CHAPTER XIX
DESPERATE WOOING
Wrayson felt, from the moment he crossed the threshold of the room, thathe had entered an atmosphere charged with elusive emotion. He was notsure of himself or of her as she turned slowly to greet him. Only he wasat once conscious that something of that change in her which he hadprophetically imagined was already shining out of her eyes. She was atonce more natural and further removed from him.
"I am glad," she said simply. "I wanted to say good-bye to you."
He was stunned for a moment. He had not imagined this.
She nodded.
"Good-bye!" he repeated. "You are going away?"
"To-morrow. Oh! I am glad. You don't know how glad I am."
She swept past him and sank into an easy-chair. She wore a blackvelveteen evening dress, cut rather high, without ornament or relief ofany sort, and her neck gleamed like polished ivory from which creepsalways a subtle shade of pink. Her hair was parted in the middle andbrushed back in little waves, her eyes were full of fire, and her facewas no longer passive. Beautiful she had seemed to him before, butbeautiful with a sort of impersonal perfection. She was beautiful now inher own right, the beauty of a woman whom nature has claimed for her own,who acknowledges her heritage. The fear-frozen subjectivity in which hehad yet found enough to fascinate him had passed away. He felt that shewas a stranger.
"Always," she murmured, "I shall think of London as the city of dreadfulmemories. I should like to be going to set my face eastwards or westwardsuntil I was so far away that even memory had perished. But that is justwhere the bonds tell, isn't it?"
"There are many who can make the bonds elastic," he answered. "It is onlya question of going far enough."
"Alas!" she answered, "a few hundred miles are all that aregranted to me. And London is like a terrible octopus. Its armsstretch over the sea."
"A few hundred miles," he repeated, with obvious relief. "Northward orsouthward, or eastward or westward?"
"Southward," she answered. "The other side of the Channel. That, atleast, is something. I always like to feel that there is sea between meand a place which I--loathe!"
"Is London so hateful to you, then?" he asked.
"Perhaps I should not have said that," she answered. "Say a place ofwhich I am afraid!"
He looked across at her. He, too, in obedience to a gesture from her,was seated.
"Come," he said, "we will not talk of London, then. Tell me where youare going."
She shook her head.
"To a little Paradise I know of."
"Paradise," he reminded her, "was meant for two."
"There will be two of us," she answered, smiling.
He felt his heart thump against his ribs.
"Then if one wanted to play the part of intruder?"
She shook her head.
"The third person in Paradise was always very much _de trop_," shereminded him.
"It depends upon the people who are already there," he protested.
"My friend," she said, "is in search of solitude, absolute and complete."
He shook his head.
"Such a place does not exist," he declared confidently. "Your friendmight as well have stayed at home."
"She relies upon me to procure it for her," she said.
A rare smile flashed from Wrayson's lips.
"You can't imagine what a relief her sex is to me!" he exclaimed.
"I don't know why," she answered pensively. "Do you know anything aboutthe North of France, Mr. Wrayson?"
"Not much," he answered. "I hope to know more presently."
Her eyes laughed across at him.
"You know what I said about the third person in Paradise?"
"I can't admit your Paradise," he said.
"You are a heretic," she answered. "It is a matter of sex, of course."
"Naturally! Paradise is so relative. It may be the halo thrownround a court in the city or a rose garden in the country, anyplace where love is!"
"And may I not love my friend!" she demanded.
"You may love me," he answered, the passion suddenly vibrating in histone. "I will be more faithful than any friend. I will build Paradise foryou--wherever you will! I will build the walls so high that no harm orany fear shall pass them."
She waved him back. Something of the old look, which he hated so to see,was in her face.
"You must not talk to me like this, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Indeed youmust not."
"Why not?" he demanded. "If there is a reason I will know it."
She looked him steadily in the eyes.
"Can't you imagine one for yourself?" she asked.
He laughed scornfully.
"You don't understand," he said. "There is only one reason in the worldthat I would admit--I don't even know that I would accept that. The otherthings don't count. They don't exist."
She looked at him a little incredulously. She was still sitting, and hewas standing now before her. Her fingers rested lightly upon the arms ofher chair, she was leaning slightly forward as though watching forsomething in his face.
"Tell me that there is another man," he cried, "that you don't carefor me, that you never could care for me, and I will go away and youshall never see my face again. But nothing short of that will drive mefrom you."
He spoke quickly, his tone was full of nervous passion. It never occurredto her to doubt him.
"You can be what else you like," he continued, "thief,adventuress--murderess! So long as there is no other man! Come to me andI will take you away from it all."
She laughed very softly, and his pulses thrilled at the sound, for therewas no note of mockery there; it was the laugh of a woman who listens tohidden music.
"You are a bold lover," she murmured. "Have you been reading romanceslately? Do you know that it is the twentieth century, and I have seen youthree times? You don't know what you say. You can't mean it."
"By Heaven, I do!" he cried, and for one exquisite moment he held her inhis arms. Then she freed herself with a sudden start. She had lost hercomposure. Her cheeks were flushed.
"Don't!" she cried, sharply. "Remember our first meeting. I am not thesort of person you imagine. I never can be. There are reasons--"
He swept them aside. Something seemed to tell him that if he did notsucceed with her now, his opportunity would be gone forever.
"I will listen to none of them," he declared, standing between her andthe door. "They don't matter! Nothing matters! I choose you for my wife,and I will have you. I wouldn't care if you came to me from a prison.Better give in, Louise. I shan't let you escape."
She had indeed something of the look of a beautiful hunted animal as sheleaned a little towards him, her eyes riveted upon his, her lips a littleparted, her bosom rising and falling quickly. She was taken completely bysurprise. She had not given Wrayson credit for such strength of mind orpurpose. She had believed entirely in her own mastery over him, for anysuch assault as he was now making. And she was learning the truth. Lovethat makes a woman weak lends strength to the man. Their positions werebecoming reversed. It was he who was dictating to her.
"I am going away," she said nervously. "You will forget me. You mustforget me."
"You shall not go away," he answered, "unless I know where. Don't beafraid. You can keep your secrets, whatever they are. I want to knownothing. Go on exactly with the life you are leading, if it pleases you.I shan't interfere. But you are going to be my wife, and you shall notleave London without telling me about it."
"I am leaving London," she faltered, "to-morrow."
"I was thinking," he remarked, calmly, "of taking a little holidaymyself."
She laughed uneasily.
"You are absurd," she declared, "and you must go away. Really! TheBaroness will be home directly. I would rather, I would very much ratherthat she did not find you here."
He held out his arms to her. His eyes were bright with the joy ofconquest.
"I will go, Louise," he answered, "but first I w
ill have my answer--andno answer save one will do!"
She bit her lip. She was moved by some emotion, but he was unable, forthe moment, to classify it.
"I think," she declared, "that you must be the most persistent manon earth."
"You are going to find me so," he assured her.
"Listen," she said firmly, "I will not marry you!"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"On that point," he answered, "I am content to differ from you.Anything else?"
She stamped her foot.
"I do not care for you! I do not wish to marry you!" she repeated. "I amgoing away, and I forbid you to follow me."
"No good!" he declared, stolidly. "I am past all that."
She held up her finger, and glanced backward out of the window.
"It is the Baroness," she said. "I must go and open the door."
For one moment she lay passive in his arms; then he could have sworn thather lips returned his kiss. She was there when they heard the turning ofa latch-key in the door. With a little cry she slipped away and left himalone. The outer door was thrown open, and the Baroness stood upon thethreshold.
The Avenger Page 19
