"YOU HAVE MADE ME YOUR PRISONER."
Dainty, left alone, smiled in mockery. "Stop thinking!" As if she
could!
She was innocent of any intentional wrong toward her husband, but oh!
that world, that real world of hers--her thoughts.
Even in the midst of her self-upbraiding, her rebel thoughts would break
loose, and reach out toward the man she loved. It was the ecstasy of a
Heaven, blended with the agony of a Hell.
The shuttle of love that winds and weaves an unseen thread, had bound
her heart in bond so firm, that to break it seemed like breaking the
thread of life. Would that she could see how near the fate stood that
would cut that thread! She felt that the new love which had sprung to a
giant's strength within her heart, was doing cruel injustice to the
loyal heart of her husband. She wished to be true to herself, and that
meant true to Donald. Was he not truth itself to her? But she had no
strength to fight against the power which Schwatka exerted over her, and
thoughts of him held her prisoner as she lay on her divan moaning like a
helpless wounded doe.
At this moment Herr Schwatka entered the room. As he approached, their
eyes met in one long look, and as if mesmerised, their lips met in a
kiss that annihilated time and space, and that for Dainty rent asunder
all other bonds. Centuries of time were lived in that one kiss. She
had been long married, but not until now was she mated.
At last time began again to beat out to the lovers those seconds and
moments of which they had been too oblivious.
"Dainty," said he, "I can no longer endure to see you bear toward
another the relation of--wife. I came to-day to tell you that I leave
Kimberley within twenty-four hours. I know that I have been a coward to
remain here and see you suffer for my sake, but the strength of love has
been my weakness, and has chained me to your side. My beloved, life
without you is worth to me not a puff of smoke; if I remain here longer
I shall become a dangerous enemy to your husband. He stands between you
and me; therefore I go away. Absence sometimes brings forgetfulness.
The memory of your dearly beautiful face, of your soulful eyes--ah!
What shall I do!--I cannot, I cannot tear myself from you!"
He sank on his knees by her side, and laid his head on her shoulder, a
man given over to the longings of a great love, without hope therein.
She was now the stronger of the two. How often do we see the dumb
animal side, in the strongest nature, assert itself when it lays its
head on the heart of a frail woman for comfort.
What is that power which enchains men and women for a season when death
itself would be preferable to the bitter sweetness which fills the soul.
The heart never entirely recovers, though by and by the pain is a dull
heavy sorrow as for a loved one buried long ago? We pity ourselves
then, to think that it is possible for us to so change.
Dainty could not move hand or foot, her eyes looked as if tears lay
behind in the veiled depths, in sacred sympathy with the soul, in the
throes of an agony which few are capable of understanding.
Great beads of perspiration stood on her brow; she tried to speak, but
ended in an incoherent whisper. Her lover recognised the suffering of
her soul, akin to his own, and wiped the cold dews away with a holy
touch. There was no flaming consuming passion in his touch. How
strange was this in a nature like Herr Schwatka's! It was one of the
marvels of love that it could purify the impulses and purposes of such a
man, not used to live above the moral plane of the careless man of the
world. He might easily have wrought ruin in the life of this
unsophisticated woman, who could not, in one remove from savage
ancestry, grow away from the tendency of love to follow its own,
regardless of consequences. So had her mother done. Raising herself,
and looking him steadfastly in the eyes, she slowly said, in an earnest
whisper: "If you go, I go with you."
"No, no, Dainty, I love you too truly to let you live to repent anything
for my sake. Donald will not return to you until evening. I must go
while I have any manliness left, or we will both live to repent it."
There was silence for a few moments, and then he hesitatingly said:
"I want to make a confession, sweetheart, that will help to ease my
pain." He stopped and his bosom heaved with emotion. "It is that--I
was fascinated by you, and your untamed ways, so different from what I
had ever known, and I thought you would be a pastime to me. See what
misery my wrong has wrought to both. You are the one woman in the world
stronger than I, who thought myself invincible. You have made me your
prisoner."
Anger against her fate began to rise within her heart, and strange
thoughts surged and swelled through her throbbing brain. She spoke with
wild determination:
"Listen. Donald is keeping some great secret from me, and although he
has no suspicion of the love existing between you and me, his life is as
separated from mine as if we were living in different continents. My
life is my own, and if you leave me, I follow."
"No, no, my beloved," cried Schwatka.
Dainty continued in the same voice:
"You cannot change me now. Bela," calling to her servant, "have the
horses harnessed to the cart at once, I am going for a drive. Now,"
turning to Schwatka, "leave me. I have not the strength to bear your
presence longer. I shall be at the meeting of the roads," naming a spot
about five hours distant, "and will meet you there."
"No, no," said he, mournfully but firmly. "Here I bid you farewell."
He laid his hand on her shoulder. "When you cease to think of me as a
lover, hold my memory kindly as your saviour."
His hand fell from her shoulder slowly down her beautiful arm, till it
reached the little firmly-knit hand, which he held a prisoner for a few
seconds, then tenderly raised to his lips. In another moment he had
gone.