The Bars of Iron

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A FRIEND'S COUNSEL

  When Piers went to dress that night he found two letters laid discreetlyupon his table, awaiting perusal.

  Victor, busily engaged in laying out his clothes, cast a wicked eye backover his shoulder as his young master pounced upon them, then with ashrug resumed his task, smiling to himself the while.

  Both letters were addressed in womanly handwriting, but Piers wentunerringly to the one he most desired to read. His hands shook a littleas he opened it, but he caught sight of his Christian name at the head ofit and breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Dear Piers,"--so in clear, decided writing the message ran,--"I havewondered many times if I ought to be angry as well as sorry over thatletter of yours. It was audacious, wasn't it? Only I know so well thatyou did not mean to hurt me when you wrote it. But, Piers, what I saidbefore, you compel me to say again. This thing must stop. You say you arenot a boy, so I shall not treat you as such. But indeed you must take myword for it when I tell you that I shall never marry again.

  "I want to be quite honest with you, so you mustn't think that my twoyears of married life were by any means idyllic. They were not. The man Imarried was a failure, but I loved him, and because I loved him Ifollowed him to the world's end. We were engaged two years before wemarried. My father disapproved; but when he died I was left lonely, so Ifollowed Eric, whom I had not seen for eighteen months, to Australia. Wewere married in Sydney. He had work at that time in a shipping-office,but he did not manage to keep it. I did not know why at first. I wasyoung, and I had always led a sheltered life. Then one night I found thathe had been drinking, and after that I understood--many things. I think Iknow what you will say of him when you read this. It looks so crudewritten. But, Piers, he was not a bad man. He had this one fatalweakness, but he loved me, and he was good to me nearly always."

  Piers' teeth closed suddenly and fiercely on his lower lip at this point;but he read on grimly with no other sign of indignation.

  "Do you remember how I took upon myself once to warn you against losingyour self-control?" The handwriting was not quite so steady here; theletters looked hurried, as if some agitation had possessed the writer. "Ifelt I had to do it, for I had seen a man's life completely wreckedthrough it. I know he was one of the many that go under every day, butthe tragedy was so near me. I have never quite been able to shake off thedreadful memories of it. He was to all outward appearance a strong-willedman, but that habit was stronger, though he fought and fought against it.When he failed, he seemed to lose everything,--self-respect,self-control, strength of purpose,--everything. But when the demon lefthim, he always repented so bitterly, so bitterly. I had a little money,enough to live on. He used to urge me to leave him, to go back toEngland, and live in peace. As if I could have done such a thing! And sowe struggled on, making a desperately hard fight for it, till one awfulnight when he came home in raving delirium. I can't describe that toyou. I don't want you to know what it was like. I nursed him through it,but it was terrible. He did not always know what he was doing. At timeshe was violent."

  A drop of blood suddenly ran down Piers' chin; he pulled out hishandkerchief sharply and wiped it away, still reading on.

  "He got over it, but it broke him. He knew--we both knew--that thingswere hopeless. We tried for a time to shut our eyes to the fact, but itremained. And then one day very suddenly he roused himself and told methat he had heard of a job up-country and was going to it. I could notstop him. I could not even go with him. And so--for the first time sinceour marriage--we parted. He promised to come back to me for the birth ofour child. But before that happened he was dead, killed in a drunkenbrawl. It was just what I had always feared--the tragedy that overhung usfrom the beginning. Piers, that's all. I've told it very badly. But Ifelt you must know how my romance died; and how impossible it is that Ishould ever have another. It didn't break my heart. It wasn't suddenenough for that. And now that he is gone, I can see it is best. But themanner of his going--that was the dreadful part. I told you about my babygirl, how she was born blind, and how five years ago she died.

  "So now you know my little tragic history from beginning to end. There isno accounting for love. We follow our instincts, I suppose. But it leadsus sometimes along paths that we could never bear to travel twice. Isthere any pain, I wonder, like the pain of disillusionment, of seeing thebeloved idol lying in the dust? This is a selfish point of view, I know;but I want you to realize that you have made a mistake. Dear Piers, I amvery, very sorry it has happened. No, not angry at all; somehow I can'tbe angry. It's such a difficult world to live in, and there are so manyinfluences at work. But you must forget this wish of yoursindeed--indeed. I am too old, too experienced, too worldly-wise, tooprosaic for you in every way. You must marry a girl who has never lovedbefore. You must have the first and best of a woman's heart. You musthave 'The True Romance.'

  "That, Piers, will always be the wish and prayer of

  "Your loving friend,

  "AVERY."

  Piers' hands were steady enough now. There was something slow andfatalistic in the way they folded the letter. He looked up from it atlength with dark eyes that gazed unwaveringly before him, as though theysaw a vision.

  "You will be late, _Monsieur Pierre_," suggested Victor softly athis elbow.

  "What?" Piers turned those dreaming eyes upon him, and suddenly helaughed and stretched his arms wide as one awaking. The steadfast lookwent out of his eyes; they danced with gaiety. "Hullo, you old joker!Well, let's dress then and be quick about it!"

  During the process it flashed upon Piers that all mention of Tudor hadbeen avoided in the letter he had just read. He frowned momentarily atthe thought. Had she deliberately avoided the subject? And if so--but onthe instant his brow cleared again. No, she had written too frankly forthat. She had not mentioned the matter simply because she regarded it asunimportant. The great question lay between herself and him alone. Ofthat he was wholly certain. He smiled again at the thought. No, he wasnot afraid of Tudor.

  "_Monsieur_ is well pleased," murmured Victor, with a flash of his roundblack eyes.

  "Quite well pleased, _mon vieux!_" laughed back Piers

  "_C'est bien_!" said Victor, regarding him with the indulgent smile thathe had bestowed upon him in babyhood. "And _Monsieur_ does not want hisother letter? But no--no!"

  His voice was openly quizzical; he dodged a laughing backhander fromPiers with a neat gesture of apology. It had not escaped his noticethat the letter Piers had read had disappeared unobtrusively into aninner pocket.

  "Who's the other letter from?" said Piers, glancing at it perfunctorily."Oh, I know. No one of importance. She'll keep till after dinner."

  Ina Rose would not have felt flattered had she heard the statement. Thefan Piers had promised to send her had duly arrived from Paris with abrief--very brief--note from him, requesting her acceptance of it. Shehad written in reply a letter which she had been at some pains tocompose, graciously accepting the gift and suggesting that an account ofany adventures that befell him would be received by her with interest.She added that, a spell of frost having put an end to the hunting, lifeat Wardenhurst had become extremely flat, and she had begun to envy Piersin his exile. Her father was talking of going to Mentone for a few weeks,and wanted her to accompany him. But she was not sure that she would carefor it. What did Piers think?

  When Piers did eventually read the letter, he smiled at this point,--asmile that was not altogether good to see. He was just going out to theCasino with Crowther. The latter had gone to fetch a coat, and he hadoccupied the few moments of waiting with Ina's letter.

  He was still smiling over the open page when Crowther joined him; but hefolded the letter at once, and they went out together.

  "Have you had any luck at the tables?" Crowther asked.

  "None," said Piers. "At least I won, eventually, but Fate, in the form ofa powdered and bedizened female snatched the proceeds before I got thechance. A bad omen, what?"

  "I h
ope not," said Crowther.

  There was a touch of savagery in Piers' laugh. "It won't happen again,anyhow," he said.

  They entered the Casino with its brilliant rooms and pushing crowds. Theplace was thronged. As they entered, a woman with a face of evil beauty,pressed close to Piers and spoke a word or two in French. But he lookedat her and through her with royal disdain, and so passed her by.

  They made their way to the table at which Piers had tried his luck theprevious night, waited for and finally secured a place.

  "You take it!" said Crowther. "I believe in your luck."

  Piers laughed. He staked five francs on the figure five and lost, doubledhis stakes and lost again, trebled them and lost again.

  "This is getting serious," said Crowther.

  But still Piers laughed. "Damn it!" he said. "I will win to-night!"

  "Try another figure!" said Crowther.

  But Piers refused. He laid down twenty-five francs, and with that he won.It was the turning-point. From that moment it seemed he could not dowrong. Stake after stake he won, either with his own money, orCrowther's; and finally left the table in triumph with full pockets.

  A good many watched him enviously as he went. He refused to try his luckelsewhere, but went arrogantly away with his hand through Crowther's arm.

  "He'll come back to-morrow," observed a shrewd American. "And the nextday, and the next. He's just the sort that helps to keep thisestablishment going. They'll pick him clean."

  But he was wrong. Though elated by victory, Piers was not drawn by thegambling vice. The thing amused him, but it did not greatly attract. Hewas by no means dazzled by the spoils he carried away.

  They went out to the gardens, and called for liqueurs. The woman who hadspoken to Piers yet hovered about the doors. She cursed him through herpainted lips as he passed, but he went by her like a prince, haughtilyaloof, contemptuously regardless.

  They sat down in a comparatively quiet corner, whence they could watchthe ever-shifting picture without being disturbed. A very peculiar moodpossessed Piers. He was restless and uneasy in spite of his high spirits.For no definite reason he wanted to keep on the move. In deference toCrowther's wish, he controlled the desire, but it was an obvious effort.

  He seemed to find difficulty also in attending to Crowther's quietremarks, and after a while Crowther ceased to make them. He finished hisliqueur and sat smoking with his eyes on the dark, sensitive face thatwatched the passing crowd so indifferently, yet so persistently.

  Piers noticed his silence at last, and looked at him enquiringly."Shall we go?"

  Crowther leaned slowly towards him. The place was public, but theirprivacy was complete.

  "Piers," he said, "may I take the privilege of an old friend?"

  "You may take anything you like so far as I am concerned," said Piersimpetuously.

  Crowther smiled a little. "Thank you. Then I will go ahead. Are youengaged to be married?"

  "What?" said Piers. He looked momentarily startled; then laughed acrossthe table with a freedom that was wholly unaffected. "Am I engaged, didyou say? No, I'm not. But I'm going to be married for all that."

  "Ah!" said Crowther. "I thought I knew the signs."

  He rose with the words, and instantly Piers sprang up also. "Yes, let'sgo! I can't breathe here. Come down to the shore for a breath of air, andI'll tell you all about it!"

  He linked his arm again in Crowther's, obviously glad to be gone; butwhen they had left the glittering place behind them, he still talkedinconsequently about a thousand things till in his calm fashion Crowtherturned him back.

  "I don't want you to tell me anything personal," he said, "save onething. This girl whom you hope to marry--I gather you are prettysure of her?"

  Piers threw back his head with a gesture that defied the world. "I amquite sure of her," he said; and a moment later, with impulsiveconfidence: "She has just taken the trouble to write at length and tellme why she can't have me."

  "Ah?" Crowther's tone held curiosity as well as kindly sympathy. "Asound reason?"

  "No reason at all," flung back Piers, still with his face to the stars."She knows that as well as I do. I tell you, Crowther, I know the way tothat woman's heart, and I could find it blindfold. She is mine already."

  "And doesn't know it?" suggested Crowther.

  "Yes, she does in her heart of hearts,--or soon will. I shall send her apost-card to-morrow and sum up the situation."

  "On a post-card?"

  Crowther sounded puzzled, and Piers broke into a laugh and descended toearth.

  "Yes, in one expressive word--'Rats!' No one else will understand it, butshe will."

  "A little abrupt!" commented Crowther.

  "Yes, I'm going to be abrupt now," said Piers with imperial confidence."I'm going to storm the position."

  "And you are sure you will carry it?"

  "Quite sure." Piers' voice held not the faintest shade of doubt.

  "I hope you will, lad," said Crowther kindly. "And--that being thecase--may I say what I set out to say?"

  "Oh, go ahead!" said Piers.

  "It's only this," said Crowther, in his slow, quiet way. "Only a word ofadvice, sonny, which I shouldn't give if I didn't know that your life'shappiness hangs on your taking it. You're young, but there's a lockeddoor in your past. Open that door just once before you marry the womanyou love, and show her what is behind it! It'll give her a shock maybe.But it'll be better for you both in the end. Don't let there be anylocked doors between you and your wife! You're too young for that. And ifshe's the right sort, it won't make a pin's difference to her love. Womenare like that, thank God!"

  He spoke with the utmost earnestness. He was evidently keenly anxious togain his point. But his words went into utter silence. Ere they werefully spoken Piers' hand was withdrawn from his arm. His careless,swinging stride became a heavy, slackening tramp, and at last he haltedaltogether. They stood side by side in silence with their faces to themoon-silvered water. And there fell a long, long pause, as though thewhole world stopped and listened.