THE WAY OF PEACE
They awaited his coming in varying moods. Barrington was irritable andrestless, Lady Ruth gave no signs of any emotion whatever. She had theair of a woman who had no longer fear or hope. Only her eyes were alittle weary.
Barrington was walking up and down the room, his hands in his pockets,his eyes fixed upon his wife. Every now and then he glanced nervouslytowards her.
"Of course," he said, "if he wants a settlement--well, there's an end ofall things. And I don't see why he shouldn't. He hasn't lent money outof friendship. He hates me--always has done, and sometimes I wonderwhether he doesn't hate you too!"
Lady Ruth shivered a little. Her husband's words came to her withpeculiar brutality. It was as though he were blaming her for not havingproved more attractive to the man who held them in the hollow of hishand.
"Doesn't it strike you," she murmured, "that a discussion like thisis scarcely in the best possible taste? We cannot surmise what hewants--what he is going to do. Let us wait!"
The door opened and Wingrave entered. To Barrington, who greeted himwith nervous cordiality, he presented the same cold, impenetrableappearance; Lady Ruth, with quicker perceptions, noticed at once thechange. She sat up in her chair eagerly. It was what she had prayed for,this--but was it for good or evil? Her eyes sought his eagerly. So muchdepended upon his first few words.
Wingrave closed the door behind him. His greetings were laconic asusual. He addressed Lady Ruth.
"I find myself obliged," he said, "to take a journey which may possiblybe a somewhat protracted one. I wished, before I left, to see youand your husband. I sent for you together, but I wish to speak to youseparately--to your husband first. You have often expressed a desire tosee over my house, Lady Ruth. My major domo is outside. Will you forgiveme if I send you away for a few minutes?"
Lady Ruth rose slowly to her feet.
"How long do you wish me to keep away?" she asked calmly.
"A few minutes only," he answered. "You will find me here when Parkinsonhas shown you round."
He held the door open and she passed out, with a single upward andwondering glance. Wingrave closed the door, and seated himself close towhere Barrington was standing.
"Barrington," he said, "twenty years ago we were friends. Since then wehave been enemies. Today, so far as I am concerned, we are neither."
Barrington started a little. His lips twitched nervously. He did notquite understand.
"I am sure, Wingrave--" he began.
Wingrave interrupted him ruthlessly.
"I give you credit," he continued, "for understanding that my attitudetowards you since I--er--reappeared, has been inimical. I intended youto speculate, and you did speculate. I meant you to lose, and you havelost. The money I lent to your wife was meant to remain a rope aroundyour neck. The fact that I lent it to her was intended to humiliate you,the attentions which I purposely paid to her in public were intended toconvey a false impression to society--and in this, too, I fancy that Ihave been successful."
Barrington drew a thick breath--the dull color was mounting to hischeeks.
Wingrave continued calmly--
"I had possibly in my mind, at one time," he said, "the idea of drawingthings on to a climax--of witnessing the final disappearance of yourselfand your wife from the world--such as we know it. I have, however,ceased to derive amusement or satisfaction from pursuing what we maycall my vengeance. Consequently, it is finished."
The light of hope leaped into Barrington's dull eyes, but he recognizedWingrave's desire for silence.
"A few feet to your left, upon my writing table," Wingrave continued,"you will find an envelope addressed to yourself. It contains adischarge, in full, for the money I have lent you. I have also venturedto place to your credit, at your own bank, a sum sufficient to give youa fresh start. When you return to Cadogan Square, or, at least, thisevening, you will receive a communication from the Prime Minister,inviting you to become one of the International Board of Arbitration onthe Alaskan question. The position, as you know, is a distinguished one,and if you should be successful, your future career should be assured."
Barrington broke down. He covered his face with his hands. Great sobsshook him. Wingrave waited for a few minutes, and then rose to his feet.
"Barrington," he said, "there is one thing more! What the world may sayor think counts for very little. Society reverses its own judgments andeats its own words every day. A little success will bring it to yourfeet like a whipped dog. It is for yourself I say this, for yourselfalone. There is no reason why you should hesitate to accept any serviceI may be able to render you. You understand me?"
Barrington's face was like the face of a young man. All the cloud ofsuspicion and doubts and fears was suddenly lifted. He looked throughnew eyes on to a new world.
"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "Not that I ever doubted it, Wingrave,but--thank God!"...
Barrington left the house radiant,--Lady Ruth and Wingrave werealone. She watched him close the door and turn towards her, with a newtimidity. The color came and went in her pale cheeks, her eyes wereno longer tired. When he turned towards her, she leaned to him with alittle seductive movement of her body. Her hands stole out towards him.
"Wingrave!" she murmured.
His first action seemed to crush all the desperate joy which was risingfast in her heart. He took one hand, and he led her to a chair.
"Ruth," he said, "I have been talking to your husband. There are only afew words I want to say to you."
"There are only three I want to hear from you," she murmured, and hereyes were pleading with him passionately all the time. "It seems to methat I have been waiting to hear them all my life. Wingrave, I am sotired--and I am losing--I want to leave it all!"
"Exactly," he answered cheerfully, "what you are going to do. You aregoing to America with your husband."
"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I am rather tired of the game," he said, "that is all. I am like thechild who likes to build up again the house of bricks which he hasthrown down. I have procured for your husband a seat on the AlaskanBoard. It is a very distinguished position, and you will find that itwill entail considerable social obligations in America. When you return,he will be able to claim a judgeship, or a place in the Government. Youwill find things go smoothly enough then."
"But you!" she cried; "I want you!"
He looked at her gravely.
"Dear Lady Ruth," he said, "you may think so at this moment, but you arevery much mistaken. What you really desire is a complete reconciliationwith your husband and a place in the great world which no one shall beable to question. These things are arranged for you; also--these."
He handed her a little packet. She dropped it idly into her lap. She waslooking steadfastly away from them.
"You are free from me now," he continued. "You will find life run quitesmoothly, and I do not think that you will be troubled with me when youcome back from America. I have other plans."
"There was a slave," she murmured, "who grew to love her gaoler, andwhen they came to set her free and take her back to her own people--sheprayed only to be left in her cell! Freedom for her meant a brokenheart!"
"But that was fiction," he answered. "For you, freedom will mean otherthings. There is work for you to do, honorable work. You must fan theflame of your husband's ambition, you must see that he does justice tohis great opportunities. You have your own battle to fight with society,but you have the winning cards for, before you go, you and your husbandwill be received as guests--well, by the one person whose decision isabsolute."
She looked at him in amazement.
"My word of honor," he said quietly, "was enough for Lord Marendon. Youwill find things go smoothly with you."
"You are wonderful," she gasped, "but--you--you spoke of going away."
"I am going to travel," he said quietly, "rather a long journey. I havelived three lives, I am going to try a fourth!"
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"Alone?" she asked.
"Quite alone," he answered.
"Tell me where you are going?" she begged.
"I cannot do that," he answered. "It is my secret."
She rose to her feet. She was very pale. She stood in front of him, andshe laid her hands upon his shoulders.
"Wingrave," she said, "I will obey. I will live the life you have shownme, and I will live it successfully. But I will know this. Who is itthat has succeeded where I have failed?"
"I do not understand you," he answered.
"You do!" she declared, "and I will know. For years you have been a manwith a shell upon your heart. Every good impulse, every kind thoughtseemed withered up. You were absolutely cold, absolutely passionless!I have worn myself out trying to call you back to your own, to setthe blood flowing once more in your veins, to break for one moment thebarriers which you had set up against Nature herself. Some day, Ifelt that it must come--and it has! Who has done it, Wingrave? It isnot--Emily?"
"Emily!" he exclaimed. "I have not seen her for months. She has nointerest for me--she never had."
"Then tell me who it is!"
"Nature unaided," he answered carelessly. "Human intervention was notnecessary. It was the swing of the pendulum, Ruth, the eternal lawwhich mocks our craving for content. I had no sooner succeeded in my newcapacity--than the old man crept out."
"But Nature has her weapons always," she protested. "Wingrave, was itthe child?"
He touched the electric bell. Taking her hands, he bent down and kissedthem.
"Dear lady," he said, "goodbye--good fortune! Conquer new worlds, andremember--white is your color, and Paquin your one modiste. Morrison,Lady Barrington's carriage."
The Malefactor Page 37
