HOW THE SCALES FELL
After breakfast next morning, as Darville sat writing, Edris came in
dressed ready for ski-ing. She wore black, with pale-blue scarf, and
turn-overs of the same shade over her boots, and looked extremely
smart.
“I’m just off!” she cried with a flush of pleasure. “Karl is taking me
for a little run. We’ll be back about eleven, and then we’ll skate. He
is going to-night, but wants us to go down to Interlaken on Wednesday.
His mother has invited me to go and see her.”
Seton turned in his chair and, taking her hand tenderly, looked up
into her sweet face, and said in a calm voice:
“Edris, I do not wish to go to Interlaken again.”
“Why not? You have so many friends down there, and Karl and his mother
will give us both a good time.”
“This invitation of Frau Weiss is rather sudden, is it not?” he asked.
He rose from his chair, and embracing her, added: “Edris, I want to be
quite frank with you. I am not blind to your flirtation with this man.
I have told him of our engagement, and if he now flirts with you after
that, then he will be my enemy. And for my enemies I have, as you
know, no compunction and no remorse.”
“My dearest Seti,” she said with a forced laugh, “I’m sure you are
jealous. Now, admit it. I assure you that there is nothing in it, and
that you see dangers where none lie. I love you, darling, and, doing
so can you ever think that I could love another man? You surely cannot
think me so base as that!”
“You told me once, Carina, that if I were ever jealous I would know
what it meant--a living hell. It is the tortures of hell I am now
suffering.”
“Why?”
“Because--well, because I fear to lose you, darling,” he said, rising
and taking her in his strong arms.
“But you told me in England that only silly fools were jealous, and
that happily you would never know what jealousy is!” she retorted.
“Besides, Karl is going to Canada very shortly, and I shall never see
him again. Do you forbid me having--well, just a little snow romance,
dearest?” she asked, placing her arms around his neck and drawing him
to her, in that delightful coaxing manner which she so often assumed.
“I don’t wish to interfere with your pleasures in the least, Edris,”
he said in a rather strained voice. “But from what I know, I feel that
your love for me is fast melting away.” Then, in a voice choked with
emotion, he added: “I know I’ve been wrong to believe that you could
ever really love a man of my age. It is humanly impossible.”
“My darling Seti!” cried the girl, holding him tightly and kissing him
upon the lips. “I do love you! Believe me, I do. I repeat that neither
Karl nor any other man shall ever come between us. Our souls are
affinities; our views of life are entirely in common, as well as our
tastes and our general outlook upon things. Besides, Karl is a
foreigner, and he has to go abroad to work because he has no money.
Poor fellow, I feel so sorry for him!”
“Is he so much to you that you feel sorry for him?” he asked in a tone
of annoyance.
“No; only I think his people haven’t treated him fairly. He can get
nothing to do here in his native Switzerland. You have influence in
England. Don’t you think that you could get him a job?”
Darville reflected. He recollected that secret report concerning Karl
Weiss he had read and signed.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “You see, he is a foreigner, and he
looks so very much like a German officer. He will, no doubt, get on
well in Canada.”
“Will you help him?” she asked.
“If you wish. But I cannot see the motive of this unusual interest of
yours in a man you haven’t known much more than a few days.”
His remark confused her. What would he think if he knew the truth? she
reflected. But he would never know. How could he?
“Only because he is extremely nice to me, and I’m sorry for him.”
“Too nice, it seems,” he blurted forth, releasing her, and turning to
his writing-table.
“Oh, Seti!” she cried reproachfully. “You are horrid to me this
morning. Surely you know too well that I love and adore you? You asked
Karl up here to entertain me, and now you don’t approve of my
association with him. I really don’t think it nice of you, dear.”
“Forgive me, darling,” the man said, kissing her again. “I’m sorry if
I am harsh with you. But you know how deeply I love you, and how I
fear lest this man should steal your heart from me.”
“I know. I realize it all, Seti,” she said. “But trust me, I beg of
you. Trust me, and I will prove to you that I am true.”
Then she went forth to meet Karl. As she went down the stairs to the
hall, where he awaited her, she held her breath. What if Seton ever
discovered the depth of her deceit? Half an hour later she was
standing with Karl in a clump of snow-covered firs, at a secluded spot
to which nobody ever came, and he was holding her in his arms, while
her dark head nestled upon his shoulder. The resentment she had shown
at the refuge hut on the Männlichen had given place to fascination
and admiration. He had declared openly that he meant to win her, and
already he had succeeded in stealing her heart from the man who was
his host and friend.
Their conversation was that of lovers, and their kisses passionate and
oft repeated.
She told him of what Darville had said, whereupon he replied:
“You must be careful. He’s very suspicious. He must have no proof that
we are lovers. I know, darling, how difficult it is for you not to
show your affection for me,” he went on, holding her hand, and looking
into her eyes with that fatal power of fascination which women could
not resist. “But you must be careful. Pretend to love him more than
ever, and you will disarm his suspicions. I leave to-night. But you
must come down to Interlaken on pretense of seeing my mother, and we
will spend a whole glorious day together.”
“But he will want to come, too!”
“You must not let him. Tell him, if you like, that you want to meet me
again as test of his love and trust in you. If you are clever--as I
know you are, Edris--you will work it all right. Telephone to me
to-morrow morning from the post office. I shall be waiting to hear
your dear voice at ten o’clock.”
It was plain that the man was exerting over her a most extraordinary
and uncanny fascination. She felt herself impelled to comply with his
wishes, and, somehow, she found herself unable to resist his
blandishments. Every now and then, as they stood locked in each
other’s arms, Edris referred to Darville as the man to whom she was
engaged, but each time she mentioned him he made some disparaging
comment, which now no longer caused her indignation, as it had done on
that mountain-climb.
Meanwhile Seton Darville had become a changed man. He had left London
bright and buoyant, in confidence that Edris loved him to distraction.
But that introduction at Interlaken station, when they arrived in
Switzerland, had proved fatal to his happiness. Strong man that he
was, he tried to blind himself to a fact that was patent, yet in vain.
As he sat there at his table he realized that Edris’s professions of
love for him were false, and that, alas! it was but natural that she
should love a younger man. But when he reflected that his rival was
his friend, a spirit of fierce resentment arose within him. The man
was a cad, for, knowing the truth, he was deliberately stealing the
woman he so fondly loved.
The truth became forced upon him. Edris was playing him false!
“I love her, God knows! I love her! It is the first time I have ever
loved. She is all to me--my very life!” he cried aloud in agony as the
pen dropped from his nerveless fingers, his grief-stricken eyes fixed
upon the wall.
Then, unable to bear his suffering longer, he buried his face in his
hands and sobbed loudly, while the tears fell in large drops upon the
manuscript he had been writing.
“Edris! Edris!” he called aloud, his voice low and harsh. “You are
mine--mine! Come back to me, darling! Come back to me!”
And suddenly, the pale, broken-hearted man fell upon his knees beside
his chair and remained there a long time, praying earnestly in
silence.
When at last he rose he was calmer. Again he tried to deceive himself
as to the true situation. His passion for Edris had wholly possessed
his soul. Without her he knew he could never live. For her he would
give all his fame, his reputation, his popularity--everything. But
she, who only a little time before had vowed that she loved him and
that he should be her husband, had cast down his great love and
trodden it underfoot!
Again he was seized by a paroxysm of grief, and tears stood in his
dark eyes as, standing before the window, he gazed blankly out upon
the falling snow.
“I will return to London,” he said aloud at last. “I can’t remain here
to suffer any longer. Now I know the bitter truth that she loves that
fellow I will go out of her life in silence”; and he gazed about the
room, stupefied at the blow he had received.
Then slowly he started packing his papers into his leather
dispatch-case, his high, open brow clouded by pain and anguish, and
tears still standing in his eyes.
“I’ll go to-night,” he murmured to himself. “It is better so.”
Then, having cleared his writing-table, he opened one of his battered,
much be-labeled leather trunks, and began to arrange his reference
books inside. He was kneeling on the floor, packing away his books,
when the door opened, and Edris entered.
She saw the cleared writing-table, and exclaimed in surprise.
“What on earth are you doing, Seti?”
“I’m leaving for London to-night,” was his reply, as he rose to his
feet.
“Leaving! Why? What’s happened?”
“I’m leaving because I cannot remain here any longer. You know the
reason, Edris,” he said very seriously.
“You are leaving me here alone--abroad? Surely not!” said the girl, in
a voice of reproach.
“No. You will come with me, Edris, back to England,” he said firmly,
placing his hand upon her shoulder.
“I shall certainly do no such thing!” she replied indignantly. “You
brought me out here, and you cannot leave me here among strangers!”
“You will be among friends--Karl, and his mother, who is so anxious to
meet you,” he said bitterly.
She saw the change in him, and feared how much of her deceit he knew.
Her lover’s words recurred to her--the instructions he had given to
her as to how to further mislead him.
“Oh, it’s always Karl--Karl! I’m utterly sick of it!” she cried, in
pretense of protest. “Have I not told you, darling, that I love
you--and only you? Can’t you believe me?”
The sad-faced man looked straight into her eyes--a long, serious,
intense look--and then said slowly:
“No, Edris, I can’t!”
“Seti!” she cried, tearing off her ski-cap and tossing it upon a chair
as she gripped his hand and turned her face upwards to his. “What is
the matter with you? You can’t leave me here. If you love me, you will
remain. I am yours. You can’t desert me.”
“But I can’t remain here longer, in any case.”
“You are jealous of Karl. He is going at four o’clock. Let him go, and
we will discuss it afterwards,” she suggested. “Let’s go down to
luncheon. But don’t make a scene at table, I beg of you.”
“I shall make no scene,” he said in a hard voice, which betrayed
hatred of the man whom he suspected, and who was, moreover, his guest.
“Well, I must go to my room for a moment. I’ll meet you at the table,”
she said merrily, and kissing him as though nothing had occurred, she
went out.
Instead of going to her room she flew downstairs, and, finding Karl,
said:
“He’s furious. He’s packing up to go to England!”
“Let him go,” was the man’s whispered reply. “We shall be alone then,
my darling.”
Ten minutes later all three met at the table set in the window
commanding a gorgeous view of the Bernese Alps, half-hidden, however,
by the snow-blizzard which had suddenly sprung up.
Darville, though almost beside himself with rage, yet, by sheer
strength of will, preserved a calm, even cordial exterior towards his
guest. In those minutes since she had left him a sudden thought had
crossed his ever-active brain--the brain of the super-man. Edris had
begged him to obtain employment for Karl. That would not be at all
difficult. By reason of his position he was enabled to pull many
unsuspected strings, and, indeed, to make or mar the careers of many
men, and women also.
As they sat gossiping--Edris, with lies upon her pretty lips, relating
what a delightful ski-run they had had together, though, as a matter
of fact, they had been in that clump of firs all the morning--it
occurred to him how, by the use of those all-powerful hidden hands
which he controlled, he might so easily rid himself of his rival, and
wreak fearful and terrible revenge.
Karl Weiss had come between the girl he held dearer than life and
himself. The tall Swiss had arisen as a barrier between them--a
barrier that he intended to break down. He set his teeth and clenched
his hands. Seton Darville was fearless and bold, not a man to be
trifled with.
At four o’clock Edris contrived to see her Swiss lover off at the
station. Not without some sense of amusement Darville watched the
eagerness which she displayed to be allowed to go to the train alone
with him. His mind being made up, he raised no objection, for he
himself pleaded being too busy to go.
The couple were, of course, delighted, and on their way planned
further secret meetings in Interlaken in the days following. The snow
had now ceased, and, as they plodded through the main streets of
Wengen, Karl was buoyant and boastful, as he always was. In his own
estimation no man could do such deeds of bravery--which, by the way,
was a pose of his always in order to attract women, a pose that was,
in itself, full proof of his base origin and his unscrupulous deceit.
Then, when the electric train came down from the high-up Schiedegg,
the junction for the Jungfrau railway, he kissed her a fond farewell,
and the train moved down into the deep valley to Lauterbrunnen, where
he would take train for Interlaken.
Meanwhile Seton Darville, whose hatred when once aroused was dangerous
and deadly, was walking alone along the terrace of the hotel, smoking
a cigarette and thinking out the most terrible revenge that any human
mind had perhaps ever conceived.
By means so subtle that nobody would dream of them he could rid
himself of his rival, and nobody would ever be the wiser--not even
Edris!