With the morning came full consciousness; I realized bitterly all that
had happened, but I was no longer inclined to bemoan my fate. My senses
were stricken, as it seemed, too numb and rigid for any further outbreak
of passion. A hard callousness took the place of outraged feeling; and
though despair was in my heart, my mind was made up to one stern
resolve,--I would look upon Sibyl no more. Never again should that fair
face, the deceitful mask of a false nature, tempt my sight and move me
to pity or forgiveness,--that I determined. Leaving the room in which I
had passed the night, I went to my study and wrote the following
letter;--
Sibyl.
After the degrading and disgraceful scene of last night you must be
aware that any further intercourse between us is impossible. Prince
Rimânez and I are leaving for London; we shall not return. You can
continue to reside at Willowsmere,--the house is yours,--and the
half of my fortune unconditionally settled upon you on our
marriage-day will enable you to keep up the fashions of your 'set,'
and live with that luxury and extravagance you deem necessary to an
'aristocratic' position. I have decided to travel,--and I intend to
make such arrangements as may prevent, if possible, our ever meeting
again,--though I shall of course do my best for my own sake, to
avoid any scandal. To reproach you for your conduct would be
useless; you are lost to all sense of shame. You have abased
yourself in the humiliation of a guilty passion before a man who
despises you,--who, in his own loyal and noble nature, hates you for
your infidelity and hypocrisy,--and I can find no pardon for the
wrong you have thus done to me, and the injury you have brought upon
my name. I leave you to the judgment of your own conscience,--if you
have one,--which is doubtful. Such women as you, are seldom troubled
with remorse. It is not likely you will ever see me or the man to
whom you have offered your undesired love again,--make of your life
what you can or will, I am indifferent to your movements, and for my
own part, shall endeavour as much as may be, to forget that you
exist.
Your husband,
Geoffrey Tempest.
This letter, folded and sealed, I sent to my wife in her own apartments
by her maid,--the girl came back and said she had delivered it, but that
there was no answer. Her ladyship had a severe headache and meant to
keep her room that morning. I expressed just as much civil regret as a
confidential maid would naturally expect from the newly-wedded husband
of her mistress,--and then, giving instructions to my man Morris to pack
my portmanteau, I partook of a hurried breakfast with Lucio in more or
less silence and constraint, for the servants were in attendance, and I
did not wish them to suspect that anything was wrong. For their benefit,
I gave out that my friend and I were called suddenly to town on urgent
business,--that we might be absent a couple of days, perhaps
longer,--and that any special message or telegram could be sent on to me
at Arthur's Club. I was thankful when we at last got away,--when the
tall, picturesque red gables of Willowsmere vanished from my sight,--and
when finally, seated in a railway smoking-carriage reserved for our two
selves, we were able to watch the miles of distance gradually extending
between us and the beautiful autumnal woods of poet-haunted
Warwickshire. For a long time we kept silence, turning over and
pretending to read the morning's papers,--till presently flinging down
the dull and wearisome 'Times' sheet, I sighed heavily, and leaning
back, closed my eyes.
"I am truly very much distressed about all this;" said Lucio then, with
extreme gentleness and suavity--"It seems to me that _I_ am the adverse
element in the affair. If Lady Sibyl had never seen _me_,----"
"Why, then I should never have seen _her_!" I responded bitterly--"It
was through you I met her first."
"True!" and he eyed me thoughtfully--"I am very unfortunately
placed!--it is almost as if I were to blame, though no-one could be more
innocent or well-intentioned than myself!" He smiled,--then went on very
gravely--"I really should avoid scandalous gossip if I were you,--I do
not speak of my own involuntary share in the disaster,--what people say
of me is quite immaterial; but for the lady's sake----"
"For my own sake I shall try to avoid it;" I said brusquely, whereat his
eyes glittered strangely--"It is myself I have to consider most of all.
I shall, as I hinted to you this morning, travel for a few years."
"Yes,--go on a tiger-hunting expedition in India,"--he suggested--"Or
kill elephants in Africa. It is what a great many men do when their
wives forget themselves. Several well-known husbands are abroad just
now!"
Again the brilliant enigmatical smile flashed over his face,--but I
could not smile in answer. I stared moodily out of the window at the
bare autumnal fields, past which the train flew,--bare of
harvest,--stripped of foliage--like my own miserable life.
"Come and winter with me in Egypt,"--he continued--"Come in my yacht
'The Flame,'--we will take her to Alexandria,--and then do the Nile in a
dahabeah, and forget that such frivolous dolls as women exist except to
be played with by us 'superior' creatures and thrown aside."
"Egypt----the Nile!" I murmured,--somehow the idea pleased
me--"Yes,----why not?"
"Why not indeed!" he echoed--"The proposal is agreeable to you I am
sure. Come and see the land of the old gods,--the land where my princess
used to live and torture the souls of men!--perhaps we may discover the
remains of her last victim,----who knows!"
I avoided his gaze;--the recollection of the horrible winged thing he
persisted in imagining to be the transmigrated soul of an evil woman,
was repugnant to me. Almost I felt as if there were some subtle
connection between that hateful creature and my wife Sibyl. I was glad
when the train reached London, and we, taking a hansom, were plunged
into the very vortex of human life. The perpetual noise of traffic,
the motley crowds of people, the shouting of news-boys and
omnibus-conductors,--all this hubbub was grateful to my ears, and for a
time at least, distracted my thoughts. We lunched at the Savoy, and
amused ourselves with noting the town noodles of fashion,--the inane
young man in the stocks of the stiff high collar, and wearing the
manacles of equally stiff and exaggerated cuffs, a veritable prisoner in
the dock of silly custom,--the frivolous fool of a woman, painted and
powdered, with false hair and dyed eyebrows, trying to look as much like
a paid courtezan as possible,--the elderly matron, skipping forward on
high heels, and attempting by the assumption of juvenile airs and graces
to cover up and conceal the obtrusive facts of a too obvious paunch and
overlapping bosom,--the would-be dandy and 'beau' of seventy, strangely
possessed by youthful desires, and manifesting the same by goat-like
caperings at the heels of young married women;--these and such-like
contemptible units of a contemptible social swarm, passed before us like
puppets at a country fair, and aroused us in turn to laughter or
disdain. While we yet lingered over our wine, a man came in alone, and
sat down at the table next to ours;--he had with him a book, which,
after giving his orders for luncheon, he at once opened at a marked
place and began to read with absorbed attention,--I recognised the
cover of the volume and knew it to be Mavis Clare's "Differences." A
haze floated before my sight,--a sensation of rising tears was in my
throat,--I saw the fair face, earnest eyes, and sweet smile of
Mavis,--that woman-wearer of the laurel-crown,--that keeper of the
lilies of purity and peace. Alas, those lilies!--they were for me
"des fleurs étranges,[3]
Avec leurs airs de sceptres d'anges;
De thyrses lumineux pour doigts de séraphins,--
Leurs parfums sont trop forts, tout ensemble, et trop fins!"
I shaded my eyes with one hand,--yet under that shade I felt that Lucio
watched me closely. Presently he spoke softly, just as if he had read my
thoughts.
"Considering the effect a perfectly innocent woman has on the mind of
even an evil man, it's strange, isn't it that there are so few of them!"