"You'll feel all right in the morning," he said. He kissed her crown of
hair and departed toward his own rooms--those that had been Basil's.
She heard him stirring about, first in his study just across the hall,
then in his bedroom. Half an hour, and she went on the balcony, to the
corner of the house, to see if his lights still showed. All his windows
were dark. She returned, listened at his door. No sound. She stole
down the stairs, unlatched the lake-front door, went out. She strolled
across the lawn, in full view--for the moon was rising. At the edge of
the shadows made by the bushes round the summer house, she halted.
"Basil!" she called softly.
He came from the summer house and stood before her. "It's safer to stay
here," she said. "We can watch the house."
He made no protest. He took her hands, drew her to his breast. Never
before had he touched her without feeling the glow and surge of passion;
now he had no sense of her physical beauty, of her physical charm, only
sense of the being he loved.
"Forgive me the horrible things I said, Courtney," he murmured. "It
wasn't I that was speaking. It was the beginnings of what I was fast
becoming."
"I know, I know," she answered. "Kiss me, dear."
Their lips met in a caress of tenderness. When she spoke again she
said: "Dear love, I never felt before how much you care."
"I never realized before. I'm beginning to realize. You won't be long
about arranging the divorce?"
"You must not get impatient--or misunderstand--if I'm longer than you
expect."
"I'll not misunderstand."
"There's Winchie, you know. I must have Winchie."
"Yes, indeed. You'll accomplish it," he said confidently. "Be careful
not to tell him too much. Even if he doesn't really love you, there's
his vanity. And that's often stronger in a man than anything else."
"I'll not forget what's at stake.... He suspects that you love me."
"I was afraid so, and this evening I told him I was engaged. He looked
astounded."
"I can tell him that I love you, and he will think-- No--no--what am I
saying? Lies, always lies! ... I'll do the best I can, Basil."
"I know you will."
"You see now I was right in feeling you must go?"
"I felt it, Courtney, the moment we three stood together there in my
room--though I wouldn't admit it to myself. If I stayed, there'd be a
crime, or a scandal that'd spatter you with mud and brand you with
shame. It simply could not be otherwise."
"I haven't told you the real deep-down reason why I felt you must go."
"No," he said. "Your real reason was the same as mine."
"Because it was all so vulgar and--and cheap?"
"Cheap--that's it!" he exclaimed. "Cheap!"
"I could stand it," she went on, "to commit and to have you commit, big,
bold sins, scarlet and black. I might even glory in it. I wasn't a bit
ashamed that first night. I think I even got a sort of joy out of
defying all I'd been brought up to believe was moral and right and
lady-like. But-- Not when we stood there, like two caught sneak
thieves."
"That was it, Courtney," eagerly assented he. And he went on, in a tone
in which a less love-blinded woman might have detected an accent of
repentance for masculine thoughts of disrespect: "No wonder I love you!
How happy we shall be, when you're free. How good and pure you are--and
innocent. It needn't be long--in this State--need it?"
"I think not," she laughed. "Being a judge's daughter, I ought to know.
But I don't."
"Look there!" he exclaimed, gazing toward the house.
She turned, saw a figure at the east corner of the house, apparently
looking toward where they were standing. The figure moved. "Nanny,"
she said under her breath. "I must go."
He caught her to his breast; for an instant they clung together, then
with a last lingering handclasp, she left him, to emerge from the deep
shadow of the trees and stroll back across the lawn. Presently she
pretended to catch sight of Nanny, halted, changed her course, went
toward her. "What is it, Nanny?" she asked.
Nanny turned without a word, started to go back toward her kitchen.
"Nanny!" said she sharply.
The old woman stopped, turned.
"What do you mean by not answering me when I speak to you?"
"I didn't know as you expected an answer," replied Nanny, sullen and
cowed, but insolent underneath.
"I asked you what you were doing here?"
The two women looked straight into each other's eyes. "I just came out
to get a breath of air--like you," said Nanny. "I don't see as there's
any harm in that."
"Certainly not," said Courtney. And she resumed her stroll, back and
forth across the lawn for three quarters of an hour.
She did not come down to breakfast. About nine o'clock Richard, at the
Smoke House, called her on the telephone.
"Gallatin cleared out on the midnight express," said he. "Now, what do
you think of that?"
"Why?"
"He left a note saying good-by and explaining that he found he could
make better time."
"Well?"
"Don't you think it a little queer?"
"No."
"Anyhow, he's gone. I feel better already. Don't you?"
"I can't say I do."
"Well--I'll see you at dinner."
"Yes--good-by."
She returned to her sitting room, all in a glow. Basil had gone because
he, sensitive and honorable, wished to spare himself the hypocrisy of a
farewell handshake with Richard--"and to end the suspense," she added.
"The suspense!" And she struck her hands against her throbbing temples.
A few days and there came from New York a crate of orchids, with only
his card. "That's what I call decent and very handsome," declared
Vaughan, roused to enthusiasm by this attention. "I must say I rather
miss Basil, now that he's really gone. Don't you?"
"Yes," said Courtney.
"Which means no. Don't even these orchids soften your heart? Think how
he used to let you work him. Oh, women! women! Orchids cost a lot of
money, don't they?"
"Some kinds."
"When you write thanking him, do put cordiality and friendliness into
the note."
"Very well."
She sent eighteen closely written pages--a line about the orchids, the
rest an outpouring of love and longing--a sad letter, yet hopeful--and
ending with the injunction that it be left unanswered. "You must not
write until you hear from me," she said. "And that will be soon--soon,
my love, my Basil!"