by Elinor Glyn
XIV
I lay and wondered and wondered what were Alathea's emotions after Ileft her. Should I ever know? When the hour was up I went back into thesitting-room. I had struggled against the awful depression which wasovercoming me. I suppose every man has committed some action he is sorryand ashamed of, forced thereto by some emotion, either of anger ordesire, which has been too strong for his will to control--. This is theway murders must often have been committed, and other crimes--I had notthe slightest intention of behaving like a cad--or of doing anythingwhich I knew would probably part us forever.--If my insult had beendeliberate or planned, I would have held her longer, and knowing I wasgoing to lose her by my action, I would have profited by it. As I lay onmy bed in great pain from the wrench in getting there alone--I tried toanalyse things. The nervous excitement in which she always plunges memust have come to the culminating point. The only thing I was glad aboutwas that I had not attempted to ask forgiveness, or to palliate myconduct. If I had done so she would undoubtedly have walked straight outof the hotel--but having just had the sense to leave her to think for awhile--perhaps--?
Well--I was sitting in my chair--feeling some kind of numbanguish--which I suppose those going to be hanged experience, whenBurton brought in my tea--and I heard no sound of clicking next door--Iasked him as naturally as I could if Miss Sharp had gone--.
"Yes, Sir Nicholas," he answered, and the shock, even though it wasexpected, was so great that for a second I closed my eye.
She had left a note, he further added,--putting the envelope down on thetable beside the tray--.
I made myself light a cigarette and not open it, and I made myself saycasually--
"I am afraid she feels her brother's death dreadfully, Burton!"
"The poor young lady, Sir Nicholas!--She must have kept up brave likeall the time this morning, and then after lunch when I come in--whileyou were resting, Sir--it got too much for her, I expect, sittin'alone--for she was sobbin' like to break her heart--as I opened thedoor. She looked that forlorn and huddled up--give you my word, SirNicholas--I was near blubberin' myself."
"I am so awfully sorry--What did you do, Burton?"
"I said, '--Let me bring you a nice cup of tea, Miss.'--It is alwaysbest to bring ladies tea when they are upset, Sir Nicholas, as you mayknow--She thanked me sweet like, as she always does--and I made so boldas to say how sorry I was, and I did hope she had not had any extratrouble to deal with over it; and how I'd be so glad to advance her hernext week's salary if it would be any convenience to her--knowingfunerals and doctors is expensive--Out of my own money of course I gaveher to understand--because I knew she'd be bound to refuse yours, SirNicholas.
"--At that her tears burst out afresh--She had no glasses on, and shelooked no more than sixteen years old, give you my word Sir--She thankedme like as if it was something real kind I'd thought of--I felt sort ofashamed I could not do more--
"Then she seemed to be having a struggle with herself--just as if she'drather die than take anything from anybody--and yet knew she had to--Sheturned them, blue eyes on me streamin' with tears, and I had to turnaway, Sir Nicholas--I had really.--
"'Burton,' she says--. 'Have you ever felt that you wanted to be deadand done with it all--that you couldn't fight any more?'
--"'I can't say as I have, Miss,' I answered her--'but I know my masterfeels that way often--' Perhaps she felt kinder, sorry for you too, SirNicholas, because as I said that, she gave a sort of extra sharp sob andburied her face in her hands--.
"I slipped out of the room then and brought the tea as quick as I couldyou may believe me Sir--and by that time she had pulled herselftogether--'It is stupid to have any proud feelings--if you have to workBurton' she said--'I will be--grateful for the loan of your money--and Iam happy to have such a friend' ... and she put out her little bit of ahand--She did, Sir Nicholas--and I never felt so proud in my life--She'sjust a real lady to her finger tips. She is, Sir--I shook it as gentleas I could, and then was obliged to blow my nose, I felt thatblubberish--I left the room at once, and when I come back for the tray,and to bring the money she had her hat on, and the note written for youSir--I took the violets and began putting them in the box for her totake--but she stopped me--.
"'Violets fade so soon--I will not take them, thanks,' she said--'I haveto do some shopping before I go home and I could not carry them.' But Iknew it was not that.--She did not want to take them--perhaps she feltshe'd given up enough of her pride to take my money--for one day--So Isaid nothing,--but that I did hope she would be feeling better by thetime she came to the _appartement_ on Saturday. She did not speak, shejust nodded her head and smiled kind like at me and went."
I could not answer Burton--I too just nodded my head--and the dear oldboy left me alone--My very heart seemed bursting with pain andremorse--When he had gone--I seized the letter and opened it.
* * * * *
"To Sir Nicholas Thormonde, Bart, V.C.," (it began, and then)
"Dear Sir:
Circumstances force me to work--so I shall have to remain in your service--if you require me. I am unfortunately quite defenceless, so I appeal to whatever chivalry there is in you not to make it so impossible that I must again give in my resignation.
Yours faithfully, A. Sharp."
* * * * *
I fell back in my chair in an agony of emotion--My darling! Myqueen!--whose very footprints I worship--to have had to write such aletter--to me!
The unspeakable brute beast I felt! All my cynical calculations aboutwomen fell from me--I saw myself as I had been all day--utterlyselfish--not really feeling for her grief, only making capital out of itfor my own benefit--. At that moment, and for the rest of the day andnight, I suffered every shade of self reproach and abasement a man canfeel. And next day I had to stay in bed because I had done some stupidthing to my leg in lying down without help.
When I knew I could not get into Paris by Saturday when Alathea was tocome to the flat--I sent Burton in with a note to the shop in the AvenueMosart.
"Dear Miss Sharp--(I wrote)
"I am deeply grateful for your magnanimity. I am utterly ashamed of my weakness--and you will not have called upon my chivalry in vain, I promise you.--I have to stay in bed, so I cannot be at the flat, and if you receive this in time I shall be obliged if you will come out here again on Saturday.
Yours very truly, Nicholas Thormonde."
Then I never slept all night with thoughts of longing and wondering ifshe would get it soon enough to come.
Over and over in my vision I saw the picture of her sitting there inBurton's room sobbing--My action was the last straw--My shamefulaction!--Burton showed the good taste and the sympathy and understandingfor her which I should have done--. And to think that she is troubledabout money, so that she had to take a loan from my dear oldservitor--far greater gentleman than I am--. And that I cannot be theleast use to her--and may not help her in any way! I can go on no longerin this anguish--as soon as I feel that peace is in the smallest measurerestored between us--I will ask her to marry me, just so that I can giveher everything. I shall tell her that I expect nothing from her--onlythe right to help her family and give her prosperity and peace--.
* * * * *
_Sunday:_
I was still in bed on Saturday morning at eleven--the Doctor came out tosee me very early and insisted that I be kept quite still untilMonday--So Burton had my bed table brought, and all my papers andthings--There had come a number of letters to answer, and he had askedme if Miss Sharp could not do them as soon as she arrived.
"Burton, perhaps she'll feel not quite at ease with me alone in herelike this. Could you not make some excuse to be tidying drawers andstay while I am dictating," I said.<
br />
"Very good, Sir Nicholas."
When he replies with those words I know that he is agreeing--withreservations--.
"Out with what you are thinking, Burton."
"Well, Sir Nicholas"--and he coughed--"Miss Sharp--is that understandin'sh'd know in a minute your things wasn't likely to be in a mess, andthat you'd got me there on purpose--It might make her awkward like--."
"You may be right, we will see how things turn out."
Presently I heard Alathea in the sitting-room and Burton went in to seeher.
"Sir Nicholas is very poorly to-day, Miss"--I heard him say--"The Doctorwon't let him out of bed--I wonder if you'd be so kind as to take downhis letters--they are too much for him himself not being able to situp--and I have not the time."
"Of course I will, Burton," her soft voice answered.
"I've put the table and everything ready--and I thank you kindly--"Burton went on--"I am glad to see you looking better, Miss."
I listened intently--It seemed as if I could hear her taking off herhat--and then she came into the room to me--but by that time my heartwas beating so that I could not speak loud.
I said "good morning" in some half voice, and she answered thesame--then she came forward to the table. Her dear little face was verypale and there was something pathetic in the droop of her lips--herhands, I noticed, were again not so red--.
"All the letters are there"--and I pointed to the pile--"It will be sogood of you if you will do them now."
She took each one up and handed it to me without speaking and I dictatedthe answer.--I had had one from Suzette that morning thanking me for thevilla--but I was clearly under the impression that I had put it with theone from Maurice and one from Daisy Ryven at the other side of the bed,so I had no anxiety about it--Then suddenly I saw Alathea's cheeks flamecrimson and her mouth shut with a snap--and I realized that the irony offate had fallen upon me again, and that she had picked up Suzette'slavender tinted, highly scented missive. She handed it to me without aword--.
The letter ended:
"_Adieu Nicholas! tu es, Toujours Mon Adore Ta Suzette._"
but the way it was folded only showed "_Toujours Mon Adore--TaSuzette_"--and this much Alathea had certainly seen--.
I felt as if there was some evil imp laughing in the room--There wasnothing to be said or done. I could not curse aloud--so I simply tookthe letter, put it with Daisy Ryven's--and indicated that I was waitingfor the next one to be handed to me--So Alathea continued her work.--Butcould anything be more maddening--more damnably provoking!--andinopportune--Why must the shadow of Suzette fall upon me all the time?--
This of course will make any renewal of even the coldest friendlinessimpossible, between my little girl and me--. I cannot ask her to marryme now, and perhaps not for a long time, if ever the chance comes to meagain, in any case. Her attitude, carriage of head, and expression ofmouth, showed contempt, as she finished the short-hand notes. And thenshe rose and went into the other room to type, closing the door afterher.
And I lay there shivering with rage and chagrin.
I saw no more of Alathea that morning--She had her lunch in thesitting-room alone, and Burton brought the dishes in to me, and afterluncheon he insisted that I should sleep for an hour until half-past twoo'clock. He had some accounts for Miss Sharp to do, he said.
I was so exhausted that when I did fall asleep I slept until nearlyfour--and awoke with a start and an agony of apprehension that she mighthave gone--but no--Burton said she was still there when I rang forhim--and I asked her to come in again--.
We went over one of the earlier chapters in the book and I made somealterations in it; she never showed the slightest interest, nor did shespeak--; she merely took down what I told her to--.
"Do you think that will do now?" I asked when it was complete.
"Yes."
Tea came in then for us both.--She poured it out, still without utteringa word--she remembered my taste of no sugar or milk, and put the cupnear me so that I could reach it. She handed me the plate of those nastymake-believe biscuits, which is all we can get now--then she drank herown tea.
The atmosphere had grown so tense it was supremely uncomfortable. I feltthat I must break the ice.
"How I wish there was a piano here," I remarked _a propos_ ofnothing--and of course she greeted this, with her usual silence.
"I am feeling so rotten if I could hear some music it would make mebetter."
She made the faintest movement with her head, to show me I suppose thatshe was listening respectfully, but saw no occasion to reply.
I felt so unspeakably wretched and helpless and useless lying there, Ihad not the pluck to go on trying to talk, so I closed my eye and laystill, and then I heard Alathea rise and softly go towards the door--.
"I will type this at home--and return it to the flat on Tuesday if thatwill be all right," she said--and: I answered:
"Thank you" and turned my face to the wall--And after a little, when shehad gone, Burton came in and gave me the medicine the Doctor had toldhim to give me, he said--but I have a strong suspicion it was simplyasperine, for then I fell into a dreamy sleep and forgot my aching bodyand my troubled mind.
And now I am much better in health again--and am back in Paris andto-night Maurice, up from Deauville at last, is coming to dine with me.
But what is the good of it all?
