand between me and the man I
love! I hate you!"
His dark eyes were lit up with a sudden fire and a deep flush stained
his cheeks. For the first time I seemed to see the man in him as well
as the priest, and I saw that he was handsome. It did not interest me;
I noticed it only as an incident.
"I do not believe it!" he exclaimed. "You are not so false as you
would have me believe, Adrea!"
His hand was on my wrist, and his dark eyes, strangely softened, were
fixed pleadingly upon mine. Something in his manner, even in his tone,
seemed to remind me of Paul. I was magnetized! For a moment I could
not move, and during that moment his hands closed upon mine.
"Adrea, is such a love as I can offer you worth nothing? What did you
tell me once was your life's ideal? Was it not the love of a strong,
true man, always faithful, always loving? No one could love you more
tenderly than I, no one could be more faithful. Until I saw you, no
woman's face had dwelt in my thoughts for a single instant. In my
heart you reign alone, Adrea! No one has been there before--no one
will come after! Such as it is, it is a kingdom of your own!"
"I do not understand you," I said slowly, withdrawing my hands. "You
talk to me of a man's love, a man's faithfulness! What do you know of
it? You are a priest!"
He threw up his hands with a sudden cry of agony. His face was white
and blanched.
"Do I not know it?" he exclaimed in a low, fierce tone. "Do you think
I yielded easily to the poisoned web you have woven around me? The
horror of it all has darkened my days, and made hideous my nights. And
yet you can taunt me with it--you, for whom I yield up conscience and
future--you, for whom I give my soul! No other man could love as I
love, Adrea!"
I looked him straight in the face and I did not spare him. What was
the use? The truth was best!
"It is folly!" I said. "If your religion is worth anything to you, let
it help you now! Let it teach you to forget me! Go away from here, and
leave unharmed the man I love. If you do not, I shall hate you!"
He caught hold of my dress. He was on his knees before me--a bent,
imploring figure.
"Too late! too late!" he cried. "My religion has gone! When love for
you crept into my heart, I became worse than a heretic. It was sin,
and the sin has spread. Oh! have mercy upon me, Adrea, have mercy upon
me! Just a little of your love. It may not be much at first, but it
will grow. Adrea, you must try--you shall try!"
I shook my gown from his trembling fingers, and looked down upon him
with contempt in my heart, and contempt in my face. The flickering
firelight cast a faint glow upon his blanched, wan features, and
their utter humility filled me with an unreasoning and unreasonable
loathing. I did not try to soften my words. I spoke out just as I
felt, and watched him rise slowly to his feet, like a hunted and
stricken animal, without a pitying word or glance. As he rose upright,
his head dropped. He did not look at me; he did not speak a single
word. He walked slowly to the door with steps that faltered a little,
and walked out of the room, and out of the house.
I watched him down the avenue, wondering at his strange silence. It
had a curious effect upon me. I would rather have heard threats--even
a torrent of anger. There was something curiously ominous in that
slow, wordless exit. I watched him uneasily, full of dim, shapeless
fears.
Outside the gate he paused in the middle of the road. To the left
was the monastery where he had stayed; to the right was Vaux Abbey. I
heard my heart beat while he paused, and my face was pressed against
the window. For nearly a minute he stood quite still, with downcast
head, thinking. Then he turned deliberately to the right, and set his
face towards Vaux Abbey.
* * * * *
That was early in the evening yesterday--twenty-four hours ago. Since
then not a soul has been near the house. Early this morning I saw
Father Adrian coming along the road from Vaux. I ran upstairs, and
locked myself in my room, after forbidding the servants to let him
enter. From the windows I watched him. To my surprise he never
even glanced in. He walked past the gates, and took the road to the
monastery. I saw him slowly ascend the hill and vanish out of sight
in the darkening twilight. Once, just before he reached the summit, he
paused and looked steadily down here. I could not see his face, but
I saw him raise his right hand for a moment toward the sky. Then he
turned round and pursued his way.
* * * * *
If some one does not come to me soon, I shall go mad. Another hour has
passed. My mind is made up; I shall go to Vaux Abbey.