"And yet--it seems--you can't do a simple thing like that
without--hurting somebody--injuring somebody. I can't help it! I didn't
mean to deceive _you_. But I had a right to get free from the old life
if I could!"
She threw back her head proudly. Her eyes were full of tears. Then she
rose impetuously.
"There!--I've told you. I suppose you don't want to be friends with me
any more. It was rotten of me, I know, for, of course--I saw--you seemed
to be getting to care for me. I told Janet when we set up work together
that I wasn't a bad woman. And I'm not. But I'm weak. You'd better not
trust me. And besides--I fell into the mud--and I expect it sticks to me
still!"
She spoke with passionate animation--almost fierceness. While through her
inner mind there ran the thought, "I've told him!--I've told him! If he
doesn't understand, it's not my fault. I can always say, 'I _did_ tell
you--about Roger--_and the rest_!--as much as I was bound to tell you.'
Why should I make him miserable--and destroy my own chances with him for
_nothing_?"
They stood fronting each other. Over the fine bronzed face of the
forester there ran a ripple of profound emotion--nostril and lip--and
eye. Then she found herself in his arms--with no power to resist or free
herself. Two or three deep, involuntary sobs--sobs of excitement--shook
her, as she felt his kisses on her cheek.
"Darling!--I'll try and make up to you--for all you've suffered. Poor
child!--poor little Rachel!"
She clung to him, a great wave of passion sweeping through her also. She
thought, "Now I shall be happy!--and I shall make him happy, too. Of
course I shall!--I'm doing quite right."
Presently he put her back in her chair, and sat beside her on the low
fender stool, in front of the fire. His aspect was completely
transformed. The triumphant joy which filled him had swept away the
slightly stiff and reserved manner which was on the whole natural to him.
And it had swept away at the same time all the doubts and hesitations of
his inner mind. She had told her story, it seemed to him, with complete
frankness, and a humility which appealed to all that was chivalrous and
generous in a strong man. He was ready now to make more excuses for her,
in the matter of his own misleading, than she seemed to wish to make for
herself. How natural that she should act as she had acted! The thought of
her suffering, of her ill-treatment was intolerable to him--and of the
brute who had inflicted it.
"Do you know where that man is now?" he said to her presently. She had
fallen back in her chair--pale and shaken, but dressed, for his eyes, in
a loveliness, a pathos, that was every moment strengthening her hold upon
him.
"Roger? No, I have no idea. I always suppose he's in Canada still. He
never appeared when the case was tried. But the summons had to be served
on him, and my lawyers succeeded in tracking him to a lodging in Calgary,
where he was living--with the Italian girl. But after that we never heard
any more of him--except that I had a little pencil note--unsigned,
undated, delivered by hand--just before the trial came on. It said I
should repent casting him off--that I had treated him shamefully--that I
was a vile woman--and though I had got the better of him for the time, he
would have his revenge before long."
Ellesborough shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
"Threats are cheap! I hope you soon put that out of your mind?"
She made a little restless movement.
"Yes, I--I suppose so. But I did tell you once, didn't I, that--I often
had fears--about nothing?"
"Yes, you did tell me," he said, smiling. "Don't have any more fears,
darling! I'll see to that."
He took her hands again, and raised them to his lips and kissed them. It
astonished him to feel them so cold, and see her again so excited and
pale. Was she really afraid of the villain she had escaped from? The
dear, foolish woman! The man in his self-confident strength loved her the
more for the vague terrors he felt himself so well able to soothe.
For half an hour more they sat together, in that first intimacy of love,
which transfigures men and women, so that when they pass back from it
into ordinary life they scarcely recognize life or themselves again. They
talked much less of the past than of the future--and that in the light of
the glorious war news coming in day by day. Austria was on the point of
surrender--the German landslide might come at any moment--then
_peace_!--incredible word. Ellesborough would hardly now get to France.
They might be able to marry soon--within a few weeks. As to the farm, he
asked her, laughing, whether she would take him in as a junior partner
for a time, till they could settle their plans. "I've got a bit of money
of my own. But first you must let me go back, as soon as there are ships
to go in--to see after my own humble business. We could launch out--get
some fine stock--try experiments. It's a going concern, and I've got a
good share in it. Why shouldn't you go, too?"
He saw her shrink.
"To Canada? Oh, no!"
He scourged himself mentally for having taken her thoughts back to the
old unhappy times. But she soon recovered herself. Then it was time for
him to go, and he stood up.
"I should like to have seen Janet!" he said joyously. "She'll have to get
used to Christian names. How soon will you tell her? Directly she
comes in?"
"Certainly not. I shall wait--till to-morrow morning."
He laughed, whispering into her ear, as her soft, curly head lay against
his breast.
"You won't wait ten minutes--you couldn't! Well, I must be going, or
they'll shut me out of the camp."
"Why do you hurry so?"
"Hurry? Why, I shall be an hour late, anyway. I shall have to give myself
C.B. to-morrow."
She laughed--a sound of pure content. Then she suddenly drew herself
away, frowning at him.
"You do love me--you do--you will always!--whatever people may say?"
He was surprised at the note almost of violence in her voice. He answered
it by a passionate caress, which she bore with trembling. Then she
resolutely moved away.
"Do go!" she said to him, imploringly. "I'd like to be a few
minutes--alone--before they come back."
He saw her settle herself by the fire, her hands stretched out to the
blaze. Seeing that the fire was low, and remembering the chill of her
hands in his, he looked around for the wood-basket which was generally
kept in a corner behind the piano.
His movement was suddenly arrested. He was looking towards the
uncurtained window. The night had grown pitch dark outside, and there
were splashes of rain against the glass. But he distinctly saw as he
turned a man's face pressed against the glass--a strained, sallow, face,
framed in straggling black hair, a face with regular features, and eyes
deeply set in blackened orbits. It was a face of hatred; the lips tightly
drawn over the teeth, seemed to have a curse on them.
The vision lasted only a moment. Ellesborough's trained instinct, the
wary instinct of the man who had parsed days and nights with nature in
her wilder and lonelier places, checked the exclamation on his lips. And
before he could move again, the face had disappeared. The old holly bush
growing against the farm wall, from which the apparition seemed to have
sprung, was still there, some of its glossy leaves visible in the bright
light of the paraffin lamp which stood on the table near the window. And
there was nothing else.
Ellesborough quietly walked to the window, drew down the blind, and
pulled the curtains together. Rachel looked around at the sound.
"Didn't I do that?" she said, half dreamily.
"We forgot!" He smiled at her. "Now it's all cosy. Ah, there they are!
Perhaps I'll get Janet to come as far as the road with me." For voices
were approaching--Janet talking to the girls. Rachel looked up,
assenting. The colour had rushed back to her face. Ellesborough took in
the picture of her, sitting unconscious by the fire, while his own
pulse was thumping under the excitement of what he had seen.
With a last word to her, he closed the sitting-room door behind him, and
went out to meet Janet Leighton in the dark.