Rachel nodded; she could not speak, she felt as if a net had been
spread around her feet,--a long, floating net, like those she had seen
the fishermen draw up in the Sound, and that it was closing in.
Eva turned her head on her friend's shoulder. "Johnstone thinks it's
best to have it soon."
Pamela tried to look vacant. "Of course it's the best way," she
admitted; "a wedding does hang over one so. I nearly turned gray with
fright while I was thinking of mine; it took the whole family to screw
up my courage, and poor, dear Paul says he was in a perfect funk. Do
you remember what a crush it was? I'd never have another like it;
that's what I tell Paul when I want to frighten him. I suppose Lottie
Prynne is rehearsing to duplicate hers; Paul says she's engaged to my
cousin. You remember John Charter, Rachel?"
But Rachel was gone; she had stolen out of the room while Pamela was
talking to Eva.
V
Having yielded to Eva's urgent request to stay a little longer, it was
not until the following afternoon that Pamela and her husband returned
to the city. Their departure broke up the week-end party, some of the
others having drifted away during the earlier hours of the day. Of
course Rachel had to undergo a second ordeal at parting.
"I'm not going to congratulate you," said Paul Van Citters bluntly.
"Belhaven's a fortunate man."
In the carriage Pamela reproached him. "How could you, Paul? You put
your foot in it!"
"Hanged if I care!" he retorted hotly. "She's throwing herself away and
she looks as if she knew it. What in thunder do you women marry brutes
for?"
"I don't know," replied Pamela demurely. "Some ask why I married you,
dear."
Mrs. Billop pecked Rachel on both cheeks; her manner was almost as
motherly and warming as a teapot cosy. "My dear, I'd love to see you
married, but I quite understand quiet weddings are so much better
taste; when we're really in love we don't want 'the madding crowd.'
Sidney and I have ordered you a little present, a dainty trifle." It
came later, a banqueting-lamp four feet high, and it looked like the
givers. "I hope you'll love it for our sakes, dear."
Rachel thanked her and held out a weary hand to Sidney.
Colonel Sedley had ordered a farewell bouquet of orchids for Rachel and
he got through his ordeal with a red face. The colonel was innocent of
guile but he could not reconcile himself to Belhaven. He wrung Astry's
hand at parting.
"You're losing the finest woman in the world in your sister-in-law.
Oh, of course Mrs. Astry's lovely, but Rachel--to tell you the truth,
Astry, I'm cut up; I wanted her to marry my favorite."
"You mean John Charter?"
"I do; he's going to feel this."
"He's to marry Mrs. Prynne."
"Oh, damn!" said the colonel, and plunged out into the omnibus, in
which Mrs. Billop, Sidney, and Mrs. Prynne were already packed.
Astry's big, gray horses were prancing impatiently, and as soon as the
footman had closed the door on the colonel's irate form, the carriage
rolled away down the long drive from the terrace and disappeared at
last through the picturesque Georgian gateway.
The presence of guests had been distinctly uncomfortable in the
strained relations of the household, but this disappearance of the
last--old Dr. Macclesfield and Count Massena had left early in the
morning--plunged the group in the hall into a sudden panic. Eva took
instant flight up-stairs, scarcely allowing them more than a vanishing
view of her trailing draperies as she turned the last wide curve above
the landing. Belhaven retired awkwardly toward the library, a retreat
which offered only a new refinement of torment if Astry chose to follow
him. But Astry did not; he remained standing at Rachel's side in the
big doorway.
It was late afternoon and the western sun streamed over the
close-cropped lawns, drenched the terrace in light, and reached across
the tessellated floor to the hem of Rachel's white dress. The glow of
it even penetrated the shadowy corners of the large hall and the warmth
and fragrance of early spring breathed itself upon the atmosphere.
A glint caught on the mediaeval arms that hung on the darkening
walls. Astry had collected armor and carvings, curious ivories, and
hideous, little Indian gods and Chinese idols, from every corner of
the world. Here and there in the house cropped up a curiosity or
an odd decoration, but his greatest treasures were gathered in his
smoking-room. The world supposed that Astry was an agnostic; some of
his intimates said that he was a Buddhist. The fact was that no one
really knew him, for he guarded the peculiarities of his personality
as carefully as the Veiled Prophet hid his face. He stood beside his
sister-in-law and watched the omnibus leave the gate and, traveling
down the long shaded road, disappear abruptly over the hill, as if
it had plunged over the side of the universe. As abruptly they felt
themselves to be alone.
Rachel, who had rather dreaded this moment, was astonished to find
herself so tranquil. In the last few days she had become certain that
Astry did not believe Eva's monstrous charge against her; what he
really believed she found it impossible to imagine. That he could know
his wife's folly and her cowardly makeshift to save herself, and yet
force this terrible alternative upon her sister, Rachel herself did
not believe. That he had probably thought Eva guilty of the worst was
not unnatural, for the evidence, barring Eva's story about her sister,
was overwhelmingly against her. Tortured between contending emotions,
Rachel did not attempt to fathom her brother-in-law's conclusions; she
had even ceased to consider his actions. She was wholly absorbed in the
contemplation of the fast approaching event; her marriage to Belhaven
had become a terror that walked by night and dwelt with her by day. She
stood looking out into the sunshine and counting the hours that were
left to her.
Astry's voice startled her.
"Marriage is a serious step, my dear Rachel," he said calmly, "a step
that needs meditation; like hanging, it's usually fatal."
Rachel met his eyes. "I'd be glad of more time," she said quickly.
He shook his head, smiling slightly, though his eyes did not smile.
"I have Belhaven to think of; I really couldn't stand him a day over
Thursday."
Rachel made a little impatient gesture as if she had meant to speak
and suddenly withdrawn into herself. His words seemed to imply a doubt
of Eva that Rachel could not refute, and she was filled with dismay at
her own helplessness. She could not defend her sister without impugning
herself, she could not defend herself without traducing her sister.
Eva's lie had been double-edged and, like all lies, it required a
hundred falsehoods to hedge it in. She was silent.
Astry began to walk to and fro across the hall, his hands in his
pockets, his head bent. At last, just as Rachel turned to go, he spoke
again.
"Rachel, you don't want to marry this man," he looked keenly at her,
"if it isn't true,--if--I'll take your word for it--if it's not
compromising you, I want to know it."
The full significance of his words forcing itself upon Rachel,
she flushed darkly. "You don't think I'm like--that!" she cried
involuntarily.
He stood still and she felt his eyes on her.
"Then it isn't true! Good God, Rachel, why did you consent?"
She realized her danger, the possibility that his mind had leaped to a
conclusion, the right one.
"Because," she said slowly, dragging out the words, "the situation was
compromising--"
"I don't believe it! I did at first; I was mad, furious, but now--I
know it isn't true. I believe that Eva--"
"You mustn't believe anything wrong of Eva!" she cried.
"What am I to believe then? This is maddening. But I'll get the truth
yet. I can't make you women speak out, but, at least, Belhaven--"
"That's it, you've made it so--you've threatened to kill him!"
"You mean he's been a cur?"
She was silent.
Astry halted in his pacing to regard her sternly; he felt that she
was defeating him, whether because she would not help him, or through
some inadvertence, he did not know, but what he saw was her figure
against the afternoon sunshine, the subtle grace of the long lines, the
delicately poised head and slender throat, and her beauty, which had
always appealed keenly to his senses, drove him on to exasperation.
He resumed with a new and bitter emphasis. "Rachel, there's only one
explanation: Eva hasn't told me the whole truth. I've always thought
you'd be square with me--what is it?"
She drew a long breath of misery. "I said that the situation would
compromise me now," she dragged it out slowly again, "that I must marry
him."
This was too much. Astry flung himself away with an inarticulate curse.
Rachel stood a moment looking after him, realizing it all, hot with
shame and anger, then she turned and ran up-stairs. As she went, one
of the parrots in the conservatory shrieked out its mocking cry, "Eva,
Eva!" and she covered her ears with her hands and ran on to Eva's door.
It was closed, but Rachel opened it and burst into the room, her face
flushed and agitated, and running over to the lounge, she flung herself
down and buried her head in the sofa-pillows.
Eva started to her feet with a little, frightened cry and then stood
looking at her, waiting, but Rachel said nothing; she only continued to
hide her face in the pillows, her whole body shaking with emotion.
"Rachel, what is it? Oh, what's happened?"
"It's Johnstone!" Rachel's voice was muffled by the pillows.