First Person Paramount

by Ambrose Pratt

  VII

  A DREAM OF LOVE

  I awoke with a racking headache and an uneasy sensation that I hadoverslept myself. I sprang up and dipped my head into a basin ofice-cold water. That tranquillized the pain I suffered, yet myuneasiness continued, nay, it became intensified when I glanced at mywatch, and saw that it was after nine o'clock. Very hastily I began todress, but ere I came to my collar I paused and reflected. I am not aparticularly introspective man, nor more than a skin-deep psychologist,but it was not a difficult thing to trace to its source the cause of myuneasiness. It patently derived its origin from the habits of servitudeto which I had submitted myself during the last three months. Theresuddenly occurred to me to ask myself this question: "Agar Hume, howlong will you permit such habits to persist?" I answered at once: "Why,a day or two, at most!"

  The fact is, I was a rich man, and the pride of purse, the first prideI had ever experienced, was beginning to swell my head already.

  In my room at Bruton Street I had almost five hundred pounds in cash,as well as jewels for which I had last night paid L9,800. I possessed,moreover, a credit balance at my bank of exactly one hundred andforty-two pounds. I considered therefore that it would be absurd for meto continue playing the lackey to my master for a beggarly eight poundsper month, when a sufficient capital was ready to my hands, with which,and one or two smiles of the fickle goddess, I could make myself amillionaire. I forthwith determined to quit Sir William Dagmar'sservice as soon as possible. Yes; that very morning I would leave! Whylinger, when every day now spent in Curzon Street postponed myadvancement in life, and perhaps wasted opportunities forself-aggrandisement that might never return. Such a course wouldcertainly awaken and fortify Sir Charles Venner's suspicions, but whatcared I for that. He could prove nothing against me, and, besides, Iwould soon be utterly beyond his reach. It was my idea to go to France;there realize upon my jewels, and with the proceeds speculate upon theBourse. If I won, well and good! If I lost, also well and good, therewas always England and the blackmailing business to fall back upon! Myonly regret in departing was contained in this fact. Although I had metwith marvellous success in exploring the secrets of my master's ghastlysociety of consumptives, I had by no means plumbed all its depths. Themystery of the monthly dicing by the members for the L7,000 cheque wasstill unexplained, and I could not think of it without tastingsomething of the torture that afflicted Tantalus. It was not onlycuriosity that plagued me. I am a good workman and, like every otherreally conscientious artisan, it distresses me to see a job blotched orscamped for the lack of a little skill or perseverance. For that reasonin particular I hated the thought of leaving any part of the task whichI had set myself to perform unfinished. Nevertheless, I felt that Ishould be standing in my own light if I allowed personal vanity toprevent me from seizing the earliest opportunity to improve my fortunes.

  "Yes; I'll go!" said I aloud at last; and I leisurely completed mytoilet. I then packed into a bag my few belongings, and proceedednoiselessly downstairs, resolved to enjoy a last breakfast at mymaster's expense, and thereafter bid the place a long farewell. Thehouse was very silent. Sir William's door was shut, and no one appearedto be awake. So much the better, thought I, and having arrived upon theground floor, I pushed open the pantry door and entered.

  To my surprise, Nurse Hargreaves was standing before the table, withher back to me, doing something; but what, I could not see. She had notheard my approach, that was evident, for she did not turn her head. Thestove was ablaze and the kettle was merrily singing. Perhaps its songhad drowned my footfalls.

  "Making a poultice, nurse?" I asked, stepping forward.

  She started at my voice and turned. I uttered a little cry, then with acurious heart thrill I caught my breath and paused, transfixed,overwhelmed! I looked not at Nurse Hargreaves, but into the eyes ofMarion Le Mar.

  "Ah!" she murmured, "you thought I was Nurse Hargreaves?"

  "My name is Le Mar!" she went on, turning calmly to her work again."Nurse Hargreaves has gone to another case. I have taken her place!"

  She was just as beautiful, nay, rather more beautiful than ever, inspite of her expression of deep melancholy and the dark sleeplesshollows that undercast her eyes. I watched her--dumbstricken, but withall my heart in the looks with which I worshipped her--and through thewhile I gladly wondered how for one instant I could have forgotten thatincomparable woman. I had forgotten her! I had coldly purposed to leaveEngland and her. But already that resolve was dead and buried. Not evento make myself a millionaire could I forego the rapture I discovered ingazing on her face; and to remain now, meant that I should dwell underthe same roof!

  I forgot my life governing maxim at that moment: "First personparamount!" I was the slave of a woman, who had never seen me in myproper person until then, and who seeing me at last had turnedcarelessly away, after one swift unlingering regard. It was a gallingthought, but it possessed no influence except to wound. I loved her andI knew it. I knew besides that her heart was buried in a dead man'sgrave. And yet I, the most selfish wretch alive, there and then bowedmy head to fate, and in sad humility determined to sacrifice myfortunes to the uncertain chance of serving her and the sure bliss ofseeing her and breathing the air she breathed.

  Life is a very marvellous affair, and so too is love. I have neverprofessed to understand either. Therefore I shall make no pretence toexplain nor even speculate upon my strange experience. I shall merelyrelate what passed as best I may.

  Marion's interest in her occupation was sincere, but it did not preventher mentally remarking on my silence. I saw her brows contract atlength, and soon afterwards she spoke, but without looking up.

  "You are Brown, I suppose?"

  "Yes--at--at least," I stammered, "that is how Sir William Dagmar callsme."

  "Indeed! What then is your name?"

  "Agar Hume, madam."

  She gave me a glance of nascent curiosity, and asked me to pour someboiling water in a bowl. I complied, and she prepared to leave theroom. Her poultice was made.

  "Pardon me," I said. "How is Sir William this morning?"

  "Still very low, although sensible. His crisis is past, however, andSir Charles Venner feels confident he will recover."

  "Thank you!" I bowed gravely. "Permit me, madam, to relieve you of thatburden."

  "Please do not trouble."

  "Madam, pardon me, but I insist!"

  She raised her eyebrows, but she gave me the bowl. I read her thoughts;they said: "This valet has borrowed manners from his master. He mightalmost pass for a gentleman."

  My cheeks burned. I followed her upstairs and into my master's room.

  Sir William Dagmar was awake. He looked a mere skeleton, and histransparent face was as white as the coverlid.

  He greeted me with a wan smile and a hoarse whisper: "It is good to seeyou again, Brown," he muttered. "It proves to me that I am on the mend."

  I took his feeble hand and pressed it gently. At the bottom of my heartI really liked the man. "You must make haste and get well, sir," I saidsoftly. "The world grows impatient for your book."

  Ah! vanity! Sir William's cheeks flushed, and a warm light flashed intohis deep thoughtful eyes. "I'll not keep it waiting a minute longerthan I can help!" he cried. But at that Marion stepped forward andcompelled me from the room.

  It was a keen pleasure to prepare her breakfast. I gave her the thingsthat I myself liked best, and half an hour later it fed my vanity towatch her eat. I waited upon her, but she did not speak to methroughout the meal. Nurse Hargreaves had once insisted upon my sittingdown with her to table. But somehow I preferred to serve Marion as aflunkey, rather than dine with any other woman in the world.

  Presently she gave me instance of her spirit. Mr. Sefton Dagmar enteredthe room when she had almost finished.

  "Ah, Brown!" said he, "I'm late as usual. Good morning, Miss Le Mar;you are looking rather pale. Did the old buck give you a bad night?"

  The vacuous puppy! Marion blushed and her eyes glittered.

/>   "Do you refer to your uncle?" she asked in freezing tones.

  "Well, now," he replied with a leer of admiration, "who else would yousuppose? Much better have taken my tip and gone with me to amusic-hall, my dear. You are too doocid pretty a girl to be tied up bya sick bed. Waste of charms, and all that sort of thing."

  Marion arose from her chair, and with a curling lip, swept out of theroom. I darted forward to open the door for her, but she passed me indisdain, without a glance. Mr. Sefton Dagmar laughed loud and long. ButI was mad with him, and malice prompted me to cut his laughter short.

  "Sir," said I, "have you seen Sir William this morning?"

  "No!" he cried, "have you?"

  "Yes--he has rounded the corner. He is sensible again, and Sir CharlesVenner declares that he is on the high road to recovery!"

  "Hell and curses!" gasped Mr. Dagmar. "Is that true?"

  "Too true!" I heaved a sigh, but in truth his despairing rage hadthoroughly delighted me. He had insulted Marion.

  "What in blazes am I to do?" he muttered, pushing his plate aside withsavage gesture. His appetite had incontinently vanished.

  "If I were you, sir," I ventured gently, "I should return at once toNewhaven. If your uncle knew you were here, who knows what he mightsay?"

  "Be damned if I do!" he snapped. "It may be only a flash in the pan.Curse me, if I don't go up and have a look at the old boy myself."

  I began to protest at once, but he hurled an oath at my head and rushedout. Desperation had lent him a rat's courage. I followed quickly, buthe was already in the sick-room before I reached the door. There Ipaused and silently surveyed the scene. Marion, as though consciousthat her patient would dislike to see his visitor, had swiftlyinterposed herself between Mr. Sefton and the bed, and by signs she nowforbade the young man to advance.

  Sir William was asleep.

  "Kindly stand aside," muttered Mr. Sefton Dagmar; "I intend to see myuncle, and you won't prevent me!"

  "Another time," whispered Marion, whose eyes were simply ablaze. "Youcannot see him now; he is asleep!"

  What wild fancy possessed the young man I do not know. Perhaps the foolimagined that his uncle was dead, and that for some base, esotericpurpose Marion wished to hide his death. At all events, he suddenlystepped forward and thrust her brutally aside.

  The noise of that scuffle, slight as it was, awakened the sick man. Hiseyes opened and he looked up to gaze upon his nephew's rage-distortedvisage. "You here!" he gasped.

  Mr. Sefton Dagmar turned grey. "I--I--I--hope--I hope you're feelingbetter, sir!" he stammered.

  "Why are--you--in London?" whispered Sir William.

  "I--I--your illness, sir."

  "When did you come up?"

  "Last night, sir," lied the nephew.

  The uncle closed his eyes, and appeared to reflect. A moment passed andthen very silently he opened them again. "Marion!" he said.

  She stepped to his side. She still seemed greatly agitated.

  "Make him go!" whispered the sick man very faintly. "Make him leave myhouse at once. Tell Brown!"

  The words died in a sigh. He closed his eyes once more and to allappearances he slept.

  Marion turned to Mr. Sefton Dagmar with the imperial manner of a queen.

  "You heard, sir!" she said coldly.

  The young man for a moment made no reply; then he broke into a snarlingstream of words.

  "I see how it is," he hissed. "You are using your infernal prettinessto cheat me out of my inheritance. I've heard of your sort before.'Marion' he called you--'Marion!' Perhaps you've wormed a will out ofhim already. Perhaps you want to marry him on his death bed! Oh! I knowyour sort. Of course, you'd like to turn me out of the place neck andcrop; I might interfere with your precious scheming, hey? But I'm notgoing to let you fleece me. Not much. Here I am, and here I stay! Doyour damndest----"

  What further insults the vulgar ruffian might have heaped upon thebeautiful woman he confronted I cannot guess. But at that junctureMarion threw me a glance of passionate entreaty, and my heart leaped toanswer her appeal.

  In another second I had him by the throat, and in still another I hadhurled him sheer across the room and through the door. Before he couldarise I was at his throat again. No man was ever nearer death than he,for I am physically strong, and at that while I was fairly lunatic withpassion.

  It was Sir Charles Venner that saved his life. The surgeon, who, itseems, had possessed himself some time since of my master's latch-key,entered silently in the midst of the fracas, and he pulled me from myalready black-faced prey.

  I got to my feet, shaking like a leaf, and hardly conscious where Iwas. My master's door was shut, and Marion stood against it, her twogreat eyes burning out of her sheet-white face. She too was tremblingviolently.

  "What is all this?" demanded Sir Charles, stirring the insensibleSefton Dagmar with his foot.

  "Brown is not to blame," muttered the girl. "Sir William ordered him tomake Mr. Dagmar leave the house. He--he had forced his way into thesick-room!" She gave me once more an appealing glance, as though askingme to substantiate her story. "That--that is all!" she concluded with asob.

  "Mr. Dagmar resisted me," I added quickly. "He made a dreadful scene inthe sick room. Upon my soul, sir, I believe he wished to kill hisuncle!"

  Sir Charles nodded. "Not unlikely," he remarked indifferently enough."Carry the blackguard downstairs, Brown. Now, Marion, by your leaveI'll see my patient."

  They disappeared, and I, stooping, lifted young Dagmar in my arms andcarried him below. When he recovered he gave me a look of murderousmalignity, got silently to his feet, and staggered to his room. Tenminutes later he departed from the house without sparing a word to meor any other there. I was glad to see his back, for although I bore himno ill-will, I had no longer any manner of use for him.

  Sir Charles Venner soon afterwards was good enough to pay a visit to mypantry.

  "Was that Mr. Dagmar who went out a while ago?" he demanded.

  "Yes, Sir Charles."

  "Did he take his traps?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Don't admit him again, Brown. He has upset your master very much. Bythe way, I am pleased with you Brown; you acted very properly. You neednot repay me the money that I lent you, my man. I wish you to keep itas a little present--from me."

  "Oh, sir!" I cried, "I could not think of doing that. I shall always beindebted to you by the memory of your kindness and glad to be, SirCharles. But you must let me pay you back the money."

  "Well, well; I'm not sure but what I like you the better for thatspirit, Brown. Yet I think you are a fool."

  "It is the way I was made, sir," I murmured apologetically. "Thank youkindly all the same."

  He nodded and left. His suspicions were dead, that was evident. Ithought it very funny, but I was less pleased than I might have been.My unwavering run of success, God knows why, was beginning to give me aDead Sea flavour in the mouth. Perhaps Marion had something to do withit. Indeed, I could not drive her from my thoughts, except to con myown rascality. Whereon this wonder speedily arose: what would she thinkof me if she could know?

  At about eleven o'clock she appeared in the door armed with herinevitable bowl. "I must make another poultice!" she announced.

  I begged her to take a seat and direct me. She was so weary that it waseasy to persuade her. And thus I entered upon her service and became anurse.

  She spoke never a word of that which had happened over stairs, but Ithought I detected in her bearing a growing, if melancholy, tolerance,and perhaps some small faint trace of interest in myself. At any rate,she watched me at her work, and that was something benedictive to mymind. Silent was her mood, however, and silence suited her. It everseemed a pity that speech should be allowed to mar the perfect calm ofher reposeful countenance--until she spoke--when instantly one lostregret in wonder at the new and unexpected graces so called intoexistence.

  During the next few days the world dealt kindly with our household. SirWilliam's strengt
h very gradually improved; Marion relaxed a little ofher habitual sadness, and as for me, I had never been so happy in mylife. I only left the house on one occasion, in order to convey myvaluables from Bruton Street to the bank. After that was done, I feltminded never to quit Curzon Street again so long as our then manner ofliving might continue. I spent my time between the sick room and thepantry; relieving Marion of every trouble that I could, and waiting onher with the noiseless patience of a shadow. In this I was wise,without other intention than to please her. My silence began to appealto her imagination even more than my ceaseless studied courtesies. Andin this behalf I would remark my faith that no woman lives, howsopreoccupied with grief or other interests, who can long remainimpervious to persistently considerate devotion. I often caught herwatching me with grave, inquiring eyes. On such occasions it was I, notshe, who exhibited confusion. I could not act to her. Sometimes feelingher power I grew quite terrified. Did she study me? I wondered, andwhat was her opinion? I was soon to know.

  One evening Sir William dropped into a deep slumber far sooner than hiswont. The room adjoining his I had converted from a dressing-chamberinto a boudoir for Marion's convenience; and there she had becomeaccustomed to retire, when circumstances permitted, to rest and dreamperhaps, within his call. There it was I found her, replying to thesummons of her bell.

  "You rang, madam?" I asked in a low voice. She was reclining in alounge. She had discarded her nurse's costume for a wrapper, and shelooked the better for it; more softly lovely and more human, too, Ithink.

  She pointed to a chair. "Will you not talk to me a while?" she asked."I feel lonely to-night."

  I felt my face burn as I bowed and sat down--upon her bidding. I couldhardly credit my good fortune, and I lacked breath to reply.

  "You have been very good to me," she murmured. "Why was it, Brown?"

  Still I could not reply. I dared not even look at her.

  She did not, however, appear to notice my confusion, or else my eyesplayed false. Her voice was just as even as it wandered on at theimpulse of her rambling fancy, as I thought.

  "I have been thinking, Brown, that you were not born a servant," shesaid quietly. "Will you tell me if I guessed aright?"

  No prescience warned me of a snare. Had any other woman asked me such aquestion I should have smiled and lied, knowing well that woman'sdeepest policy is to persuade with flatteries. But Marion questioned,and I answered from my heart.

  "My father was a gentleman by birth, madam."

  "Ah!" she sighed. "He met with some unhappiness, no doubt?"

  "He lies in a pauper's grave. He was a great musician."

  "And have you inherited his talent?"

  "I play the flute and violin indifferently well, madam."

  "And you are educated too, for I have marked your speech?"

  "My father did his best for me, madam, though I was slow, I fear, tolearn. He was the wisest man, and yet the most unfortunate, whom I haveever known."

  "Some day I may ask you to give me his history."

  She sighed again, and for a time was silent, but at length she fixedher eyes upon my face and said: "You have a foreign 'air,' monsieur; I,who am French, as you certainly must have guessed, have marked it. Isit possible that your father was my countryman?"

  "He had not that honour, mademoiselle."

  She gave a little frown. "And yet your name, Hume--I think you said itmight be French?"

  "No, mademoiselle; but my mother was a Parisienne. That will account toyou perhaps for the foreign 'air' you have marked in me."

  She nodded her head, and half closing her eyes she began in a low voiceof melting sweetness to hum to the tune of a famous little chansonette,whose refrain is inexpressibly mournful and pathetic, Maeterlinck'sexquisite little poem, "Et s'il revenait un jour!"

  Knowing well the sadness in her which the sadness of her songexpressed, I felt my heart ache and my eyes grew strangely blurred.

  Of a sudden she stopped and, leaning forward, gave me a look whichseemed to reveal a longing to be comforted.

  "Ah, sir!" she said in French. "I see you have a heart that mightvibrate to woman's tears. And yet you cannot know how sad I am, howvery, very miserable!"

  And as she gazed at me her eyes overflowed with two such tears as shehad spoken of.

  There are times when a passion of insensate anger seizes me to lookback upon my folly. Ah! woman's wiles, woman's wiles! The greatest andthe least of us have been their victims. And who am I to rave of myundoing, when a Sampson, a Nelson, and even a Napoleon, that man ofiron, shared my fate.

  But I was blind, blind! Pierced by the sight of those tears to the veryfibres of my being, I sprang up, then falling on my knee before her, Iseized and passionately kissed her hand.

  "Mademoiselle, you spoke justly," I cried in French. "Here is a heartthat only beats to serve you, without seeking, ay, even withoutdesiring a reward, except that which you must give me of your pleasureor without, when I shall see upon your face some promise of yourhappiness repaired!"

  The glance of involuntary horror that she gave me, and the swiftwithdrawal of her hand from my embrace, should have warned me of myfatuous self-betrayal. But there is no limit to the errors of a trulyclever mind astray in seeking to retrieve itself. I thought that I hadangered her in venturing to hint that her disease of sorrow might becured.

  "Pardon me," I pleaded earnestly, "I have offended you with words. Ifany part of me could so offend, that member I would straightawaydestroy."

  She looked at me more kindly, and even now I believe that she wastouched by the sincerity and singleness of my devotion.

  "Rise, monsieur!" she murmured with an effort. "I thank you for yoursympathy, but it is not seemly that you kneel to me."

  I obeyed, and at her nod resumed my chair. She closed her eyes, and fora long period was deathly still. Her lovely face was extraordinarilypallid and she scarcely seemed to breathe. Then I thought her in thethroes of reawakened grief for Cavanagh's death, and my pain to watchher was intense. Now I know that in her silence she was struggling withherself. Or rather that pity in her, a woman's unfailing pity for aloving being, however wretchedly unworthy of compassion, was strivingto silence her ideas of duty.

  At last her eyes opened and she looked at me. Her regard wasmysteriously wistful, cold, and it seemed to me a little self-ashamed.Indeed, she faintly blushed.

  "Sir William Dagmar does not know that you can speak French!" shemurmured. "You have deceived him, monsieur! That is wrong. I think thatyou should go away."

  Thrice triple fool I was. Her pity had cajoled her conscience and shewas offering me a chance to escape. I, in my infatuation, only thoughtthat she chided me for my deceit.

  "Ah! mademoiselle," I muttered. "It is true that I deceived him, butwhen I did so I was penniless and starving. I pray you from my soulthat you will not bid me leave you nor inform Sir William Dagmar of mysin."

  "You do not wish to go?"

  "Mademoiselle!" I cried, "not though it were to Paradise assured!"

  She blushed deeply, nevertheless her eyes hardened and she frowned. Shewas doubtless thinking--

  "He has had his opportunity. His fate henceforth must be upon his ownhead! I wash my hands of it!"

  I dreamed she was offended at my too ardent gaze. I lowered my eyes atonce in sad humility.

  "Stay then!" she said, and her voice assumed a tone of witchingtenderness.

  I looked up in quick delight to meet a dazzling smile. With such asmile Judith lured Holofernes to destruction. But it needed not thatwith me; I was destroyed already.

  "My friend," she said, and she extended me her hand. "I thank you foryour company, but, alas! the hours speed, and I have much to do. Goodnight!"

  I tried to reply, but I could not. She permitted me to kiss her hand,however, and even smiled again. I left the room in a delirium ofhappiness, poor fool, and not one of my enraptured dreams that nightdisclosed to me the precipice upon whose brink I stood.

  The days that followed we
re over full of strange, untried experiencesfor me to properly describe them. Marion was by my side whenever chanceallowed. But every hour she showed to me a different mood, a varied andelusive distortion of her inmost self; so that I came to wonder moreand more whether I knew truly aught of her except that she wasbeautiful in all her moods, and that I loved her irretrievably. Onemoment she was sad and steeped in cold unbending gloom. The next shewas a gay companion, chattering of this and that as lightly and asbrightly as a bird on sunlit bough. Again she was both grave andfriendly at a time, and we conversed together of men, and books, andserious philosophies like two grey-haired, sober-minded savants.Sometimes, yet more infrequently, she forced upon me quarrels incaprice, to give her opportunity to scorch me with her scorn. And yet,again, more rarely still, she led me on with shy, alluring glances, oreven bolder looks, provocative of passion, to woo her as I could;whereon, her will too readily achieved, she swiftly changed frommelting fire to ice, and I was left in agonized confusion, swung likeMahommed's coffin between despair and hope.

  So another week elapsed, and a third began. My master's life no longerstood in any danger, and his health and strength slowly but steadilyimproved. Sir Charles Venner still paid him daily visits, but they weremore to satisfy the claims of friendship than of need. The greatsurgeon had always a smile and kindly word for me. It seemed that hissuspicions had long ago been utterly eradicated, and that a liking hadusurped their place. Sometimes I wondered if his penetrating insighthad remarked my love for Marion. But he was far too profound an enigmafor me to solve; and in any case Marion engrossed my life and mind soutterly that I had neither room nor inclination for any other problem.A sort of madness had come over me. Apart from her I dreamed; standing,sitting, or reclining as the case might be, idle and immovable asstone. I awoke to look upon her face, or listen to her voice, oninstant a creature of pulsating passion; yet her humble and devotedslave, responding to her slightest will, as swiftly and obediently as aneedle to the pole. And slowly but surely hope grew stronger in mybreast. A thin wild hope it was at first, the veritable offspring ofdespair. But fostered by my passion and her wayward moods, it developedforce and form, and I could at last no more deny it place in myimaginings. I hoped to win her. Yes; I hoped to win her! There weretimes when I forgot the gulf dug between us by her purity and my toocriminal unworthiness, and I remembered only that she was a woman and Ia man. The law of sex is hard to supersede. It recognizes neithermorals nor conventions. It despises ethical distinctions, and it laughswith love at every human effort to confine its boundaries. At itscommand I began not only to hope, but to aspire. One morning Marioncame to me and said: "Monsieur, Sir Charles Venner, who has justdeparted, has ordered me to take a holiday to-morrow. He says that I amlooking pale, and that I need a little open air and sunshine. I thinkthat he is wise, and I shall comply with his command!"

  "But," I stammered, for the thought of losing her even for a day was atorture hardly to be borne, "what of Sir William Dagmar? How will heget on without you?"

  "Sir Charles has promised to send another nurse this evening, who willtake my place."

  "I trust, mademoiselle, that you--that you will enjoy yourself," Imuttered in a trembling voice. "The house will be dull without you,though--for me."

  She gave me a swift, shy glance, then cast down her eyes, folding andunfolding her hands before her.

  "How could I enjoy myself--do you think--alone?" she whispered. "Itwill be a sad day also for me."

  "Let me go with you," I blurted out. "I am not needed here. Ah! I ammad to dream that you would condescend so far. Forgive me of your pity,and forget the insolence of my presumption!"

  But she clapped her hands and laughed as blithely as a child. "Will youcome?" she cried. "But that will be magnificent. Ah! let us see!" Shedarted across the room and perched herself upon the dresser. "Comehere, monsieur, quite close to me. Nay, not too close. So! Now we shallplan our day. At sunrise we shall wake and dress, and we shall have anearly breakfast here, so as not to waste a single moment of our day,our day!"

  I gazed at her as a Peri might at Paradise, and she rippled on.

  "Afterwards we shall drive to the station, and take a train tosomewhere in the country, where we may wander through green fields andflower-scattered meadows, hand in hand like children. Shall we not,monsieur?"

  I nodded, lost in a perfect dreamland of delight.

  "But, no!" she cried quite suddenly. "It is beautiful, that picture,yet not so beautiful as this. Listen, monsieur--but you can row a boat,of course."

  I nodded again.

  "Then, listen! We shall go by train to Hampton, and there we shall takeboat. The river is most lovely thereabouts, and you shall slowly row meup the stream towards Staines and Windsor through the hottest hours;slowly, slowly past the green-lawned banks and pretty houses, and amongthe darling little osier islets. And as you row I'll sing. And we'llforget our cares and open wide our hearts to the sunshine and tohappiness without an afterthought. And when the noon comes we shall eatour lunch upon an island; a merry interlude between two golden dreams.For afterwards we'll float upon our way again. And when the day is doneand twilight falls we shall land at the loveliest place of all. I knowit well. It is an old, old park garden, thick planted with many greatsolemn trees. A private park, but lonely, for the house is haunted, sothey say. And there I shall lead you by the hand into a little marble,many pillared temple, open to the stars, wherein a tiny spring is bornwithin a pool, a wishing well. And you shall look therein and I, and weshall see fresh mirrored on its surface--the faces of our loves. Shallwe do all this, monsieur?"

  I could but bend my head, for her siren voice had woven round myfaculties a spell of charmed silence, and not one of Circe's victimswas ever more powerless than I was then. When I looked up she had gone.How I lived through that day and night I scarcely know. I can in factremember nothing clearly of the hours that followed until the momentcame when I saw her seated before me in the boat, the rudder linesslipping slowly through her folded hands. It was early in the morningof an absolutely perfect day. Of the river, the witching scenery, Iknew but noted little, for I looked only upon her face. She was simplyand yet elegantly clad in some rich clinging stuff of purest white; herloveliness it is beyond me to portray. But this I know--she seemed tolove me, and her mood was yielding and submissive to the point oftenderness. Very generously did she fulfil her promise. As I rowed, shesang to me the sweetest songs of France, and Italy, and love songs all.It was indeed a rapturous, golden dream. When at times she ceased tosing we neither of us spoke, but gazed silently into each other's eyes,until the music in her woke to song again.

  We came at noon to the pretty little island she foretold; and I madeher sit upon a rug while I prepared our lunch. It was strange indeedhow truly all her prophesies came true. The lunch was a very merryinterlude. We both ate heartily, and we pledged each other often inchampagne. Afterwards we started on our way again, and only when wecame upon a lock did I remember that there was a world of living peoplenear us. So slow and idle was our journeying that twilight had alreadyfallen as we passed by Staines. About that time I noticed that Marionmaintained a longer silence than her wont, and a little later I felt asudden thrill to see her shivering. She was looking over the side ofthe boat, gazing sadly on the rippled surface of the stream.

  "Are you cold, dear one?" I asked, and I paused to watch her, leaningon the sculls.

  She shook her head.

  "Then you shivered at a thought," I ventured. "Please to tell me whatit was?"

  "I thought of death," she said, and turning, looked into my eyes. Herown were alight with a rich sombre glow.

  "Of death! and why of death--to-day?"

  "Death, Agar, my friend," she answered--she had named me so sincemorning,--"is never long a stranger from my thoughts."

  "What! and you so young, so beautiful," I cried.

  "It is because I fear death, Agar. I have seen him in a thousand forms,and each form was more dreadful than the last. There are some wh
o growfamiliar with his face and finish by despising him. I, on the contrary,fear him more and more. But you, my friend, how do you regard him?"

  "I have never asked myself the question."

  "Then ask it now!"

  "A morbid fancy, Marion!"

  "Yet humour me, my friend; I wish to know."

  To me her eyes seemed passionately curious, and I marvelled at hermood. But I answered gravely.

  "I neither despise nor fear him, Marion. When in the press of time hecalls for me, I shall bow to the inevitable with what dignity I can."

  "I think you are a brave man, Agar," she replied. "You must be indeed,yet it is a thing that puzzles me."

  "Why?" I questioned with a smile.

  "Because a brave man should be honest too, and you are not."

  "You are remembering the deceit I practised on Sir William Dagmar?"

  "Yes; and other happenings."

  "What else?"

  "I am remembering the night my lover died!" She bent a little forwardas she spoke, and her eyes burned into mine. I caught my breath, and Ifelt my hand gripped as with a hand.

  "You bore me from the room of death," she proceeded in a tensepassionate whisper, "and you laid me down upon my bed, and then youkissed my brow. I did not know you at the time, for you were verycunningly disguised--but now I know."

  It never occurred to me to deny, or even to demand the origin of herdiscovery. Indeed, incredible as it may appear, I experienced some sortof delight to learn that she was thoroughly acquainted with myvillainy. Quick as a flash I said to myself: "She knows, and yet shehas not turned from me. It must be that she loves!"

  "I believed that you were utterly insensible," I gasped.

  She sighed and leaned back in her seat. A long silence fell between us.My thoughts were in a tangled whirl. I could not grasp the skein ofthem, and I seemed to be plucking helplessly after a dozen elusivephantom-like ideas.

  At last I heard her say: "It was for me he died, Agar!" She wasalluding to the dead man, George Cavanagh, and her tones were full ofbitterness.

  I waited with my eyes upon her averted face. "He died in vain," shewent on presently. "Ah, but doubtless you already know."

  "Nothing!" I muttered. "Nothing."

  "He was ruined," she said sadly, "and he wished his death to profitme--with money. Money! As if money could atone!"

  "Then he was dishonest too, as well as I," I muttered, trying hard tosmoothe all triumph from my tones.

  She uttered a low moan of pain, and wrung her hands together. "No, no,"she wailed. "He wished to be perhaps, but I gave the money back tothem."

  "I am glad of that," I cried.

  She threw at me a look of fiery scorn. "You!" she hissed; "you! Get toyour work and row."

  In mournful humility I immediately obeyed, and we glided on our wayagain. For a long while I dared not look at her, and when I dared Icould not see for the dark. But I knew that she was weeping, and thoughI longed to comfort her, I set my teeth and kept resolutely to my work,rowing hard in an effort to forget. It was she who interrupted me. Isaw her white figure start suddenly erect.

  "Stop!" she cried; "we have passed the place. Go back!"

  I put the boat about, and slowly we returned. Soon at her word Ishipped the sculls and allowed the craft to drift. The silenceafterwards was full of brooding melancholy. The long, dark shadows onthe river were interspersed with flecks of shapeless mist, which fancyshaped to spirit forms, and ghostly arms outstretched to beckon or towave forbiddingly. How Marion fared I cannot guess, but I was wretchedand sunk deep in gloom. It was a miserable ending to so glorious a day,and my heart ached strangely as I thought of it, although I did notreckon all my pain until I found relief at last in her command to seekthe shore. We landed upon a long green sloping bank, fringed heavilywith willows, to one of which I moored the boat. She left me at thatoccupation, and slowly climbed the bank. But her white dress shone outthrough the shadows of the grove, and soon I stood before her. She laidher hand upon my lips and drew me then into a very gloomy little dellentirely girt with trees. I wondered vaguely at her action and hercautious silence, yet as always I obeyed her wish, and waited on hermood.

  For a moment she kept very still, and then she put her hands upon mybreast.

  "You love me," she said simply.

  I clasped my hands on hers and answered, "Yes."

  "How much?" she whispered--very low.

  "More, Marion, than life."

  "And you respect me?"

  "More reverently than death."

  "What do you wish of me?"

  "Your love!"

  "What will you give for it?"

  "All that I can."

  "And will you suffer for it? What?"

  "All that you ask."

  "Then kiss me, Agar."

  I bent my head and pressed my lips to hers. Her lips were very cold.But the contact set my blood on fire and I caught her in my arms, andstrained her to my breast. She shivered in my clasp and deeply sighed,but I rained hot kisses on her cheeks, and eyes, and lips passionately,striving to warm her with my passion, for I knew that she was cold, andunresponsive too, in spite of her surrender.

  But of a sudden she tore herself from my embrace and fled. I caught heron a stretch of lawn and held her close again. To my dismayedastonishment she was weeping wildly. I kissed the tears away andfrantically implored her for their reason. And yet she would do noughtbut sob, and gaze around her like one distraught and terrified. "Oh, myGod!" she cried at last; "I cannot, I cannot! I was mad to undertakethis thing--mad--mad!"

  "What thing, my sweetheart?" I demanded in amazement.

  For answer she threw herself into my arms and kissed me with all thepassion of her soul, once, twice. Then drawing back, she caught my handin one of hers, and with the other pointed towards the river, tremblingviolently the while. "Ask me nothing now," she panted; "but let usgo--quickly, quickly. This place is haunted! See, I am half sick withterror."

  I passed my arm about her waist and would have led her to the boat, butat that moment a short shrill whistle sounded from the willows, and wasanswered by two others from the wood. The first, however, had hardlypierced the air, when Marion uttered a frightful scream, and sankswooning at my feet.

  I understood then that the woman I loved had in some fashion betrayedme. For one desperate second I stood listening for sounds and thinkingof escape. Then anguish overwhelmed me. The transition from my paradiseof beliefs to the hell of certainties was too rapid, for hope to springreadily therefrom, and I thought to myself--

  "Let even death come, for what is there good in life when love iswrecked and ruined!"

  Uttering a groan, I fell on my knee beside her, not knowing what I did,not caring what might happen.

  Next instant I dimly heard a rush of feet upon the grass, a cry of ragefrom right to left. A sharp pain quivered through my brain. I saw ablaze of light that faded quickly into unalleviated blackness. I feltthe world swing with a sickening revolution round, and then came sweetencompassing oblivion.