*CHAPTER XIV*
"What you venture to propose to me now, Colonel Graeme, is, in plainEnglish, a double establishment, over one of which I am to have thehonour of presiding, and this, I suppose," tapping a slip of paper inher hand, "is my first quarter's housekeeping allowance?"
Stara's voice was like the dropping of ice-cold water and her eyessteely as she stood up, straight and slim, every faculty alert andconcentrated on the crushing of her opponent, who was carelesslylounging against the ship's rail, his half-closed eyes fixed on hers.
"The exact opposite, as of course you know; but 'even as the sepiadarkens the water with ink, so does woman.'"
The thin ice of Stara's composure flew into a thousand sparklingfragments, the grey eyes darkened as she moved towards him, her smallhands clenched.
"You, you stand there and jibe at me! You insult a girl you professedto--to care for, and then laugh at her. You ... devil!"
"I told you I loved you, if that's what you mean by professing. I sayso now, and give you the greatest proof I can."
"How? By proposing to degrade me, me who you said was sacred to you, bya low intrigue? Your wife one day, I suppose, and me the next. I'm tobe your toy, an amusement when you tire of her or want distraction fromyour soldiering. A proof of love, faugh! This cheque's another proof,I suppose you think."
"Hadn't you better be quiet and listen?"
The thicker ice of Graeme's self-control was now beginning to crackominously.
"I won't. I hate you. You took advantage of a moment of weakness anyother man would have respected, to--to make me say things. You swore Icould trust you, and I, like a fool, believed it, and against my ownjudgment let things be as before. I've sat with you, tried to amuseyou, dressed for you even, why, it was for you I put on this dressto-night, because you said you liked it and this was our last nighttogether. And all the time you were thinking, planning ... this."
She stopped suddenly, for Graeme, all pretence of composure abandoned,had seized her by the shoulders and was shaking her. For a moment shefaced him bravely, and then before his anger hers died. She began totremble, and then broke down and sobbed.
"Now, will you listen to me? If I have to keep you here all night to doit, I'll make you in the end. You're wrong, altogether wrong."
"I won't. I don't want to hear; and how--how can I be wrong? You saidyou wanted me to belong to you, and how can I, except in--in the way Isaid? You're married, and--and ... you gave me money; it's the moneywhich kills me!" And passion reawakening, she flung the cheque from herover the rail. For a moment it fluttered in the breeze, and then wasblown back again to their feet. Hector picked it up, smoothed it out,and, after looking at it for a moment, put it in his pocket.
"Perhaps it's as well you did not present this, Stara," he said; "Iforgot to date it, as I usually do. Now, if you're ready and won'tinterrupt, I'll explain."
"You can't. Don't try to. I shan't believe you whatever you say. Oh,go on then."
"I'll take the money first; that's a trifle, the other's not. Youremember some time ago, when I told you I was always hard up, youoffered me your quarter's allowance. Fifty pounds it was--all you had."
"That was different."
"And you said that surely one friend could do a little thing like thatfor another. Did I fly out at you then?"
"But you didn't take it."
"Because I didn't want the money. You do. There are those bills youtold me about."
"I would never have told you, had I thought you'd take advantage likethis. That's not what I did it for."
"I know that as well as you do, but all the same you did tell me, andyou said that, when you reached London, they'd probably serve a writ onyou. Now, I'm not going to have you bothered by beastly tradespeople,and so I did the little thing you said one friend might do foranother--I wrote you a cheque."
"Hector, will you swear that was all you meant?"
"Certainly I will."
"Oh ... We'll let that pass, then, though I don't say I believe it,mind. And now for the other, rather more difficult of explanation, Iimagine."
"I'm coming to that presently. First, you must take this money."
"I will not, the idea."
"I'll give you another cheque to-morrow morning. That's settled.Now..."
"Oh, please, please don't ask me. Well, if--if I do, I won't spend themoney."
"Please yourself about that; and now for the other." He paused, andthen again seizing her by the shoulders while the glow in his eyesbecame a leaping flame, went on: "We love each other, Stara, and lovesuch as ours must be satisfied. What do conventions matter to you andme; leave them to the weak fools whose lives they trammel. Belong to meyou shall, not, as you think, by paltry deceit, but openly, for thewhole world to see. It's marriage I offer you, not dishonour."
Stara looked up at him bewildered.
"Are you mad, Hector, your wife?"
"What is she to me--what is anything to me? Stara, in the whole world Ican see but one thing now, you, and you I swear to have."
"I don't understand. You're married; nothing can alter that. Oh, whytalk about impossibilities?"
"There's nothing impossible to me. There never was from the time youtold me you loved me. Listen and I'll tell you what I mean to do.To-morrow I shall see her--I will call her 'my wife' no longer,Stara--and I'll tell her it's you I love and not her. I'll say, too,I've come to break with her, that the past is finished and a new lifebegun. Oh, I've thought it all out; the thing's as good as done now."
"I won't be party to such a hateful bargain. Besides, what if--if shewon't?"
"She will, she's a sensible woman; she will understand and set me free,and then, then, Stara, I shall claim you."
"You shall not, I won't be a party to this, I say. Oh Hector, dear,this is madness. Think what you're saying, think what it means, toabandon a wife of ten years for a woman you met but three weeks ago, thedragging of your name through the mud of the Divorce Court. Never,Hector, never!"
"Such things are nothing to me, but you do what you like, consent or notas you like. I shall do it all the same. Can't you see it's my love foryou that has made it impossible for me to go back to her?"
"But, Hector, we--you would forget in time; you will come together againand--and be glad."
"Like they do in moral story books, I suppose, and why should we? We'vegot a chance of heaven now; we don't get many. D'you think I'm going togive up that for mere paltry scruples? Bah! you're but a weakling afterall."
"I'm not, only I happen to have some sense of honour and the ordinaryfeelings of humanity. Oh, please, please, listen to me."
"Spare yourself the trouble; my mind's made up. It's but a small thinglies between us and happiness, and now you shrink from it, though you'renot asked to do anything but look on."
"A small thing, great heavens, you call this a small thing!"
"Anything's small that stands between you and me."
Stara was silent, feeling the futility of further opposition.
"What--what is it you want me to do, then?" she said slowly.
"Marry me when I'm free."
"And if she refuses?"
"She will not, I tell you; but if she does, we'll have to contentourselves with platonics, I suppose. In any case I break with her."
"You'd be satisfied with--platonics?"
"No, I should not, but I won't ask more of you. I promise you that, andI keep my word, Stara."
Again the girl was silent.
"You really mean to do this thing, Hector--nothing I can say will stopyou?"
"Oh, why go over old ground, Stara? Now, about you, will you wait inLondon till I return?
"No; I will go back to South Africa by the next boat. My brother willthink me mad, but he'll be glad all the same. He always hated mynursing schemes. And there's something I want to say now, Hector,before I leave you." She paused and then went on hurriedly: "When--whenit's over
, definitely broken off, I mean--and, oh, for my sake, dear,try to get her to divorce you--you may come out to me then."
"Why do you say for your sake, Stara, isn't it for both our sakes?"
"Because--because--oh, I won't tell you now, but perhaps you'll findthat I'm not quite the weak creature you think, and if you make thissacrifice for me I too may ... make a return. And, Hector, one thingmore. Till then I don't want to see you again, to me it would seemlike--like an intrigue. When you come you must be free. And so, whenwe land to-morrow, don't look for me, you won't find me if you do."
"How am I to give you that cheque, then?"
"Send it by a steward, if you must; and when it's all over, wire to methe one word "Coming." I shall understand and be waiting. Good-bye."
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