He dropped her hands and sprang up. "You don't care a pin for me! You
love him!"
She could not endure that. "I don't, but--oh, can't you see? How can
I? I did it myself--he's done nothing since; what right have I to make
all this scandal just--just to be happy? Isn't there something higher?
I've--I've got to take my punishment."
He looked at her with a set face, blanched until the tan showed in a
band across his brow and cheeks.
"And how about me? Am I to be punished too?"
She got up then and went to him and put her arms around his neck; he
felt her shivering from head to foot. "John, do you want to kill me?
I can't bear any more. You know I love you. I'm trying hard to do the
right thing just because I have to; I've been almost wicked in thinking
of it, but now, John--you've got to go."
"See here, Rachel, I've always tried to be straight, to be honest, but
I'm a scoundrel now. I told Belhaven I was making love to you and I
am. I'd--I'd take you away with me this minute if you'd go! He'd get a
divorce then."
She smiled faintly, looking up at his drawn face. "No, you wouldn't,
you'd never do it,--when you thought of it, John,--because--I think you
love me."
"That's what causes it--I mean elopements, isn't it?"
She shook her head. "No, because when a man really loves a woman he
won't dishonor her."
"Well, that's why I've let you stay here. If it wasn't for that I'd
have taken that--that fellow and thrown him in the river and carried
you off. Rachel, I won't give you up!"
She slipped out of his arms again and made her way uncertainly back to
her seat. "You've got to go over there now, John."
"To Astry's?" He glanced at the clock. "I've got ten minutes and I'm
not sure I'll go at all."
She made a queer little gesture with her hands, as if she fought for
breath, but he did not see it.
"You've got to go," she said gently, "because--because I can't have you
here any longer. We're not in our senses to-night; we can't talk it
over."
"You told me to go before, but what good did it do? We're no better
off, we won't be any better off, until I make him give you up."
"I've set myself up to be good, I've made him think me so; he believes
in me, but you--I see you don't, John."
His amazement made him swing around and stare at her blankly. "What do
you mean?"
"If you believed in me--even a little bit--you'd see that I've got to
do the right thing."
"I believe in you so much that I think you're too good; you're
sacrificing yourself and you're sacrificing me too for an idea. I've
got to the point where I don't care a fig for ideas; it doesn't matter
to me if they did make you stand up and marry that--marry him--to save
Eva. I'd like to smash everything out of my way; I want to set you
free, I must!"
"You can't--there's no way out. I've just got to be punished!"
"For what, pray? For being an angel to your sister? For pitying
that--that fellow?"
"No, for marrying him just because--"
"Because what?"
"Because I thought you loved some one else."
"Good Lord!"
"Well, that's it. I'm just as wicked and silly as that!"
"Look here, Rachel, this kills me! I did it, I was the fool, the
lumpkin, the gumpy, who couldn't write a decent letter. I can't see why
you didn't know!"
"Oh!" she wrung her hands together hysterically, "how can you? Can't
you see that no woman could know? But that's no excuse. I did it and
I've just got to suffer for it; I can't ruin my sister now!"
He did not reply, he could not, without risk of consigning Eva to that
limbo of forgetfulness to which furious men assign unworthy objects.
He planted himself firmly opposite to her, looking like a tower of
strength, his face still blanched but his blue eyes kindled.
"I swear I won't give you up. I told him so too."
"To-day?"
"The other day. I told him to-day I was coming here before I went
to Astry's. I told him after I found out you weren't going there. I
thought I should meet you; I didn't want to come into his house, but I
had to."
She looked down thoughtfully, clasping her hands again.
"He told me to-night, he offered to set me free; don't you think it was
fine in him really?"
"I don't think it fine to do what you've got to, if you're an honest
man!"
"Even when it's hard to do?"
"Oh, I know he's in love with you--damn him!"
"John!"
"I beg your pardon."
"It wasn't the language," she smiled feebly. "It was--to feel like
that. I--I don't want him to love me."
"I suppose you thought a man could live here day after day and look at
you as if you were a--well, a broomstick!" He was deeply sarcastic now,
for he was furious; the pang was deeper than jealousy, it was rending
his being.
Rachel saw his pain, and would have given the world to comfort him, to
lay her hand on his crisp blond hair, to touch his cheek, but she dared
only to get up from her chair and move further away from him. "John,
you've got to go; you'll be late now and--"
"Well, he knows I was coming."
"That doesn't matter--please," she looked at him gently, almost humbly,
"please don't make people talk. I want to be proud of you."
He walked straight across the room and took her in his arms and kissed
her. "I'm going; I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head if I died for it,
I'm willing to die to keep you safe; I'm going--God bless you, it's
like death, Rachel, for I know you're sending me away, but I adore you
for being just what you are!"
She kept on her feet until he went out, and stood still, by the table,
with the soft light on her, but when she heard the door close behind
him, she crumpled down into a pitiful, little heap on the floor, her
head buried in the cushions of her chair, and she heard nothing, not
even the storm; it seemed to her that it was more than she could bear!