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diff --git a/31535-h/31535-h.htm b/31535-h/31535-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65441b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/31535-h/31535-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10753 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + + <title>A Monk of Cruta by E. Phillips Oppenheim.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + + + + div.trans-note {border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; + margin: 2em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: center;} + + .author {text-align: right; margin-right: 20%;} + .author2 {text-align: right; margin-right: 30%;} + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Monk of Cruta, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Monk of Cruta + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: March 7, 2010 [EBook #31535] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MONK OF CRUTA *** + + + + +Produced by Alcina Hadwin, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + <div class="trans-note"> + Transcriber's Note: All typographical errors have been +corrected. All other inconsistencies in the text, including an +unfinished sentence on page <a href="#page117">117</a>, have been left as is. + </div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/cover.jpg"><img width="60%" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book cover" /></a> </div> + +<hr /> + + +<h1>A Monk of Cruta</h1> + +<h2>BY</h2> + +<h2>E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM,</h2> + +<p><i>Author of "The Peer and the Woman," "A Millionaire +of Yesterday," Etc., Etc.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>NEW YORK:</p> +<p>J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,</p> +<p>57 ROSE STREET.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY</p> +<p>F. TENNYSON NEELY.</p> + </div> </div> + + + + +<h1>A Monk of Cruta.</h1> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>CHAP. </p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> I. "THE BLACK-ROBED PHANTOM, DEATH" <a href="#page11">11</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">II. "THE NEW ART" <a href="#page32">32</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> III. "THE DANCING GIRL" <a href="#page39">39</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">IV. "ADREA'S DIARY" <a href="#page47">47</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> V. "THE FAR-OFF MUTTERING OF THE STORM TO COME" <a href="#page50">50</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">VI. "AN ASHEN GREY DELIGHT" <a href="#page61">61</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> VII. "WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT YOUR MISSION" <a href="#page73">73</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">VIII. "I AM WEARY OF A HOPELESS LOVE" <a href="#page80">80</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">IX. "AH! HOW FAIR MY WEAKNESS FINDS THEE" <a href="#page91">91</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> X. "I AM BUT A SLAVE, AND YET I BID THEE COME" <a href="#page104">104</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XI. "ADREA'S DIARY" <a href="#page114">114</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> XII. "WE ARE LIKE SHOOTING STARS, WHOSE MEETING IS THEIR RUIN" <a href="#page122">122</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XIII. "THE PATH THAT LEADS TO MADMEN'S KINGDOMS" <a href="#page129">129</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> XIV. "THE POISON OF HONEY FLOWERS" <a href="#page136">136</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XV. "AND MOST OF ALL WOULD I FLY FROM THE CRUEL MADNESS OF LOVE" <a href="#page144">144</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> XVI. "'TWIXT YOU AND ME A NOISOME SHADOW CAST" <a href="#page154">154</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XVII. "IF LOVE YOU CHOOSE, THEN LOVE SHALL BE YOUR RUIN" <a href="#page159">159</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XVIII. "SOFTLY GLIMMERING THROUGH THE LAURELS AT THE QUIET EVENFALL" <a href="#page166">166</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> XIX. "BLOOD CALLS ALOUD FOR BLOOD AND NOT FOR HANDS ENTWINED" <a href="#page174">174</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XX. "THE NEW, STRONG WINE OF LOVE" <a href="#page180">180</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> XXI. "ADREA'S DIARY" <a href="#page185">185</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXII. "OH! HEART OF STONE, YET FLESH TO ALL SAVE ME" <a href="#page195">195</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXIII. "MY LIPS ARE CHARGED WITH TRUTH, AND JUSTICE BIDS ME SPEAK" <a href="#page206">206</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXIV. "THE SHATTERED VASE OF LOVE'S MOST HOLY VOWS" <a href="#page218">218</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> XXV. "A BECKONING VOICE FROM OUT A SHADOWY LAND" <a href="#page224">224</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXVI. "LATE THOU COMEST, CRUEL THOU HAST BEEN" <a href="#page232">232</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXVII. "GRIM FIGURES TRACED BY SORROW'S FIERY HAND" <a href="#page241">241</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXVIII. "ADREA'S DIARY" <a href="#page249">249</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXIX. "ADREA'S DIARY" <a href="#page263">263</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> XXX. "ADREA'S DIARY" <a href="#page275">275</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXXI. "ADREA'S DIARY" <a href="#page280">280</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXXII. "THE LORD OF CRUTA" <a href="#page291">291</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXXIII. "THE DAWN OF A SHORT, SWEET LIFE" <a href="#page298">298</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXXIV. "A VOICE AND FIGURE FROM THE DISTANT PAST" <a href="#page308">308</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXXV. "FROM OUT LIFE'S THUNDERS TO A STRANGE, SWEET WORLD" <a href="#page322">322</a></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">XXXVI. "LOVE THAN DEATH ITSELF MORE STRONG" <a href="#page329">329</a></p> + </div> </div> + +<p><br /></p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> + + + + +<h1>A MONK OF CRUTA.</h1> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>"THE BLACK-ROBED PHANTOM 'DEATH'"</h3> + + +<p>"Father Adrian!"</p> + +<p>"I am here!"</p> + +<p>"I saw the doctor talking with you aside! How +long have I to live? He told you the truth! Repeat +his words to me!"</p> + +<p>The tall, gaunt young priest drew nearer to the bedside, +and shook his head with a slow, pitying gesture.</p> + +<p>"The time was short—short indeed. Yet, why +should you fear? Your confession has been made! I +myself have pronounced your absolution; the holy +Church has granted to you her most holy sacrament."</p> + +<p>"Fear! Bah! I have no fear! It is a matter of +calculation. Shall I see morning break?"</p> + +<p>"You may; but you will never see the mid-day +sun."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> + +<p>The dying man raised himself with a slow, painful +movement, and pointed to the window.</p> + +<p>"Throw up the window."</p> + +<p>He was obeyed. A servant who had been sitting +quietly in the shadows of the vast apartment, with his +head buried in his hands, rose and did his master's +bidding.</p> + +<p>"What hour is it?"</p> + +<p>"Three o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Gomez, strain your eyes seaward. Is there no +light on the horizon?"</p> + +<p>"None! The storm has wrapped the earth in darkness. +Listen!"</p> + +<p>A torrent of rain was swept against the streaming +window pane, and a gust of wind shook the frame in +its sockets. The watcher turned away from the window +with a mute gesture of despair. No eye could +pierce that black chaos. He sank again into his seat, +and looked around shuddering. The high, vaulted +chamber was lit by a pair of candles only, leaving the +greater part of it in gloom. Grim, fantastic shadows +lurked in the corners, and lay across the bare floor. +Even the tall figure of the priest, on his knees before +a rude wooden crucifix, seemed weird and ghostly. +The heavy, mildewed bed-hangings shook and trembled +in the draughts which filled the room, and the candles +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> +flickered and burnt low in their sockets. Gomez +watched them with a sort of anxious fascination. His +master's life was burning out, minute for minute, with +those candles. Twenty-five years of constant companionship +would be ended in a few brief hours. Gomez +was not disposed to trouble much at this; but he bethought +himself of a snug little abode in Piccadilly, +where the discomforts now surrounding them were +quite unknown. Surely, to die there would be a luxury +compared with this. He began to feel personally +aggrieved that his master should have chosen such an +out-of-the-way hole to end his days in. Then came a +rush of thought, and he was grave. He knew why! +Yes! he knew why!</p> + +<p>The dying man lay quite still, almost as though his +time were already come. Once he raised himself, and +the feeble light flashed across a grey, haggard face +and a pair of burning eyes. But his effort was only +momentary. He sank back again, and lay there with +his eyes half closed, and breathing softly. He was +nursing his strength.</p> + +<p>One, two, three, four, five! The harsh clanging of +a brazen clock somewhere in the building had penetrated +to the chamber, followed by a deep, resonant +bell. The man on the bed lifted his head.</p> + +<p>"How goes the storm?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>Gomez stood up and faced the window.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> + +<p>"The storm dies with the night, sir," he answered. +"The wind has fallen."</p> + +<p>"When does day break?"</p> + +<p>Gomez looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"In one hour, sir."</p> + +<p>"Stay by the window, Gomez, and let your eyes +watch for the dawn."</p> + +<p>The priest frowned. "Surely the time has come +when you should quit your hold on earthly things," he +said quietly. "What matters the dawn! soon you will +lose yourself in an everlasting sleep, and the dawn for +you will be eternity. Take this crucifix, and pray with +me."</p> + +<p>The dying man pushed it away with a gesture +almost contemptuous.</p> + +<p>"Is there no light on the sea yet, Gomez?" he asked +anxiously.</p> + +<p>Gomez leant forward till his face touched the window +pane. He strained his eyes till they ached; but +the darkness was impenetrable. Yet stay,—what was +that? A feeble yellow light was glimmering far away +in the heart of that great gulf of darkness. He held +his breath, and watched it steadily. Then he turned +round.</p> + +<p>"There is a light in the far distance, sir," he said. +"I cannot tell what it may be, but there is a light."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> + +<p>A wave of excitement passed over the strong, wasted +features of the man upon the bed. He half raised himself, +and his voice was almost firm.</p> + +<p>"Push my bed to the window," he ordered.</p> + +<p>The two men, priest and servant, bent all their +strength to the task, and inch by inch they moved the +great, creaking structure. When at last they had succeeded, +and paused to take breath, the light in the distance +had become stronger and more apparent. Together +the three men watched it grow; master and +servant, with breathless eagerness, the priest with a +show of displeasure in his severe face. Suddenly +Gomez gave a little cry.</p> + +<p>"The dawn!" he exclaimed, pointing to the north +of the light. "Morning is breaking."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, a grey, pallid light was stealing down +upon the water. The darkness was becoming a chaos +of grey and black; of towering seas and low-lying +clouds, with cold white streaks of light falling through +them, and piercing the curtains of night. There was +no vestige of colouring—nothing but cold grey and +slate white. Yet the dawn moved on, and through +it the yellow light in the distance gleamed larger and +larger.</p> + +<p>"Hold me up," ordered the man on the bed. +"Prop me up with pillows!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> + +<p>They did as he bade them, and for the first time his +face was fully revealed in the straggling twilight. A +flowing grey beard, still plentifully streaked with +black, rested upon his chest; and the eyes, steadily +fixed upon the window pane, were dark and undimmed. +A long illness had wasted his fine features, but had detracted +nothing from their strength and regularity of +outline. His lips were closely set, and his expression, +though painfully eager, was not otherwise displeasing. +There was none of the fear of death there; nor was +there anything of the passionless resignation of the man +who has bidden farewell to life, and made his peace +with God and man; nor, in those moments of watching, +had his face any of the physical signs of approaching +death.</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>They started at the sharp, almost triumphant exclamation +which had escaped from his white lips, and +followed his long, quivering finger. Above that glimmering +light was a faint, dim line of smoke, fading on +the horizon.</p> + +<p>"It is a steamer, indeed," the priest said, with +some interest. "She is making for the island."</p> + +<p>"When is the supply boat due?" Gomez asked.</p> + +<p>"Not for a fortnight," the priest answered; "it is +not she, it is a stranger."</p> + +<p>There was no other word spoken. Soon the dawn, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> +moving across the great waste of waters, pierced the +dark background behind the steamer's light. The +long trail of white, curdling foam in her track gleamed +like a silver cleft in a dark gulf. The dim shape of +her sails stole slowly into sight, and they could see that +she was carrying a great weight of canvas. Then into +the grey air, a rocket shot up like a brilliant meteor, +and the sound of a gun came booming over the +waters.</p> + +<p>"Can she make the bay?" Gomez asked suddenly. +"Look at the surf."</p> + +<p>They all removed their eyes from the steamer, and +fixed them nearer home. The darkness had rolled +away, and the outlook, though a little uncertain in the +misty morning light, was still visible. Right before +the window, a little to the left, a great rocky hill, many +hundreds of feet high, ran sheer down into the sea, and +facing it on the right, was a lower range of rocks +running out from the mainland. Inside the natural +harbour thus formed, the sea was quiet enough; but at +the entrance, a line of white breakers and huge ocean +waves were leaping up against the base of the promontory, +and dashing over the lower range of rocks. Beyond, +the sea was wild and rough, and the steamer +was often almost lost to sight in the hollow of the +Waves.</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> + +<p>The faces of all three men underwent a sudden +change. Three rockets, one after another, shot up into +the sky from the top of the rocky hill, leaving a faint, +violet glow overhead. The dying man set his teeth +hard, and his eyes glistened.</p> + +<p>"Three rockets," he muttered. "What is the +meaning of that signal, Father?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The priest looked downward, pityingly. "It is a +warning that the entrance to the bay is unsafe," he +answered. "Take comfort; it is the hand of God +keeping from you those who would distract your dying +thoughts from Heaven. Take comfort, and pray +with me."</p> + +<p>He seemed strangely deaf to the priest's words, and +made no movement or sign in response. Only he kept +his eyes the more steadfastly fixed upon the steamer, +now plainly visible. His face showed no disappointment. +It seemed almost as though he might have +seen across the grey sea, and heard the stern orders +thundered out from a slim, motionless figure on the +captain's bridge. "Right ahead, helmsman! Never +mind the signal. There's fifty pounds for every man +of you if we make the bay. It's not so bad as it +looks! Back me up like brave lads, and I'll remember +it all your lives!"</p> + +<p>Almost, too, he might have heard the answering +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> +cheer, for a faint smile parted his white lips as he saw +the steamer ploughing her way heavily straight ahead, +paying no heed to the warning signal.</p> + +<p>On she came. The priest and the servant started as +they saw her intention, and a sharp ejaculation of surprise +escaped from the former. Side by side, they +watched the labouring vessel with strained eyes. Her +hull and shape were now visible in the dim morning +twilight, as she rose and fell upon the waves. It was +evident that she was a large, handsome pleasure yacht, +daintily but strongly built.</p> + +<p>Close up against the high, bare window the three +watchers, unconsciously enough, formed a striking-looking +group. The priest, tall, pale, and severe, stood +in the shadow of the bed-curtains, an impressive and +solemn figure in his dark, flowing robes, but with the +impassibility of his features curiously disturbed. He, +who had been preaching calm, was himself agitated. +He had drawn a little on one side, so that the cold +grey light should not fall upon his face and betray its +twitching lips and quivering pallor; but if either of +the men who shared his watch had thought to glance +at him, the sickly candlelight would have shown at +once what he was so anxious to conceal. It was little +more than chance which had brought this man to die +in his island monastery, and under his care; little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> +more than chance which had revealed to him this +wonderful secret. But the agony of those last few +hours, and the gloomy words of the priest who leant +over his bedside, had found their way in between the +joints of the dying man's armour of secrecy. Word +by word, the story had been wrested from him. In +the cold and comfortless hour of death, the strong, +worldly man felt his physical weakness loosen the iron +bands of his will, and he became for a time almost +like a child in the hands of the keen, swiftly-questioning +priest. He had not found much comfort in the +mumbled prayers and absolution, which were all he +got in exchange for his life's secret,—and such a +secret! He had not, indeed, noticed the fixed, faraway +gaze in the priest's dark eyes as he knelt by the +bedside; but his prayers, his faint words of comfort, +had fallen like drops of ice upon his quickened desire +to be brought a little nearer to that mysterious, shadowy +essence of goodness which was all his mind could +conceive of a God. It had seemed like a dead form +of words, lifeless, hopeless, monotonous; and all that +faint striving to attain to some knowledge of the truth—if +indeed truth there was—had been crushed into +ashes by it. As he had lived, so must he die, he told +himself with some return of that philosophic quietude +which had led him, stout-hearted and brave, through +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> +many dangers. And, at that moment when he had +been striving to detach his thoughts from their vain +task of conjuring up useless regrets, there had come +what even now seemed to be the granting of his last +passionate prayer. The man whom he had longed to +see once more before his eyes were closed forever +upon the world, with such a longing that his heart +had grown sick and weary with the burden of it, had +been brought as though by a miracle almost to his +side. He knew as though by some strange instinct +the measure of his strength. He had no fear of dying +before his heart's dearest wish could be gratified. If +only that fiercely labouring vessel succeeded in her +brave struggle, he knew that there would be strength +left to him to bear the shock of meeting, to bear even +the shock of the tidings which could either sweeten +his last few moments, or deepen the gloom of his passage +into the unknown world. And so he lay there, +with fixed, glazed eyes and shortened breath, watching +and waiting.</p> + +<p>The supreme moment came; the steamer had reached +the dangerous point, and the waves were breaking over +her with such fury that more than once she vanished +altogether from sight, only to reappear in a moment +or two, quivering and trembling from stern to hull +like a living creature. After all, the struggle was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> +brief one, though it seemed long to the watchers at +the window. In less than ten minutes it was over; +she had passed the line of breakers, and was in the +comparatively smooth water of the bay, heading fast +for the shore under leeway of the great wall of towering +rocks, at the foot of which she seemed dwarfed +almost into the semblance of a boy's toy vessel. +Within a quarter of a mile from the shore, she +anchored, and a boat was let down from her side.</p> + +<p>A new lease of life seemed to have come to the man +on the bed. The morning sun had half emerged from +a bank of angry purple-coloured clouds, and its faint +slanting beams lay across the white coverlet of the +bed, and upon his face. His eyes were bright and +eager, and the death-like pallor seemed to have passed +from his features. His voice, too, was firm and distinct.</p> + +<p>"Place my despatch-box upon the table here, +Gomez," he ordered.</p> + +<p>Gomez left his seat by the window, and, opening +a portmanteau, brought a small black box to the +bedside. His master passed his hand over it, and +drew it underneath the coverlet.</p> + +<p>"I am prepared," he murmured, half to himself. +"Father, according to the physician's reckoning, how +long have I to live?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> + +<p>"Barely an hour," answered the priest, without removing +his eyes from the boat, whose progress he +seemed to be scanning steadfastly. "Is your eternal +future of so little moment to you," he went on in a +tone of harsh severity, "that you can give your last +thoughts, your last few moments, to affairs of this +world? 'Tis an unholy death! Take this cross in +your hands, and listen not to those whose coming will +surely estrange you from heaven. Let the world take +its own course, but lift your eyes and heart in prayer! +Everlasting salvation, or everlasting doom, awaits you +before yonder sun be set!"</p> + +<p>"I have no fear, Father," was the quiet reply. +"What is, is; a few frantic prayers now could alter +nothing, and, besides, my work on earth is not yet over. +Speak to me no more of the end! Nothing that you +or I could do now would bring me one step nearer +heaven. Gomez, your eyes are good! Whom do you +see in the boat?"</p> + +<p>Gomez answered without turning round from the +window, "Mr. Paul is there, sir, steering!"</p> + +<p>"Thank God!"</p> + +<p>"There are others with him, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Others! Who?"</p> + +<p>"Strangers to me, sir. There is a man, a gentleman +by his dress and appearance, and a child—a girl, +I think. Two sailors from the yacht are rowing."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> + +<p>The dying man knitted his brows, and his fingers +convulsively clutched at the bed-clothes. He had lost +something of that calm and effortless serenity which +seemed to have fallen upon him since the safety of the +steamer had been assured.</p> + +<p>"The boat is quite close, Gomez! Can you not describe +the stranger?"</p> + +<p>"I can only see that he is thin, rather tall, and, I +think, elderly, sir. He is very much wrapped up, as +though he were an invalid."</p> + +<p>"Lift me up so that I can see them. Father Adrian +will help you."</p> + +<p>The priest shook his head. "The effort would +probably cost you your life," he said, "and it would +be useless. Before you could see them the boat would +be round the corner."</p> + +<p>"So near! God grant me strength! Gomez, give +me a tablespoonful of the brandy!"</p> + +<p>Gomez moved silently to his side, and poured out +the brandy. Afterwards his master closed his eyes, +and there was an intense silence in the chamber—the +deep, breathless silence of expectancy.</p> + +<p>The monastery itself, a small and deserted one, tenanted +only by a few half-starved monks of one of the +lower orders of the Church, was wrapped in a profound +gloom. There was no sound from the half-ruined +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> +chapel or the long, empty corridors. The storm had +ceased, and the casements no longer rattled in the +wind. To the man who lay there, nursing his fast-ebbing +strength, it seemed indeed like the silence before +the one last tragedy of death, looming so black +and so grim before him.</p> + +<p>It was broken at last. Away at the end of the corridor +the faint sound of hurrying footsteps and subdued +voices reached the ears of the three watchers. +They came nearer and nearer, halting at last just outside +the door. There was a knock, a quick, impetuous +answer, and the visitors entered, ushered in by the +priest, who had met them on the threshold.</p> + +<p>Of the two men, one advanced hastily with outstretched +hand and pitying face to the bedside; the +other moved only a step or two further into the room, +and stood looking intently, yet without any salutation +or form of recognition, at the dying man. The former, +when he reached the bed, sank on his knees and took +the white hand which lay upon the coverlet between +his.</p> + +<p>"Father! My father! I would have given the world +to have found you better. Tell me that it is not true +what they say. You will pull round now that I have +come!"</p> + +<p>There was no answer. The dying man did not even +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> +look into the handsome young face so close to his. +His eyes, bright and unnaturally large, were rivetted +upon the figure at the foot of the bed. His breath +came quickly, and he was shivering; an inarticulate +sort of moan came from his lips.</p> + +<p>"Father! you are agitated, and no wonder, to see +him here. You had my letter preparing you; nothing +that I could do would stop his coming."</p> + +<p>It was Gomez who answered, advancing out of the +gloom: "There has been no letter."</p> + +<p>There was an instant's silence. Then the younger +man rose up, pale as death. "God! what a fool I was +to trust to mails in this out-of-the-way hole! Father! +I shall never forgive myself. Blind idiot that I was, +to bring him in like this."</p> + +<p>It seemed as if no one save he possessed the power +of speech. There was a dead silence. He looked +from one to another of the figures in that silent drama +in fast-growing despair. The face of the man whom +he had brought there revealed little, although in a +certain way its expression was remarkable. The lips +were parted in a slow, quiet smile, not in itself sardonic +or cruel, although under the circumstances it seemed +so, for it was difficult to associate any idea of mirth +with the scene which was passing in that grim, gloomy +chamber. Something of the awe inseparable from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> +this close approach of death was visible in the +faces of all the other watchers. Not so in his! It +was the contrast which seemed so strange. He stood +there, with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of +his long travelling coat, returning the fixed, glazed +stare of the dying man with a sort of indifferent good +humour. Perhaps a very close observer might have +detected a shade of mockery in those soft black eyes +and faintly twitching lips, but the light in the room +was too obscure for any one there to penetrate beneath +the apparent indifference. It was he who broke that +deep, tragic silence, and his voice, light and even gay, +struck a strange note in that solemn chamber of +death.</p> + +<p>"So you are dying, Martin, <i>mon ami</i>? How odd! +If any one had told me one short month ago that I +should have been here to watch your last moments, +and start you on your journey to hell, bah! how mad I +should have thought them. 'Tis a pleasure I never +anticipated."</p> + +<p>His words seemed to dissolve the lethargy which his +presence had cast over the dying man. He turned +away towards the younger figure by his side.</p> + +<p>"How came he here?" he asked feebly.</p> + +<p>"Listen, and I will tell you," was the low reply. +"I sought him first at Monaco, but he had not been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> +heard of there for two years. Then I found traces of +him at Algiers; and followed up the clue to Cairo, +Athens, Syracuse, and Belgrade. It was at Constantinople +I found him at last—an officer—actually an +officer in the Turkish army; 'Monsieur le Captaine,' +my interpreter called him," the young man added, +with a fine scorn in his raised voice. "Imagine it! +Well, I gave him your letter, delivered the messages, +and awaited his pleasure. He kept me waiting for two +days before he vouchsafed one word of answer. On +the third day he announced his intention of accompanying +me here. Nothing that I could say made any +difference. 'His answer should be given to you in +person, or not at all.' I wrote to you three days before +we started; that letter you never had. Forgive me, +father, for the shock! As for you," he continued, +turning abruptly towards the motionless figure at the +foot of the bed, "I have kept my word, and brought +you here in safety, though no one in the world will +ever know how near I came to breaking it, and throwing +you into the Dardanelles. Ah! I was sorely +tempted, I can tell you. Speak your answer, and go! +This is no place for you to linger in."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, you are courteous, very! But, my +dear friend Martin, as this is to be our farewell, I +must really see you a little more distinctly."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> + +<p>For the first time, the man in the long overcoat +changed his position, and came a little nearer to the +bed. The movement showed him the priest, kneeling +with closed eyes and uplifted hands before an iron +crucifix.</p> + +<p>"Ah! we are not quite alone then, Martin, <i>cher ami</i>! +the gentleman in the long robe appears to be listening."</p> + +<p>"He is as dead," answered the man on the bed slowly. +"He is a monk; you can speak."</p> + +<p>He raised himself slightly on the bed. One hand +remained grasping his despatch-box under the bedclothes; +the other was held by the young man who +knelt by his side. His face was curiously changed; all +the effect of his unlooked-for visitor's arrival seemed +to have passed away. His eyes were bright and eager. +His white lips were closely set and firm.</p> + +<p>"You can speak," he repeated.</p> + +<p>His visitor was leaning over the foot of the bed now, +and the smile had quite gone, leaving his face cold +and white. He spoke a little quicker than before.</p> + +<p>"Here is your answer, Martin de Vaux! You offer +me a fortune, on condition that I give up to you on +your deathbed the power by which I hold those whom +you love, my slaves. Money is dear to me, as it is to +most men, but I would die sooner than touch yours. +Curse you, and your money, and your family! Not for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> +all the gold that was ever coined would I yield up my +power! My day will come, and may the evil spirit +bring you tidings of it down into hell! Curse you, +Martin de Vaux! Now you know my mind."</p> + +<p>The dying man was strangely calm. From under +the bed-clothes came the faint sound of the opening +and shutting of the despatch-box.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know your mind," he repeated quietly. +"You mean me to die with the torturing thought +that I have left a poisonous reptile to suck the life +and blood from those I love, and the honour from a +grand old name. But I will not! We will take our +next journey together, Victor."</p> + +<p>A sudden change had crept into his tone before the +last sentence; and before it had died away, the priest +and the man by the bedside had leaped to their feet in +horror. He whom they had thought too weak to stir +was sitting bolt upright in bed, his eyes blazing and +his hand extended. There was a line of fire, a loud +report, and then a single cry of agony. The man who +had leaned over the foot of the bed lay on the ground +just as he had fallen, shot dead through the heart, and +a child, dark-skinned and thin, who had rushed in at +the sound of the report, was sobbing passionately +with her arms wound around him. Across the bed, +still grasping the pistol, but with his hands hanging +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> +helplessly down, lay the man who had fired the shot. +The effort had killed him.</p> + +<p>The priest was the first in the room to move. He +slowly bent over both bodies, and then turned round +to the other man.</p> + +<p>"Dead?" he asked, with a dry, choking gasp.</p> + +<p>"Both dead."</p> + +<p>The priest and his companion, shocked and unnerved, +looked at one another in silence. The child's sobs +grew louder, and the morning sunlight stole across the +bare floor, and fell upon the white, still faces.</p> + +<p>The tragedy was over, and the seeds of another +sown.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>"THE NEW ART"</h3> + + +<p>A tall, fair young man stood in the small alcove of +Lady Swindon's drawing-room, with his eyes fixed upon +the door. He was accurately dressed in the afternoon +garb of a London man about town, and carried in his +hand, or rather in his hands, for they were crossed +behind him, that hall-mark of Western civilization—a +well-brushed, immaculate silk hat. Neither in his +clothes nor personal appearance was there any striking +difference between him and the crowd of other young +men who thronged the rooms, except perhaps that he +was a trifle better made, and pleasanter to look at than +most of them, and that the air of boredom, so apparent +on most of their faces and in their manners, was +in his case perfectly natural. As a matter of fact, he +hated afternoon receptions, and was only waiting for a +favourable opportunity to make his exit unnoticed.</p> + +<p>"Paul, my boy, you don't look happy," exclaimed a +voice in his ear.</p> + +<p>Paul de Vaux turned upon the new-comer sharply. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> +"Not likely to, Arthur. You know I hate all this sort +of thing, and, as far as I can see, it's just a repetition +of the usual performance—stale speeches, lionizing, +gossip, and weak tea. I consider you've brought me +here under false pretences. Where's the startling novelty +you promised me?"</p> + +<p>"All in good time," was the cool reply. "You'll +thank your stars you're here in a minute or two."</p> + +<p>Paul de Vaux looked at his brother incredulously. +"Some sell of yours, I suppose," he remarked. "At +any rate, no one here whom I have spoken to seems to +be expecting anything unusual."</p> + +<p>Arthur—no one ever called him anything else—laughed, +and beat an impatient tattoo upon the floor +with his foot. He was several inches shorter than his +brother, and altogether unlike him. Yet he, too, was +good-looking, in a certain way.</p> + +<p>"That's just the beauty of it," he said. "Lady +Swindon has prepared a little surprise for her guests. +She's just that sort of woman, you know. Denison +told me about it at the club, a few minutes before you +came in for lunch. I shouldn't have bothered you to +come if I hadn't known there was something good on."</p> + +<p>"I dislike surprises," his brother answered wearily. +"Half the pleasure of a thing lies in anticipation, and +surprises rob one of that. Let us go, Arthur; there +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> +are plenty here to enjoy this novelty, whatever it is. +Come and have a weed at my rooms, and we'll talk +over something for to-night."</p> + +<p>Arthur shook his head and laid his hand upon Paul's +coat-sleeve. "You don't know what's coming off, old +fellow; I wouldn't miss it for anything. Great Scott! +there's the bishop. Wonder how he'll like it? and +there's Lady May over there, Paul. You're booked, +old man, if she looks this way."</p> + +<p>Paul leant forward with a faint show of interest, and +looked in the direction indicated. "I thought that the +Westovers went North yesterday," he remarked. +"Lady May said that they expected it."</p> + +<p>"Likely enough. 'Gad! the performance is going +to commence," Arthur exclaimed, quickly. "Paul, +you are going to have a new sensation. You are going +to see the most beautiful woman in the world."</p> + +<p>There was a little hush, and every one had turned +towards the upper end of the room. Some heavy curtains +had been rolled aside, disclosing a space, only a +few yards square, which had been covered by a tightly +stretched drugget. There was a little curious anticipation +amongst the uninitiated. Then the comparative +silence was broken by the strains of a waltz from a +violin, somewhere in the background. No one had +ever heard it before. There was a wilder, dreamier +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span> +air with it, than anything Waldteufel had ever written. +And, while every one was wondering whose music it +could be, a woman glided out from behind a screen, and +stood for a second swaying herself slightly in the centre +of the drugget. Even that slight rhythmical motion +of her body seemed to bring her into perfect sympathy +with the curious melody which was filling the hushed +room. And while the people watched her, already, in +varying degrees, under the spell of that curious fascination +which her personality and the exercise of her art +seldom failed to excite, she commenced to dance.</p> + +<p>Long afterwards Paul de Vaux tried to describe in +words, that dance, and found that he could not, for +there was indeed a charm beyond expression or portrayal +in the slow, almost languid movements, full of +infinite and inexpressible witchery. Every limb of +her body and every feature of her face followed, with +a sort of effortless grace, the movements of her feet. +Yet the general effect of the whole was suggestive of a +sweet and dainty repose, voluptuous yet refined, glowing +with life, yet dreamily restful. In a certain sense +her physical movements, even her body itself, seemed +merged and lost in the artistic ideal created and born +of her performance. And so it was that he carried +away that day no vivid thought-portrait of her features, +only a confused dream of a beautiful dusky face, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span> +rising above a cloud of amber draperies, the lips +slightly parted in a wonderful smile, and a pair of +heavily-lidded eyes, which, more than once, had rested +upon him, soft, dark, and lustrous. After all, it was +but a tangled web of memories, yet, such as it was, it +became woven into the pattern of his life, wonderfully +soft and brilliant beside some of those dark, gloomy +threads which fate had spun for him.</p> + +<p>The performance ended, as such performance should +end, suddenly, and without repetition. Her disappearance +was so swift and yet so graceful, that for a moment +or two people scarcely realized that she was gone. +It was wonderful what a difference her absence made +to the room. The little stretch of drugget looked +mean and bare. To Paul de Vaux it seemed as though +some warm, beautiful light, omniscient and richly coloured, +had suddenly burnt out, and left a damp chilliness +in the air. The silence was gloomy enough after +that wonderful music, but the babble of tongues which +presently arose was a hundred times worse. He found +himself chafing and angry at the commonplacisms +which everywhere greeted his ear. Lady Swindon's +afternoon entertainment had been a great success, and +every one was telling her so, more or less volubly. +There were some there, a handful of artists and a few +thoughtful men, who were silent, or who spoke of it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> +only amongst themselves in subdued voices. They +recognised, in what had happened that afternoon, the +dawn of a new art, or rather the regeneration of an +old one, and they discussed in whispers its possible +significance and influence. She was an artist, that +woman. No one doubted it. But the woman was there +as well as the artist. Who was she? Would she +realize the sanctity of her mission, and keep herself +fit and pure for its accomplishment? Had she +character to sustain her, and imagination to idealize +her calling? She was on a pinnacle now, but it was +a pinnacle as dangerous as the feet of woman could +press. If only she could keep herself unspotted +from the world, which would do its best to drag +her down, they all felt, painter, poet, and musician, +that her influence with the age might rank with +their own. But was it possible? A certain Diana-like +coldness had been apparent to those who had +the eyes to see it, even in her most voluptuous +movements. They knew that it was not assumed for +the sake of adding piquancy to her performance—it +was there indeed. But side by side with it +there were unprobed depths of passion in her soft, +deep eyes; a slumbering passion even in the sinuous, +graceful movements of every limb. Some +day the struggle would come, even if it had not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span> +already commenced. The woman against the artist—the +woman tempted and flattered by a thousand +tongues, and dazzled with visions of all those things +so naturally sweet to her, her own nature even, so +keenly susceptible to love and sympathy, siding with +the enemy. This, all against what? Only that inward +worshipping of all things sweet and pure and +lofty, which is the artist's second life. The odds were +heavy indeed. No wonder that the select few who +spoke of her that afternoon should shake their heads +and look grave.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>"THE DANCING GIRL"</h3> + + +<p>"What do you think of it?"</p> + +<p>Paul started. He had been standing, like a man in +a dream, with folded arms, looking across the room +with idle eyes, and unconsciously ignoring many salutations. +His brother's tone sounded oddly in his ears, +and he looked flushed and a little nervous.</p> + +<p>"What did I think of it!" It was a difficult question +to answer. He repeated it, and was glad when +Arthur spared him the necessity of replying, by adding +his own opinion.</p> + +<p>"It was glorious, magnificent! I'm going to find +out more about her!"</p> + +<p>He strolled away, and joined one of the little groups +of men who were discussing the performance. Paul, at +first, had made a gesture as though to detain him, but +on second thoughts he had changed his mind. Better +let him go and find out what he could.</p> + +<p>He himself watched carefully for his opportunity, +and then left the room. He felt like a man who has +received a silent shock. Something fresh had come +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> +into his life, noiselessly, insidiously, without effort. He +pressed on his hat, and passed down the steps out into +the street, scarcely conscious of what he was doing.</p> + +<p>The rush of fresh air somewhat revived him, and he +stood still for a moment to collect his thoughts. He +felt the need of absolute solitude for a while, to help +him to realize—or at any rate to understand—this +thing which had happened, and with almost feverish +haste he called a hansom from the other side of the +road. The man whipped up the horse, but hesitated +as he reached the pavement. Looking around, Paul +saw the cause of his indecision. A woman, standing +only a few yards behind, had called him at the same +time, and was waiting also for his approach.</p> + +<p>There was a gas-lamp between them, and as their +eyes met, he recognised her. Even in that flickering +light, and through her veil, there was no mistaking +those wonderful eyes. As a rule, he was possessed of +as much <i>savoir faire</i> as most men of his class, but at +that moment it had deserted him. He stood there on +the edge of the pavement, without moving or saying +anything, simply looking at her, startled at her sudden +appearance, and magnetised by her close presence. +He had heard no footfall behind him, and the fact of +her being alone seemed so strange to him, that he +simply could not realize for a moment that it was indeed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span> +she who stood so close to him. The cabman, +leaving them to decide who had the prior claim upon +him, sat motionless, with his eyes discreetly fixed +upon his horse's ears. It was an odd little tableau, +insignificant enough to a spectator, save, perhaps, for +the curious look in the woman's face and softly flashing +eyes. Yet it left its mark for ever in the lives of +the two principal figures.</p> + +<p>The curious sensation which had kept Paul standing +there dazed and tongue-tied, passed away. Yet +it did not immediately occur to him to raise his hat +and walk on, as in any ordinary case he would have +done. He was conscious of the exact nature of the +situation, but he felt a strong disinclination to leave +the spot; nor, strangely enough, did she seem to +expect it. Yet something had to be done.</p> + +<p>He moved a step nearer her. He was no schoolboy, +this tall, grave-looking young Englishman. The +lines across his fair, smooth forehead, and by his +close-set mouth spoke for themselves. He had seen +life in many aspects, and in a certain Indian jungle +village, there were natives and coolies who still spoke +admiringly of the wonderful nerve and pluck of the +English sahib during a terrible and unexpected tiger +rush. But at that moment his nerve seemed to have +deserted him. He could almost hear his heart beat as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span> +he took that step forward. He had intended to have +made some trifling apology, and to have handed her +into the cab, but the words would not come. Some +instinct seemed to revolt at the thought of uttering +any such commonplacism. She was standing +on the edge of the pavement, close to the step, with +her skirts in one hand, slightly raised. He held out +his hand to her in silence.</p> + +<p>She gave him hers; and yet she did not at once step +into the cab. She seemed to be expecting that little +speech from him which he found impossible to frame, +and, seeing that it did not come, recognising, perhaps, +his suppressed agitation behind that calm, almost +cold, gravity of demeanour, she spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"It is a shame to take your cab, and leave you +in the rain! I am sorry."</p> + +<p>Afterwards her admirers spoke of her voice as being +one of her chief charms; to Paul it sounded like a soft +strain of very sweet, throbbing music, reaching him +from some far distant world. Yet, curiously enough, it +went far to dissolve the spell which her presence +seemed to have laid upon him. He was able to +look at her steadily, and standing upon the wet +pavement in the cold, grey light of that November +afternoon, their eyes met in a long, searching gaze. He +was able even to notice trifles. He saw the rich fur +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span> +which lined her plain, black cloak, and he could even +admire the absolute perfection with which it followed +the lines of her slim, supple, figure. He saw +the glowing eyes shining out from her dusky face, and +the coils of brown hair, not very securely fastened under +her turban hat. As she put out her foot to enter the +cab, he could even catch a glimpse of the amber draperies +concealed by her cloak. A dancer! A public +dancer! His eyes swept over her again, taking in +every detail of her simple but rich toilette, and he +shivered slightly. Then he answered her, "It is of no +consequence, thank you. I can walk."</p> + +<p>"But you will get very wet! Let us make a compromise! +You may come with me. I am going only a +very little distance, and then you can take the cab on +to your home, or wherever you want to go to."</p> + +<p>She stepped in, taking it for granted that he would +accept her offer, and he followed her at once. He was +not in the least surprised. From the first he had not +expected to leave her, and her invitation seemed perfectly +natural to him. She gave the cabman her address +through the trap-door, and they drove off together.</p> + +<p>At the corner of the square, two men were standing together +talking, and as the hansom passed within a yard +or two of them both glanced idly in, and then started. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span> +Paul, who had been looking straight ahead of him, and +seeing nothing, turned round, startled by a familiar +exclamation, just in time to see his brother Arthur, +and Leslie Horton, gazing after the cab. The incident +troubled him, as much for her sake as his own. But, +looking into her face, he could not see that she was in +any way disturbed, although she must have seen the +two men, and would probably have recognised them as +having been present at Lady Swindon's reception. Her +face was quite unmoved, but in a moment or two she +asked a question.</p> + +<p>"Who was the younger and better looking of those +two men; the one with violets in his coat, like +yours?"</p> + +<p>"It was my brother," he answered simply. "I am +afraid, too, that he recognised you."</p> + +<p>"So far as I am concerned, that is of no consequence +at all," she answered lightly.</p> + +<p>He turned away with a sudden sinking of the heart. +He knew, too well, that her carelessness was not assumed. +How was he to interpret it?</p> + +<p>Their drive was finished in silence, and they pulled +up before a handsome, though somewhat sombre-looking +house in a back street.</p> + +<p>"My rooms are here," she remarked.</p> + +<p>He stepped on to the pavement, and assisted her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> +to alight. The thought of leaving her so abruptly +was painful to him, and yet he dreaded to hear her +invite him to go in with her; nevertheless, she did so.</p> + +<p>"If you are not in a hurry, perhaps you will come +in, and let me give you a cup of tea," she said, looking +him full in the face.</p> + +<p>His heart sank. What was he to think now? And +yet he was absurdly glad that he was not to leave her.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course! I should not have asked you else. Are +you very much shocked?" she added, with a mocking +gleam in her eyes. "It is not proper, is it! I confess +I did not think of that. But do come," she added, +with a sudden bewitching smile.</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," he answered, gravely enough, +but truthfully. He turned to pay the cabman, and followed +her into the house.</p> + +<p>"My rooms are upstairs," she remarked, leading the +way. "The luxury of a first floor is at present beyond me."</p> + +<p>Her words pleased him, but their effect died away +when she opened a door on the first landing, and ushered +him in. Such of the interior of the house as he +had seen was handsomely furnished, but the room in +which he stood was almost like a fairy chamber. Curtains +divided it in the centre, and beyond he could see +a table laid for dinner.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> + +<p>"That half I use for a dining-room," she remarked, +pointing towards it with one of her gloves, which she +had just taken off. "It makes this room small, but it +is a convenient arrangement. Do sit down!"</p> + +<p>He bowed, but remained standing, with his elbow +resting upon the draped mantel-board. She took off +her hat and coat, hanging them over the back of a +chair, and advanced towards him.</p> + +<p>She was in her dancing dress, a floating mass of +yellow draperies, and the firelight gleamed strangely +upon her dusky, perfect face, with its olive colouring, +and soft, glowing eyes. She came so close to him +that a faint odour from the handkerchief in her hand +stole up to him.</p> + +<p>He was playing with an ornament on the shelf, +and his fingers tightened convulsively around it. It +snapped in two in his hand; he did not notice it. He +leaned forward towards her, and his strong voice +vibrated with feeling.</p> + +<p>"And it was for this then, Adrea Kiros, that you +ran away from the convent St. Lucile! My God!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>"ADREA'S DIARY"</h3> + + +<p>To-day I have made my entrance in the first scene +of the drama of life. To-day, therefore, I commence +my memoirs. Everything before goes for nothing!</p> + +<p>As I have removed myself altogether from all association +with the humdrum existence which might have +been mine, I am naturally friendless for the present. +So far as the other sex is concerned, I fancy that that +could be easily remedied. But no women are likely +to care about making my acquaintance, and I am glad +of it. I hate women—men, too, I think! At any rate, +there will be no one of whom I shall make a confidant, +so I have chosen you, my silent friend. I gave a +guinea for you in Bond Street, and with your dainty +morocco case and binding, I think you are well worth +it. At any rate, you will be faithful so far as silence +is concerned.</p> + +<p>To-day has been an eventful one. I have made my +<i>debut</i> as a dancer, and Paul de Vaux has been here, in +this house, alone with me! That is hard to realize, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span> +but it is so! He has altered since he used to pay me +periodical visits at the convent—and so have I, I imagine! +Yet he recognised me! How pale and stern he +looked when he stood up on the hearthrug and called +me by my name! He is very handsome—handsomer +now even than on that day when he stood by, in that +chamber of death, and saw my father murdered, without +lifting his hand. Ah! Paul de Vaux, Paul de +Vaux! that was an evil day for you! Did you never +think that that little brown girl, as you called her, +would grow up some day; or did you think that she +would forget! Bah! What fools men are!</p> + +<p>He remembered me! How grave he looked, and yet +how tender his voice sounded! He did not forget that +he was my guardian, and I his ward. How bewildered +and anxious he was! Was I living quite alone, had I +no friends, did I think it wise to lay myself open to so +much notice?</p> + +<p>He had come close to my chair, and was leaning +down, so that his head nearly touched mine. Really, +when I looked up, I thought that he was going to take +me into his arms. I looked up and laughed softly into +his face.</p> + +<p>He said no more. I invited him to dine with me, +and promised to dance to him afterwards. I even let +my hand rest for a moment upon his shoulder, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span> +whispered—but <i>n'importe</i>! He behaved just as I +would have had him behave! He took up his hat and +walked straight out of the room! It was rude, but it +was magnificent. Ah! Paul de Vaux! you may struggle +as long as you like, but in the end you will be +mine!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>"THE FAR-OFF MUTTERING OF THE STORM TO COME"</h3> + + +<p>"Paul!"</p> + +<p>Paul had walked unannounced into his mother's +favourite little sitting-room at Vaux Court, tired and +travel-stained. She rose to her feet and looked at him +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed, mother," he said, stooping +down and kissing her. "There's nothing at all the +matter."</p> + +<p>"Arthur is well?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well; I was with him yesterday afternoon. +There's nothing the matter. London was boring me, +that's all, and I thought I'd run down here and have a +look at the old place, and perhaps a day's hunting."</p> + +<p>Relieved of her anxiety, Mrs. de Vaux was unaffectedly +pleased to see her eldest son. She was a fine, +white-haired old lady, dignified and handsome, but +with very few soft lines about her comely face.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to see you, of course, Paul! The +meet is at Dytchley woods to-morrow! I hope you'll +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> +have a good day. Take your coat off. I have rung +for some tea."</p> + +<p>"Thanks! How bright and cheerful the fire seems. +I walked from the station, and it was miserably cold."</p> + +<p>"Of course it was. I wish I had known you were +coming. We have so little work for the carriage +horses."</p> + +<p>"I did not make up my mind until half an hour +before the train started," Paul answered. "Dick Carruthers +wanted me to run over to Paris with him for a +couple of days, and I was undecided which to do. I +heard that it was cold and wet there, though; and there +is always a charm about this old place which makes +me glad to come back to it."</p> + +<p>"There is not such another place in England," his +mother remarked, pouring out the tea. "Although +this is such an outlandish county, there have been a +dozen people here this week, asking to be allowed to +see over the Abbey. I always give permission when +you are away, and there is no one stopping here."</p> + +<p>Paul drank his tea, and stretched himself out in his +low chair with an air of comfort.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you let them see the place, mother," he +said. "It is only right. What class of people do +you have, as a rule? Clergymen and ecclesiastical +architects, I suppose?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> + +<p>"Chiefly. There are a good many Americans, +though; and yesterday, or the day before, a Roman +Catholic priest. He spent the day in the cloisters and +wandering about the Abbey, I believe."</p> + +<p>Paul looked up suddenly, and drew his chair back +out of the firelight. For the first time, his mother +noticed how pale and ghastly his face was.</p> + +<p>"Paul, are you ill?" she asked anxiously. "What +is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I am only tired. It is a long journey, +you know,—and the walk from the station. Indeed, it +is nothing else. I am quite well."</p> + +<p>His mother resumed her seat. She had risen in +sudden alarm. Her son's face had frightened her.</p> + +<p>"You look just as your poor father used to look +sometimes," she said softly. "It always frightened +me. It was as though you had a pain somewhere, or +had suddenly seen a ghost. You are sure you are +well?"</p> + +<p>"Quite, mother! You need have no fear. Arthur +and I have your constitution, I think."</p> + +<p>His tone was deeper, almost hollow. He still kept +his chair back amongst the shadows. Mrs. de Vaux +was only partially satisfied.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you have been keeping too late hours, +Paul, or reading too much. Lord Westover was saying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> +the other day that you were in a very Bohemian +set—journalists and artists, and those sort of people. +I am afraid they keep awful hours."</p> + +<p>"Lord Westover knows nothing about it," Paul +answered wearily. "Ordinary London society would +tire me to death in a fortnight. There is another class +of people, though, whose headquarters are in London, +far more cultured, and quite as exclusive, with whom +association is a far greater distinction. I can go anywhere +in the first set, because I am Paul de Vaux, of +Vaux Abbey, and have forty thousand a year. I am +permitted to enter the other only as the author of an +unfashionable novel, which a few of them have thought +leniently of. Which seem the worthier conditions?"</p> + +<p>"I am answered, Paul. Of course, in a sense, you +are right. I am an old woman, and the twaddle of a +London drawing-room would fall strangely upon my +ears now, but I had my share of it before Arthur was +born. If I were a man, I should want variety,—a +little sauce,—and you are right to seek for it. And +now, won't you go and have a bath, and change your +things. You still look pale, and I think it would +refresh you. Shall I ring for Reynolds? I suppose +you have not brought your own man?"</p> + +<p>He stretched out his hand, and arrested her fingers +upon the bell. "In a moment, mother. It is so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> +comfortable here, and I really think it is my favourite +room."</p> + +<p>He looked round approvingly. It was a curious, +hexagonal chamber, with an oak-beamed ceiling, curving +into a dome. The walls were hung with a wonderful +tapestry of a soft, rich colour, and every piece +of furniture in the room was of the Louis Quinze +period. There was scarcely a single anachronism. +The Martin de Vaux of forty years ago had been an +artist, and a man of taste; and when he had brought +home his bride, a duke's daughter, he had spent a +small fortune on this apartment. Since then it had +always been her favourite, and she was always glad to +hear any one praise it.</p> + +<p>"I seldom sit in any other," she remarked complacently. +"The blue drawing-room is open to-night, but +that is because Lord and Lady Westover are dining +here. I am afraid May will not be able to come; she +has a cold or something of the sort. I wonder whether +it is true, what they say, that she is delicate."</p> + +<p>Paul did not appear much interested. He had a +purpose in lingering here, and it had nothing to do +with May Westover's health. There was a little information +he wished to obtain without exciting his +mother's curiosity. But it was not exactly an easy +matter.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> + +<p>"I was interested in what you said about the visitors +here," he remarked. "I daresay to Americans +this place must be very interesting."</p> + +<p>"You would think so if you saw some of them. +They are a great deal too inquisitive and familiar +for Reynolds. He detests them. It is far more interesting +to think of that Catholic priest who was here +the other day. He lingered about the place as though +he had known it all his life, and loved it; and, Reynolds +says, he prayed for two hours in the chapel."</p> + +<p>"Did you see him yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the distance. I did not notice him particularly. +I wished afterwards that I had. Reynolds' +report of him pleased me so much. I daresay he was +conjuring up pictures of the days when the old Abbey +was full of grey-hooded monks, and the chapel was +echoing day and night to their solemn chants and +prayers. Sometimes, in the gloaming, I can almost +fancy myself that I see them kneeling in long rows in +those rich stalls, and hear the rustle of their gowns as +they pass slowly down the aisles. I think he must +have found it sad to linger about in that beautiful +chapel, so cold, and empty, and bare. That is why I +like Roman Catholics. They have such a strong reverential +affection for their places of worship, and take +such a delight in adorning them. It is almost like a +personal love."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span> + +<p>Paul moved uneasily in his chair and looked steadily +into the fire. "Then you did not notice him particularly?"</p> + +<p>"Notice him! Notice whom?"</p> + +<p>"This priest, or whoever he was."</p> + +<p>"I did not see his face, Paul, if that is what you +mean. I only remember that he was tall. You seem +very much interested in him. No doubt Reynolds +could tell you anything you wish to know. Here he +is; you had better ask him."</p> + +<p>A grey-headed man-servant had entered, bearing a +lamp. Mrs. de Vaux turned to him.</p> + +<p>"Reynolds, Mr. Paul is interested in hearing about +the priest who spent so much time looking over the +Abbey yesterday. Can you describe him?"</p> + +<p>Reynolds set down the lamp and turned respectfully +around. "Not very well, I'm afraid, sir," he said +doubtfully. "They all seem so much alike, you know, +sir, in those long gowns. He was tall, rather thin, +and no hair on his face at all. I can't say that I +noticed anything else, except that he spoke in rather a +foreign accent."</p> + +<p>"You are sure he was a priest, I suppose," Paul +asked carelessly. "We hear so much now of impostors, +and of things being stolen from places of interest, +that it makes one feel suspicious."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> + +<p>"I am quite sure he was no impostor, sir." Reynolds +answered confidently. "He was too interested in the +place for that. He knew its history better than any +one who has ever been here in my day. If he had +been one of those sneaking sort of fellows, looking +about for what he could get, he would have offered me +money, and tried to get rid of me for a time, I think, +sir."</p> + +<p>"That's true," Paul remarked. "Were you with +him all the time, then?"</p> + +<p>"Very nearly, sir. He did not like my leaving +him at all. He was afraid of missing something worth +seeing. Besides, he did not ask to come into the +house at all, not even to see the pictures. He spent +all his time in the ruins.</p> + +<p>"That ends the matter, of course," Paul answered +shortly. "There is nothing out there to attract pilferers. +Sorry I said anything about it."</p> + +<p>"He asked whether you spent much of your time +here, and when you would be down again, sir," +Reynolds remarked, as he turned to quit the room.</p> + +<p>Paul looked up, and then stood quite still for a moment +without speaking. A great fear had fallen upon +him. Out of the shadows of the past, he seemed to +see again that deathbed scene, and the tragedy which +had brought down the curtain upon two lives. Almost +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> +he could fancy himself again upon his yacht, with the +salt sea spray beating against his face, and the white +breakers hissing and seething around him, as they +made the dangerous passage towards that faint light, +which flickered and gleamed in the distant monastery +tower. They are safe! They reach the land; they are +hurried into that great, gloomy bedchamber, where +chill draughts rustled ghost-like amongst the heavy, +faded hangings, and the feeble candlelight left weird +shadows moving across the floor and upon the walls. +Again he heard the rattling of the window-panes, bare +and exposed to every gust of wind; the far-off thunder +of the sea, like a deep, continuous undernote; and, +from an almost unseen corner of the chamber, the +monotonous, broken rhythm of sad prayers for the dying, +mumbled by that dark, curious-looking priest. +And then, when the background of the picture had +formed itself in his memory, he saw the deed itself. +He saw the white, stricken face suddenly ablaze with +that last effort of passionate life; he saw the outstretched +arm, the line of fire, and the sudden change +in the countenance of the man who stood at the foot of +the bed. He saw the cool cynicism replaced by a +spasm of ghastly fear, and he heard the low, gurgling +cry dying away into a faint moan of terror, as the murdered +man sank on to the floor, a crumpled heap. And, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> +last of all, he saw that little brown girl, with her tumbled +hair and tear-stained face, clasping the dead body +and glaring at every one in the room, with a storm of +hatred and impotent fury in her flashing eyes. And +that last recollection brought him, like a flash, back to +the present,—brought him swift, bewildering memories +of Adrea, shaking his heart, and bringing the hot +colour streaming into his face. He remembered where +he was, and why he had left London. He remembered, +too, that he was not alone, and with a little start he +awoke to the present.</p> + +<p>Reynolds had left the room, and his mother was +watching him curiously. He found it hard to meet +her steady, questioning gaze without flinching.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she said slowly, "you are in trouble."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "It is nothing, mother—nothing +at all. I ought to beg your pardon for letting my +thoughts run away with me so."</p> + +<p>She was too proud to ask him for his confidence, +and at that moment the rumbling of a gong reached +them from the distant hall. Mrs. de Vaux rose:—</p> + +<p>"There are a few people dining here, Paul, so you +will not be late."</p> + +<p>"I will be down, mother. The usual time, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes, eight o'clock."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> + +<p>They left the room together, but parted in the hall. +Mrs. de Vaux stayed to speak to the housekeeper for a +moment, and Paul ascended the broad staircase alone. +On the first corridor he paused, standing before the +deep-cushioned sill of a high-arched window, and gazing +at the ruined portion of the abbey. The air outside +was frosty and clear, and though the moon as yet +was only faintly yellow, every arch and cloister was +clearly visible. Paul gazed down at them, as he had +done all his life, with reverent eyes. There was something +almost awesome in the graceful yet bold outline, +and in the great age of those rugged, moss-grown pillars +and arches, so ecclesiastical in their shape and +suggestiveness,—as indeed they might well be, for they +were practically the ruins of the old monastery chapel. +But, as he looked, the expression in his eyes suddenly +changed. A dark figure had passed slowly out from +the shadow of the arches, and stood looking up towards +the house, rigid, solemn, and motionless. Paul covered +his face with his hands, and sank down upon the +cushioned window-sill.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>"AN ASHEN GREY DELIGHT"</h3> + + +<p>"Mr. de Vaux!"</p> + +<p>Paul turned quickly around in his saddle towards +the young lady who had addressed him. He looked +into a fair, thoughtful face, whose general amiability +was discounted, just then, by a decided frown.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Lady May! Didn't you say +something just now?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I say something just now!" she repeated, +with fine scorn. "Upon my word, Mr. de Vaux, I +think that you must have left your wits in London! +What is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"The matter! Why, nothing! I'm sorry——"</p> + +<p>"Oh! pray don't apologise!" she interrupted hastily. +"I think I'll ride on and catch papa up."</p> + +<p>He laid his hand upon her rein. "Please don't, +Lady May," he begged. "I know I've been inattentive! +I'm very sorry—really I am. Let me try and +make up for it!"</p> + +<p>She looked into his face, and she was mollified. He +was evidently in earnest.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span> + +<p>"Oh! very well," she said. "You mustn't think +that I complained without due cause, though, for I +spoke to you three times before you answered me. Oh, +it's all right," she went on, as he commenced to frame +another apology. "I don't mind now, but I really +should like to know what is the matter with you. You +have ridden all day like a man who valued neither his +own life nor his horse's. Some of your jumps were +simply reckless! I have heard other people say so, +too! I like bold riding, but there is a limit; and +though I've ridden two hounds since papa gave me my +first pony, I've never seen any one try to jump Annisforth +brook below the bridge, before,—and don't want +to again," she added, with a little shudder. "I know +you ride fine horses, but you are not generally foolhardy. +I saw your dark bay mare being taken home +at Colbourne Spinneys, and I don't think she'll be fit +to ride again this season. Old Harrison had tears in +his eyes when he saw her!"</p> + +<p>"Harrison is an old woman about horses! I never +touched Meg with the spurs. She was as fresh as paint, +and there was no holding her."</p> + +<p>"You can't deceive me or yourself," Lady May continued +calmly. "You have been riding for a fall, all +day, and you may think yourself pretty fortunate that +you haven't a broken neck. It seemed as though you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span> +were trying for one. And now that you haven't succeeded, +you have nearly ridden ten miles alone with +me, and scarcely opened your mouth. You are very +provoking, Mr. de Vaux. I wish I had ridden home +with Captain Fellowes."</p> + +<p>He was on the point of reminding her that the arrangement +had not been of his making, but he checked +himself. After all, Lady May had some grounds for +her irritation. They had been friends since they had +been children, and Paul knew that every one expected +him, someday, to ask Lady May to become the mistress +of Vaux Abbey. There had been a little more than +intimacy even in their friendship up till twelve months +ago; and Paul had certain recollections of their last +interview, which had made him more than once a trifle +uneasy. As a matter of fact, Lady May had quite +made up her mind that Paul de Vaux would certainly +ask her to marry him some time; and she had, on his +account, refused two very eligible offers. Their people +desired it, and, in her heart, Lady May was conscious +that Paul was a little more to her than any other man +could be. So she felt herself at first, aggrieved by his +long silence during their ride home, which, to tell the +truth, she had carefully planned for, and afterwards +was just on the verge of being seriously offended.</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry with me, please," he said quietly. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span> +"You are right; something is the matter. I am worried."</p> + +<p>She was sympathetic and kindly at once. "I'm so +sorry. Please forgive me for bothering you. You +used to tell me your troubles once! Are we too old +now?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "I hope we never shall be," he +said. "I can't tell you all, but one thing is this. I +had a letter from a man in town to-day—a man whom +I can trust—about Arthur. You know what an impressionable, +sensitive boy he is. Anyone who once +obtains an influence over him can do nearly what they +like with him. He seems—so my correspondent tells +me—to have become completely fascinated with a—a—dancer—Adrea +Kiros I think she calls herself."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of her," Lady May murmured. "She +dances only at private houses, I think. Everyone says +she is wonderful."</p> + +<p>"She is—wonderful," Paul said slowly. He was +about to say more, but he checked himself. Lady +May was watching him, and he knew that he could not +speak of Adrea Kiros unmoved. So he went on:—</p> + +<p>"I am not complaining, for after all it is perfectly +natural, but Arthur is certainly his mother's favorite +son. You know how strict she is in some of her notions; +so you can understand what a shock it would be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span> +to her if any rumors were to reach her ears. It would +be a terrible blow to her. But, apart from that, the +thing is serious in itself. Arthur was always delicate, +and Cis—my friend—speaks of him as looking ghastly +ill. The girl is probably only amusing herself, although +she seems to have given him plenty of encouragement. +But I know Ad—Adrea Kiros. She is no +ordinary girl of her class. In the whole world I doubt +if there breathes a more dangerous woman," he wound +up, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>Lady May was quite sympathetic now, but a little +mystified. "I am so sorry," she said softly. "Ought +you not to go to London, and try what your influence +can do with him? That is disinterested advice, at any +rate," she added, with a little laugh, "for I don't +want you to go. But Arthur always seemed to look +up to you so! You might be able to get him away. +Don't you think it would be a good thing if you could +get him down here? We would make it as lively as +possible for him up at the Castle; and, I don't know +how your preserves are, but ours have been scarcely +touched yet. Between the two of us, at any rate, he +could have as much shooting as he liked. And I +would ask the Fergusson girls to come and stay," she +went on, getting more and more in love with her plan. +"He was so much taken with Amy, you know, when +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> +they were down here before. We could get up some +theatricals, or something, and have quite a good time. +What do you think of my plan?"</p> + +<p>He was thankful for her long speech, for it had enabled +him to get over the slight agitation which the +thought of that unavoidable journey to London had +called up in him. From the first he had felt that it +was his duty to go. He had received this disquieting +letter two days ago, and since then he had telegraphed +twice and written to Arthur without getting any reply. +Yes, he must go. And mingled with that reluctance +and nameless apprehension which he felt at the +thought of returning into her neighbourhood, he was +acutely conscious, all the time, of a certain vague but +sweet pleasure at the thought that fate had so ordained +it. Perhaps it would be necessary for him to +see her! A thrill of pleasure passed through him at +the thought, followed almost immediately by a reaction +of keen and bitter disgust with himself. He set +his teeth, and quite unconsciously dug his spurs into +his horse's sides, with the natural result that she +reared up, almost unseating him, and then plunged +forward. He had to gallop her along the road for a +few hundred yards, and then turned round and rejoined +Lady May. Fortunately she had not seen the +commencement of the little episode.</p> + +<p>"Whatever was the matter?" she asked.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span> + +<p>"I fancy my spurs must have pricked her," he said +apologetically. "I was riding quite carelessly."</p> + +<p>"Well, please don't let it happen again," she +begged, eyeing his mare's flanks suspiciously. "Dandy +is very tired now, and is generally good tempered; +but I don't think he would stand much of that sort of +thing."</p> + +<p>"I'm really very sorry," he said.</p> + +<p>She nodded. "All right. And now, what do you +think of my plan? Are you going to London?"</p> + +<p>"I think your plan is a very good one indeed, and +I shall run up to town to-morrow," he said. "It is +very good of you to be so interested."</p> + +<p>He looked down into her face, a fair, sweet face it +was, and then glanced away over the bare moorland +which stretched on one side of them. It was a late +November afternoon, and a faint yellow light was lingering +in the west, where the sun had just set, colouring +the clouds which stretched across the sky in long, +level streaks. A fresh, healthy breeze, strong with the +perfume of the sea, blew in their teeth, and afar off +they could hear the waves dashing against the iron-bound +line of northern cliffs. Inland, the country was +more cultivated, but hilly and broken up with masses +of lichen-covered rock, and little clumps of thin fir +trees. He knew the scenery so well. The rugged, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span> +barren country, with its great stretches of moorland +and little patches of cultivated land, with its silent +tarns, its desolation, and the ever-varying music of the +sea, they all meant home to him, and he loved them. +It had always been so, and yet he felt it at that moment +as he had never felt it before. The prospect of +that journey to London was suddenly loathsome to +him. The clear, physical healthfulness of his North-country +home was triumphant, for the moment, over +that other passion, which seemed to him then weak and +artificial. It seemed to him also, looking down into +Lady May's fresh, thoughtful face, that she was somehow +in accord with these surroundings,—that she was, +indeed, the link, the safeguard which should bind him +to them, the good influence which should keep him fit +to breathe God's pure air, and to keep himself, as he +had ever striven to, <i>sans peur et sans reproche</i>. Paul +was no sentimentalist, in the idle and common sense +of the word. In his attitude to every-day life, he was +essentially practical, sometimes perhaps a little too +practical. But he was capable of strong feeling, and +it came then with a rush. He leant over towards Lady +May, and laid his hand upon her saddle.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind and sympathetic," he said softly. +"You are always kind."</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, pleased, and with a soft look +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span> +in her deep grey eyes. "You do not give me very +much opportunity," she said quietly. "At one time +you used to tell me all your troubles; do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! I remember," he answered, almost in a whisper, +for they were riding up a grass-grown avenue,—a +back way to the Abbey,—and their horses' hoofs sank +noiselessly into the soft turf. "Sometimes I have +dared to hope that those days may come again."</p> + +<p>She was silent, and her head was turned away lest +he might see the tears trembling in her eyes. So they +rode on for a moment or two, walking their horses in +the dim twilight; she in the shadow of the grey wall +and the overhanging trees, and he very close to her, +with his hand still upon her saddle and his reins loose +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"If ever they did, if ever I was so fortunate," he +went on in a low tone, "you would find your office no +sinecure. I have troubles, or rather, one trouble, and +a great one, May."</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a moment, her eyes full of +sympathy. She dimly remembered the time when +strange stories were current in the county of Martin +de Vaux, and their echo had remained for years. It +was not for her to inquire about them, and she never +had done so. But that their burden should have fallen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span> +upon Paul; it was hard! Her heart was sore with the +injustice of it. A woman is a swift and censorious +judge of any one who brings trouble upon the man she +loves.</p> + +<p>He was a little closer to her still; and suddenly the +hand which carried her small whip felt itself grasped +in strong fingers and held tightly.</p> + +<p>"May——"</p> + +<p>It was not his fault this time that his mare stood +still, and then ran backwards, dislodging the topmost +stones from the grey stone wall with her hind quarters, +and then plunging violently. This time there +was cause for her alarm. A tall, forbidding-looking +figure stood in the middle of the avenue, grasping the +rein of Lady May's terrified horse. He had come out +of the twilight so suddenly, and his attire was so unusual, +that Paul and Lady May were almost as surprised +as the animals. Paul's first instinct was one of +anger.</p> + +<p>"What the——"</p> + +<p>He stopped short. The man who had startled them +so had quieted Lady May's horse with a few soothing +words, and now stood out of the deep shade of the over-hanging +trees into the centre of the avenue. Even +here his face was scarcely visible, but his figure and +attire were sufficient. He wore the long robes and +shovel hat of a Roman Catholic priest.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span> + +<p>Paul broke off in the middle of his exclamation, and +the arm which had been grasping his whip tightly sank +nervelessly to his side. He was thankful for the twilight, +which concealed the grey shade which had stolen +into his face. Yet now that the blow had fallen, he +was calmer than he had been in some of his anticipations +of it. For it had indeed fallen! In the dusky +twilight he had recognised the face of the priest, +changed though it was. He rode up, and addressed +him.</p> + +<p>"Have you lost your way?" he asked quietly. +"This is a private road, and the gate at the other end +is locked."</p> + +<p>The priest looked at him steadily for a moment, and +then drew on one side, as though to let them pass.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that I startled your horses," he said, in +a soft, pleasant voice, marked with a strong foreign accent; +"I was standing with my back to you, waiting +for the moon to rise behind the ruins there, and the +soft ground made your approach noiseless. And, if I +am trespassing, I am sorry. The steward at the Abbey +yonder gave me permission to wander anywhere +around the ruins. I have perhaps exceeded a little his +bounds."</p> + +<p>"It is of no consequence," Paul said. "You find +the ruins interesting, then?"</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span> + +<p>"There are some pictures in the Abbey you might +care to see—mostly modern, but there is a Rubens and +two Giorgiones."</p> + +<p>The priest removed his hat. "I thank you, but I +am only interested in ecclesiastical art. These ruins +are more to me than any pictures—save those which +Rome alone possesses," he added. "I spend all my +evenings here, and hope to be allowed to, for the short +time that I remain in the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"You have my permission to come and go as you +please. I am Mr. de Vaux," Paul said, touching his +horse with the whip. "Good-evening!"</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, sir! Good-evening, madam! I thank +you!"</p> + +<p>They rode on down the avenue, Paul silent and absorbed, +and making no attempt to pursue the conversation. +At the bend of the lane he turned round in his +saddle. The priest was standing with his back to +them, motionless and silent as a figure of stone.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>"WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT YOUR MISSION?"</h3> + + +<p>The winter moon, soft and bright and full, looked +down upon the ruins of Vaux Abbey. A strange beauty +lay upon the bare, rock-strewn hillside and desolate +moor. Afar off a grey, brawling stream was touched +by its light, and in its place a band of gold seemed +coiled around the grey, sleeping hill. A black, reed-grown +tarn at the foot of the Abbey gleamed and quivered +like a fair silver shield. The dark pines which +crowned their sandy slopes lost their forbidding frown +in an unaccustomed softness, and every harsh line and +broken pillar of the ruined chapel was toned down +into a rich, sad softness. A human face, too, uplifted +to the sky, so silent and motionless that it seemed +almost set into the side of one of those groined arches, +had lost all its harshness and worldliness in the glow +of that falling light. It might have been the face of +a saint, save for the vague unhappiness which shone in +the clear, dark eyes; for at that moment, spirituality, +wistfulness, and reverence seemed carved into the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span> +white, still features. But there was disquiet, too; and, +after a while, as though some cloud had passed across +the moon, a dark shade stole into the white face. The +brows were contracted into a frown, and the eyes filled +with restless doubt. Father Adrian moved away from +the shadow of the pillar, and stood, tall and motionless, +on the ruined chapel floor, with his eyes fixed +upon the distant landscape. After a moment or two, +his lips began to move and he commenced to speak +aloud in a low, deep tone.</p> + +<p>"Six nights has my voice gone up to God from +amongst these silent ruins, six nights I have prayed in +rain. These fair, still evenings mock me! Whose is +their beauty, if it be not God's; and, if there be a +God, and if the Blessed Virgin, our Holy Mother, indeed +dwells amongst the stars, why are their faces +turned from me? Oh! that man knew a little more or +a little less—enough to pierce the mystery of yon star-crowned +heavens, or so little as to gaze on them unmoved +and unfeeling! What is our little knowledge? +A mockery, a dreary, hopeless mockery! I had better +have rotted in that miserable monastery, a soulless, lifeless +being, than have stepped out to struggle with a +world which is only a terrible riddle to me. I cannot +reason with it; I cannot laugh or weep with it; I am +in it, but not of it! Why was I sent? Oh I why was +I sent?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span> + +<p>The snapping of a twig caused him to turn suddenly +round. Paul de Vaux was advancing through the +ruins, with a loose cloak thrown over his evening +clothes.</p> + +<p>Father Adrian turned round to meet him. The two +men stood for a moment face to face without speaking. +Both recognised that this interview was to be no ordinary +one; and in a certain sense, each seemed to be +measuring the other's strength. It was Paul who +spoke first.</p> + +<p>"We have met before, Father Adrian."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You will scarcely wonder that I am surprised to see +you here in England. Have you left the monastery +at Cruta?"</p> + +<p>"I left it a month after you did."</p> + +<p>"But your vows,—were they not for life?" Paul +asked.</p> + +<p>Father Adrian smiled scornfully. "I was not bound +to Cruta," he answered. "There had been complaints, +and I was there to investigate them. The monastery +was poverty and disease-stricken. It is closed now +forever."</p> + +<p>"Then you are no monk?"</p> + +<p>Father Adrian shook his head. "I am, and I am +not. In my youth I served my novitiate, but I never +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span> +took the oaths. The cloisters are for holier men than I."</p> + +<p>"Then who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am—Father Adrian, priest of the Roman Catholic +Church, I can tell you no more."</p> + +<p>The moonlight was falling full upon his dark, striking +face. Paul, with bent brows, scanned every feature +of it intently. Father Adrian bore the scrutiny +without flinching and without discomposure. Only +once the colour mounted a little into his cheeks as the +eyes of the two men met.</p> + +<p>"What brings you to Vaux Abbey, Father Adrian?" +Paul asked at length.</p> + +<p>"To see your home," was the quiet reply.</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me? It must be something +more than curiosity which has brought you all +this way. What is it?"</p> + +<p>Father Adrian was silent. Yet his silence was not +one of confusion. He was looking down through the +gaps in the ruined chapel walls at the dark Gothic +front of the old Abbey. Paul waited for an answer, +and it came at last.</p> + +<p>"I wished to see the home of Martin de Vaux, the +Englishman who died in my arms at the monastery of +Cruta. For six nights I have prayed for his soul in +Purgatory, amongst the ruins here. He died in grievous +sin!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[pg 77]</span> + +<p>"Have you come to remind me of it?" Paul +asked bitterly. "Perhaps you have repented of your +silence, and have come to break the widow's heart by +telling her the story of his last moments. Perhaps—perhaps +in those dark hours he told you his secret—told +you why he had come to Cruta!"</p> + +<p>"He did," said the priest gravely.</p> + +<p>"My God!"</p> + +<p>It was a great shock to Paul. Hitherto he had +feared only one thing: that the story of his father's +tragical death might come to light, and break his +mother's heart. Now there was more to fear,—far +more. He looked into Father Adrian's face with a +new and keener interest. He recognised at once that +everything dear to him in life might be at this man's +mercy.</p> + +<p>"You were intrusted with this secret by a dying +man," Paul said, with a little hoarseness in his tone. +"It is to you as the secrets of the confessional!"</p> + +<p>The priest shook his head gently. "He refused to +confess. He told me distinctly that it was as man to +man he spoke to me."</p> + +<p>Paul looked away into the night with white, stricken +face, and cursed his father's weakness. Supposing +that this priest had discovered that his conscience +would not allow him to keep the secret! What more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[pg 78]</span> +likely! Why else was he here,—why else did he disclaim +the confessional? There was only one other +alternative! Perhaps he desired to trade upon his +secret. Yet how was that possible? Of what use +could money be to him? What could he gain by it? +Besides, his was not the face of an adventurer.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," Paul said at last. "Once +more let me ask you, Father Adrian, why are you +here?"</p> + +<p>Father Adrian looked thoughtfully away. "You ask +more than I can tell you," he said gravely. "The time +has not yet come. We shall meet again. Farewell!"</p> + +<p>The priest turned away, but Paul laid his hand on +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"If there is anything which you ought or mean to +tell me, tell me now," he demanded hoarsely. "I can +bear everything but suspense. I know only—that +there was a secret. No more. Proceed! Tell me +more!"</p> + +<p>The priest shook his robe free from Paul's restraining +hand, and turned away.</p> + +<p>"Not yet! Not yet! My mind is not yet clear. We +shall meet again. Farewell!"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"Farewell!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span> + +<p>The priest had passed from the ruins, and was +already out of sight in the gathering darkness.</p> + +<p>"Come back, Father Adrian! One word more!"</p> + +<p>"Farewell!"</p> + +<p>The priest did not turn his head. Paul was left +alone, gazing after him with stern, troubled face and +anxious heart. It was a danger which he had always +foreseen, always dreaded. Henceforth he must live +like a man who paces, day by day, the brink of a +volcano. At any moment the blow might fall.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>"I AM WEARY OF A HOPELESS LOVE"</h3> + + +<p>Paul and Arthur shared a bachelor residence in +Mayfair; shared it, that is to say, insomuch as Paul +had purchased it, and was the sole proprietor, and +Arthur used it whenever he could get leave from his +regiment. It was here Paul found his brother on the +morning of his arrival in London.</p> + +<p>They shook hands in silence; Paul did not wish to +say anything for a moment. His brother's appearance +had choked him. It was one o'clock, but he was still +in his dressing-gown; with sunken, pale cheeks, save +for one bright spot, and with faint, dark rims underneath +his eyes. There were a pile of blue papers and +some ominous-looking envelopes on the table before +him, and Paul could not help noticing the intense +pallor of the hand which rested upon them.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would let a fellow know what time you +were coming," Arthur said, rather peevishly, but with +an attempt at a smile. "I didn't expect you till evening, +so I was having a shack before dressing. I was +late last night!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span> + +<p>Paul banished his gravity, as far as possible, and +stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against +the mantel-piece. He heartily disliked the part of +mentor, and he did not wish to play it, unless he were +obliged.</p> + +<p>"It was beastly early to get up," he said, "but the +connection at Normanton is so much better. One has +to wait two hours by the late train, and Normanton is +such a hole. I don't know that I should have come up +to town at all, just yet," he continued after a slight +pause, "only that I'm on the committee at the club +this term, you know, and I haven't attended a single +meeting yet. Besides, I promised Westover to put him +up this time, and the half-yearly meeting's to-morrow, +you know. Got any engagement? If not, you might +dine with me there. Always a full night election time, +you know!"</p> + +<p>"Beastly sorry! but my leave's up to night," Arthur +answered ruefully. "I shall have to go down to +Aldershot by the four o'clock train, and do a week's +close grind."</p> + +<p>Paul nodded. "I'm sorry; I'd have liked you to +run down home with me for a few days, and see the +mater. The Westovers have some very nice people +coming to the Castle, and are going to get up some +theatricals. Lady May says they must have you! Will +you come in a week, if I work the Colonel?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't," Arthur answered, with a slight +flush in his cheeks. "I have some engagements for +next week, and—and—I'm sure I can't manage it."</p> + +<p>"The mater'll be disappointed," Paul said quietly. +"She is counting on seeing you, and it's some time +since you were down, isn't it? Tell you what, old man! +I'd try and manage it, if I were you!"</p> + +<p>"I can't promise! I will, if I can manage it! I'll +write you from Aldershot!"</p> + +<p>"You don't look quite the thing," Paul said kindly. +"Nothing the matter, is there?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all," Arthur assured him hastily. "I'm +quite well. A bit of a head, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Not too many of those bits of paper about, eh?" +Paul asked, pointing to an oblong strip of blue paper +which lay, face uppermost, on the table.</p> + +<p>Arthur coloured, and threw a book over it.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I saw it," Paul went on; "but it +was +there to be seen, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! that's all right! I oughtn't to have left +it about, that's all. I'm not exactly a Crœsus, like you, +you know, Paul, and now and then I'm obliged to raise +the wind somehow. Yes! I know what you're going +to say. My allowance is a good one, and I ought to +make it do. But, you see, sometimes I can't."</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't mind my asking, Arthur, but is +that an acceptance of your own?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span> + +<p>Arthur nodded. "There are a few accounts which +I must pay," he said. "So I'm going to ask Plimsoll +to do it for me. He's a decent fellow of his sort, you +know! Lots of fellows go to him!"</p> + +<p>Paul stretched out his hand. "Give it to me," he +said, "and I will discount it for you. Thanks!"</p> + +<p>Paul took it, and, just glancing at the amount, threw +it into the fire. "I haven't my cheque book here," he +said, "but we will call at the bank on our way to +the club, and I can get the money. I'm glad I saw +it!"</p> + +<p>"It's awfully good of you," Arthur said hesitatingly. +"I shouldn't have thought of asking you. I must +owe you an awful lot already."</p> + +<p>"Never mind what you owe me! I'll write it all +off, Arthur, and this last amount too, if you'll do me a +favour. Come down home with me next week, as soon +as you can get leave."</p> + +<p>Arthur rose to his feet, and then, leaning against +the mantel-board, buried his face in his hands. "I +can't leave London, Paul!—or, if I did, it could only +be for a day," he said in a low tone. "I wish I could +tell you why, but I can't; you wouldn't understand!"</p> + +<p>"I think I know," Paul said quietly. "There is +some one whom you do not care to leave! Is that not +it?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span> + +<p>Arthur looked up quickly. His face was very white, +and his lip was quivering.</p> + +<p>"Who told you that? What do you know?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing! I want you to tell me. Perhaps +I could help you. There is a—lady in the case, isn't +there?"</p> + +<p>Arthur stood up on the hearthrug, and spoke, with +a subdued passion trembling in his tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes! it's Adrea Kiros, the dancer! I daresay +you've heard all about it! I don't see why you shouldn't! +I can't leave her! I know all that you would say! It +doesn't make any difference. She isn't good! Well! +I know it! She doesn't care for me! I don't believe +she does. She's as cruel as a woman can be. Sometimes, +when I am away from her, the thought of going +back makes me shudder; and yet, I could no more +keep away than lift the roof from this house. Of +course, this sounds like rigmarole to you. You think +I'm raving! I don't blame you. Only it is so, and I +can't help it! I am as much a prisoner as any poor +devil in Newgate."</p> + +<p>Paul laid his hand upon his brother's shoulder, and +looked kindly into his face. "Arthur, I'm very sorry! +And don't think I don't understand! I do! I do not +know much of A—of Adrea Kiros, but I know enough +to tell me that she is a very dangerous woman. Can't +I help you, somehow?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span> + +<p>"I—I don't think you can! I don't think any one +can," Arthur exclaimed unsteadily. He had been prepared +for a lecture, for good advice, for a little contempt +even; but his brother's attitude was unexpected, +and it almost unnerved him. "It is the uncertainty of +it all that is so tormenting," he went on. "Sometimes +she is so kind, and sweet, and thoughtful, that I could +almost worship her. And then, without any cause, she +will suddenly become cold, and hard, and cruel, till I +hate myself for bearing quietly all that she says. But +I do! I can't help it! I am never quite happy even +when she is in one of her sweetest moods, for I never +know how long it will last. The moment I leave her +I begin to get anxious, and wonder how she will be the +next day."</p> + +<p>"Try what a change will do, Arthur!" his brother +begged.</p> + +<p>Arthur shook his head. "It's no use; I've tried! +If I went away I should only be miserable, and hurry +back by the first train. Oh, if only I could make you +understand!" he cried, with a little passionate gesture, +which gained pathos and almost dignity from the +expression on his white, sorrowing face. "Adrea is +as necessary to me as the air we breathe! The sun +has no light, and the day no ending, till I have seen +her! She is the measure of all things to me: joy, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span> +grief, happiness, misery, it is her hand that deals them +out to me! She can play upon the chords of my being +as she chooses. A look or word from her can pull me +down into hell, or transport me into a seventh heaven! +Who gave her this power, I cannot tell! But she has +it! she has it!"</p> + +<p>Paul said no more. Perhaps he recognised that, for +the present at any rate, it was useless. He walked up and +down the room for a few minutes, in sympathetic +silence. When he spoke again he made no reference +to the subject, but Arthur understood. "Get your +things on, and come out to lunch with me," he said +pleasantly. "I am too hungry to be sympathetic, and +we can call at Coutts' on the way."</p> + +<p>Arthur nodded and disappeared. Paul took his +chair for a while, and, as he sat there gazing into the +fire, his face grew grey and haggard. Was Adrea +Kiros seeking vengeance on the son of her father's +murderer? he wondered. If so, it seemed as though +she were indeed succeeding. How could he save +Arthur? and what would happen if those rumours +should reach his mother's ears, as some day they certainly +would? At any rate, he would see Adrea himself +before he left London. He had made up his mind +that, if Arthur refused to listen to him, that should be +his course.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span> + +<p>Things somehow seemed brighter when they walked +down to the club together. Dress makes so much difference +to a man, and Arthur, spruce and <i>debonair</i>, +with a gardenia in his button-hole, and every part of +his attire almost "faultily faultless," according to the +canons of London fashion, presented a very different +appearance to the tragical-looking personage of half an +hour ago. There was a slight air of subdued feverishness +about him, though, not altogether healthy, and +the dark rims had not quite vanished from underneath +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Paul, I wonder whether you will do something for +me?" he asked, as they were crossing Pickadilly. "I +hate asking you!"</p> + +<p>"I'll try," Paul answered. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you'll like it, but—the fact is, Adrea +wants you to go and see her. I promised that I +would do my best to get you to call with me this afternoon. +If you don't mind, I wish you would," he +added wistfully.</p> + +<p>"I will go with you certainly, if you wish it," Paul +answered, not too cordially, for he did not wish his +brother to know that it was what he had already +planned to do. "Did she tell you that we had already +a slight acquaintance?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! You rode home in a cab together from Lady +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span> +Swindon's, didn't you? There was only one, and it +was raining, so you shared it. Adrea told me that."</p> + +<p>Paul nodded. He meant, after he had seen Adrea, +to consider whether it would not be best to tell his +brother everything. But, for the present, her story +was enough. They turned into Pall Mall, and, almost +immediately, Arthur's hat was in his hand, and he was +on the edge of the pavement, colouring with pleasure. +A small victoria had pulled up by the side, and Paul +found himself face to face with Adrea.</p> + +<p>She was muffled up in rich brown furs, and almost +invisible, but her dark eyes flashed into his from underneath +her thick veil. After the first greeting she +scarcely noticed Arthur; it was Paul upon whom her +eyes were bent.</p> + +<p>"You are in London again, then, Mr. de Vaux," she +remarked. "Have you discovered that, after all, the +country is a little <i>triste</i> in this land of damp and fogs—the +country in November, I mean—or is it only important +business which has brought you up!"</p> + +<p>"The latter," he answered, "as it happens. I am +glad to see that the damp and fogs which you complain +of have not affected your health."</p> + +<p>"I am quite well, thanks," she answered. "How +long are you staying in town?"</p> + +<p>"For less than a week, I think."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span> + +<p>"Well, it is too cold to talk here. Will you come +and let me give you some tea this afternoon, after the +fashion of you strange islanders? I want you to, +please."</p> + +<p>Paul looked her straight in the face. "You are very +kind; I shall be glad to," he answered.</p> + +<p>She nodded. "About five o'clock. I go to sleep +till then. Shall you come, Arthur?" she added carelessly.</p> + +<p>"I cannot, so late as that," he answered despondently.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I forgot. You are going down to Aldershot, +aren't you? Don't overwork yourself."</p> + +<p>She nodded, and the carriage drove on. Arthur +watched it until it was out of sight. "She might have +said a little earlier," he remarked despondently. "She +knew I couldn't come so late as that."</p> + +<p>Paul passed his arm through his brother's and was +silent. He knew very well that Adrea had thought of +this when she had made the arrangement.</p> + +<p>They lunched together, and Paul did his utmost to +make the time pass pleasantly for his brother. When +they parted, too, late in the afternoon, he referred once +more to Mrs. de Vaux's desire that he should come +down to the Abbey for a few days.</p> + +<p>"I want you to think of it seriously, Arthur," he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span> +said, as they shook hands through the carriage window. +"The mother is very anxious to have you, and +I am sure we can make things pleasant for you. I +shall speak to Drummond about leave if I see him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Arthur assented dubiously, and without any enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Awfully good of you to want me," he remarked. "I +daresay I'll be able to come. I'll try, anyhow—just +for a day or two."</p> + +<p>The train steamed off, and Paul walked slowly back +to his carriage.</p> + +<p>"Where to, sir?" the man asked.</p> + +<p>Paul hesitated for a moment. Then he gave Adrea's +address, and was driven away.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>"AH! HOW FAIR MY WEAKNESS FINDS THEE"</h3> + + +<p>Paul found no one in the hall of the house where +Adrea lived to take him to her, so after waiting a few +minutes for her maid, whom the porter had twice +fruitlessly summoned, he ascended the stairs alone, +and knocked at the door of her rooms.</p> + +<p>At first there was no reply. He tried again a little +louder, and this time there was a sound of some one +stirring within.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Celeste," was the drowsy answer.</p> + +<p>He turned the handle and walked in, carefully closing +the door behind him. At first the room appeared +to be in semi-darkness, for a clear spring day's sunshine +was brightening the streets which he had just +left, and here the heavy curtains were closely drawn, +as though to keep out every vestige of daylight. But +gradually his eyes grew accustomed to the shaded twilight +and he could make out the familiar objects of +the room; for although it was only his second visit, +they were familiar already in his thoughts.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span> + +<p>Strangely enough it seemed to him, after his first +hasty glance around, that the room was empty; but +just then a sudden gleam from the bright fire fell +upon Adrea's hair, and he saw her. He stood for a +moment silent and motionless. She was curled up on +a huge divan drawn close to the fireplace, with her +limbs doubled under her like a panther's, and her +arms, from which the loose sleeves had fallen back, +clasped half-bare underneath her head. The peculiar +grace of movement and carriage, which had made her +dancing so famous, was even more striking in repose, +for there was a faint, insidious suggestion of voluptuous +movement in those motionless, crouching limbs, +and the <i>abandon</i> of the shapely, dusky head, with its +crown of dark, wavy hair thrown back amongst the +cushions. It was beauty of a strange sort, the beauty +almost of some wild animal; but Paul felt a most unwilling +admiration steal through his senses as he gazed +down upon her. Her tea-gown, a wonderful shade of +shimmering green, tumbled and disarranged out of all +similitude to its original shape, followed the soft perfections +of her outline with such peculiar faithfulness +that it seemed to suggest even more than it concealed, +leaving the gentle tracery of her figure outlined there +like a piece of living Greek statuary. She turned +slightly upon the couch, and a slipperless little foot +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span> +stole out from a sea of lace and white draperies which +her uneasy movement had left exposed, and swayed +slowly backwards and forwards, trying to reach the +ground. Her eyes were still closed, but she was not +sleeping, for in a moment or two she spoke in a low, +drowsy tone.</p> + +<p>"Celeste, I told you not to disturb me for an hour. +It isn't five o'clock yet, is it?"</p> + +<p>He roused himself, and moved a step further into +the room. "It is still a quarter to five, I think," he +said. "I have come before my time."</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes, and then, seeing him, sprang +into a sitting posture. Her hair, which had escaped +all bounds, was down to her shoulders, and her gown, +still further disarranged by her hasty movement, +floated around her in wonderful curves and angles. +Had she been a past mistress in the art of picturesque +effects she could have conceived nothing more striking. +Paul felt all the old fear upon him as he +watched the firelight gleaming upon her startled, +dusky face, and the faint pink colouring, wonderfully +suggestive of a blush, steal into her cheeks. It seemed +to him that she was as beautiful as a woman could be, +and yet so different from Lady May.</p> + +<p>She rose, and, with a shrug of the shoulders and a +quick, graceful movement, shook out her skirts, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span> +pushed the hair back from her face. Then she held +out her hand, and Paul found himself compelled, +against his will, to stand by her side.</p> + +<p>"How strange that I should have overslept like this, +and have taken you for Celeste!" she said. "Yet +perhaps it was natural; for, Monsieur Paul, save +Celeste, no one yet has permission to enter my chamber +unannounced. How comes it that I find you here to +laugh at my <i>deshabille</i>?"</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment, while she looked at him +questioningly. Her soft, delicate voice, with its very +slight but piquant foreign intonation, had often +sounded in his reluctant yet charmed ears since their +last meeting; but now that he heard it again he felt +how weak were his imaginings, and what sweet music +it indeed was.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he answered; and the constraint +which he was placing upon his voice made it sound +hard and cold. "The porter rang for your maid twice +whilst I waited in the hall; but as she did not come, I +thought I had better try and find the way myself."</p> + +<p>"And I mistook your knock for Celeste's, and let +you discover me <i>comme cela</i>. Well, you were not to +blame. See, I will just arrange my hair here, and you +need not look at me unless you like."</p> + +<p>She stood up in front of a mirror, over which she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span> +lighted a shaded candle, and for a moment or two her +white hands flashed deftly in and out amongst the dark, +silky coils of disordered hair. Paul sat down, and +taking up a magazine which he found lying on the +divan, tried to concentrate his thoughts upon its contents. +But he could not. Every moment he found his +eyes and his thoughts straying to that slim, lithe figure, +watching the play of her arms and the grace of +her backward pose. When she looked suddenly round, +on the completion of her task, their eyes met.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Paul, you are like all your sex—curious," +she said lightly. "Tell me, then, do you admire my +coiffure?"</p> + +<p>"Very much," he answered, glancing at the loose +Grecian knot into which she had gathered her disordered +hair, and confined it with a band of dull gold. +"It is quite oriental, and it seems to suit you. Not +that I am any judge of such matters," he added +quickly.</p> + +<p>She moved away with a little, low laugh, and lit two +or three more of the shaded candles or fairy lamps +which were placed here and there on brackets round +the room. Then she rang the bell, and gave some +orders to the maid.</p> + +<p>"So you think my hair looks oriental," she said, +sinking down upon a huge cushion in front of the fire. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span> +"That is what the papers call me sometimes—oriental. +My early associations asserting themselves, you see. I +think I remember more of Constantinople than any +place," she went on dreamily, with her eyes fixed on +the fire. "I was only a child in those days, but it +seemed to me then that nothing could be more beautiful +than the City of Mosques and the Golden Horn on +a clear summer evening. Why do I think of those +days?" she added, shaking her head impatiently. +"Such folly! And yet I always think of them when I +am lonely."</p> + +<p>He was suddenly and deeply moved with altogether +a new feeling towards her—one of responsibility. She +was alone in the world, and it was his father's hand +which had rendered her so. How empty and barren +had been his conception of the burden which that deed +had laid upon him! Like a flash he seemed to see the +whole situation in a new light. If, indeed, she had +drifted into ruin, the sin lay at his door. He should +have found her a mother; it should have been his care +to have watched her continually, and to have assured +himself that she was contented and happy. In those +few moments the whole situation seemed to change, +and he even felt a hot flush of shame at his own coldness +towards her. He forgot the dancer, the woman of +strange fascinations, the idol of the <i>jeunesse dorée</i> of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span> +West London clubdom, and he remembered only the +fact that she was a lonely orphan with a most womanly +light in her soft, dark eyes, and that he had failed in +his duty towards her. Paul was essentially a "manly" +man, self-contained, and with all his feelings very +much at his control; but at that moment he felt something +like a rush of tenderness towards this strange, +dark-eyed girl who lay coiled up at his feet. Involuntarily +he stretched out his hand and laid it, with an almost +caressing gesture, upon her hair.</p> + +<p>She started around, as though electrified, and looking +up saw the change in his face. It was the first +kindly look or speech she had had from him since +they had met in London, and it had come so suddenly +that it seemed to have a strange effect upon her. A +deep flush stole into her face, and her eyes gleamed +brilliantly. She drew a long breath, and underneath +her loose gown he could see her bosom rising and falling +quickly. Yet it all seemed so softened and womanly +that the thoughts which he had once had of her +seemed like a distant nightmare to him. The ethical +and physical horror of her being—of her ever becoming—what +he feared, rose up strong within him, and +deepened at once his sense of responsibility towards +her, and his new-born tenderness. He took her hand +gently, and was startled to find how cold it was.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span> + +<p>"So you do feel lonely, Adrea, sometimes," he said +softly, "although you have so many acquaintances."</p> + +<p>The colour burned deeper for a moment in her +cheeks. She looked at him half reproachfully, half +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Acquaintances! You mean the people who come +to see me! I hate them all! Sometimes they amuse +me a little, but that is all. They are nothing!"</p> + +<p>"And you have no women friends?"</p> + +<p>"None! How should I! But I do not care. I do +not like English-women!"</p> + +<p>"But, Adrea, it is not good for you,—this isolation +from your sex."</p> + +<p>At the sound of her Christian name, coming from his +lips so gently, almost affectionately, she looked up +quickly. It seemed to him almost as though some +softening change had crept over her. Was it the firelight, +he wondered, or was it fancy?</p> + +<p>"Good for me!" she said softly. "Have you +just thought of that, Monsieur Paul?"</p> + +<p>Again he felt that pang of conscience; and yet, was +she not a little unjust to him?</p> + +<p>"You took your life into your own hands," he +reminded her. "You chose for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" she answered, drawing a little nearer +to him, till her head almost rested upon his knees. "I +do not blame you."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span> + +<p>"It would have been so easy before to have found a +home for you," he went on, "and now you have made it +so difficult."</p> + +<p>"There is no need," she interrupted proudly; "I +could keep myself now. I do not want anything from +you, Monsieur Paul,—save one thing!"</p> + +<p>She raised her face to his, and it seemed to him to +be all aglow with a wonderful, new light. There was +no mistaking the soft entreaty of those strange, dark +eyes so close to his, or the tremor in his tones. And +then, before he could answer her, before he could summon +up resolution enough to draw away, she had stolen +softly into his arms, and, with a little murmur of content, +had rested her small, dusky head, with its coronet +of dark, braided hair, upon his shoulder, and twined +her hands around his neck.</p> + +<p>"Paul! Monsieur Paul! I am lonely and miserable. +Love me just a little, only a little!" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>It was the supreme moment for both of them. To +her, coveting this love with all the passionate force of +her fiery oriental nature, time seemed to stand still +while she rested passively in his arms, neither altogether +accepted nor altogether repulsed. And to him, +as he sat there pale and shaken, fighting fiercely against +this great temptation which threatened his self-respect, +his liberty of body and soul, life seemed to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span> +have turned into a grim farce, full of grotesque lights +and shadows, mocking and gibing at all which had +seemed to him sweet and pure and strong. Her warm +breath fell upon his cheek, and her eyes maddened +him. A curiously faint perfume from her clothes +floated upon the air, and oppressed him with its peculiar +richness. He was a strong man but at that +moment he faltered. It seemed as though some unseen +hand were weaving a spell upon him, as though his +whole environment was being drawn in around him, +and he himself were powerless. Yet, even in that +moment of intoxication, his reason did not altogether +desert him. He knew that if he opened his arms to +receive that clinging figure, and drew the delicate, +tear-stained face, full of mute invitation, down to his, +to be covered with passionate kisses,—he knew that at +that moment he would sign the death-warrant to all +that had seemed fair and sweet and comely in his life. +Forever he must live without self-respect, a dishonoured +man in his own eyes, perhaps some day in hers,—for he +had no more faith in her love than in his.</p> + +<p>He held her hands tightly in his,—he had unwound +them gently from his neck,—and stood up face to face +with her upon the hearthrug. The soft fire-light threw +up strange, ruddy gleams, which glowed around her +and shown in her dark eyes, fixed so earnestly and so +passionately upon his.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> + +<p>"Adrea," he said, and his low, hoarse tone sounded +harsh and unfamiliar to his ears, "you do not know——"</p> + +<p>She interrupted him, she threw her arms again +around his neck, and her upturned face almost met his.</p> + +<p>"I do know! I do know! I understand—everything! +Only I—cannot live without you, Paul!"</p> + +<p>Her head sank upon his shoulder; he could not +thrust her away. Very gently he passed his arms +around her, and drew her to him. He knew that he +could trust himself. For him the battle was over. +Even as she had crept into his arms, there had come to +him a flash of memory—a sudden, swift vision. The +walls of the dimly lit, dainty little chamber, with all +its charm of faint perfume, soft lights, and luxurious +drapings, had opened before him, and he looked out +upon another world. A bare Northumbrian moor, +with its tumbled masses of grey rock, its low-hanging, +misty clouds and silent tarns, stretched away before +his eyes. A strong, fresh breeze, salt-smelling and +bracing, cooled his hot face. The roar of a great ocean +thundered in his ears, and an angry sunset burned +strange colours into the western sky. And with these +actual memories came a healthier tone of feeling—something, +indeed, of the old North-country puritanism +which was in his blood. The sea spoke to him of the +vastness of life, and dared him to cast his away, soiled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span> +and tarnished, for the sake of a brief, passionate delight. +The breeze, nature's very voice, whispered to him to +stand true to himself, and taste once more and for ever +the deep joy of pure and perfect communion with her. +The voices of his past life spoke to him in one long, +sweet chorus, and held up to him those ideals to which +he had been ever true. And blended with all were +memories, faint but sweet, of a fair womanly face, into +whose clear grey eyes he could never dare to look again +if he yielded now to this fierce temptation. A new +strength came upon him, and brought with it a great +tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, my child," he said softly, "you make me +almost forget that I am your guardian and you are +my ward. Sit down here! I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>He led her, dumb and unresisting, to a chair, and +stood by her side.</p> + +<p>"Adrea——"</p> + +<p>She interrupted him, throwing his arms roughly +from her shoulder, and springing to her feet.</p> + +<p>"How dare you touch me! How dare you stand +there and mock me! Oh! how I hate you! hate +you! hate you!"</p> + +<p>Her voice and every limb trembled with passion, and +her face was as pale as death. Before her anger he +bowed his head and was silent. Against the sombre +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span> +background of dark curtains, her slim form seemed to +gain an added strength and dignity.</p> + +<p>"You have insulted me, Paul de Vaux! Do I +not owe you enough already, without putting this to +the score! Dare you think that it was indeed my +love I offered you—you who stood by and saw my +father murdered that you might be spared from shame +and disgrace! Bah! Listen to me and go! You +have a brother? Good! I shall ruin him, shall break +his heart; and, when the task is over, I shall cast him +away like an old glove! Oh, it will be easy, never +fear! I shall do it. Arthur is no cold hypocrite, like +you. He is my slave. And when I have ruined him, +have set my foot upon him, it will be your turn, Monsieur +Paul de Vaux. Listen! I will know my father's +secret! I will know why he was murdered! I +will discover everything! Some day the whole world +shall know—from me. Now go! Out of my sight, I +say! Go! go! go!"</p> + +<p>With bowed head and face as white as death Paul +walked out of the room, with her words ringing in his +ears like the mocking echoes of some hideous nightmare.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>"I AM BUT A SLAVE, AND YET I BID THEE COME"</h3> + + +<p>"Were there any letters for me this morning, +mother?" Paul asked.</p> + +<p>"Only one for you, I think," Mrs. de Vaux answered +from across the tea-tray. "I believe you will find it in +the library. Shall I send for it?"</p> + +<p>Paul shook his head. "It will keep," he answered +lightly. "I can get it on my way upstairs. +Have we anything left to tell, Lady May?"</p> + +<p>"I think not," Lady May replied, from the depths +of an easy chair drawn up to the fire. "Altogether it +has been a glorious day, and such a scent! I don't +know when I have enjoyed anything so much."</p> + +<p>"Nor I!" Paul answered heartily. "The going +was superb, and that second fox took us over a grand +stretch of country. Really, if it hadn't been for the +walls here and there, we might have been in Leicestershire! +May I have some more tea, mother?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. de Vaux stretched out her hand for his cup, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span> +smiled gently at their enthusiasm. She had been a +hunting woman all her life; and, though she seldom +even drove to a meet now, she liked to have her son +come in to afternoon tea with her, and talk over the +run. Of late, too, he had seemed so pale and listless +that she had been getting a little anxious. She had begun +to fear that he must be out of health, or that the +monotony of Vaux Abbey was wearying him, and that +he would be leaving her again soon. But to-day she +had watched him ride up the avenue, with Lady May, +and it seemed to her that there was a change in +his bearing—a change for the better; and, looking at +him now, she was sure of it. A faint glow was in his +cheeks, and his eyes were brighter. His manner, too, +to Lady May pleased her more. He had ridden home +with her; from their conversation, they seemed to have +been together almost all day; and there seemed to be a +spirit of <i>bon comeradie</i> between the two, as they talked +over their doings, which certainly pointed to a good +understanding. Altogether Mrs. de Vaux was pleased +and hopeful.</p> + +<p>And, indeed, she had reason to be, for his long day +in the open country with Lady May had been like +a strong, sweet tonic to Paul. For the first time since +his return to Vaux Abbey he had felt that a time +might come when he would be able to escape altogether +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span> +from those lingering, bitter-sweet memories which +were all that remained to him now of Adrea. On the +bare, windy moor, with the glow of physical exercise +and excitement coursing through his veins, and Lady +May's pleasant voice in his ears, that little scene in the +rose-lit chamber seemed for a moment very far away. +Adrea, with her soft, passion-lit eyes, and dusky, oriental +face, her lithe, voluptuous figure and the faint +perfumes of her rustling draperies, seemed less to him +then than a short while ago he could have believed +possible. He could not think of that scene without a +shudder,—it had left its mark in a certain way for +ever,—but it was not so constantly present to him. He +knew that, for the first time, a woman had tempted him +sorely. He knew, too, and he alone, how nearly he +had yielded. His sudden passion, her strange Eastern +beauty, and the fascination which it had exercised over +him, together with the soft sensuousness of her surroundings, +had formed a strong coalition, and to-day +he recognised, for the first time, how much he owed +his victory to the girl who was riding by his side. +Even in those breathless moments of hesitation he had +found time to consider that if he yielded to Adrea's +pleading, he could never again take Lady May's hand, +or meet her frank, open gaze. The pure healthfulness +of life which had been so dear to him would be tainted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span> +for ever. The moorland breezes of his northern home +would never strike the same chords in his nature again. +All these recollections had flashed across his mind at +that critical moment, lending strength to resist and +crush his passion. And to-day he had commenced to +reap his reward. To-day he had tasted once more the +sweets of these things, and found how dear they still +were to him. He could still look into Lady May's fair, +pure face unshamed, and find all the old pleasure +in listening to her frank, girlish talk; and he could +still bare his head to the sweeping winds, and lift his +face to the sun and gaze with silent admiration at the +faint, deepening colours in the western sky, as Lady +May and he rode homeward across the moor in the late +afternoon. All these joys would have been lost to him +for ever,—these and many others. Adrea could never +have repaid him for their loss.</p> + +<p>So Paul, who had come home from London pale and +silent, with the marks of a great struggle upon him, +lay back in an arm chair and watched the firelight +play upon Lady May's fair face with more than a passive +interest. Mrs. de Vaux's cherished scheme had +never been so near its accomplishment; for if she +could have read Paul's thoughts she would have +known that he was thinking of Lady May more tenderly +than he had ever done before. Meeting his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span> +steadfast, almost wistful, gaze, she became almost confused, +and suddenly rising, she shook out the skirts of +her riding habit, and took up her hat and whip.</p> + +<p>"It has been such a delightful rest," she said, looking +away from Paul and speaking to his mother. "I +shall never forget how good that tea tasted! But I +really must go, Mrs. de Vaux! My poor animal is +quite done up, and I shall have to walk all the way +home."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether I did right," Paul said, rising, +"but I sent your groom straight on home with +the mare, and ordered a brougham for you. She has +had a long day, and I thought it would be more comfortable +for you."</p> + +<p>She flashed a grateful glance at him. "How +thoughtful and how kind you are! Of course it will +be nicer! I was beginning to feel a little selfish, too, +for keeping Betty out of her stable so long."</p> + +<p>"As a reward we will keep you a little longer," he +remarked. "It is only six o'clock!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "No I won't stop, thanks! +There are some tiresome people coming to dine to-night, +and I must go home. Good-bye, Lady de +Vaux!"</p> + +<p>Paul strolled down the hall with her and handed +her into the carriage. For the first time in his life he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span> +held her hand a little tighter and a little longer than +was necessary.</p> + +<p>"Shall you be at home to-morrow afternoon, Lady +May?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him for a moment, and then her +eyes drooped, and her heart beat a little faster. She +understood him.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she answered softly.</p> + +<p>"I shall ride over then! Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>He lingered on the doorstep for a minute, watching +the carriage roll down the avenue. When it had +disappeared, he turned back into the hall, and after +a moment's hesitation, entered the library.</p> + +<p>It was a large, sombre-looking apartment, scarcely +ever entered by anyone save Paul. The bookcases +reached only half-way up the walls, the upper portion +of which was hung with oil portraits, selected +from the picture gallery. At the lower end of the +room the shelves had been built out at right angles +to the wall, lined with books, and in one of the recesses +so-formed—almost as large as an ordinary-sized +chamber—Paul had his writing-table surrounded +by his favourite volumes. It was a delightful +little miniature library. Facing him, six rows of +black oak shelves held a fine collection of classical +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> +literature; on his left, the lower shelves contained +rare editions of the early English dramatists, and the +upper ones were given up to poetry, from Chaucer +to Swinburne. The right-hand shelves were wholly +French, from quaint volumes of troubadours' poetry +to Alfred de Musset and De Maupassant. It was here +Paul spent most of his time when at the Abbey.</p> + +<p>The meet had been rather a long way off that +morning, and he had left before the arrival of the +post-bag from the neighbouring town. Mrs. de Vaux +had distributed the letters, and the one she had spoken +of lay at the edge of the table. He stretched out +his hand to take it up—without any presentiments, +without any thought as to whom it might be from. +An invitation, doubtless, or a begging letter he imagined, +as he caught sight of the large square envelope. +But suddenly, before his fingers had closed +upon it, he started and stood quite still, leaning over +the back of his chair. His heart was beating fast, +and there was a mist before his eyes—a mist through +which he saw, as though in a dream, the walls of +his library melt away, to be replaced by the dainty +interior of that little room in Grey Street, with all +the dim luxury of its soft colouring and adornment. +He saw her too, the centre of the picture—saw her as +she seemed to him before that final scene—saw her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> +half-kneeling, half-crouching, before him, with her +beautiful dark eyes, yearning and passionate, fixed +upon his in mute, but wonderfully eloquent, pleading. +Oh! it was folly, but it was sweet, marvellously +sweet. Every nerve seemed thrilled with the exquisite +pleasure of the memory so suddenly called up +to him, and his lips quivered with the thought of +what he might have said to her. The strange, voluptuous +perfume which crept upwards from that letter +seemed in a measure to have paralysed him. He +stood there like a man entranced, with the dim firelight +on one side and the low horned moon through +the high window on his left, casting a strange, vivid +light on his pale face—paler even than usual against +the scarlet of his hunting-coat. That letter! What +could it contain? Was it a recall, or a fresh torrent +of anger? He stood there quite still, leaning over +the back of the high-backed oak chair emblazoned +with the De Vaux arms, and making no motion towards +taking it up.</p> + +<p>A sound from outside—the low rumbling of a gong—roused +him at last, and he pushed the chair hastily +away from him. His first impulse was one of +anger, of shame, that he, a strong man, as he had +deemed himself, should have been so moved by a +simple flood of memories. It seemed ignoble to him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span> +and a frown gathered on his forehead as he reached +forward and picked up the letter. Yet his fingers +trembled as they tore it open, and his eyes ran over +the contents rapidly.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="author">"18 GREY STREET, LONDON, W., <i>Thursday</i>.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Paul, my hand trembles a little when I sit +down to write to you, and think of our last parting. But +write to you I must! I am very humble now, and very, +very much ashamed! Shall I go on and say that I am +very sad and lonely,—for it is so! I am miserable! I +have been miserable every moment since that day! +Forgive me, Monsieur Paul, forgive me! my guardian. +I behaved quite dreadfully, and I deserved to be punished. +Believe me! I am punished. I have had scarcely +any sleep, and my eyes are swollen with weeping. I +have cancelled all my engagements this week, and I +have closed my doors to everybody. Oh! be generous, +Monsieur Paul! be generous and forgive me! I have +suffered so much,—it is right that I should, for I was +much to blame. Will you not let fall some kindly veil +of memory over that afternoon. I was mad. Let what +I said be unsaid! Let me be again just what you called +me,—your ward. I ask for nothing more! Be cold, +if you will, and stern! Scold me! and I will but say +that I have deserved it! Only come to me! Come and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span> +let me hear your own lips tell me that I am forgiven. +I will do everything that you ask! I will not see Arthur +if he calls,—you shall tell me yourself how to +answer his letters,—I have a little pile of them here. +Monsieur Paul, you must come! You must come, or I +shall be driven to—but no! I will not threaten. You +would not care whatever happened to me, would you? +I am very, very lonely. I wish that I could have telegraphed +all this, and had you here to-night! But you +would not have come! Yet, perhaps you would, out of +kindness to a solitary girl. I like to think that you +would have!</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Paul, you have been good to the 'little +brown girl,' as you used to call her, all your life! Do +not forsake her now. She has been very mad and +wicked, but she is very, very penitent. Celeste tells +me that I am looking thin and ill, and my looking-glass +says the same. It is because I am unhappy; +it is because my guardian is angry with me, and he is +so far away. Oh! Monsieur Paul, come, come, come +to me! It shall be all as you wish! I will obey you in +everything. Only forgive!</p> + +<p class="author2">"Yours,</p> + +<p class="author">"ADREA."</p> +</blockquote> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>"ADREA'S DIARY"</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"A figure from the past I see once more as in a dream." +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>This evening I have had an adventure! I am thankful, +for it has occupied my thoughts for awhile; and +for anything that does that I am grateful. I had been +in the house all day, restless and nervous, and towards +dusk I put on my cloak and a thick veil, and went out +into the street. I scarcely noticed which way I went. +It was all the same to me. A dull purple bank of +clouds hung low down in the west, and the air was +close and still. By-and-by I heard thunder, and big +raindrops fell upon the pavement. A storm was threatening, +and I longed for it to come and clear the air.</p> + +<p>I must have been walking for nearly an hour, when +it came at last, and the rain fell in great sheets. I +looked around for a cab, but there was none in sight. +I had no idea where I was,—London is so vast and +large,—and though, by the distant roar of wheels, I +could tell that I was not far from a great thoroughfare, +the street in which I was seemed to be deserted. Just +by my side was a dark tunnel, gloomy and vault-like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> +in appearance; but in that downpour any refuge was +welcome, and I stepped back underneath it. It was +like going into the bowels of the earth; and, every +now and then, there was a roar over my head which +made me almost dizzy. But, from round the corner, I +could see that it was only the sound of trains passing +and repassing, so I decided to stay until I could see a +cab.</p> + +<p>Opposite to me was a man with a truck-load of +oranges, and by his side a boy seated before a red-hot +swinging can, containing chestnuts. There was no one +else in the street, although at the bottom of it crowds +of people and a constant stream of vehicles were hurrying +along. On the other side of the way was a tall +and grim-looking building, discoloured with smoke and +age. It was evidently a hospital or institution of some +sort. The windows were long and narrow, and one or +two of them, I could see, were of stained glass. There +was no brass plate by the front door, nor any sign. In +the absence of anything else to do, I began to frame +surmises as to what the place might be. The spotlessly +white doorsteps and polished bell interested me; +they seemed out of tone with the character of the place +and its surroundings, so utterly bare and dreary. I +began to wish that a caller would come and ring the +bell, so that I could get a peep at the interior. But no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span> +one did, although I noticed that more than one hurrying +passer-by glanced up at it curiously.</p> + +<p>The thunder died away, but the rain still came down +heavily. If it had not been for my curious interest in +that great ugly building opposite, I should have risked +a wetting, and made my way down to the busy thoroughfare +in the distance. But I was anxious to see +some one enter or leave the place, or for something to +happen which would give me an idea as to its character; +so I waited. Half an hour passed, and my curiosity +remained unsatisfied. There was no sign of life +about the place; not even a tradesman had called, nor +had that forbidding-looking portal once been opened. +It was still raining fast, but there were signs of finer +weather, and right overhead was a break in the clouds. +I should certainly be able to leave now in a few minutes; +but, strangely enough, all my impatience seemed +gone. The grim-looking building opposite had fascinated +me. I had no desire to leave the place until I +had found out all about it.</p> + +<p>It was odd, that curiosity of mine; all my days I +shall wonder at it. On the face of it, it seemed so unreasonable, +and yet it led to so much. I have no creed, +and I know nothing about philosophies, or perhaps to-night's +adventure might have meant even more to me. +But, indeed, it seems as though some unseen hand led +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> +me out and brought me into that deserted street. From +to-night there must be changes in my life; I cannot +escape from them. As yet I am too much in a whirl +to ask myself whether I wish to.</p> + +<p>To return to that house. When I saw that the +storm was clearing, and that I should be able to leave +in a few minutes, I determined to make an effort to +satisfy my curiosity. I crossed the road, and addressed +the man who was sitting on the handles of +his barrow of oranges.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what place that is opposite?" I +asked, pointing across the road.</p> + +<p>He took out a filthy pipe from his mouth, and spat +upon the pavement. I think that he must have noticed +my look of disgust, for he answered me surlily, "No, +I don't!"</p> + +<p>I turned to the boy. "Do you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Not for certain, ma'am. I +believe it's some sort of a Roman Catholic place, +though. Them gents in long clothes and shovel hats +is allus going in and hout. 'Ullo, Bill! Here she be +again! She's a-trying it on, ain't she?"</p> + +<p>The man looked up and grunted. I followed the +boy's glance, and saw a tall, dark woman walking +swiftly along on the other side of the road. From the +very first her figure was somehow familiar to me, and</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> + +<p>She stopped outside the closed door, and hesitated +for a moment, as though doubtful whether to ring or +not. During her moment of hesitation she glanced +round, and I recognised her. She could not see me, +for I was in the shadow of the underground tunnel.</p> + +<p>"Blarmed if she ain't come again," the man growled. +"She's as regular as clockwork! Wonder what she +wants!"</p> + +<p>I felt my knees trembling; I could not have crossed +the road at that moment if it had been to save my life. +The boy looked up at me curiously.</p> + +<p>"Happen you know her, lady," he remarked. "She's +been here at this time, or thereabouts, pretty near +every day for a fortnight."</p> + +<p>Happen I know her! Yes, that was the boy's odd +phrase. It rang in my ears, and I found myself gasping +for breath. My eyes were fixed upon that tall, +slender figure, clothed in sober black, waiting upon +the doorstep with bowed head, and standing very still +and motionless. It was like an effigy of patience. +There were not two women in the world like that; it +was impossible. She was in England, and alone—free! +What did it mean? Should I run to her, or +hide away? I glanced over my shoulder where the +black shadows of the tunnel were only dimly lit by +the feeble gaslight. I could steal away, and she would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> +never see me. Yet as I thought of it, the grimy, barren +street and the solemn-looking building faded away +before my eyes. The sun and wind burned my face; +the wind, salt with ocean spray, and echoing with the +hoarse screaming of the sea-birds that rode upon it. +I was at Cruta again, panting to be free, stealing away +in the twilight down the narrow path amongst the rocks +to where that tiny boat lay waiting, like a speck upon +the waters. And it was she who had helped me—the +sad-faced woman who had braved the terrible anger of +the man whom we had both dreaded. Again I heard +her gentle words of counsel, and the answering lies +which should have blistered my lips. For I lied to +her, not hastily or on impulse, but deliberately in cold +blood. Anything, I cried to myself, to escape from +this rock, this living death! So I lied to her, and she +helped me. No wonder that I trembled. No wonder +that I half made up my mind to flee away into the +sheltering darkness of that noisome-looking tunnel.</p> + +<p>It takes long to set down in writing the thoughts +which flashed through me at that moment. Yet when +I had made up my mind the woman was still there, +waiting meekly before the closed door.</p> + +<p>"You were speaking of her," I said to the boy, who +was half-sitting, half-crouching against the side of the +tunnel. "What was it you said? I did not hear."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> + +<p>Man and boy commenced to tell me together. Their +strange London talk puzzled me, and I could only extract +a confused sense of what they said. The woman, +to whom they rudely pointed, had called at the building +opposite every day for a fortnight at about this +hour to make some inquiry. Day by day she had +turned away, after one brief question asked and answered, +with bowed head and dejected manner. Yet, +day by day, she returned and repeated it. Ever +the same disappointment, the same despair!</p> + +<p>They knew nothing more. Her regular visits had +awakened a certain curiosity in them, and they had +commenced to look for them, and indulge in a little +mild speculation as to her one day meeting with a +different reception. Nothing more! There was a +shade of pity in the boy's tone, and I gave him a +shilling; then I crossed the road.</p> + +<p>As I left the kerbstone, the door opened and I heard +her question:—</p> + +<p>"Has Father Adrian called or written, or sent any +address yet, please?"</p> + +<p>The man, who had opened the door only a few +inches, kept in the background, and I could see nothing +of him, but I heard his grim, monosyllable reply:</p> + +<p>"No! Father Adrian has not visited or communicated +with us."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span> + +<p>She turned away with a meek "Thank you," and +found herself face to face with me. My heart smote +me when I saw how poor were her clothes, and how +thin her features.</p> + +<p>At first she did not know me; but I raised my veil, +and whispered her name softly in her ear.</p> + +<p>She threw up her hands, and swayed backwards and +forwards upon the pavement.</p> + +<p>"Adrea! Adrea!" she cried wildly. "My God!"</p> + +<p>A cab drove up, and I called it. She had just +strength enough to enter it, leaning heavily upon my +arm; then she fainted.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>"WE ARE LIKE SHOOTING STARS, WHOSE MEETING IS +THEIR RUIN"</h3> + + +<p>To-night I have had another shock! I was sitting +alone in my room down-stairs, dreaming over the fire, +when a footstep sounded upon the stairs. At first I +thought that it might be Paul, and I sprang up, and +stood listening intently. What a little fool I was! I +felt the colour burning in my cheeks, and my heart +was beating. I listened to the tread, and the madness +passed away. It was a man's footsteps, but not +Paul's.</p> + +<p>They halted at my door, and there was a firm, deliberate +knock. Before I could reply, the handle was +turned, and a figure stood upon the threshold.</p> + +<p>My little chamber was in darkness, but the clear, +cold voice struck a vague note of familiarity.</p> + +<p>"I seek Adrea Kiros! Are these her rooms? Are +you she?"</p> + +<p>I struck a match with trembling fingers, and looked +eagerly towards the doorway. A man stood there, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span> +dark, stern, and forbidding, looking steadfastly towards +me. My memory had not deceived me! It was Father +Adrian!</p> + +<p>"You have found me out," I said slowly. "Come +inside and close the door."</p> + +<p>He moved slowly forward, and stood in the middle +of the room. His face was as white as marble and as +steadfast; but his dark eyes, which seemed to be challenging +mine to meet them, were full of smouldering +fire. I summoned up all my courage, and threw myself +into a low chair, with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>"You are not exactly cordial," I said. "If you have +anything to say to me, won't you sit down?"</p> + +<p>"If I have anything to say to you!" he repeated, +and his whole tone seemed vibrating with hardly subdued +passion. "If I have anything to say to you! Is +this your greeting?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, not if you come as a friend! But when +you stand and glare at me <i>comme cela</i>, what do you expect? +Nothing very cordial, surely!"</p> + +<p>He advanced a step further towards me. I watched +him steadfastly, and I knew that the old madness was +not dead. I was glad. It made the struggle between +us more even.</p> + +<p>"Have I no cause to look at you sternly, Adrea?" +he demanded,—"you who deceived us! you who lied +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[pg 124]</span> +to us, to win our aid! Where would you have been +now had it not been for me? At Cruta! Would to +God my hand had withered before it had set you free!"</p> + +<p>"You are very kind!"</p> + +<p>"Girl, are you mad? At Cruta you were thoughtless +and gay, but God knows your heart was pure. Now +you are a paid dancing girl!"</p> + +<p>I turned upon him suddenly, rising to my full height, +and looking him straight in the face. He did not +flinch, but a faint colour rose to his forehead as he continued.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" I said. "You are talking of those things +which you do not understand. You could not possibly +understand. You and I are different; we belong to +different worlds. The things of your world are not the +things of mine. Leave me now, and for ever, and let +us go our own ways. We measure things by different +quantities. You are a priest, and very much a priest, +and I am a woman, and very much a woman! For the +past I am grateful; for its sake I forget the insults of +the present. Now go!"</p> + +<p>I knew quite well that he would not take me at my +word, nor did he.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, I cannot go and lose all knowledge of you +for ever," he said sadly. "For my own sake I would +say, Would to God that I could! but it is impossible. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[pg 125]</span> +Within me there is a voice which whispers 'Fly,' but I +cannot; your future is still as dear to me as in the old +days. Oh! Adrea! I have sorrowed and mourned lest +our last parting had been for ever, and now, alas! I +would that it had been; I would to God that I had +never found you out!"</p> + +<p>"You can forget it," I said coldly.</p> + +<p>"I can never forget it," he answered fiercely. "Girl! +you seem to me sometimes like a scourge! Your memory +is a very nightmare of sin! You have brought me +nothing but pain and remorse and anguish of heart. +For all my suffering there is no brighter side; yet I +cannot forget it!"</p> + +<p>Despite his fierce words, which for a moment had +burned in my ears, I pitied him. In the old days he +had been my champion, and it was his hand, together +with hers, which had aided my escape from Cruta. So +I spoke to him softly.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry! As I said, we are of different moulds, +and we belong to a different branch of humanity. We +are neither of us inclined to change! Let us go our +own ways, and apart!"</p> + +<p>He was close by my side now, and his hand was +resting on the back of my chair. I laid mine upon it +for a moment; it was cold as ice, and shaking. The +old madness was upon him indeed.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[pg 126]</span> + +<p>"You were kind to me at Cruta," I continued. "I +do not forget it, and I thank you for it! But we are +as far apart as the poles, and we must continue so."</p> + +<p>The position between us seemed reversed. He stood +by my side, pale and passionate, with his clear eyes +full of a strange wistfulness.</p> + +<p>"All that you say is, in a measure, true," he said in +a low tone; "yet do not send me away from you! Some +day you may see things differently; some day trouble +may come to you, and I may be your helper! There is +only one thing: I would have you look upon me as a +brother, and I would have you give me a brother's confidence."</p> + +<p>"I would gladly be friends with you," I answered, +"only do not seek more than I choose to tell you. As +for the things you charge me with, there is truth and +falsehood in them. It is true that I have earned my +living by dancing, but it has been in private only. Of +course, you know nothing about it; how should you? +But I am not a ballet dancer, as I believe you think."</p> + +<p>"You are not upon the stage, then?"</p> + +<p>"No! nor do I dance in short skirts! Some day I +will give you an exhibition in this room! Now don't +look like that," I added quickly; "I was only joking. +I would not defile the air around your saintliness for +the world! But I want to tell you this: my dancing is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span> +recognised as an art. I rank everywhere with the men +and women who are called artists, the men and women +who are ever striving to realize in some manner a particular +ideal of beauty through different channels. +The highest development of physical beauty in the +human form is in grace of motion. I aim at the beautiful +in illustrating this. I didn't know it myself until +a great painter told me so, but I am beginning to +understand. I don't expect you to; you must take it +on trust."</p> + +<p>"It sounds strange to me, but I do not doubt that +there is truth, some truth in it," he admitted gravely.</p> + +<p>"You and I look upon life, and all its connections, +with different eyes," I continued. "What may seem +sin to you, may be justified to me. Yet I will stoop to +answer your unspoken question. As I was at Cruta, +so I am now! It may be that I am better, for I have +done a good action!"</p> + +<p>He held up his hand, but I took no notice.</p> + +<p>"I will tell it you. A few days ago, chance brought +in my way a most unhappy woman. She had escaped +from an odious captivity, only to find herself alone, +friendless and penniless in a strange city. The man +on whom she had counted for help she could not find. +He had given her an address where she might always +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span> +hear of him. Day by day she inquired there in vain. +It may have been through no fault of his, but she was +in sore straits."</p> + +<p>"Her name?"</p> + +<p>"I found her, and brought her home. She lives +with me; she is here!"</p> + +<p>The door was opening as I spoke, and she entered. +They stood face to face, silent with the shock of so +sudden a meeting. Then he stepped quickly forward, +and, taking her hands, drew her to him. I slipped +away, and left them alone together.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>"THE PATH THAT LEADS TO MADMEN'S KINGDOMS"</h3> + + +<p>A north-country storm of rain and wind had suddenly +blown up from the sea, and the few remaining +followers of the De Vaux hounds were dispersed right +and left, making for home with all possible speed. +The sky had looked dull and threatening all day long, +and with the first shades of twilight the rain had commenced +to fall in a sudden torrent. There had been +some little hesitation on the part of the master about +drawing this last cover, for the hounds had had a rough +day, and the field was small; and directly the storm +broke, the horn was blown without hesitation, the +pack was re-called, and the huntsman, cracking his +whip, started for home at a long, swinging trot. The +day's sport was over.</p> + +<p>There were only a handful of horsemen waiting outside +when the signal was given, and with collars turned +up to their ears, and cigars alight, they were very soon +riding down the hill to the village whose lights were +beginning to twinkle out from the darkness in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span> +valley below. At the cross-roads, Paul, who had been +riding in the midst of them, wheeled his horse round +and took the road to Vaux Abbey amidst a chorus of +farewells.</p> + +<p>"Are you going for the Abbey, De Vaux?" Captain +Westover asked, reining in his horse. "Better come +home with me, and dine! I'll send you back to-night, +and they'll look after your mare all right in the stables. +Come along!"</p> + +<p>Paul shook his head. "I'll get home, thanks!" he +answered. "A wetting won't hurt me, and there's +only a mile or two of it."</p> + +<p>Captain Westover shrugged his shoulders. "Just +as you like. My people would be very glad to see +you! By the bye, you were to have called last week, +weren't you? Lady May was asking where you were +this morning! Come and dine to-morrow night!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks! Unless I send word over to the contrary, +I will, then! Good-night!"</p> + +<p>"Good-night!"</p> + +<p>Captain Westover cantered on after the others, and +Paul turned off in the opposite direction, riding slowly, +with bent head and loose bridle. In his pocket was +Adrea's letter, scarcely a week old; and now that the +physical excitement of the day was over, his thoughts, +as usual, were full of it again. It was an uphill battle +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span> +that he was fighting! All day long he had been striving +to forget it! He had spared neither himself nor +his horses in the desperate attempt to reach such a +stage of physical exhaustion as should make his mind +a blank—as should free it, at any rate, from those torturing +memories, and the fierce restlessness which they +begat. He had tried his utmost, and he had failed. +His pink hunting-coat and tops, immaculate at the +start, were covered with thick mud, and his horse (his +second mount) was scarcely able to put one foot before +the other. Yet he had failed utterly. Hunger and +fatigue seemed things far away to him. Wherever he +looked—out into the grey mists, which came rolling +across the moor, soaking him with moisture, or down +into the road, fast becoming a bog, or up into the dim +sky—he seemed to see the pages of Adrea's letter +standing out before him, word for word, phrase for +phrase. Every sentence of it seemed to him as vivid +and real as though it had been spoken in his ears; nay, +he could almost fancy that he saw the great tears welling +slowly out of those soft, dark eyes, and could hear +the passionate quiver in her faltering tones. Day by +day it had been a desperate struggle with him to resist +the mad desire which prompted him to order a dogcart, +drive to the nearest town, and catch the mail train +to London. Beyond that—how she would receive him, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span> +what he would say to her—everything was chaos; he +dared not trust himself to think about it.</p> + +<p>Yet, whenever he suffered his thoughts to dwell upon +this matter at all, the reverse side of it all sooner or +later presented itself. Clear and insistent above the +emotion which swayed him came ever that uncompromising +question—where lay his duty in this matter? +It was the true and manly side of his nature, developed +by instinct and long training, and refusing now to be +overborne and swept away by this surging tide of passion. +It rang in his ears, and it demanded an answer. +Away in the distance, on the opposite side of the valley, +his vacant eyes rested idly upon the many lights and +dim outline of Westover Castle. What place had Lady +May in his heart? Was there room for her—and +Adrea? Could he see Adrea day by day, and never +pass the barrier which he himself had set up between +them? What did he wish? What was right? Just +then everything was to him so vague and chaotic.</p> + +<p>He had been riding for nearly an hour, with his +reins quite loose upon his horse's neck, and trusting +entirely to her to take the homeward route. Suddenly +his mare came to an abrupt halt, and Paul looked +around him in surprise. At first he had not the faintest +idea as to his whereabouts; then a dull roar, coming +from across a narrow strip of moorland on his left, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span> +gave him a clue, and he saw what had happened. Instead +of turning inland to Vaux Abbey, his horse had +kept straight on, and had brought him almost to the +sea—a good five miles out of his way.</p> + +<p>The situation was not a cheerful one. They were +ten miles from home, and Ironsides, completely done +up, was trembling ominously at the knees, and looking +around at him pitifully. Paul himself was wet to the +skin; and as he dismounted for a moment to ease his +stiff limbs, he was conscious of a distinct inclination +to shiver. The grey mists were rolling up all round +them; and directly Paul's feet touched the ground, he +felt himself sink ankle-deep in the wet, soft sand. It +was all horribly uncomfortable, and more than that, it +was serious; for immediately he had passed his hand +over his horse's flanks and felt her knees, Paul knew +that she was not in a condition for him to mount her +again. There was no hope of reaching Vaux Abbey +without rest and refreshments, for Ironsides at any +rate.</p> + +<p>He looked steadily around him, and began to get +some faint idea as to his whereabouts. His mare must +have been deceived by following a private road which +led to a cottage belonging to an old half-pay officer, +Major Harcourt. They had evidently passed the cottage, +and pursued the road almost to its termination, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span> +for where they now were it was little better than a +sheep-track, leading through a closed gate a few yards +in front of them into a scattered pine plantation and +down to the sea. The only thing to do was to retrace +their steps until they came to the cottage, and there beg +shelter for a while.</p> + +<p>"We've made a mess of it, old girl!" Paul said +soothingly, patting his mare's neck, and passing his +arm through the bridle. "Come on, then! We'll see +whether we can't find an empty stall for you at Major +Harcourt's."</p> + +<p>They retraced their steps, the mare limping wearily +along by Paul's side, and every now and then stopping +to look at him in despair. Paul found a grim humour +in the situation. It was the quagmire into which +thoughts of Adrea had led him; a parable sent to show +him the folly of such thoughts, and whither they +tended. He laughed a little bitterly at the thought. +Once, when a very young man, he had thought himself +a fatalist. After all, perhaps it was the best thing to +be! Conscience and duty were wearisome guides; a +course of voluntary drifting would be rather a relief.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the mare pricked up her ears, and neighed. +Paul looked steadily through the mist, and quickened +his pace. Scarcely a hundred yards ahead was the dim +outline of the cottage, nestled up against a pine grove +and facing the sea.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span> + +<p>Paul was fairly well acquainted with Major Harcourt; +and although he had seen nothing of him for some +time, he had not the slightest compunction in claiming +shelter for himself and his horse. He led her up the +trim, winding drive to the front door, and rang the +bell.</p> + +<p>"Is Major Har——" Paul began, as the door was +opened; then he broke off abruptly.</p> + +<p>The man-servant who had opened the door, and was +standing on the step, peering out into the darkness, +was a familiar figure to him. It was Gomez!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>[pg 136]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>"THE POISON OF HONEY FLOWERS"</h3> + + +<p>The recognition was not immediately simultaneous. +Gomez, standing on the step, was in the full light of +the hall lamp, but Paul was still amongst the shadows.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know me, Gomez?" Paul asked, stepping +forward. "I am Paul de Vaux."</p> + +<p>A shade passed across the man's face, and he laid +his hand quickly upon his heart, as though to cease +some sudden pain. Then he stood on one side, holding +the door open.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Mr. Paul; I could not see your +face out there. Won't you walk in, sir?"</p> + +<p>Paul dropped his mare's bridle and stepped inside. +The polished white stone hall, with its huge fire in the +centre, looked warm and comfortable, and away in the +distance there was a cheerful rattle of teacups.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here, Gomez?" Paul asked, +shaking the wet from his hat. "I understood that you +were going to take the under-bailiff's place."</p> + +<p>"Higgs has not left yet, sir," Gomez answered. "I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span> +have been living here as caretaker for Major Harcourt."</p> + +<p>"Caretaker! Isn't he at home then?"</p> + +<p>Gomez shook his head, looking keenly at Paul all +the time. "Major Harcourt does not winter here now, +sir. He has let the place, furnished."</p> + +<p>"What a confounded nuisance! To whom has he +let it?" Paul asked quickly. "You see my plight, +and my horse is worse off still. We lost our way +going home from Dunston Spinnies."</p> + +<p>"Major Harcourt's tenant is a lady," Gomez +answered, after a moment's hesitation. "She only +arrived yesterday."</p> + +<p>Paul shrugged his shoulders. He was annoyed, but +there was no help for it.</p> + +<p>"Well, will you see her at once and represent matters? +I want a loose box for the night for my horse, +and a rest for myself, and afterwards a conveyance for +the Abbey, if possible. Tell her my name. I daresay +she won't mind. Who is she?"</p> + +<p>Gomez said nothing for a moment. Then he drew +Paul back to the door, and pointed out into the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Paul," he said, in a quick, hoarse whisper, "at +the back of that hedge there is a road which leads +straight up to the Abbey. It is a matter of six miles +or so, I know, and you are tired; but that is nothing. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span> +Take my advice, sir, and believe me it is for your good. +Get out of this house as soon as you can, and go home, +though you have to walk every step. I'll look after +your horse, and you can send for it in the morning."</p> + +<p>Paul looked into the man's face astonished. "What +nonsense, Gomez!" he exclaimed. "Do you know +what you are talking about! Why, I'm tired out, and +almost starved. Here I am and here I shall stop, unless +your mistress is as inhospitable as you are."</p> + +<p>Gomez bowed, and closed the door. "Very good, +sir; you will have your own way, of course. But remember +in the future that I was faithful, I warned +you. Come this way, sir. I will send your horse +round to the stables. The name of the lady of the +house is Madame de Merteuill."</p> + +<p>A little uneasy and very much mystified, Paul followed +him across the hall, and was silently ushered into +a long, low drawing-room, a room of nooks and corners, +furnished in old-fashioned style, but with perfect +taste, and dimly lit with soft, shaded lamps. There +was a bright fire blazing on the hearth, and a pleasant +sense of warmth in the air.</p> + +<p>At first it seemed as though the room was empty, +but in a moment a tall, pale-faced lady, with wonderfully +dark eyes and grey hair, rose from an easy chair +behind the piano, and looked at him, at first questioningly.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span> + +<p>"I am afraid that you will consider this an unwarrantable +intrusion," Paul said, bowing; "but the fact +is, I lost my way riding home from the hunt, and my +horse cannot go a yard further. As for myself, you +can see what state I am in. I saw your lights, and +have some acquaintance with Major Harcourt, and not +knowing that he had left, I ventured here to throw myself +upon his hospitality. My name is De Vaux—Paul +de Vaux; and although it is some distance to the Abbey, +I believe that we are next-door neighbours."</p> + +<p>It was beginning to dawn upon Paul that he +had somehow stumbled upon a very strange household. +During the whole of his speech, the lady whom +he was addressing had stood silent and transfixed, with +wide-open eyes and a terrible shrinking look of fear +upon her face. She must be mad, Paul concluded +swiftly. What an ass Gomez was not to have told +him! While he was wondering how to get away, she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Your name de Vaux, Paul de Vaux, near Vaux +Abbey?"</p> + +<p>He bowed, looking at her with fresh interest. His +name seemed familiar to her. In a moment or two +the unnatural lethargy left her, and she spoke to him, +though still in a curiously suppressed tone.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. You are welcome. I was a +little startled at first."</p> + +<p>She rang the bell. Gomez answered it.</p> + +<p>"Bring some fresh tea, and some sandwiches and +wine," she ordered. "Tell them in the stables to see +that this gentleman's horse has every attention."</p> + +<p>Gomez received his orders in silence, and withdrew +with darkening face. Paul looked after him with surprise.</p> + +<p>"Gomez does not seem particularly pleased to see +me again," he remarked. "What is the matter with +the man, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"It is only his manner, I think," she said softly. +"He was your father's servant, was he not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. How did you know that?" he asked quickly. +"Ah, I beg your pardon; he told you, of course. You +will find him a faithful servant."</p> + +<p>She bowed her head, but made no reply. Indeed, +Paul found it very difficult to start a conversation of +any sort with his new neighbour. To all his remarks +she returned only monosyllabic answers, looking at +him steadily all the while out of her full, dark eyes in +a far-away, wistful manner, as though she saw in his +face something which carried her thoughts into another +world. It was a little uncomfortable for Paul, and he +was not sorry when Gomez reappeared, bearing a tray +with refreshments.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span> + +<p>She handed him his tea in silence; and Paul, who +would have been ashamed to have called himself curious, +but who was by this time not a little puzzled at +her manner, made one more effort at conversation.</p> + +<p>"I think you said that you were quite strange to +this part of the country," he remarked. "We, who +have lived here all our lives, are fond of it; but I'm +afraid you'll find it rather dull at first. There is very +little society."</p> + +<p>"We do not desire any," she said hastily. "We +came here—at least I came here—for the sake of +indulging in absolute seclusion. It is the same with +my step-daughter. In London she had been forced +to keep late hours, and her health has suffered. The +doctor prescribed complete rest; I, too, desired rest, +so we came here. A London house agent arranged it +for us."</p> + +<p>So there was a step-daughter who lived in London, +and who went out a great deal. The mention of her +gave Paul an opportunity.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I have ever met your daughter in +town," he said pleasantly. "I am there a good deal, +and I have rather a large circle of acquaintances."</p> + +<p>The implied question seemed to disconcert her. +She coloured, and then grew suddenly pale. Her eyes +no longer looked into his; they were fixed steadfastly +upon the fire.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span> + +<p>"It is not at all probable," she said, nervously lacing +and interlacing her slim white fingers. "No, it is +scarcely possible. You would not be likely to meet +her. Your friends would not be her friends. She +knows so few people. Ah!"</p> + +<p>She started quickly. The door had opened, but it was +only Gomez, who had come in with a tray for the +empty tea-things. There was a dead silence whilst +he removed them. Paul scarcely knew what to say. +His hostess puzzled him completely. Perhaps this +step-daughter, whose name, together with her own, she +seemed so anxious to conceal, was mad, and she had +brought her down here instead of sending her to an +asylum; or perhaps she herself was mad. He glanced +at her furtively, and at once dismissed the latter idea. +Her face, careworn and curiously pallid though it was, +was the face of no madwoman. It was the face of a +woman who had passed through a fiery sea of this +world's trouble and suffering—suffering which had +left its marks stamped upon her features; but, of his +own accord, he would never have put it down as the +face of a weak or erring woman.</p> + +<p>There was a mystery—of that he felt sure; but it +was no part of his business to seek to unravel it. The +best thing he could do, he felt, was to get up and go. +He could scarcely maintain a conversation without +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>[pg 143]</span> +asking or implying questions which seemed to painfully +embarrass his hostess.</p> + +<p>"I'm very much obliged to you," he said, rising and +holding out his hand. "I feel quite a new man! If +you don't mind I'd like to leave my mare here until +to-morrow. She really isn't fit to travel. My man +shall come for her early."</p> + +<p>"Pray do!" she answered quickly. "Ah!"</p> + +<p>She had started, and clutched at the back of her +chair with trembling fingers. Her eyes, wide open +and startled, were fixed upon the door.</p> + +<p>Paul, too, turned round, and uttered a little cry. +His heart beat fast, and the room swam before him. +He stood for a moment perfectly still, with his eyes +fastened upon the figure in the doorway.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>[pg 144]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>"AND MOST OF ALL WOULD I FLY FROM THE CRUEL +MADNESS OF LOVE"</h3> + + +<p>It was Adrea—Adrea herself! She stood there in +the shadow of the doorway, with her lips slightly +parted, and her great eyes, soft and brilliant, flashing +in the ruddy firelight. It was no vision; it was she +beyond a doubt!</p> + +<p>Even when the first shock had passed away, he found +himself without words; the wonder of it had dazed +him. He had thought of her so often in that quaint, +dainty little chamber in Grey Street that to see her +here so unexpectedly, without the least warning or +anticipation, was like being suddenly confronted with +a picture which had stepped out of its frame. And +that she should be here, too, of all places, here in this +bleak corner of the kingdom, where blustering winds +swept bare the sullen moorland, and the sea was always +grey and stormy. What strange fate could have +brought her here, away from all the warmth and luxury +of London, to this half-deserted old manor house +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>[pg 145]</span> +on the verge of the heath? His mind was too confused +in those first few moments to follow out any definite +train of thought. The most natural conclusion, +that she had come to him, did not enter his imagination.</p> + +<p>His first impulse, as his senses became clearer, was +to glance around for the woman who had called Adrea +her step-daughter. She was gone. She must have +stepped out of the room by the opposite doorway; and +with the knowledge that they were alone, he breathed +freer.</p> + +<p>"Adrea!" he said, "it is really you, then!"</p> + +<p>His words, necessarily commonplace, dissolved the +situation. She laughed softly, and came further into +the room.</p> + +<p>"It is I," she said. "Did you think that I was an +elf from spirit-land?"</p> + +<p>He had never shaken hands with her,—it was a +thing which had never occurred to either of them; but +a sudden impulse came to him then. He took a hasty +step forward, and clasped both her little white hands +in his. So they stood for another minute in silence, +and a strange, soft light flashed in her upturned eyes. +She was very near to him, and there was an indefinable +sense of yielding in her manner, amounting almost +to a mute invitation. He felt that he had only to open +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>[pg 146]</span> +his arms, and that strange, beautiful face, with its +mocking, quivering mouth, would be very close to his. +The old battle was forced upon him to fight all over +again; and, alas! he was no stronger.</p> + +<p>It was almost as though she had seen the hesitation—the +conflict in him—for with a sudden, imperious +gesture she withdrew her hands and turned away from +him. There was a scarlet flush creeping through the +deep olive of her cheeks, and her eyes were dry and +brilliant. Paul, who had never studied women or their +ways, looked at her, surprised and a little hurt.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised to see me here, of course?" she +said, sinking into a low easy-chair, and taking up a +fire-screen of peacocks' feathers, as though to shield +her face from the fire. "Well, it is quite an accident. +I wrote you rather a silly letter the other day; but you +must not think that I have followed you down here!"</p> + +<p>"I did not think so," he answered hastily. "The +idea never occurred, never could have occurred to me!"</p> + +<p>She continued, without heeding his interruption: +"I will explain how we came to take this cottage. A +relative of mine came to me suddenly from abroad. +She was in great trouble, and was in search of a very +secluded dwelling-place, where she might live for a +time unknown. I also was in bad health, and the doctor +had ordered me complete rest and quiet. We went +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>[pg 147]</span> +to a house agent, and told him what we wanted—to get +as far away from every one as possible. We did not +care how lonely the place was, or how far from London; +the further the better. This house was to let, +furnished, and at a low figure. I did not know that +Vaux Abbey was in the same county even. It suited +us, and we took it."</p> + +<p>"I understand," Paul answered. "And now that +you are here, are you not afraid of finding it dull?"</p> + +<p>She turned away from him, biting her lip. "You +do not understand me! You never will. No! I shall +not be dull."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Adrea. I——"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet!" she interrupted impetuously. "You +think that I am too frivolous to live away from the +glare and excitement of the city. Of course! To you +I am just the dancing girl, nothing more. Do not contradict +me. I hate your serious manner. I hate +your patronage. Don't contradict me, I say. Tell me +this. How did you find me out? Why are you here?"</p> + +<p>"I have been out hunting, and I lost my way," +Paul answered quietly. "I know Major Harcourt, +and, thinking he was still living here, I called for a +rest, and to put my horse up. Your step-mother has +been very kind and hospitable."</p> + +<p>Adrea looked at him curiously. "Indeed! She has +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>[pg 148]</span> +been kind to you, has she? Who told you that she +was my step-mother?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I understood you to say so."</p> + +<p>"Did I? Perhaps so; I don't remember. So she +was kind to you, was she? She has no cause to be."</p> + +<p>"No cause to be! Why not?"</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders, "Oh, I don't know. +I'm talking a little at random, I think. You angered +me, Monsieur Paul. I am a silly girl, am I not? Do +you know that I have thrown up all my engagements +until next season? I do not think that I shall dance +again at all."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear it."</p> + +<p>"But I shall go on the stage."</p> + +<p>"There is no necessity for that, is there?"</p> + +<p>"Necessity! You mean that I have not to earn my +bread. That may be true, but what would you have +me to do? I am not content to be one of your English +young ladies—to sit down, and learn to cook and darn, +and read silly books, until fate is kind enough to send +me a husband. Not so. I have ambition; I have an +artist's instincts, although I may not yet be an artist. +I must live; I must have light and colour in my life."</p> + +<p>Paul was very grave. He did not understand this +new phase in Adrea's development. There was a +curious hardness in her tone and a recklessness in her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span> +speech which were strange to him. And with it all he +felt very helpless. He could not play the part of guardian +and reprove her; he scarcely knew how to argue +with her. Women and their ways were strange to him; +and, besides, Adrea was so different.</p> + +<p>He stood up on the hearthrug, toying with his long +riding-whip, puzzled and unhappy. Adrea was angry +with him, he knew; and though he was very anxious +to set himself right with her, he felt that he was treading +on dangerous ground. He was neither sure of himself +nor of her.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am a very poor counsellor, Adrea," +he said slowly; "but it seems to me that you want +women friends. Your life has been too lonely, too devoid +of feminine interests."</p> + +<p>She laughed—a mirthless, unpleasant little laugh. +"Women friends! Good! You say that I have none. +It is true. There have been no women who have +offered me their friendship in this country. You call +yourself my guardian. Why do you not find me some?"</p> + +<p>"You have made it very difficult," he reminded her.</p> + +<p>She threw a scornful glance at him. "Good! That +is generous. You mean to say that I have made myself +unfit for the friendship of the women of your +family. I thank you, Monsieur Paul. I think that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>[pg 150]</span> +our conversation has lasted long enough. Let me pass; +I am going to leave you."</p> + +<p>He moved quickly towards the door, and barred her +passage. There was a dark flush in his cheeks and a +gleam in his eyes. Up till then his manner had been +a little deprecating, but at her last words it had suddenly +changed. He felt that she was unjust, and he +was indignant.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, you talk like a child," he said sternly. "I +made no such insinuation as you suggest! You know +that I did not! Sit down!"</p> + +<p>She obeyed him; the quick change in his manner +had startled her, and taken her at a disadvantage. She +felt the force of his superior will, and she yielded to it.</p> + +<p>He leaned over her chair, and his voice grew softer. +"Adrea, you are very, very unjust to me," he said. +"Do you wish to make me so unhappy, I wonder? For +a week I have been thinking of scarcely anything else +save our last parting, and now if I had not stopped +you, almost by force, you would have left me again in +anger."</p> + +<p>His tone had grown almost tender, and, as though +unconsciously, his hand had rested upon her gleaming +coils of dark, braided hair. She looked up at him, and +in the firelight he could see that her eyes were soft and +dim.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>[pg 151]</span> + +<p>"You have really thought of me?" she said in a low +tone. "You have really been unhappy on my account?"</p> + +<p>"I have!" he admitted. "Very unhappy!"</p> + +<p>Something in his tone—in the reluctance with which +he made the admission, angered her. She moved a +little further away, and her voice grew harder.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you have been unhappy!" she said. "And +why? It was because you were ashamed to find yourself +thinking of me; you, Paul de Vaux, a citizen of +the world and a man of culture, thinking of a poor +dancing girl with only her looks to recommend her! +That was where the sting lay! That was what reddened +your cheek! You men! You are as selfish as +devils!"</p> + +<p>She stamped her foot; her voice was shaking with +passion. Paul stood before her with a deep flush on +his pale cheeks, silent, like a man suddenly accused. +Her words were not altogether true, but they were +winged with, at any rate, the semblance of truth.</p> + +<p>She continued—a little more quietly, but with her +tone and form still vibrating.</p> + +<p>"What do you fear? What is that you struggle +against? I have seen you when it has been your will +to take me—into your arms, to hold my hands. Then +I have seen you conquer the desire, and you run away, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>[pg 152]</span> +as though afraid of it. Why? Do you fear that I +shall seek to compromise you?—is not that the +English word? Do you think that I want you to +marry me? Is it because you dare not, that you—you +do not offer to take my hand, even? Tell me now! +Why is it?"</p> + +<p>"For your own sake, Adrea!"</p> + +<p>"For my own sake!" she repeated scornfully. "Do +you believe it yourself? Do you really think that it +is true? I will tell you why it is! It is because you +have no thought, no imagination. You say to yourself, +she is not of my world. I cannot marry her."</p> + +<p>There was a silence. A burning coal fell upon the +hearth, and flamed up; the glow reached Paul's face. +He was very pale, and his eyes were dry and brilliant. +Suddenly he moved forward, and clasped Adrea's +hands tightly in his.</p> + +<p>"But, Adrea! are you sure that you love me?"</p> + +<p>A sudden change swept into her face. Her dark +eyes grew wonderfully soft.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she answered, looking up to him with a +swift, brilliant smile. "I am sure!"</p> + +<p>He held out his arms; his resistance was at an end. +It had grown weaker and weaker during those last few +moments; now it was all over, swept away by a sudden, +tumultuous passion, so strange and little akin to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>[pg 153]</span> +the man that it startled even himself. Afar off in his +mind he was conscious of a dim sense of shame as he +held her close in his arms and felt her warm, trembling +lips pressed against his. But it was like an +echo from a distant land. It seemed to him that a +deep, widening gulf lay now between him and all that +had gone before. His old self was dead! A new man +had sprung up, with a new personality, and the time +had not yet come for regrets.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>[pg 154]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>"'TWIXT YOU AND ME A NOISOME SHADOW CAST"</h3> + + +<p>"Adrea!"</p> + +<p>It was a cry which seemed to ring through the +room, an interruption so sudden and strange that they +started apart like guilty children, gazing towards the +lifted curtain which divided the apartment with wondering, +half-fearful faces. The woman whom Adrea +had called her step-mother stood there, pale and +bloodless, with her great black eyes flashing, and +behind her a tall, dark figure was gazing sternly at +them.</p> + +<p>Adrea was the first to recover her composure. She +was a little further away, and she could see only her +step-mother.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" she exclaimed quickly. "I +desire to be alone! Why do you stand there?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer. Then the momentary silence +was broken by a quick, startled cry from Paul, which +seemed to cleave the semi-darkness of the room.</p> + +<p>"My God!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span> + +<p>The dark figure had moved forward, and was standing, +pale and austere, before them. It was Father +Adrian.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's intense silence. Then Paul +turned swiftly round to where Adrea stood, a little +behind him. But the suspicions which had commenced +to crowd in upon him vanished before even +they had taken to themselves definite shape. Her surprise +was as great as his; and, as their eyes met, she +shuddered with the memory which his presence had +recalled.</p> + +<p>"Paul de Vaux, I had no thought of meeting you +here," Father Adrian said sternly.</p> + +<p>Paul met his gaze haughtily. There was a rebuke, +almost a threat, in the priest's tone which angered +him. Whatever his presence here might betide, he +was in no way responsible for it to Father Adrian.</p> + +<p>"Nor I you," he answered. "I imagined that you +were staying at the monastery."</p> + +<p>"I am staying there."</p> + +<p>Madame de Merteuill stepped slowly into the room. +She was still trembling, and had all the appearance of +a woman sore stricken by some unexpected calamity. +Even her voice was faint and broken.</p> + +<p>"Father Adrian is a visitor here only—an unexpected +one—like yourself."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>[pg 156]</span> + +<p>"Why is he here?" Adrea asked slowly. "Has he +come to see us again? What does he want?"</p> + +<p>Father Adrian turned towards her, grave and severe. +"I have come to see Madame de Merteuill. I bring her +a message from an old man whom, by her absence, she +is wronging. You I did not expect to find here,—and +thus."</p> + +<p>She made no answer. The priest drew a little +nearer to her, and his thin, ascetic face seemed suddenly +ablaze with scorn and anger.</p> + +<p>"Child! your destiny is surely to bring sorrow upon +all those who would watch over you, and shape your +life aright. Where you have been living, and how, +since your flight, I do not know. You have hidden +yourself well! You have shown more than the ordinary +selfishness of childhood! You have thought nothing +of those who may have troubled for you! I do not +ask for your confidence. This is enough for me: I +find you here in his arms—his of all men in the +world! False to your Church; false to your sex; +false to your father's memory! Shameless!"</p> + +<p>She did not flinch from before him. She looked him +in the face, coldly and without fear.</p> + +<p>"You are a priest, and you do not understand. Be +so good as to remember that I am no longer now in +your power or under your authority. You cannot +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span> +threaten to make me a nun any longer. Remember +that I am outside your life now, and outside your +religion."</p> + +<p>"You can be brought back," he said calmly. "I +have powers."</p> + +<p>"Powers which I defy. Your religion is a cold, dry +farce, and I hate it. You cannot frighten me; you cannot +alarm me in the least. You can do ugly things, I +know, in the name of your Church; and if you had +me back at the convent, or on that awful island, I +should be frightened at you. Here, I am not."</p> + +<p>Instinctively she glanced toward Paul. Already in +her thoughts, he was assuming the protector. He +would not suffer harm to come to her. He was strong +and rich and powerful. The horror of days gone by +had already grown faint with her; it was little more +than memory. It was gone, and could not come again.</p> + +<p>"I have not come here to talk with you, child," he +answered quietly. "My errand has been with Madame +de Merteuill, and it is accomplished, I go now. Paul +de Vaux, our ways lie together for a mile or more, and +I have a word to say to you. Let us go."</p> + +<p>Paul was slowly recovering from a state of mental +stupor, and, with his discovery, something of the glamour +of his late intoxication was passing away. He had +no regret, there was nothing which he would have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span> +recalled; but his eyes were stronger to pierce the +mists, and he was able to bring the weight of impersonal +thought to bear upon all that had passed between +Adrea and himself. Wheresoever it might lead, there +was a tie between them now which could not be lightly +severed.</p> + +<p>"It is time I went," Paul answered. "Adrea, I +will come and see you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>She looked at the priest, suspicious and troubled. +"What does he want with you, Paul?" she whispered. +"Don't go with him!"</p> + +<p>"I must!" he answered sadly. "He has something +to say to me which I wish to hear. I will come and +see you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"If you must, then, until to-morrow. But, Paul!"</p> + +<p>She drew him on one side. "Beware of him! Oh! +beware of him!" she said quickly, her eyes full of fear. +"He is a fanatic, a Jesuit. Don't trust him! Have +little to say to him. Hush! don't answer me! He is +watching. Good-night, beloved! my beloved!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>"IF LOVE YOU CHOOSE, THEN LOVE SHALL BE YOUR RUIN"</h3> + + +<p>Paul and his companion walked down the avenue in +silence, and turned into the narrow, stony road which +wound across the moor. The storm was over, and the +rain had ceased. Above them, only faintly visible, as +though seen through a canopy of delicate lace, the +stars were shining in a cloudless sky through the +wreaths of faint grey mist. Far off, the sound of the +sea came rolling across the moor to their ears, now +loud and threatening as it beat against the iron cliffs +and thundered up the coombs, now striking a shriller +note as the huge waves, ever beaten off, retreated, +dragging beach and shingle with them. It had been +an ocean gale, and the very air was salt and brackish +with flavours of the sea. Here and there great piles +of seaweed had been carried in a heterogeneous mass +to their feet, and the ground beneath them was soft +and sandy. But the storm had died away as suddenly +as it had come. The tall, stark pine trees, which a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span> +few hours ago had been bending like whips before the +rushing wind, stood now stiff and stark against the +wan sky. There was not even motion enough in the +air to clear away the white mists which hung around. +Only the troubled sea remained to mark the passage of +the storm.</p> + +<p>Paul was in no mood for talking. He recognised +the fact that what had happened to him that evening +must, to a certain extent, colour his whole life. He +wanted to think it over quietly, now that he was away +from the influence of Adrea's passionately beautiful +face and pleading eyes. He had an inward sense of +great disappointment in himself, and he was anxious +to see how far this was justified. He was prepared +for a rigid self-examination, and he was impatient to +begin upon it. But, while he was still upon the threshold +of his meditations, his companion's voice sounded +in his ear.</p> + +<p>"Paul de Vaux, I have a word or two to say to you."</p> + +<p>Paul awoke with a start. "Certainly!" he said +gravely. "I am ready."</p> + +<p>Father Adrian continued, speaking slowly and keeping +his eyes fixed steadily upon Paul; "Only a few +nights ago we met amongst the ruins of your old +Abbey. You will remember that I spoke to you of +your father's last hours, of a strange story confided to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span> +my keeping—a story of sin and of sorrow—a story +casting its shadow far into the future. You remember +this?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly!"</p> + +<p>"At first you seemed to consider that this story, +told to me on his deathbed by a man who was at least +repentant, should be held sacred—sacred to me as a +priest of the Holy Church, and sacred to you as his +son. Yet, as you saw afterwards, it was not so. The +confession was made to me as a man; and withal it was +made by one outside the pale of any religion whatever. +It was mine to do as I chose with! It is mine now!"</p> + +<p>"If it is anything which concerns me, or the honour +of my family, you should tell me. If it involves +wrongs which should be righted, or in any way concerns +the future, you should tell me. You must have +come for that purpose! You must mean to eventually, +or why should you have found your way to this out-of-the-way +corner of the world. Let me hear it now, +Father Adrian!"</p> + +<p>"It will darken your life!"</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it! At any rate I will judge for +myself. Let me hear it!"</p> + +<p>The priest looked away into the darkness, and his +voice was low and hoarse. "You do not know what +you ask!" he said. "No, I shall not tell you yet. It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[pg 162]</span> +is for your own sake! Sometimes I think that I will +go away and never tell you."</p> + +<p>"Why not? You came here for no other reason."</p> + +<p>Father Adrian shook his head. "I did not come to +tell you. It was your home I came to see. Many hundreds +of years ago Vaux Abbey was a monastery, sacred +to the saint whose name I unworthily bear. My visit +here was half a pilgrimage! But," he went on, his +brows contracting, and his eyes gleaming fire, "since +I came, I have been perilously near striking the blow +which I have power to strike. You bear a name which +for centuries was foremost in the history of our sacred +Church. For generation after generation the De Vauxs +were good Catholics and the benefactors of their +Church. Your chapel was richly adorned, and five +priests dwelt here always with old Sir Roland de Vaux. +And now, where is your chapel, once the most beautiful +in England; it is a pile of ruins, like your faith! +I wander round in your villages. Your tenants have +gone the way of their lord. Roman Catholicism is a +dying power. Hideous chapels have sprung up in all +your districts! The true faith is neglected! And who +is to blame for it all? Your recreant family. You, +who should have been the most zealous upholders of +religion, have drifted down the stream of fashion, nerveless +and indifferent. Oh! it is heresy, rank heresy, to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[pg 163]</span> +think of a De Vaux, such as you, dwelling indifferent +amongst the mighty associations of your name and +home! I wander about amongst those magnificent +ruins of yours, æsthetically beautiful, but nevertheless +a living, burning reproach, and I ask myself whether +I do well in holding my peace. I cannot tell! I cannot +tell!"</p> + +<p>Paul was moved in spite of himself by the vehemence +of his companion's words. The horrors of that +deathbed scene at Cruta had never grown dim to him. +He had always felt that his father had only decided to +keep something back from him in those last moments, +after a bitter struggle; and he was now quite sure that +whatever it might have been, the secret had been confided +to this priest.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you a question," he said. "Whatever +this mystery may be to which you are constantly +alluding, I am of course ignorant. But you seem to +have some understanding with the two women whom +we have left this evening. I want to know whether +Adrea is concerned in it."</p> + +<p>"She is not!"</p> + +<p>"Nor Madame de Merteuill?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you!"</p> + +<p>They were in the Abbey grounds, close to the ruins, +and the moorland lay behind them, with its floating +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[pg 164]</span> +mists and vague obscurity. Here the sky was soft and +clear, and every pillar amongst the ruins stood out +against the empty background of sea and sky. Father +Adrian paused.</p> + +<p>"I will come no further," he said. "I am a saner +man away from your despoiled home. There is just a +last word which I have to say to you."</p> + +<p>Paul stood still, and listened.</p> + +<p>"I have borne much," Father Adrian said, "much +tempting and many impulses; but I have zealously put +a watch upon my tongue, and I have spared you. For +the future, your happiness—nay, your future itself—is +in your own hands. I saw your father kill the only +relative Adrea had in this world. We saw the deed +done, though we have both held our peace concerning +it. Paul de Vaux, I am inclined to spare you a great +blow which it is in my power to strike. I am inclined +to spare you, but I make one hard and fast condition. +Adrea is not for you! She must be neither your wife, +nor your friend, nor your ward! There must be no +dealings, no knowledge between you the one of the +other! There is blood between you; it can never be +wiped out! The stain is forever. Lift up your hand +to heaven, and swear that you will never willingly look +upon her face again, or, as God is my master, I will +bring upon your name, and your family, and you, swift +and everlasting shame!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span> + +<p>His hand fell to his side, and his voice, which had +been vibrating with passion, died away in a little, suppressed +sob. Paul looked at him steadily. The perspiration +was standing out upon his forehead in great +beads, and his eyes were dry and brilliant. The man +was shaken to the very core, and in the strange upheaval +of passion he had altogether lost his sacerdotality. +It was the man who had spoken, the man, +passionate and sensuous, deeply moved through every +chord of his being. The "priest" had fallen away +from him, the remembrance of it seemed almost grotesque. +Paul, too, had caught much of the passionate +excitement of the moment.</p> + +<p>"Time!" he said hoarsely. "I must have time. A +few days only. I ask no questions! Only how long?"</p> + +<p>"A week!" the priest answered. "A week to-night +we meet here!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>"SOFTLY GLIMMERING THROUGH THE LAURELS AT +THE QUIET EVENFALL"</h3> + + +<p>"Do you know who has taken Major Harcourt's cottage, +Mr. de Vaux?" Lady May asked.</p> + +<p>Paul was silent for a moment. He sat quite still in +his saddle, and gazed across the moor, with his hand +shading his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Lady May," he said. "I +thought that I heard the dogs. You asked me——"</p> + +<p>"About Major Harcourt's cottage. Do you know +who has taken it?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure about the name. It is a foreign lady, +and her step-daughter, I believe. There is a clergy-man—or +a Roman Catholic priest, rather—too; but he +may be only a visitor."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>The monosyllable was expressive. Paul glanced at +his companion with slightly arched eyebrows. What +had she heard? Something, evidently, for there had +been a coolness in her manner all the morning, and her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span> +clear grey eyes were resting now upon the many gables +of the cottage just below them, with distinct disapproval. +Now that he thought of it, Paul remembered +that a dogcart from the Castle had whirled past him as +he had turned out of the drive last night. Doubtless +he had been seen and recognised. Well! after all, +what did it matter? The time when he had meant to +ask Lady May to be his wife seemed very far back in +the past now. Between that part of his life and now, +there was a great gulf fixed. Last night had altered +everything!</p> + +<p>He had certainly not meant to hunt that morning, +but it had been forced upon him. Quite early, Reynolds +had come to his room to inquire whether he +should provide breakfast for thirty or fifty, and had +reminded him that the meet was in front of the Abbey. +So, against his will, Paul had been compelled to entertain +the hunt and join in it himself. Lady May had +been specially invited to breakfast, but she had not +come, and Paul had only just seen her for the first time +at the cover side. She had greeted him coldly; and +though they had somehow taken up a position a little +apart from the others, very few words had passed between +them. Her frank, delicate face was clouded, and +her manner was reserved.</p> + +<p>"I believe my brother knows who they are," she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span> +continued, after a short silence. "He saw them at the +station."</p> + +<p>Paul bit his lip, and turned away. The mystery of +Lady May's manner was explained now.</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you, then?"</p> + +<p>Lady May toyed with her whip, and then looked +Paul straight in the face. "Yes! he told me the name +of the younger one. It is Adrea Kiros, the dancing +girl. Mr. de Vaux, may I ask you a question?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!"</p> + +<p>Lady May looked straight between her horse's ears, +and a slight flush stole into her cheeks. "You must +not think that I was listening; it was not so at all. +But last night, as I was passing the billiard-room, I +heard my brother and Captain Mortimer talking. They +were coupling your name with this—Miss Adrea Kiros. +They spoke of her coming down here as though you +must have known something of it. They were blaming +you, as though you were responsible for her coming. +We have been friends, Mr. de Vaux; and so far as I +am concerned, our friendship has been very pleasant. +But if there is any truth in what they said—well, you +can guess the rest. I want you to tell me yourself; I +am never content to accept hearsay evidence against +my friends. I prefer to be unconventional, as you see. +Please tell me!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> + +<p>"Will you put your question a little more definitely, +Lady May?" Paul asked slowly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! Has that young person come here at +your instigation? Did you arrange for her to come +here?"</p> + +<p>"I did not! No one could have been more surprised +to see her than I was."</p> + +<p>Lady May was growing very stiff. She sat up in her +saddle, and drew the reins through her fingers. "You +know her?"</p> + +<p>"I do!"</p> + +<p>"You visited her in London?"</p> + +<p>"I did!"</p> + +<p>"You were at the cottage last evening?"</p> + +<p>"I was! I lost my way, and——"</p> + +<p>Lady May touched her horse with her spur. "Thank +you, Mr. de Vaux!" she said haughtily. "I will not +trouble you any more. Please don't follow me!"</p> + +<p>Paul watched her ride down the hillside and join +one of the little groups dotted about outside the cover-side, +with a curious sense of unreality. After a while +he broke into a little laugh, and, shaking his reins, lit +a cigar. This was a new character for him altogether. +He knew himself that no man had kept his life more +blameless than he! If anything, he felt sometimes +that he had erred upon the other side in thinking and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> +speaking too hastily of those who had been less circumspect. +And now, it had come to this. The woman +whose good opinion he had always valued next to his +mother's had deliberately accused him of what must +have seemed to her a flagrant outrage on decency. Her +words were still ringing in his ears: "Please don't +follow me." Lady May had said that to him; it was a +little hard to realize.</p> + +<p>A commotion around the cover below was a welcome +diversion to him just then. A fox had got clear away, +and hounds were in full cry. Paul pressed his hat +down, and settled into his saddle with a grim smile. +The physical excitement was just what he wanted, and +in a few minutes he was leading the field, with only +the master by his side, and Captain Westover a few +yards behind.</p> + +<p>At the first check, Captain Westover rode up to him. +"I want just a word or two with you, De Vaux!" he +said, drawing him on one side.</p> + +<p>Paul drew himself up in his saddle, and sat there +glum and unbending. "I am at your service," he +answered. "I have had the pleasure already of a short +conversation with your sister this morning."</p> + +<p>Captain Westover nodded. "I suppose so. I want +to beg your pardon first for what I am going to say, +De Vaux. If I make an ass of myself, don't scruple +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> +to say so! But I want to ask you this! Why, in +thunder, did you let Adrea what's-her-name, the dancing +girl, come down here?"</p> + +<p>"It was no business of mine! I did not know that +she was coming!"</p> + +<p>Captain Westover stroked his moustache and looked +puzzled. "Look here, old man," he said slowly, "you +go to see her in London, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I have been!"</p> + +<p>"Just so! And you were down at the cottage last +night, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I was!"</p> + +<p>"Well! hang it all, then you must have known +something about her coming, you know! It can't be +just a coincidence. Bevan & Bevan are my solicitors, +and by the purest accident, one day I learned that Miss +Adrea enjoys a settlement of a thousand a year from +you. They didn't tell me, of course. I happened to +catch sight of your check on the table one day, and +overheard old Sam Bevan give some instructions to a +clerk. Sorry, but I couldn't help it! You're the first +person I've breathed it to."</p> + +<p>"I am her guardian!" Paul exclaimed angrily.</p> + +<p>Captain Westover whistled. "You may call it what +you like, old fellow! I don't mind, I can assure you! +You don't seem inclined to listen to any advice, so I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> +won't offer any more. But if you'll forgive my saying +so, you're doing a d——d silly thing. Good-morning."</p> + +<p>On the whole, Paul did not enjoy his day's hunting; +and before it was all over, he found himself once more +in an embarrassing situation. For as he rode past the +gates of the cottage, on his way home, Adrea was +there, breathless and laughing, with her dusky hair +waving loosely around her shapely head.</p> + +<p>"I saw you coming," she said, a little shyly, "and +I was afraid that you would not stop, so I ran out as +fast as I could. It was silly of me! You were coming +in, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I think not!" Paul answered gravely. "Look +how thick in mud I am, and how tired my horse +looks!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him with pleading eyes and parted +lips. "Do come!" she said. "I have been expecting +you all day!"</p> + +<p>She held the gate open, and stood looking up at him, +a curiously picturesque-looking figure in the grey twilight. +Her gown was like no other woman's; it was +something between a Greek robe and a tea-gown, of a +dull orange hue, and her dusky hair was tied up with +a bow of ribbon of the same colour. Everything about +her was strange; even the faint perfume which hung +about her clothes, and which brought him sudden, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span> +swift memories of that moment when she had lain in +his arms, and his lips had met hers. Paul felt the +colour steal into his pale cheeks as he leaped to the +ground, and passed his arm through his horse's bridle.</p> + +<p>"I will come, <i>cara mia</i>!" he said softly.</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands through his other arm, and +whispered something in his ear, as they turned up the +avenue together. Just then the sound of horses' hoofs +in the road made them both turn round. Captain +Westover and Lady May were riding by together, with +their eyes fixed upon Paul and his companion.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>"BLOOD CALLS ALOUD FOR BLOOD AND NOT FOR HANDS +ENTWINED"</h3> + + +<p>It was with a strange conflict of feelings that Paul, +with Adrea by his side, passed across the square, low +hall of the cottage, plentifully decorated with stags' +heads and other sporting trophies, and into the drawing-room. +It was a room which had been built, too, of +quaint shape, made up of nooks and corners and recesses, +and with dark oak beams stretching right across +the ceiling. The furniture was all old-fashioned, and +of different periods; but the general effect was harmonious, +though a trifle shabby. Paul knew it well! +Many an evening he had come in to tea there, after a +cigar and a chat with the old Major, and lounged in +that low chair by Mrs. Harcourt's side. But it scarcely +seemed like the same room to him now. The Major +and his wife had been old-fashioned people, and their +personality, and talk, and surroundings, had created a +sort of atmosphere which Paul had grown almost to +associate with the place. He missed it directly he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> +entered the room. What it was that had worked the +change it was hard to tell. Adrea had been far too +charmed with its quaintness to seriously alter anything. +A little stiffness in the arrangement of the furniture +had been corrected, and the few antimacassars carefully +removed; otherwise nothing had been changed. +The great bowls of yellow roses and chrysanthemums, +and the piles of modern books and music lying about, +might have been partly responsible for it; and the +faint perfume which he had grown to associate altogether +with Adrea, and which seemed wafted into the +air as she gathered up her skirts on her way into the +room, had a foreign flavour in it. But, after all, it was +Adrea herself who changed the atmosphere so completely. +She was so different from other women in her +strange Eastern beauty and the leopard-like grace of +her movements that she could not fail to create an +atmosphere around her. Yes! it was she herself who +had worked the change; just as she had worked so +wonderful a change in him, Paul told himself.</p> + +<p>At first they had thought that the room was empty; +and Adrea, who had entered a little in advance, turned +round to Paul and held out her hands with a sudden +sweeping gesture of invitation. Even in that moment, +as he moved towards her, Paul had time to feel a quick +glow of admiration at the artistic elegance of her pose +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span> +and colouring. Her proud, dusky face and brilliant +eyes found a perfect background in the deep orange of +her loose gown, and the velvet twined amongst her +dark hair. Her arms, stretched out towards him, were +half bare, where the lace had fallen back, and a world +of passionate love and invitation was glowing in her +face as she leaned slightly towards him, as if impatient +of his slow advance. But before his hands had +touched hers, a voice from the further end of the room +had broken in upon that eloquent silence.</p> + +<p>"Adrea! you did not see me!"</p> + +<p>They stood for a moment as though paralysed; then +Adrea turned slowly round with darkening face. "I +did not! I thought that you were upstairs!"</p> + +<p>She glided out of the shadows, a slim, tall figure +dressed with curious simplicity, and with white, bloodless +face. "I am going away," she said, coming quite +close to them, and fixing her full, deep eyes upon +Adrea; "I am going away at once. But, Adrea, there +is one word—just one word—"</p> + +<p>"Say it!" Adrea interrupted impatiently.</p> + +<p>She glanced at Paul. He made a movement as though +to quit the room, but Adrea prevented him. "You +need not go!" she said. "Anything that is to be said +can be said to you as well as to me. I prefer to have +no secrets! You were going to say something to me," +she added, turning to her companion.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> + +<p>"Yes! I have no objection to say it before Mr. de +Vaux. I simply want to ask you whether you consider +him a proper visitor in this house?"</p> + +<p>"I choose it! I am mistress here!"</p> + +<p>For a moment an angry reply seemed to quiver upon +the woman's lips, but it died away.</p> + +<p>"You are right! I thank you for reminding me of +it," she said quietly. "And yet, Adrea, hear me! You +are doing an evil thing! Was your father's murder so +light a thing to you that you can join hands with his +murderer's son? Remember that day! Think of your +father lying across that chamber floor, stricken dead in +a single moment by Martin de Vaux—by his father! It +is not seemly that you two should stand there, hand in +hand! It is not seemly for you to be under the same +roof! It is horrible!"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Then Adrea threw +open the door, and pointed to it.</p> + +<p>"Go!" she ordered coldly. "You have had your +say, and that is my answer! You were my father's +friend; I believe that he loved you! It was for his +sake that I offered you shelter! It was for his sake +that I brought you here! But, remember this: if you +wish to stay with me, let me never hear another word +from you on this subject!"</p> + +<p>She went out silently. Adrea closed the door, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span> +turned round with all the hardness fading swiftly out +of her features. A moment before there had been a +look of the tigress in her eyes; and Paul, watching +her, had shuddered. It was gone now. She came +close up to Paul, and led him to a chair.</p> + +<p>"Was I very undignified?" she said, laughing. "I +am afraid I was. I was very angry!"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "You were not undignified," +he said, "but you were very severe. I think that she +will go away."</p> + +<p>Adrea's face hardened again. "I do not care! I +would hate the dearest friend I had on earth who tried +to come between us. Oh! Paul, Paul! don't you feel +as I do; as though the world were empty, and my mind +swept bare of memories,—as though there were no +background to it all, nothing save you and I, and our +love?"</p> + +<p>Paul drew her to him. For him, at that moment, +there was no past nor any future. The dreamy <i>abandon</i> +of her manner seemed to have raised an echo within +him.</p> + +<p>"Listen! What is that?" Adrea exclaimed suddenly.</p> + +<p>There was the ring of a horse's hoofs in the avenue, +and immediately afterwards a loud peal at the bell. +Paul and Adrea looked at one another breathlessly. +Who could it be?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> + +<p>The outer door was opened and closed, and then +quick steps passed across the hall. The drawing-room +door was thrown open, and Arthur de Vaux, pale and +splashed with mud from head to foot, stood upon the +threshold.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>"THE NEW, STRONG WINE OF LOVE"</h3> + + +<p>The situation, although it was only a brief one, was +for a moment possessed of a singularly dramatic force. +The grouping and the colouring in that dimly lit +drawing-room were all that an artist could desire, and +the facial expressions bordered upon the tragic. Of all +men in the world, his brother was the last whom of +his own choosing Paul would have wished to see.</p> + +<p>There was a brief silence. Arthur, breathless through +his hasty entrance, could only stand there upon the +threshold, his face white to the lips, and his eyes flashing +with passionate anger and dismay. To him the +situation was more than painful; it was horrible. To +have believed ill of Paul from hearsay would have +been impossible; his confidence in his elder brother +had been unbounded. He had always looked up to +him as the mirror of everything that was honorable +and chivalrous. Even now, perhaps there might be +some explanation—some partial explanation, at any +rate. Paul was standing back amongst the shadows, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> +and his face was only barely visible. Doubtless it was +only surprise which held him silent. In a moment he +would speak, and explain everything. It was this +thought which loosened Arthur's tongue.</p> + +<p>"Paul," he cried, and stepping forward into the +room, "and Adrea! You here, and together! Tell +me what it means! I have a right to know. I will +know."</p> + +<p>He had determined to be cool, to bear himself like a +man, but their silence maddened him. Adrea, it is +true, showed no signs of guilt or confusion in her cold, +questioning face. But the deceit, if deceit there had +been, was not hers. It was Paul who was responsible +to him, and it was Paul who should have spoken—Paul, +who stood there with a hidden face, a silent, immovable +figure.</p> + +<p>"Are you stricken dumb?" he cried angrily. "You +can see who I am, can't you, Paul? Speak to me! +Tell me whether there is any truth in these stories +which are flying about the county, with no one to contradict +them."</p> + +<p>What might have been the tragedy of the situation +vanished for Paul at the sound of his brother's words. +After all, it was not the just anger of a deceived man +with which he was confronted, but the empty scream of +a boy's passion. Arthur's infatuation had but skimmed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> +the surface of his light nature. He was pricked, not +wounded. Yet, though in a sense this realization +brought its relief, Paul felt humbled into the dust. He +was actually conscious of his own humiliation. So far +as a nature such as his could be conventional, he had +become so in deference to the opinion of those who +looked up to him as the head of a great house, and of +whom much was to be expected, both socially and politically. +What must become of that opinion now, Arthur's +words too plainly foreshadowed.</p> + +<p>He moved forward into the centre of the room, +and faced his brother. There was only a small table +between them.</p> + +<p>"I do not know who sent you here, Arthur," he said, +"or what reports you have heard, but it seems to me, +that any explanation you may wish had better be deferred +until our return home."</p> + +<p>Arthur struck the table violently with his riding-whip, +"I will not wait!" he cried. "Here is the proper +place! +I have been deceived and cajoled by—by—you, Adrea, +and by my own brother! It is shameful! You hypocrite, +Paul! You, to come up to London, and solemnly +lecture me about a dancing girl. You d——d +hypocrite!"</p> + +<p>Before his passion, Paul's grave and steadfast silence +gained an added dignity. Adrea, with a red spot burning +on her cheeks, sailed between the two.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> + +<p>"Arthur, you are mad," she said, turning suddenly +upon him, with her eyes afire. "Have I ever deceived +you? Have I ever pretended to care for you? Bah, +no! You are only an unformed, hysterical boy. Before, +you were indifferent to me. Now, I am very +quickly growing to hate you! Begone! Leave this +house!"</p> + +<p>He stood quite still, white and trembling. The scorn +of her words had fallen like ice upon his heart. Then +he turned, and groped for the door, as though there +were a mist before his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are quite right," he faltered out. +"I didn't see it quite the same way, that's all. I understand +now."</p> + +<p>The door opened and shut. In a moment or two +the sound of his horse's hoofs were heard in the avenue, +growing rapidly less distinct as he galloped away into +the darkness. To Paul it sounded like the knell of his +self-respect, but Adrea felt only the relief. Her eyes, +full of soft invitation, sought his; but he did not move. +He stood there, silent and motionless, with his face +turned towards the window. Those dying sounds +meant so much to him,—so much that she could never +understand.</p> + +<p>The consciousness of her near presence suddenly +disturbed him. He turned round. Her warm breath +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span> +was upon his cheek, and her white arms were twined +about his neck.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she whispered, "do not look so miserable, +please! Come and talk to me."</p> + +<p>Her arms tightened around him. He looked down +at her with a peculiar helplessness. Their light weight +seemed to him like a chain of iron weighing him down! +down! down!</p> + +<p>He had told himself that he had come to bid her +farewell; that Father Adrian's words, vague though +they were, yet had a definite meaning, and were worthy +of his regard. But at that moment their memory was +like a dying echo in his ears. This first passion of his +life was strong upon him, and everything else was +weak. The future was suddenly bounded for him by +a pair of white, clinging arms, and a dark, beautiful +face pressed close to his. He saw no more; he could +see no further.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>"ADREA'S DIARY"</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"By love stalks hate, his brother and his mate." +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>I am scarcely calm enough to write! Yet I must +write! My heart is full; my very pulses are throbbing +with excitement! What is it that has happened? It +is all confused in my mind. Let me try and set it +down clearly; then perhaps I shall be able to see my +way.</p> + +<p>Yesterday it seemed to me that my being was all too +small for one passion. Now it holds two! The one, +perhaps, intensifies the other. That is possible, for +they are opposites, and one has grown out of the other. +Now I cannot tell which is the stronger, the love or the +hate.</p> + +<p>I love one man, and I hate another. Perhaps I +should say I love one man because I hate another. +You, my dumb confidant, may be trusted with names, +so I will be clearer still. I love Paul de Vaux, and I +hate Father Adrian!</p> + +<p>Oh! that he should have dared! that he should have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> +dared to speak so to me! If only Paul had been there, +he should have beaten him. If I had had the strength +and the means, I would have killed him where he stood, +and silenced those thin, cruel lips for ever. I could +have stabbed him to the heart, and my hand would +never have faltered.</p> + +<p>Let me try to recall that scene. It is not difficult. +His words are ringing still in my ears, and his white, +passionate face seems to follow and mock me wherever +I look. I see it out there in the white moonlight, and +it rises up from the dark corners of the room. It +haunts me, and I hate it! I hate him as a woman hates +any one who comes between her and the man she loves!</p> + +<p>We were alone, Paul and I; at least, we thought so. +I had heard no one enter, nor had he. But suddenly a +voice rang out and filled the room; a fierce, cruel voice, +so changed and hardened with passion that I scarcely +recognised it. But when we sprang up, and peered +through the twilight of the chamber we saw him +standing close to us,—so close that he might even +have heard our whispered words to one another.</p> + +<p>There had been some ceremony at the monastery +amongst the hills where most of his time here is spent, +and he had evidently come straight from there. His +flowing black robes were splashed with mud and torn +by brambles, and his white face was livid with exhaustion +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> +and anger. His dark eyes burned like fire in their +hollow depths, and his right hand was raised above his +head, as though he had been on the point of striking +or denouncing us. I shall not forget his appearance +while I live. It will haunt me to my dying day.</p> + +<p>I think that it is the mystery of it all which tortures +me so. What has Paul to fear from him? Whence +comes his power? What evil is it which he holds suspended +over his head? There is only one that I can +imagine. Father Adrian must hold the key to that +awful deathbed scene at the monastery of Cruta. As I +write the words, my hand shakes, my heart sickens +with the horror of that memory. Well have I cause to +shrink from all thought of that hideous night;—I, to +whom the son of Martin de Vaux has become the dearest +amongst men! What was it Paul said to me? "He +knows something which my father told him whilst he +lay dying." Is it that knowledge which gives him +this strange power? I did not believe in it! I would +not have believed in it! But, in that dreadful moment, +I turned to Paul, and I saw his face!</p> + +<p>A volley of words seemed trembling on Father +Adrian's lips; yet he did not speak. We waited for +the storm to burst; we waited till I could bear the +silence no longer, and I felt that if it was not broken I +should go mad. So I drew near to him, and spoke a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span> +single word in his ear. Then I glided back to Paul's +side.</p> + +<p>"Spy!"</p> + +<p>He treated the insult as one might treat the bite of +an insect in the face of some imminent danger. He +did not reply to it; he did not appear to have heard it. +His eyes traveled over me, as though they had been +sightless, and challenged Paul's. In the excitement +of the moment, his words sounded tame, and almost +meaningless.</p> + +<p>"This is your answer, then, Paul de Vaux! Let it +be so! I accept your decision!"</p> + +<p>There was no defiance in Paul's answer. His manner +was quite subdued. I think that both his words +and his tone surprised me.</p> + +<p>"You have seen! I am in your hands!"</p> + +<p>I looked from one to the other, troubled. I felt that +there was a hidden meaning in their words which I +could not understand. There was something between +them from which I was excluded. But this much I +knew. There was a threat in Father Adrian's words, +and it was I who was the cause of it. Oh! if this man +should bring evil upon Paul! The thought of it is +like madness to me! See, there goes my pen! I cannot +write when I think of it!</p> + +<p>I have opened my window. The very air is sad with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> +the moaning of the sea, and the rustling of the night +breeze in the thick, tangled shrubbery below. But to +me it is sweet and grateful! I am in no mood for +pleasant sounds or sights. The dreariness of the night +finds its echo in my heart. The damp breeze cools my +forehead! To-night I feel conscious of a new strength. +It is the strength of hate! My mind is full of dim +purposes; time will aid them to gather strength! As +they group themselves together, action will suggest +itself. To time I leave them!</p> + +<p>Let me go back to my recital of what passed between +us three. A strange lethargic calm seemed to have +fallen upon Paul. He turned to me without even a +single trace of the passion which had lit up his face a +few moments before.</p> + +<p>"I must go!" he said quietly. "Farewell!"</p> + +<p>I could scarcely believe that he meant it; that he +was going away without another word, at what was +really this priest's unspoken bidding. But it was so. +From that moment, the fear of Father Adrian which +had grown up in my heart leaped into a new strength. +I was angry, and full of resistance.</p> + +<p>"Why should you go?" I cried. "I have much to +say to you!"</p> + +<p>"I must go now, Adrea," he answered simply. "When +I came I had no thought of staying. It is late!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> + +<p>I felt my face grow hot with passion as I turned +swiftly round towards Father Adrian. "It is you who +should go," I cried. "Why have you come here? +Why are you always creeping across my life like a +dark, noisome shadow? Go away! Begone! I will not +be left with you!"</p> + +<p>He turned a shade paler, but he did not sacrifice his +dignity, as I hoped that he would, by answering me +with anger. He did not even answer me at all. He +looked over my head at my lover.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow night!" he said calmly.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow night!" Paul answered.</p> + +<p>I stood between them, angry but helpless. A log of +wood had just fallen from the fire on to the hearth, and +in its sudden blaze I could see their faces distinctly. +The utter contrast between the two men threw each +into strong relief. Paul, in his scarlet coat and riding +clothes, pale and impassive, but <i>débonnaire</i>; and +Father Adrian, his strange black garb mud-bespattered +and disordered, and his dark, angry face livid with the +passion so hardly suppressed. It was odd to think of +them as creatures of the same species. Odder still to +think that there should be this link between them.</p> + +<p>I walked with Paul to the door, holding to his arm, +and talking, half-gaily, half-reproachfully, all the way. +We stood on the step together while his horse was being +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span> +brought round, and in the half-lights he stooped +down and kissed me. But his manner had changed. +Even his lips were cold, and his eyes were no longer +bright. There was a far-away look in them, and his +face was white and set. There were tears in my eyes +as I watched him ride away on his great brown horse, +and listened to the distant thunder of hoofs across the +moor. His face had told its own story. He was nerving +himself to face some expected danger. From whose +hands? Surely from Father Adrian's.</p> + +<p>The thought worked within me. I stood for a moment, +trying to quiet my passion. As I turned away +I heard the stable-yard doors open, and a carriage, +laden with luggage, drove slowly out, and, without +coming to the front at all, turned down the avenue. I +ran out, heedless of my slippers, and called to it to +stop. The man obeyed me, and I caught it up, breathless. +The blinds were closely drawn, but I opened the +door. As I expected, it was she who sat inside, closely +veiled and weeping.</p> + +<p>"You were going, then, without a single word of +farewell!" I cried reproachfully. "Is that kind? +Have I deserved it from you?"</p> + +<p>She threw up her veil. Her eyes were red and +swollen with weeping. She looked at me pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"Do not blame me more than you can help!" she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span> +said. "It was a great shock to me to see you—with +the son of Martin de Vaux. It was more than a shock; +it was a horror to me! He is like his father! He is +very like his father!"</p> + +<p>I knew that she had passed through a fiery sea of +suffering, and I kept back the anger which threatened +me. I pointed upwards.</p> + +<p>"We cannot keep the dark clouds from gathering +in the sky, nor can we make love come and go at our +bidding. We are but creatures; it is fate which ordains!"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head. "Fate, or the unknown God! +I am not your judge, child! I do not leave you in +anger!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you go, then, and leave me here alone? It +is not kind! It is not what I should expect from you!"</p> + +<p>The tears started again into her eyes, but she shook +them away. "I cannot explain as yet," she said. "You +will think me ungrateful, I fear! I cannot help it! I +must go. Farewell, Adrea!"</p> + +<p>A sudden thought came to me. It was an inspiration. +"You are not going of your own free will," I +cried. "Some one has been influencing you!"</p> + +<p>Her face was suddenly full of nervous terror. "Hush! +hush!" she cried. "He will hear you! Let me go +now! Let me go, I beseech you!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span> + +<p>I held her hands. "It is Father Adrian who is +sending you away," I cried passionately. "He is my +enemy. I hate him! Why should you obey him? +Stay with me! Do, do stay!"</p> + +<p>She looked at me as one would look at an ignorant +child who blasphemes. "You are talking wildly! +Father Adrian is far from being your enemy. You do +not understand!"</p> + +<p>Her voice had changed; the note of sympathy had +died away. I turned away from the carriage door in +despair. Father Adrian's power was greater than mine.</p> + +<p>"You can go!" I said bitterly. "You would have +left me here without one word, at his bidding. As you +say, I do not understand."</p> + +<p>She leaned forward, with a strange light in her eyes. +"Child," she whispered, "I am going to Cruta."</p> + +<p>The carriage drove away and I walked back to the +house. The air seemed full of voices, and the grey +rising mists loomed into strange shapes. Cruta! She +was going to Cruta! What power had this man in his +hands to send my lover from me with a heart like a +stone, and this woman back into the living hell from +which she had just freed herself. It was my turn now! +Would he be able to subdue me to his bidding? The +thought made me shudder.</p> + +<p>I ran upstairs into my room, and bathed my forehead, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span> +and re-arranged my gown. Then I set my teeth +together, and went down to him. It was to be a battle! +Well! I was prepared!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It is over now. I know his strength, and I know +his weakness. What passed between us I shall put +down to-morrow. To-night I am weary.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>"OH! HEART OF STONE, YET FLESH TO ALL SAVE ME"</h3> + + +<p>This is exactly what happened after I regained the +house. I went upstairs for a few minutes to arrange +my hair and bathe my eyes. Then I walked straight +down to the drawing-room, and I told myself that I +was prepared for anything that might take place.</p> + +<p>Father Adrian did not hear me enter, so I had the +advantage at the onset of taking him by surprise. +He was standing in the centre of the hearthrug, with +his arms folded and his eyes cast down upon the +ground. His eyebrows almost met in a black frown, +and a curious grey pallor had spread itself over his +face. When I entered, noiselessly moving the curtains, +from the outer chamber, he was muttering to himself, +and I strained my hearing to catch the meaning of his +words.</p> + +<p>"To-night must end it!" I heard him say. "She +herself shall decide. Greater men have travelled the +path before me! As for him, my pity has grown faint! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg 196]</span> +It is the will of the Church! I myself am but the +instrument. He stands between the Church and her +rights! Between me and—her!"</p> + +<p>His cheeks flushed, and his expression suddenly +changed. He whispered a name! It was mine! His +eyes were soft, and his lips were parted. The priest +had vanished. His face was human and manly. I +saw it, but my heart was as cold as steel.</p> + +<p>"Father Adrian," I said quietly, "I am here."</p> + +<p>He started, and looked towards me. If my heart +could have been softened even to pity, it would have +been softened by that look. But a woman's great selfishness +was upon me! The man I loved was in some +sort of danger at his hands. There was no room in +my heart for any other thought. I was adamant.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment, then he faced me +steadily, and spoke. "So you have learned to love +this Englishman, this De Vaux, the son of old Martin +de Vaux! Answer me simply, Yes or No!"</p> + +<p>"I have!"</p> + +<p>I did not hesitate. What need was there for hesitation? +I answered him defiantly, and without faltering.</p> + +<p>"You will never marry him! You will not even +become his mistress!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg 197]</span> + +<p>I made no answer at first; I laughed! that was all.</p> + +<p>"Who will prevent me?"</p> + +<p>"I shall!"</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"The means are ready to my hand!"</p> + +<p>My heart sank, but I forced a smile. "What are +they?"</p> + +<p>He considered a moment. "I can strip Paul de +Vaux of every acre and every penny he possesses! I +can break his mother's heart! I can proclaim his +father a murderer!"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand! I do not believe!"</p> + +<p>The words left me boldly enough, but there was a +lump in my throat, and my heart was sick.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" He drew a small gold crucifix from his +breast, and solemnly kissed it. Then, holding it in his +hand, he repeated,—</p> + +<p>"I can beggar Paul de Vaux by my proven word. I +can take from him everything precious in life! I can +take from him his name and his honours! I can break +his mother's heart! I can proclaim his father a murderer! +All this I can and will do, save you listen to +me!"</p> + +<p>He kissed the crucifix, and replaced it in his inner +pocket. I had begun to tremble. The stamp of truth +was upon his words. Still I tried to face him boldly.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span> + +<p>"Even if this is so, what has it to do with me?" I +cried.</p> + +<p>"You know!" he answered. "In your heart you +know! Yet, if you will—listen!" he continued, in a +low tone. "You love Paul de Vaux!"</p> + +<p>"It is true!"</p> + +<p>"And you believe that he loves you?"</p> + +<p>"I do!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, then! Three nights ago I lifted that curtain, +by the side of one who has left you for ever, and +I saw you in his arms. I followed him out of the +house; I walked by his side to Vaux Abbey, and I +told him what I have told you. I wasted no time in +idle threats. I told him what power was mine, and I +said 'Choose!' He was silent!"</p> + +<p>"Choose between what?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I bade him swear that he would never willingly +look upon your face again, or prepare himself to face +all the evils which it was in my power to bring upon +him."</p> + +<p>"And he?"</p> + +<p>"He asked for time—for a week!"</p> + +<p>A storm of anger was suddenly stirred up within me. +I turned upon him with flashing eyes and quivering +lips. Discretion and restraint were gone; I was like a +tigress. I lacked only the power to kill.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span> + +<p>"And by what right did you dare to thrust yourself +between us?" I cried. "What have I to do with you, +or you with me?"</p> + +<p>He held up his hands for a moment, as though to +shut out the sight of my face, ablaze with scorn and +hatred. There was a short silence. Then he spoke in +a low tone, vibrating with intensity of feeling.</p> + +<p>"You know! In your heart you know!" he said. +"Into my life has come the greatest humiliation which +can befall such as I am! In sorrow and bitterness it +has eaten itself into my heart. I am accursed in my +own sight, and in the sight of God!"</p> + +<p>I mocked at him. "I am not your confessor!" I +laughed. "Go and tell your sins to those of your own +order! I am a woman and you are a priest! Why do +you look at me with that light in your eyes? Am I a +prayer-book? Is there anything saintly in my face, +that you should keep your eyes fixed upon it so +steadily?"</p> + +<p>I had hoped that my words would madden him, and +he would lose his self-control. To my surprise, they +had but little effect. He seemed scarcely to have +heard.</p> + +<p>"What have you to do with me, or I with you?" he +repeated, in a voice which was rapidly gaining strength +and passion. "God knows! Yet as surely as we both +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span> +live, our lots are intertwined the one with the other."</p> + +<p>"A godly priest!" I laughed. "What have you to +do with me? What of your vows? Oh, how dare you +try to play the lover with me! You hypocrite!"</p> + +<p>He shrank back as though in pain. I laughed outright, +glad that I had made him feel.</p> + +<p>"Adrea!" he said slowly. "I was never a hypocrite +to you. In your presence I have never breathed a word +of my religion. Think for a moment of those days at +Cruta. Did I not refuse to confess you? Why? You +know! Because of those long, dreamy days we spent +together, not as priest and penitent, but as man and +woman. Do you remember them—the cliffs, with their +giant shadows standing out across the blue waters of +the harbour; the hollows, where we sat amongst the +perfumed wild flowers, gazing across the sea, and +watching the white sails in the distance; the nights, +with their white moonlight and silent grandeur! Ay, +Adrea! look me in the face, if you can, and tell me that +you have forgotten them! You cannot! You dare not! It +was you who brought me those books of wild, passionate +poetry whose music entered into my very soul! It was you +who tempted me with soft words, with your music, with +your beauty, into that world of sense which holds me +prisoner for ever. What I once was, I can never be +again! It is you who worked the change—you who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span> +awoke my man's heart, and set it beating for ever at +your touch, at your movements, at the sight of you. It +is you who taught me how to love—who opened to me +the rose-covered gates of hell! There is no drawing +back! You, who have dragged me down, shall share +my fall with me, for better or for worse! You shall +not escape! No other man shall have you! I have +paid the price, and I will have you!"</p> + +<p>I wrenched myself free from the arms which were +closing around me, and stood trembling before him.</p> + +<p>"Fool!" I cried. "You have dared to think of me +like that because I chose to make use of you at Cruta! +Make use of you! Yes, that is what I did! I wanted +to escape! You and she were the only ones who could +help me! Save for that, I had never wasted a moment +upon you. I never thought of you as a man; you were +only a priest. I never wished to see you again! You are +in my way now; you stand between me and the man I +love! I hate you!"</p> + +<p>His dark eyes were lit up with a sudden fire and a +deep flush stained his cheeks. For the first time I +seemed to see the man in him as well as the priest, +and I saw that he was handsome. It did not interest +me; I noticed it only as an incident.</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it!" he exclaimed. "You are not +so false as you would have me believe, Adrea!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span> + +<p>His hand was on my wrist, and his dark eyes, +strangely softened, were fixed pleadingly upon mine. +Something in his manner, even in his tone, seemed to +remind me of Paul. I was magnetized! For a moment +I could not move, and during that moment his hands +closed upon mine.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, is such a love as I can offer you worth nothing? +What did you tell me once was your life's ideal? +Was it not the love of a strong, true man, always faithful, +always loving? No one could love you more tenderly +than I, no one could be more faithful. Until I saw +you, no woman's face had dwelt in my thoughts for a +single instant. In my heart you reign alone, Adrea! +No one has been there before—no one will come after! +Such as it is, it is a kingdom of your own!"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you," I said slowly, withdrawing +my hands. "You talk to me of a man's love, a +man's faithfulness! What do you know of it? You +are a priest!"</p> + +<p>He threw up his hands with a sudden cry of agony. +His face was white and blanched.</p> + +<p>"Do I not know it?" he exclaimed in a low, fierce +tone. "Do you think I yielded easily to the poisoned +web you have woven around me? The horror of it all +has darkened my days, and made hideous my nights. +And yet you can taunt me with it—you, for whom I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span> +yield up conscience and future—you, for whom I give +my soul! No other man could love as I love, Adrea!"</p> + +<p>I looked him straight in the face and I did not spare +him. What was the use? The truth was best!</p> + +<p>"It is folly!" I said. "If your religion is worth +anything to you, let it help you now! Let it teach +you to forget me! Go away from here, and leave unharmed +the man I love. If you do not, I shall hate +you!"</p> + +<p>He caught hold of my dress. He was on his knees +before me—a bent, imploring figure.</p> + +<p>"Too late! too late!" he cried. "My religion has +gone! When love for you crept into my heart, I became +worse than a heretic. It was sin, and the sin +has spread. Oh! have mercy upon me, Adrea, have +mercy upon me! Just a little of your love. It may +not be much at first, but it will grow. Adrea, you +must try—you shall try!"</p> + +<p>I shook my gown from his trembling fingers, and +looked down upon him with contempt in my heart, and +contempt in my face. The flickering firelight cast a +faint glow upon his blanched, wan features, and their +utter humility filled me with an unreasoning and unreasonable +loathing. I did not try to soften my words. +I spoke out just as I felt, and watched him rise slowly +to his feet, like a hunted and stricken animal, without +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span> +a pitying word or glance. As he rose upright, his +head dropped. He did not look at me; he did not +speak a single word. He walked slowly to the door +with steps that faltered a little, and walked out of the +room, and out of the house.</p> + +<p>I watched him down the avenue, wondering at his +strange silence. It had a curious effect upon me. I +would rather have heard threats—even a torrent of +anger. There was something curiously ominous in +that slow, wordless exit. I watched him uneasily, full +of dim, shapeless fears.</p> + +<p>Outside the gate he paused in the middle of the +road. To the left was the monastery where he had +stayed; to the right was Vaux Abbey. I heard my +heart beat while he paused, and my face was pressed +against the window. For nearly a minute he stood +quite still, with downcast head, thinking. Then he +turned deliberately to the right, and set his face +towards Vaux Abbey.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>That was early in the evening yesterday—twenty-four +hours ago. Since then not a soul has been near +the house. Early this morning I saw Father Adrian +coming along the road from Vaux. I ran upstairs, +and locked myself in my room, after forbidding the +servants to let him enter. From the windows I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> +watched him. To my surprise he never even glanced +in. He walked past the gates, and took the road to +the monastery. I saw him slowly ascend the hill and +vanish out of sight in the darkening twilight. Once, +just before he reached the summit, he paused and +looked steadily down here. I could not see his face, +but I saw him raise his right hand for a moment +toward the sky. Then he turned round and pursued +his way.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>If some one does not come to me soon, I shall go +mad. Another hour has passed. My mind is made +up; I shall go to Vaux Abbey.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>"MY LIPS ARE CHARGED WITH TRUTH, AND JUSTICE BIDS +ME SPEAK"</h3> + + +<p>An early darkness had fallen upon the earth. Black +clouds had sailed across the young moon, and the evening +breeze had changed into a gale. There was no +rain as yet, but every prospect of it near at hand. A +mass of lurid, yellowish clouds hung low down over +the bending woods, and the wind whistled drearily +amongst the fir trees. Paul de Vaux wrapped his +cloak tightly around him, and, standing on the turf-covered +floor of the ruined chapel, peered forward into +the darkness, looking for the man whom he had come +to meet. Even then he heard his voice before he +could distinguish the dim outline of Father Adrian +standing by his side.</p> + +<p>"So you have come, Paul de Vaux, and in good +time! It is well!"</p> + +<p>"I am here!" Paul answered shortly. "If what +you have to say to me will take long, come up to the +house. It is dark and cold, and there is a storm rising."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> + +<p>The priest shook his head. "I have no wish to find +shelter under the roof of Vaux Abbey," he said coldly. +"You are well protected against the weather, and so +am I. Let us stay here!"</p> + +<p>Paul strove to look into his face, but the darkness +baffled him. He could only see its outline, nothing of +his expression. "As you will," he answered. "Speak! +I am ready."</p> + +<p>"I have dealt in no idle threats, Paul de Vaux," was +the stern answer. "I gave you a chance, and you +have thrown it away. Perhaps I did ill ever to offer +it to you. But, at any rate, remember this: it is no +idle vengeance which I am dealing out to you this +night; it is our holy and despoiled Church calling for +justice. I speak in her name!"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Paul knew by his +companion's bowed head and laboured utterance that +he was suffering from some sort of emotion. But the +darkness hid from him the workings of his pale features. +When he spoke, his voice was low and solemn.</p> + +<p>"Paul de Vaux, turn back in your mind to another +night such as this, when the thunder of sea and wind +shook the air, and the anger of God seemed fallen upon +the earth. On that night your father lay dying in the +island monastery of Cruta; and while you were risking +your life in the storm to reach him, I knelt by his side +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> +praying for his soul, that it might not sink down +amongst the damned in hell. He was a brave man, +but with the icy hand of death closing around him fear +touched his heart. It was no craven fear! He lay +there still and quiet, but his heart was troubled. In +the midst of my prayers he stopped me, and took the +crucifix into his own hand.</p> + +<p>"'Father,' he said, 'I have no faith in dying repentances. +I have scouted religion all my life, and on +my deathbed I will not cry for comfort to a Divinity +which is a myth to me. Yet, as man to man, listen +while I tell you a secret; and when I have finished, +do you pray for me.'</p> + +<p>"Shall I go on, Paul de Vaux? Shall I tell you all +that your father's dying lips faltered out to me?"</p> + +<p>"All! every word! Keep nothing back!" Paul +spoke quickly, almost feverishly. He knew a little, +but something told him that this priest knew more. +He began dimly to suspect the nature of the revelation +which was to come.</p> + +<p>"You shall know everything," Father Adrian continued, +in the same hushed tone, so low that Paul +had to bend forward to catch the words as they fell +from his lips. "If Martin de Vaux had been of our +religion, and had sought me as a priest of the Church +a seal would have been set upon my mouth. But it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> +was not so! Despite all my ministrations, he died +as he had lived, in heresy and grievous sin. After +all, it is only right that you, his son, should know +what he forebore to tell you. Yet, in my weakness +I might have spared you, if you yourself had not +brought down this blow upon your head."</p> + +<p>Paul raised his hand, and Father Adrian paused. +"Listen," he said, in a low, deep tone. "There are +secret pages in the lives of most of us—pages blurred +and scarred with misery and suffering and sin. But +there is a difference—a great difference. Some are +turned over with firm and penitent fingers, and, +although their scarlet record may never be blotted out, +yet, by sacrifice and atonement, the fruits of the sin +itself may die, and, dying, cast no shadow into the +future. A sin against humanity can often be righted +by human justice. Towards the close of my father's +days, I knew for the first time that there was in +his life one of those disfigured pages. He told me +nothing. I sought to know nothing. Father +Adrian," Paul went on, with a sudden strain of passion +in his tone, and a gesture half unseen in the +darkness, "if the shadow of his sin rests upon any +human being, if it still lives upon the earth, then +tell me all that is in your heart to tell, for there +is work to be done. But if that page be locked and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> +sealed, if those who suffered through it are dead, +and the burden which darkened my father's days is +his alone, then spare his memory! Strike at me, if +you will! Deal out your promised vengeance, but +let it fall on me alone!"</p> + +<p>Paul ended his speech with a little burst of passion +ringing in those last few words. He was conscious +of a deep and fervent desire to hear nothing, +to listen to nothing, which could teach him to hold +less dear his father's memory. He shrank, with a +human and perfectly natural feeling, from hearing +evil of the dead. That last evil deed, the murder +in that grim, bare chamber of death, had haunted him +with vivid and painful intensity. But it was a crime +by itself. It was horrible to imagine that it might +indeed be the culmination of a life of license and contempt +of all human laws. He had tried to think of it +as something outside his father's life, something done +in a momentary fit of madness, and that the man who +suffered by it was some monster unfit for the companionship +of his fellows—unfit to live. There were still +tales to be heard in the county, and about town even, +of the wild doings of Martin de Vaux in his younger +days; but none of these had reached his son's ears. +He would have been the last person likely to hear of +them.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> + +<p>There was a short silence, and before Father Adrian +spoke again the low-lying clouds were swept over their +heads by a gale from seaward, and the wind commenced +to whistle and shriek in the pine wood, and +roar amongst the crumbling ruins, which scarcely afforded +them protection from the blinding rain. Any +further conversation was impossible. Paul lifted up +his voice, and shouted in his companion's ear—</p> + +<p>"These walls are not safe! We must go into the +house. Will you come?"</p> + +<p>Father Adrian hesitated, and then assented, wrapping +his cloak around him. In a few moments they +were inside the library, having entered through a private +door and met no one. Breathless, Paul threw off +his cloak, which was dripping with rain, and turned +round almost fiercely upon his companion.</p> + +<p>"Now speak!" he said. "I am ready to hear all."</p> + +<p>The priest looked at him steadily for a moment, and +then, with his pale face turned towards the fire, he +commenced to speak.</p> + +<p>"Sin is everlasting!" he said slowly. "Your +father's sin lives, and on you the burden must fall! If +you had kept the covenant which I placed before you, +I might have spared you. You yourself have chosen. +You must hear all! Listen!</p> + +<p>"It was by chance that I was spending two months +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>[pg 212]</span> +in charge of the monastery of St. Jerome, at Cruta, +when your father arrived," he continued, without any +pause. "He sought our hospitality and he at once +obtained it. For two days he dwelt with us, spending +his time for the most part in idle fashion, wandering +about along the seashore or on the cliffs, but always +with the look on his face of a man who does but dally +with some fixed purpose. His doings were nothing to +me, but by chance, from one of the brethren, I learnt +that he was no stranger to the island—that once, many +years ago, he had been the guest of the lord who ruled +the little territory, and whose castle overshadows the +monastery.</p> + +<p>"On the third day of his stay, he remained within +his guest-chamber until sundown, writing. As the +vesper-bell rang I met him in the corridor, dressed for +walking, and from his countenance I judged that whatever +his mission to the island might be, he was about +to bring it to an end. He passed me without speech, +almost as though he had not seen me, and left the monastery. +A few minutes afterwards, looking down from +the windows to watch the brethren come in from their +field tasks, I saw him take the road up to the castle.</p> + +<p>"It was in the middle of the night when he returned. +Midnight had come and gone, and every one +in the monastery was asleep, when the hoarse, clanging +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> +bell down in the yard rang slightly, as though pulled +by feeble fingers. I threw my cloak over my shoulders, +and descended to admit him. When the last of +the huge bolts had been withdrawn, and I threw the +door open, I found him leaning against the wall, with +his fingers clutched together in agony, and his bloodless +features convulsed with pain. The moonlight was +falling right across his face, pale and ghastly with +pain, and by its light I seemed to see something dark +dropping from him on the white flags. I leaned forward, +horror-stricken, and I saw that it was blood."</p> + +<p>"My God!"</p> + +<p>Paul was standing very still and rigid, with his eyes +fastened upon the priest. As yet, he scarcely realized +anything more than that he was being told a very horrible +story. But he was conscious of a feverish impatience, +quite beyond his control. When Father Adrian +paused at his exclamation, he beat the ground with his +foot impatiently. "Go on! Go on!" he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"I had no time to ask questions," the priest continued +quietly. "Directly he left the support of the +wall, and endeavoured to move towards me, your father +threw up his arms with a sharp cry of pain, and almost +fell upon his face. I was just in time to catch him, +and exerting all my strength—for he was a powerful +man—I dragged him up the steps and along the corridor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> +to the nearest empty cell. There I laid him down +upon a bed of ferns, and then hurried out to summon +one of the brethren who was skilled in medicine.</p> + +<p>"In a few moments he returned with me. By his +direction, I gave your father brandy and other restoratives, +while he cut open his coat to find out, if he could, +the nature of the wound. It was easily discovered. +He had been stabbed by a long dagger just below the +heart. Had the dagger entered one-sixteenth of an +inch higher, he must have bled to death upon the spot.</p> + +<p>"We bound up the hurt as well as we could, and +with the help of other of the monks, we carried him +up to the guest-chamber, and put him to bed. In about +half an hour he recovered consciousness, and called me +to his side.</p> + +<p>"'Pencil, paper,' he whispered.</p> + +<p>"I handed him both. After several futile efforts he +succeeded in writing a few words. Then he folded up +the note, and handed it to me.</p> + +<p>"'If you will send it without delay,' he whispered, +'I will give one hundred pounds to the monastery.'</p> + +<p>"I never hesitated, for our funds were in a desperate +state; but first I glanced at the direction. It was +addressed to—</p> + +<p class="author">PAUL DE VAUX, Esq.,<br /> +c/o The English Consul,<br /> +Palermo.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> + +<p>"I promised that it should be sent, and, as you +know, it was. Then I sent the others out of the room, +and inquired about his hurt. He set his lips firm, and +shook his head.</p> + +<p>"'It was an accident,' he faltered. 'No one was to +blame.'</p> + +<p>"I told him briefly that it was impossible. The nature +of his wound was such that it was clearly the +work of an assassin. In a certain sense we were the upholders +of the law on the island, and I pointed this out +to him sternly. He only shook his head and closed +his eyes. Neither then nor at any other time could I +gain from him one single word as to his doings on that +night. He would tell me nothing."</p> + +<p>"You saw him going toward the castle," Paul interrupted. +"Did you make inquiries there?"</p> + +<p>The priest shook his head slowly. "No, I made no +inquiries," he answered. "It was no matter for my +interference. The castle, although it is a huge place, +was deserted save for a few native servants, whose +<i>patois</i> was unintelligible to me. There were only two +who dwelt there—the old Count himself, and one other—to +whom I could have gone. Several nights after your +father's illness I left the monastery, and tried to see +the Count. He would not even have me admitted, and +on my return, your father, who had guessed the reason +of my absence, sent for me. He judged of the ill +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> +success of my mission, by my face, and he instantly appeared +relieved. He then called me to the bedside, +and made me an offer. He would give me, as a further +contribution to our exhausted funds, a large sum of +money on this condition—that I took no further steps +in any direction towards ascertaining the nature of his +accident, as he chose to call it, and that I should not +mention it to you as the cause of his illness, or refer +to it in any way if you arrived while he was there. I +hesitated for some time, but in the end I consented. +The money in itself was a great temptation—you see, +I am frank with you—and, apart from that, your father +at that time was on the verge of his fever, and at such +a critical time I feared the ill results of not falling in +with his wishes. So I promised, and I kept my promise; +no one—not even you—knew that he died from +that dagger thrust, and during the remainder of my +stay on the island, I asked no questions concerning +his visit to the castle."</p> + +<p>"But did you hear nothing? were there no reports?" +Paul asked.</p> + +<p>Father Adrian hesitated. "There were no reports +about your father," he said, "but the castle itself was +always the object of the most unbounded superstition +on the part of the inhabitants. They told strange tales +of midnight cries, of lights from blocked-up chambers, +and of the old Count who still dwelt there, although he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span> +had not been seen outside the castle walls for many a +year. He was reported to have sold himself to the +Evil One, and at the very mention of his name the +people crossed themselves in terror, and glanced +uneasily over their shoulders."</p> + +<p>"Idle tales!" cried Paul angrily. "Tell me, Father +Adrian, did you know this Count of Cruta?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Father Adrian's face +was turned away, and he seemed in no hurry to answer. +"Yes, I knew him."</p> + +<p>"You knew him! What is he like? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>The priest shook his head. "I have nothing to tell +you," he said in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"You mean that you will not tell me."</p> + +<p>The priest inclined his head. Paul turned upon +him fiercely, "He was my father's murderer," he +cried.</p> + +<p>"It may be so. But remember that nothing is +known! Remember, too, that your father's last wish +was to keep secret the manner of his death!"</p> + +<p>Paul seemed scarcely to have heard him. He was +walking restlessly up and down the apartment. Presently +he stopped in front of Father Adrian's chair.</p> + +<p>"You have told me what happened to my father on +the island," he said; "now tell me the story of his life, +which you say that he confided to you. I must know +what took him there."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>"THE SHATTERED VASE OF LOVE'S MOST HOLY VOWS"</h3> + + +<p>Paul had not thought of ringing for lights, and, +save around the fireplace, the room was wrapped in +solemn darkness. Father Adrian's chair had been +amongst the shadows, and Paul had seen nothing save +his outline since they had entered the room. But now, +his curiosity stirred by the sudden silence of the priest, +he caught up the poker, and broke the burning log in +the grate, so that the flames threw a quick light on his +face.</p> + +<p>Its extreme pallor struck him forcibly. It was a +perfectly bloodless face, and the dark eyes, as black as +jet, accentuated its pallor. Yet there was no lack of +nervous strength or emotion. The thin lips were quivering, +and the eyes were soft with feeling. Somehow, +it seemed to Paul that this man's interest in the story +which he had come to tell was no casual one; that he +himself was mixed up in it, in a manner which as yet +he had chosen to conceal. His colourless face was +alight with human interest and sympathies. Who was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span> +this priest, and why had he come so far to tell his story? +Paul felt that a mystery lay behind it all.</p> + +<p>"You must not think," Father Adrian commenced +slowly, "that your father told me the whole history of +his life. It was one episode only, the memory of +which weighed heavily upon him as death drew near. +He did not tell me all concerning it; what he did tell +me I will try and repeat to you.</p> + +<p>"It was late in the afternoon of the day before your +arrival that he called me to his bedside. Only a few +hours ago we had told him that he must die, and since +then he had been very silent. I came and knelt before +him, and was commencing a prayer, when he stopped +me.</p> + +<p>"'I want you to listen while I tell you one of the +worst actions of my life,' he said in a low tone, weakened +by the suffering through which he had passed. +'The memory of it has haunted me always; it is the +memory of it which has brought me here. I am not +confessing to you, mind! only after I have told you this +story, I want you to pray for me.</p> + +<p>"'Thirty years ago I was in Palermo, and was introduced +there to the Count of Cruta. We met several +times, and on his departure he invited me to come over +here for a week's shooting. I was wandering about on +pleasure, with no fixed plans, and I did not hesitate for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span> +a moment. I should like nothing better than to come, +I told him, and accordingly we returned here together.</p> + +<p>"'The Count was a widower with one daughter, +Irene. For a young man I was not particularly impressionable, +and up till then I had thought very little +about women. Nevertheless,—perhaps, I should say, +all the more for that reason,—I fell in love with Irene. +In a week's time I had all but told her so; and finding +myself alone with her father one night after dinner, I +boldly asked him for her hand. Somewhat to my surprise,—for +considering the difference in our years, we +had become very friendly,—he refused me point-blank. +The first reason which he gave staggered me: Irene +was already engaged to a Roumanian nobleman, who +would be coming soon to claim her. But apart from +that, he went on, he would never have consented to the +match on the score of our different religions. I tried +to argue with him, but it was useless; he would not +even discuss the matter. His daughter's hand was +promised, and his word was passed.</p> + +<p>"'On the morrow I appealed to Irene, and here I +met with more success. She confessed that she loved +me, and, to my surprise, she consented at once when I +proposed that she should run away with me. Our +arrangements were made in haste and secrecy. My +yacht lay in the harbour, and at midnight Irene stole +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span> +down to the shore, where I met her, and rowed her on +board. A few minutes later we weighed anchor and +steamed away, with the rusty old guns from the castle +firing useless shots high over our heads.</p> + +<p>"'I want to make my story as short as I can, so I +will not attempt to offer any excuses for my conduct, or +to seek to palliate it in any way. Irene had trusted +herself to me, and I betrayed her trust. I did not +marry her. She did not leave me; she did not even +openly upbraid me; but nevertheless it hung like a +dark cloud over her life. By degrees, she became +altered. She tried to drown her memory by frivolity, +by all manner of gaiety and excitement, and our life +in Paris afforded her many opportunities.</p> + +<p>"'The old Count of Cruta made two efforts to rescue +his daughter from me. The first time he came alone; +and before his righteous fury I was for a moment +abashed. "Give me back my daughter!" he thundered, +with his back to my closed door, and a pistol pointed +to my head. I rang the bell, and Irene came, dressed +for the evening, and humming a light opera tune. +Then I saw to what depths of callousness I had dragged +her, and I shuddered. She listened to the old man's +stormy eloquence, and when he had finished his passionate +appeal, she shrugged her shoulders slightly. She +was perfectly happy, she declared, and she would die +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span> +sooner than go back to that <i>triste</i> Cruta. Had he had +a pleasant journey? she asked, and would he stay and +dine? I saw her father shudder, and the words seemed +frozen upon his lips. He looked at her in perfect +silence for a full minute—looked at her from head to +foot, at her soft white dress, with its floating sea of +dainty draperies, and at the diamonds on her neck and +bosom. Then his eye seemed to blaze with anger.</p> + +<p>"'"Girl!" he cried sternly, "you have dragged +down into the mire one of the proudest names in +Europe! Curse you for it! As for you, sir," he added, +turning to me, "you are a dishonoured scoundrel! a +cur!"</p> + +<p>"'He was right! I was a blackguard. But had it +not been for those last words of his, I should straight-way +have offered to have married Irene on the morrow. +The words were on my lips, but the contempt of that +monosyllable maddened me. The better impulse +passed away.</p> + +<p>"'"You should have given her to me when I asked +for her hand," I answered. "You cur!" he repeated. +I looked at him steadily. "You are an old man," I +said, "or I should throw you down my stairs. Now +go! Irene has nothing to say to you, nor have I."</p> + +<p>"'He lingered on the threshold for a moment, surveying +us both with a calm dignity, before which I +felt ashamed.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span> + +<p>"'"As you remind me, I am an old man," he said +quietly, "and I have, alas, no son to chastise you as +you deserve. But the season of old age is the season +of prophecy! Listen, Martin de Vaux," pointing towards +me, "you shall taste the bitterest dregs of sorrow +and remorse in the days to come, for this your evil +deed. You may scoff, both of you,—you may say to +yourselves that an old man's words are words of folly,—but +the day will come! It is writ in the book of +fate, and my eyes have seen it! Pile sin upon sin, +and pleasure upon pleasure; say to yourselves, 'let us +eat and be merry, for to-morrow we shall die!' For +so it is written, and my eyes have seen it!"</p> + +<p>"'He was gone almost before the echo of his words +had died away. I called after him, but there was no +answer but the sound of a shutting door. I looked at +Irene; she was calmly buttoning her glove.</p> + +<p>"'"The carriage is waiting," she reminded me +coolly.</p> + +<p>"'I gave her my arm, and laughed. We drove to +the opera.'"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>"A BECKONING VOICE FROM OUT A SHADOWY LAND"</h3> + + +<p>Midnight rang solemnly out from the Abbey clock. +The priest paused in his story to count the strokes, +and Paul drew out his watch with an incredulous +gesture.</p> + +<p>"You must stay here to-night," he said; "it will be +too late for you to leave."</p> + +<p>He rang the bell, and ordered a room to be prepared. +Father Adrian, who had been lost in a fit of +deep abstraction, looked up and shook his head as the +servant quitted the room. "I shall not stay here," he +said quietly. "It is impossible."</p> + +<p>Paul pointed to the clock. "You have more to tell +me," he said, "and it is already late. If you are staying +at the monastery of St. Bernard, it is nearly eight +miles away, and you cannot possibly return."</p> + +<p>"I have not so far to go," Father Adrian answered, +"and this is the hour I always choose for walking. +Do you wish to hear the rest of your father's confession?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span> + +<p>Paul stood on the hearthrug with bowed head and +folded arms. "I am ready!" he said; "go on!"</p> + +<p>Father Adrian remained silent for nearly a quarter +of an hour; then he recommenced his story.</p> + +<p>"'From the time of the old Count's visit,' your +father went on, 'I noticed a gradual change in Irene. +She grew thin and pale and nervous, disliking more +and more, every day, to go out, and becoming suddenly +averse to all our previous pursuits and pleasures. We +mixed amongst a Bohemian set in Paris, and we had a +good many acquaintances of a certain sort. Amongst +them was a man whom I always disliked, yet who managed +somehow to establish himself upon terms of intimacy +with us. His name was Count Victor Ferdinand +Hirsfeld, and his nationality was rather a puzzle to me, +for he chose to maintain, without any apparent reason, +a sort of mystery about it. With Irene he was ever +more intimate than with me, and more than once +I noticed references in their conversation which +seemed to point to some previous acquaintance between +them. I asked Irene no questions, for I trusted her +but I watched Count Hirsfeld closely. I felt convinced +that, under the mask of friendship, he was trying to win +Irene from me, and though I never for one moment believed +that he would succeed, I was anxious to obtain +some proof of his intentions, that I might punish him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span> +Often after his visits, which seemed to be carefully +chosen for a time at which I was nearly certain to be +out, I found Irene in tears; but when I sought to make +her explain, she had always some excuse.</p> + +<p>"'We had lived together for three years when, without +any warning, Irene left me. I came home one +night from a dinner at the English Embassy, and +found her gone. There was no message, not a single +line of adieu, not a ghost of a clew by which I could +trace her. It was a shock to me; but when the first +wrench was over, I knew that it was something of a relief. +In my heart I was tired of the irregular life we +had been leading, and longing to return to England +and my old home. Irene herself was no longer dear +to me. While she had remained faithful to me, I had +considered myself, in a certain sense, bound to her, although +the bonds had commenced to gall. Now that +she had left me of her own accord, I was free. I troubled +little as to what had become of her; youth is always +selfish. She had either gone home to her father, or +had run away with Count Hirsfeld, I determined at +once. Of the two, I was inclined to believe the latter, +from the fact of her having left no message for me, +and also as I found that he too had quitted Paris suddenly. +I purposely did not attempt to find out, for had +I discovered the latter to be true, I should have felt +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span> +bound to call Count Hirsfeld out the next time I met +him, and I hated duelling. So, with a light heart, I +disposed of my Paris establishment, selling even the +house, and everything likely to remind me of a page of +my history which I desired to blot out.</p> + +<p>"'I returned to England, and settled down at Vaux +Abbey. In a few months my life with Irene lay back +in the past, like a troubled dream, and I did my best +to forget it. It was all hateful and tiresome to me. +My mind was full now of healthier and more wholesome +thoughts and purposes. I felt like a man commencing +life anew. Even my conscience had almost +ceased to trouble me. Irene had left me of her own +will, nor had she been driven to it by any unkindness +on my part. I would forget her. I had the right to +forget her.</p> + +<p>"'About six months had passed, and I was in the +full enjoyment of my altered life. One night, when +the Abbey was full of guests, a servant whispered in +my ear, as we sat at dinner, that a gentleman,—a +foreigner, the man believed—had just been driven over +from the nearest railway station, and was in the library +waiting to see me. I knew in a moment that some +sort of a resurrection of that buried past was at hand; +and though I nodded carelessly and kept my countenance, +my heart sank like lead. As soon as I could +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span> +make an excuse, I left the table, with a brief apology to +my guests, and made my way to the library.</p> + +<p>"'I had expected to find there Irene's father. Judge +of my surprise when I found Count Hirsfeld advancing +to meet me, pale and travel-stained, from the shadows +of the room. I stopped short, and stood with my hands +behind me.</p> + +<p>"'"Mr. de Vaux, I bring you a letter," he said +simply; "I am here as a messenger, and as a messenger +only. Nothing but the prayers of a dying woman +would have induced me to stand beneath your roof!"</p> + +<p>"'"Your presence certainly needs some explanation," +I answered coldly. "Give me the letter!"</p> + +<p>"'He handed it over, and I took it to the lamplight. +The handwriting seemed unfamiliar to me; but when I +glanced at the last page, I saw that it was signed +"Irene." I read it through hastily.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="author">"CRUTA.</p> + +<p>"MARTIN:—</p> + +<p>"I left you meaning never to speak or write your +name again, but fate has been too strong for me. When +you see my handwriting, you may fear that I want to +burden you once more with my presence, which has +grown so wearisome to you! You need not! Soon +there will be nothing left of me but a memory; even +that I know will not survive long. For I am dying. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span> +Life is only a matter of days and hours with me now. +For me, only a few more suns will rise and set. I am +dying, else I had not taken up my pen to write to you.</p> + +<p>"Martin, one's last hours are a time for plain speaking. +I have never suffered one word of reproach to +pass my lips, but you have wronged me deeply! You +have turned what should have been the sweetness of +my life into bitterness and gall. I do not remind you +of this to heap idle reproaches on your head; I remind +you of it simply because on my deathbed I am going +to ask you what in the past I scorned to do. I am +going to ask you to marry me.</p> + +<p>"I could not hope to make you understand all that +I have suffered during these last few months of my illness. +I would not if I could. It is not worth while! +My father, although he knows that I am dying, will +scarcely speak to me. He has forgotten that I am his +daughter, save when he laments it. He sits alone day +by day, brooding upon the dishonour of his race. The +priest, who prays for me, speaks words of doubtful +comfort, as though, after all, he doubted whether salvation +were possible for me. The horror of it all has +entered into my soul! The sin of the past is ever before +my eyes,—black and threatening,—and a great +desolation reigns in my heart.</p> + +<p>"And from it all I turn to you, Martin, to save me! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span> +You can do it! You only! You lose nothing! You +risk nothing! and you will throw some faint light of +consolation upon this, my dreary passage through the +shadow-land of death. Once you loved me, far off and +dim though that time may seem to you. You would be +faithful always, you swore, as side by side we stood on +board your yacht on the night of our flight, and +watched the shores of Cruta grow dimmer and dimmer, +and the white-faced dawn break quivering upon the +waters. You would be faithful always! The words +come back to me as I lie here in this great, dreary bedchamber, +with a cold-faced priest muttering comfortless +prayers by my side; dying alone, without a single +kindly face to lighten my passage to the grave. Yet, +do not read this as a reproach! Read it only as the +prelude to this my last appeal to you! Marry me, +Martin! It would cost you so little: just a hurried +journey here, a few sentences over my bedside, a week's +waiting at the most, and you could see me in my grave, +and feel yourself free again. Is it too great a thing +to do, to make light the heart of a dying woman? I +pray God that you may not think so! You have generosity! +I appeal to it! Come, I beseech you! It is +the prayer of a dying woman! I summon you to +Cruta!</p> + +<p class="author">"IRENE."</p> +</blockquote> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span> + +<p>"'Back again in the meshes of my old sin. The +letter fluttered down from between my fingers on to the +floor, and I stood with folded arms and bowed head, +arraigned at the bar of my own judgment. I had marred +a girl's fair young life! The memory of those old +days—my passionate persuasions and prayers—swept +in upon me. Yes! she had trusted me, and I had deceived +her! Her sin and her death lay at my door! +The hideous rascality of the thing oppressed me. I had +been false to my name and traditions.</p> + +<p>"'A cold, low voice from the other end of the room +broke in upon my surging thoughts. It was Count +Hirsfeld who spoke.</p> + +<p>"'"Forgive me for disturbing your doubtless pleasant +reflections, but time flies, and time is very precious +to me just now. I await your answer."</p> + +<p>"'"It is not necessary," I replied; "I shall be at +Cruta before you!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>"LATE THOU COMEST, CRUEL THOU HAST BEEN"</h3> + + +<p>"'I sped through England and across the Continent +southwards as fast as express train and steamer could +carry me. Count Hirsfeld shared the special which +carried me from our nearest country station to the +Great Northern junction, from whence the Scotch mail +bore us to London. Here we parted company, travelling +the remainder of the way separately. On the +evening of the second day, the steamer which I had +hired at Palermo dropped anchor in the bay of Cruta, +under the shadow of the grim, black castle; and a +small rowing-boat landed me beneath the cliffs before +night fell.</p> + +<p>"'I made my way up the narrow, winding path +alone, and passing across the paved courtyard, rang the +hoarse, brazen bell at the principal entrance. A servant, +bearing a torch, had opened the door, and was +beckoning me to follow him long before its echoes had +died away.</p> + +<p>"'"Mademoiselle Irene!" I asked him, in a hushed, +anxious tone. "She lives?"</p> + +<p>"'"She lives!" he repeated sombrely.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span> + +<p>"'I followed him along the wide stone corridors, and +up countless steps. At last he paused before a door, +and after listening for a moment, knocked softly at it.</p> + +<p>"'It was opened by a monk, whose face was hidden +by the folds of his deep cowl. He motioned me to enter, +and immediately closed the door.</p> + +<p>"'I found myself in a spacious, lofty bedchamber, +bare and dimly lit. Facing me two pale, solemn-visaged +monks stood on either side of a drawn curtain, as +though guarding the plain iron bed which lay beyond, +and towards which I had taken one impulsive step forward. +Their presence, and an indefinable gloom,—beyond +even the gloom of a chamber of death,—which in +the dim twilight seemed to hang about the very air of +the place, chilled me. There was little furniture, and +no pictures hung upon the walls, save a wooden cross +near the foot of the bed, before which two candles were +burning. I looked around for some one to whom I +could address myself, but there was no one beyond +these dark-coated, silent monks, who seemed more like +shadows from another world.</p> + +<p>"'While I stood in the middle of the room, hesitating, +the priest who had admitted me passed by and +took up his station at the foot of the bed. He motioned +me to stand a little nearer, and suddenly the +drear silence of the room was broken by the low, monotonous +chant of prayers. I bowed my head, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span> +kneeling by the bedside I took up the responses, and +once for a moment clasped the white, cold hand which +lay upon the coverlet, and which was all that I could +see of the woman whom I was making my wife.</p> + +<p>"'The ceremony seems to me now like some far-distant +dream, of which I retain only the vaguest recollection. +When it was all over, I laid my hand upon +the curtain to draw it back, but the monk nearest to +me held my hand in a vise-like grip, and before I could +move, a voice from the other end of the room, where +the shadows were deepest, arrested me.</p> + +<p>"'"Touch that curtain, or dare to look upon my +daughter's face, Martin de Vaux, and you die! For +her soul's sake I have permitted this! Now go!"</p> + +<p>"'I peered through the darkness, and I saw the tall, +gaunt frame of the Count of Cruta standing near the +entrance. I hesitated for a moment.</p> + +<p>"'"Irene is my wife," I answered. "I offer no excuse +to you for my conduct, but at least I have the +right to try and win her forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"'He moved a step forward, and his voice shook with +passion. "You have no rights! You are dishonoured! +You are a villain! What! you to reason with me under +my own roof! Away! Out of my sight, lest I forget +my word and deal you out your deserts!"</p> + +<p>"'My heart was hot with shame and anger, but I +lingered. "Let her speak," I answered, pointing to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span> +the bed. "It is she against whom I have sinned, and +her word I will obey. Irene! may I not stay by your +side? Tell me that you forgive!"</p> + +<p>"'I clutched passionately at the curtain, resolved to +tear it aside, and plead with Irene upon my knees. +But I was held from behind in a strong, vise-like grasp, +and one of the monks who stood there on guard sternly +wrested the curtain from my hands.</p> + +<p>"'"Away with him!" cried the Count, his voice +shaking with passion. "Rudolph, do you hear!"</p> + +<p>"'I nerved myself for a struggle, but in that moment's +pause a thin, white hand stole from behind the +curtain and held mine for a moment.</p> + +<p>"'"Martin, go quickly!" said a faint, weak voice, +so altered that I scarcely recognised it as the voice of +Irene. "It is my wish—my command."</p> + +<p>"'"One word, Irene!" I cried, struggling to free +myself. "Just one word!"</p> + +<p>"'"Farewell!"</p> + +<p>"'"Irene, you are my wife. Have you nothing else +to say to me?"</p> + +<p>"'"Farewell!"</p> + +<p>"'There was no sweetness, no regret in that single +word. I bowed my head in despair and went.'"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There was a long pause. Father Adrian was leaning +back in his chair with half-closed eyes, as though +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span> +exhausted. Paul, standing opposite to him, motionless +and silent as a figure of stone, was listening to every +word with grave, anxious face.</p> + +<p>"Will you hear the rest of the story now?" the +priest asked after a prolonged silence.</p> + +<p>Paul bowed his head. "I am waiting," he said +simply.</p> + +<p>"I will continue, then, in your father's own words as +near as possible. This is what he told me."</p> + +<p>"'I lingered in the island for several days, staying +at the monastery, unwilling to go away, and yet frustrated +in every attempt I made to enter the castle. On +the fourth day, at sunrise, I was awakened suddenly +by the deep tolling of the castle bell. I dressed +hastily, and hurried up there; but I was thrust from +the door, and forbidden to enter. I learned the truth, +however, from one of the servants. Irene was dead. +On the next day I saw the little funeral procession +start from the castle, and directly they entered the +grounds of the monastery I joined them. The old +Count, bowed and aged with grief, stayed the ceremony, +and bade them, with a sudden flash of his old +anger, thrust me from the place. But the priest by +whose side I had taken my stand raised his hand, and +forbade them to touch me. I was in sanctuary,—my +feet were on holy ground—and though the Count of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span> +Cruta, and Count Hirsfeld who knelt by his side, +trembled with anger at my presence, I remained, and +on my knees by my wife's grave I uttered the first +prayer my lips had framed since childhood. Through +the pine trees which fringed the cliffs, I could see the +path where she and I had met in the days when I was +her father's guest, and when I had knelt at her feet a +passionate lover. The sunlight flashed upon the blue +waters below, and the seabirds flew screaming around +our heads. It was all just as it had been in the old +days; the same for me, but never more for her. The +long black coffin was lowered into the grave, and reverently +Count Hirsfeld stepped forward and covered it +with armfuls of exquisite white flowers, whose perfume +made faint the odorous air. And I had no flowers to +throw, nothing but the tribute of a passionate grief, +and a heart well-nigh broken with sorrow and remorse.</p> + +<p>"'The ceremony was over, and the black-robed +monks and priest had passed away in a long, solemn +procession. Her father, Count Hirsfeld, and I remained +there alone; and over Irene's grave I leaned +forward, speaking gently and humbly to him, praying +for one word of forgiveness. His only answer was a +look of scorn, and he turned away from me with loathing. +He would not hear me speak. To him, I was +his daughter's murderer.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span> + +<p>"'I left the island that night, and returned to +England. For several years I lived a very retired life, +attending to my duties upon the estate and seldom +travelling beyond it. The memory of Irene seemed to +haunt me. But as time went on, a change came over +my spirits. I was young; and although I still bitterly +regretted the past, its influence became weaker and +weaker. What was done could not be undone; such +reparation as was possible I had made. Brooding +over my sin would never make it the less. I reasoned +thus with myself, and the final result was inevitable. +I commenced to mix more with my fellows, to look up +my old friends in town,—in fact, to take up again the +threads of my life, which I had once regarded as +broken for ever.</p> + +<p>"'After a while I married; and then, more than +ever, Irene and that portion of my past which was +bound up with her seemed like some vague, far-distant +nightmare, fast assuming a very remote place in my +thoughts. I loved my wife as I had never loved +Irene, and for a time I was intensely happy. A son +was born to me, and in my joy I feasted half the +county at Vaux Abbey. I had desired nothing so +much as this, for the De Vaux estates and mines, immense +as they are, are all strictly entailed. A son +was wanted to complete my happiness, and a son I had. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span> +But already, although I knew it not, a storm was gathering +for me.</p> + +<p>"'It was about a fortnight after the festivities, and +I had just come in with some friends from an afternoon's +shooting, when I was told that a gentleman +from abroad—the servant believed—was waiting to +see me in the library. Even as he spoke the words I +seemed to know who it was. My heart sank, and the +presentiment of some coming evil was strong upon +me. I hesitated, and then, feverishly anxious to know +the worst, I turned away with some careless excuse to +my guests and entered the library.</p> + +<p>"'It was Count Hirsfeld who stood there waiting for +my arrival, with a calm, evil smile upon his lips, +which instinctively I felt to be the herald of some coming +trouble for me. Yet my courage did not altogether +desert me.</p> + +<p>"'"Count Hirsfeld, your presence here demands +an immediate explanation," I said sternly. "Had I +been at home, you would not have been admitted."</p> + +<p>"'"I come," he answered slowly, with his eyes fixed +steadily upon my face, "as an ambassador from your +wife."</p> + +<p>"'"From my wife!" I repeated. "You do not know +her! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"'He shrugged his shoulders. "I regret that my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span> +meaning is not clear," he said. "I repeat that I come +as an ambassador from your wife, Irene de Vaux. I +have brought you a message from her."</p> + +<p>"'"A message from the dead!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"'"Dead! By no means!" he answered, with a +slow, cruel smile. "Irene is living! Is it possible that +you did not know it?"'"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>[pg 241]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>"GRIM FIGURES TRACED BY SORROW'S FIERY HAND"</h3> + + +<p>The lamp which stood on Paul's writing-table had +gone out, and only a few dull red embers remained in +the grate. By moving a single yard backwards, Paul +was almost lost in the deep shadows which hung about +the room, whilst such light as there was fell directly +upon the priest's pale face. During those last +few moments his voice had grown a shade more +solemn—more intense. Paul, who stood looking out +at him from the darkness with dazed senses, like a man +in a dream, never doubted for an instant, although perhaps +he scarcely realized the full meaning of the story +to which he was listening.</p> + +<p>"It must have been in this very room," Father +Adrian continued, looking around him, "that your father +and Count Hirsfeld stood face to face. But you are +naturally impatient. I will take up the story again in +your father's own words to me.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"'It was several moments before I could collect +myself sufficiently to answer Count Hirsfeld. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>[pg 242]</span> +Everything seemed dim and unreal around me. Only that +calm, mocking face remained steadfast, and his words +rang in my ears.</p> + +<p>"'"It is a lie!" I gasped. "We stood together +by her grave! She is dead!"</p> + +<p>"'The calmness suddenly vanished from my tormentor's +face and manner. His eyes were ablaze with +mingled triumph and hate. "You thought so, you poor +fool!" he hissed out at me across the table. "Bah! you +were a fool! You were easily deceived! Listen!</p> + +<p>"'"You thought it a light thing to carry off the +only daughter of the last Count of Cruta. 'Twas easily +done, no doubt; but you made for yourself enemies +of men from whose vengeance you were bound to suffer. +One was the Count whose daughter you had dishonoured, +and whose proud name you disgraced; the +other was myself, the man whom she was to have married—myself, +who loved her! Do you think that because +I did not seek you out and shoot you as you +deserved, that I forgot? There were men on the island +who loved their lord, and who at the word from him +would have hunted you down and murdered you. If +he restrained them, do you imagine he was willing to +bear this great dishonour without striking a blow? +Bah! it was my word that said 'wait,' my counsel which +saved you from death as too light a punishment. There +is another way, I said. So we waited.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>[pg 243]</span> + +<p>"'"It was my persuasions which induced Irene to +leave you and return to her father. It was I who +pointed out to her your great selfishness, and raised in +her the longing for revenge! It was I who laid the +plot into which you fell.</p> + +<p>"'"A few words more! It is all so simple! Irene +was about to become a mother; and you, believing her +to be on her deathbed, married her. The child was +born on the next day—your son and heir! Meanwhile, +Irene's waiting maid, who had been for long in a consumption, +died. It was her funeral which you attended +with such interesting penitence. Irene herself was +fast recovering; she was never in any real danger. +She lives with her old father, and the boy lives with +her. We waited! We read of your marriage, and the +Count cried, 'Let us strike!' But I said, 'No, let us +wait!' Time went on. We read again of the birth +of a son and heir to you, and of the great rejoicings. +Irene held your boy in her arms, and she frowned. +'Go now,' she commanded, 'tell Martin de Vaux that +his son and heir is here, and his wife is here! Tell +him that they are weary of his absence.' So I came!"</p> + +<p>"'There was a dead silence. My throat and lips +were dry; I could not speak. Count Hirsfeld watched +me with folded arms. It was his vengeance!</p> + +<p>"'"It is not true!" I stammered out at last. "I +will not believe it. Irene is dead!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>[pg 244]</span> + +<p>"'I tried to speak confidently, but I failed. In my +heart I believed the Count.</p> + +<p>"'He shrugged his shoulders. "You have reason," +he remarked. "Why should you believe me? +Come to Cruta, and you will see for yourself. You +can see the headstone at the foot of the grave: 'Sacred +to the memory of Marie, faithful servant of Irene of +Cruta.' You can see the doctor who attended her and +your wife at the same time! Better still, you can see +your wife and your infant son! What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"'"I will not go!" I cried passionately. "I will +not see them! It was base treachery!"</p> + +<p>"'"One must use the weapons of craft against villains," +he said. "There is no baseness to equal +yours. You are repaid in your own coin; that is all."</p> + +<p>"'I sank into a chair. The insult moved me to no +fit of anger. I was numbed.</p> + +<p>"'"If this be true," I asked, "what does Irene ask +for? I will not go back to her, or see her, or acknowledge +her in any way. She can have money, that is +all!"</p> + +<p>"'"Naturally, she requires an allowance," Count +Hirsfeld answered, "and a large one, to enable her to +bring up her son in accordance with his position!"</p> + +<p>"'"She shall have the allowance; she shall have +what she asks for," I declared; "but I will never +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>[pg 245]</span> +acknowledge the boy, or her. If he takes the name of +De Vaux, or forces himself upon me in any way, it +shall be open war. The English courts will annul that +marriage."</p> + +<p>"'"I think not," he answered coolly. "Besides, +you married into a noble family, did you not—a duke's +daughter? How pleasant her position would be while +such a case was being tried! And your son——"</p> + +<p>"'I stopped him angrily. "I repeat that I will +not acknowledge them. Money they can have, and +the boy's future shall be my care! But not if he ever +dares to call himself De Vaux."</p> + +<p>"'The Count shrugged his shoulders. "I am but +an ambassador," he said. "I will convey what you +have said to your wife. You shall hear her decision."</p> + +<p>"'He went away, and for a fortnight I was left in +misery. At the end of that time I had a letter signed +"Irene." It was cold and short. It told me that, so +far as she herself was concerned, she had no desire or +intention of claiming her position as my wife. All she +demanded was an allowance to be paid to her order at +a certain bank in Palermo at regular intervals for the +support of herself and for the proper education and +bringing up of her son. As to his future, she could +not pledge herself to anything; for when the time +came, he should decide for himself. She would bring +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span> +him up in ignorance; but on his twenty-fifth birthday +she should tell him the whole story, and place all the +necessary papers in his hands. If he chose to use +them and claim the De Vaux estates, he would easily +be able to do so. If, on the other hand, he decided to +remain as he was, she should not attempt in any way +to alter his decision!</p> + +<p>"'The letter was a great relief to me. Five-and-twenty +years was a long respite. The boy might die—a +thousand things might happen before then. At +any rate, I was enough of a philosopher to seal down +that secret page in my history, and to live as though it +had never existed.</p> + +<p>"'Five-and-twenty years is a long time, but it passed +away. It is the portion of my life which I look back +upon with the most pleasure. I did my utmost to atone +for a wasted youth, and in some measure I succeeded. +My fears had grown fainter and fainter, and when the +blow came it was like a thunderbolt falling from a +clear sky. One morning I received a letter in Irene's +writing, a little fainter and less firm than of old, but +still familiar to me. It contained only a few lines. She +had told her son all, and he elected to assert his rightful +name and position. In future he intended to call +himself "De Vaux" and on my death he would claim +the estates.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>[pg 247]</span> + +<p>"'I read the letter, and determined on instant action. +In a week my son Paul and I were on board my yacht, +starting for the Mediterranean. We made for Palermo, +and here we separated,—Paul, at all hazard, to find +Count Hirsfeld, to whom I made a splendid offer if he +would aid me in inducing Irene to change her purpose; +I for Cruta, to see Irene.'</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"This is almost the end of your father's confession +to me," Father Adrian continued. "At Cruta he sought +the hospitality of the monastery, where he was taken +ill. He wrote an urgent letter to you, and immediately +he was able to walk he went up to the castle. I have +already told you of the manner of return. Of that +visit he told me scarcely anything, and he told me +nothing at all concerning the wound which he received +there. Only I gathered that he was more than ever +anxious to see Count Hirsfeld. It was while waiting +for your return that he made this confession to me. I +have finished."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The white morning light was stealing into the room +through the uncurtained windows. The fire had burnt +out, and there was only a handful of ashes in the grate. +Outside in the park a grey mist was hanging about in +the hollows and over the tree-tops, and something of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>[pg 248]</span> +its damp chilliness seemed to have found its way into +the apartment. Paul, who had been leaning heavily +upon the mantelpiece, with his head buried in his +hands, looked up and shivered. Then he glanced +quickly across towards the opposite easy-chair. Father +Adrian was still there, and at Paul's movement he rose +to his feet.</p> + +<p>"This has been a terrible night for you, I fear," he +said quietly. "I am sorry to have given you so much +pain. If I could I would have spared you."</p> + +<p>"I thank you," Paul answered wearily. "It was +right that I should know. Why did you not tell me +at Cruta?"</p> + +<p>"It seemed to me that your father's death was enough +for you to bear! Perhaps I was wrong!"</p> + +<p>Paul made no answer. His thoughts seemed suddenly +to have travelled far away. Father Adrian +watched his pale, stricken face with cold, pitiless eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are weary," he said softly. "I shall leave +you now, but I have something more to say to you on +this matter. It is no part of your father's confession. +It is from myself. Can I come to-morrow or the next +day?"</p> + +<p>"Come in a week," Paul answered. "I shall be able +to talk calmly then about this."</p> + +<p>Father Adrian hesitated. "A week! Well, let it be +so, then. Farewell!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>[pg 249]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>"ADREA'S DIARY"</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Spring blossoms on the land, and anguish in the heart." +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>To-night I shall close my diary for a long while, +very likely for ever. I am heartily thankful for it. +These last few days have been so wretched, full of so +much miserable uncertainty, that their record has +grown to be a wearisome task. It has ceased to give +me any relief; it has become nothing but a burden. +How could it be otherwise, when the days themselves +have been so grey, so full of shadows and disappointments? +You have been a relief to me sometimes, my +silent friend; but what lies before me is not to be recorded +in your pages.</p> + +<p>Twenty-four hours have passed since I made my last +entry. It was night then, and it is night now. All +that lies between seems phantasmagoric and unreal. +I ask myself whether it has really happened; and when +the day's events rise slowly up before my memory, I +almost fail to recognise them. Yet I have but to close +my eyes and lean back, and it all crowds in upon me. +In the future I know that this day will stand out clear +and distinct from all the rest of my life.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>[pg 250]</span> + +<p>It was early in the morning when I started for Vaux +Abbey across the moorland road. So long have I seen +this bleak county wrapped in mists and sea fogs that +to-day I scarcely recognised it. There was a clear +blue sky, streaked with little patches of white, wind-swept +clouds, and the sun—actually the sun—was +shining brilliantly. How it changed everything! The +grey, hungry sea, which I had never been able to look +upon without a shudder, seemed to have caught the +colouring of the sky, and a million little scintillations +of glistening light rose and fell at every moment on +the bosom of the tiny, white-crested waves. And the +moorland, too, was transformed. Its bare, rock-strewn +undulations lost all their harshness of outline and colouring +in the sweet, glancing sunlight; and afar off +the line of rugged hills, which I had never seen save +with their heads wreathed in a cloud of white mist, +stood out clear and distinct against the distant horizon, +tinged with a dim, purple light.</p> + +<p>Why did it all make such an impression upon me, +I wonder? I cannot say; but nothing in all my life +ever struck so deep a note of sadness. I feel it now; +I shall feel it always. There was madness in my blood +when I started, I think; but before my walk was half +over, it had increased a thousand-fold. Every little +sound and sight seemed to aggravate it. I missed the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>[pg 251]</span> +dull sighing and moaning of the wind in the black +copses—a sound which had somehow endeared itself to +me during these last few days—and in its place the +soft murmur of what seemed almost a summer breeze +amongst the tall pine-tops stirred in me an unreasonable +anger. The face of the whole country seemed +smiling at me. What mockery! What right had the +earth to rejoice when grief and anxiety were driving +me mad? For it was indeed a sort of madness which +laid hold of me. I clenched my hands, and muttered +to myself as I walked swiftly along. The road was +deserted, and I met no one. Once a dark bush away +off seemed to me to take a man's shape. I stopped +short. Could it be Father Adrian returning to the +Abbey? I felt my breath come quickly as I stood +there waiting. The idea excited me. I found myself +trembling with a passion that was not of fear, and, +suddenly stooping down, I picked up a sharp flint, and +grasped it tightly between my fingers. Then I moved +stealthily on, and the thing defined itself. After all, it +was only a bush, not a man at all. I tossed my weapon +on one side with a strained little laugh. The sense of +excitement passed away, but it left an odd flavour behind +it. I found myself deliberating as to what I had +meant to do with that stone if it had really been Father +Adrian, and if I had succeeded in stealing silently up +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>[pg 252]</span> +behind him. Perhaps I scarcely realized my full intention, +but a dim sense of it remained with me. It +was the development of a new instinct born of this +swiftly-built-up hatred. I have my reasons for writing +of this. I wish to distinctly mark the period of the +event which I have just recorded.</p> + +<p>There was no fear of my mistaking the way to Vaux +Abbey, for it stood upon a hill, and had been within +sight ever since I had taken the moorland road. I was +unused to walking, and the road was rough; but I do +not remember once feeling in any way fatigued or footsore, +although one of my shoes had a great hole in it, +and was almost in strips. My mind was too full of the +end of my journey to be conscious of such things. I +had only one fear: that I should be too late; that +somehow the threatened blow would have been struck, +and Paul in some way removed from me. It was fear +more than hope which buoyed me up. But anyhow, +it answered its purpose, for in less than three hours +after I had started I found myself before the great +hall-door of Vaux Abbey.</p> + +<p>A deep, hollow peal followed my nerveless little pull +at the chain bell-rope, and almost immediately the +door opened. A grey-haired manservant, in black livery, +looked down at me in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I wish to see Mr. Paul de Vaux!" I announced. +"Is he in?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>[pg 253]</span> + +<p>The man hesitated. "I believe so, miss," he said +doubtfully; "but he is engaged on some important +business, and has given orders that no one is to disturb +him. Lady de Vaux is at home."</p> + +<p>"My business is with Mr. Paul de Vaux," I said. +"Will you tell him that it is some one from the Hermitage, +and I think that he will see me."</p> + +<p>The man did not answer me in words, but motioned +me to follow him. My courage was failing me a little, +and I was certainly inclined not to look around, but +nevertheless the place made an impression on me. The +great hall which we were crossing was like the interior +of some richly decorated church. The ceiling was +dome-shaped, and the base of the cupola was surrounded +by stained glass windows, which cast a dim +light down upon the interior. The white stone flags +were here and there covered by Eastern rugs, thrown +carelessly down, but for the most part were bare, and +as slippery as marble; so slippery that once I nearly +fell, and only saved myself by catching at an oak +bench. Just as I recovered myself, I saw the figure +of a woman descending the huge double oak staircase +which terminated opposite to us. My guide paused +when he saw her, and I was also compelled to.</p> + +<p>"Here is her ladyship!" he said.</p> + +<p>I watched her slowly advance toward us, a fine, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>[pg 254]</span> +stately old lady, carrying herself with unmistakable +dignity, although she was forced to lean a good deal +on a gold-mounted, black ebony stick. And, as I looked +at her, I thought of Father Adrian's words: "I can +break his mother's heart;" and I leant eagerly forward +in the chastened twilight with my eyes anxiously fixed +upon her. She came slowly on towards me, and when +she was a few yards away she spoke to the servant.</p> + +<p>"Does this young lady wish to see me, Richards?"</p> + +<p>She spoke to the man, but she looked towards me, +and evidently expected me to address her. For a moment +I could not. A little gasp of relief had quivered +upon my lips, and my eyes were suddenly dim. To +look into Lady de Vaux's face, stately, calm, and kind, +seemed like a strong antidote to my fears of Father +Adrian. It was quite evident that nothing unexpected +had happened during the last twenty-four hours. Father +Adrian's threat had been an empty one. In the presence +of Lady de Vaux, the fears which had been consuming +me departed. She was so unmoved, so indifferent. +How could a little Jesuit priest hurt such a one +as she?</p> + +<p>The thoughts chased one another quickly through +my mind; but still my hesitation was apparent. After +waiting in vain for me to speak, the servant who was +conducting me answered Lady de Vaux's question.</p> + +<p>"The young lady asked for Mr. Paul, your ladyship. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>[pg 255]</span> +It was doubtful whether I might disturb him."</p> + +<p>"For Mr. Paul?" Lady de Vaux looked at me, +leaning forward on her stick, and with her eyebrows a +little uplifted. "My son is particularly engaged, and +has left word that he does not wish to be disturbed +for several hours," she said. "If you have anything +to say to him, you can say it to me. I am Lady de +Vaux!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you! I must wait and see your son," I +answered.</p> + +<p>She moved away with a slight and distinctly haughty +inclination of her head. "You can show this young +lady into the waiting-room, Richards," she directed. +"Take her name in to Mr. Paul when he rings. By +the bye," she added, pausing in her slow progress over +the hall, and looking me once more steadily in the face, +"what is your name?"</p> + +<p>"You would not know it," I answered. "I have +come from the Hermitage—near here."</p> + +<p>She did not speak to me for a moment, but I saw the +colour rising into her cheeks, and her fingers were +trembling. It was foolish of me to have told her. A +glance into her face showed me that she had heard +something, she knew something of me. She was looking +at me as at some object almost beneath her contempt. +Yet she spoke quite calmly.</p> + +<p>"You are Adrea Kiros, the dancing girl!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>[pg 256]</span> + +<p>I answered her quite coolly—I believe respectfully. +She was Paul's mother. Yet I could see that she was +going to be very rude to me.</p> + +<p>"You can have nothing to say to my son," she declared. +"It is infamous that you should have followed +him here—to his own house. Be so good as to quit it at +once. Mr. de Vaux shall be informed later of the +honour of your visit, and if he has anything to say to +you, he can find other means save an interview under +this roof. Richards!"</p> + +<p>She pointed across the hall towards the entrance. I +stood quite still, struggling with my passion. If she +had been any other woman, I should have struck her +across the lips.</p> + +<p>"I shall remain!" I answered. "I am here to see +Mr. de Vaux; I shall see him! Don't dare to touch +me, man!" I added fiercely, as Richards laid his hand +upon my shoulder.</p> + +<p>He shrank back hastily. I even believe that he +muttered an apology. Perhaps they saw that I was +not to be trifled with, for Lady de Vaux suddenly +changed her tactics.</p> + +<p>"Follow me!" she said, sweeping round, with an +imperious gesture. "You shall see my son! You +shall hear from his own lips what he thinks of this—intrusion. +Perhaps you will leave the Abbey at +his bidding, if not at mine."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>[pg 257]</span> + +<p>I followed her in silence, carrying myself proudly, +but with fast-beating heart. What would he think +of my coming? Would he call it an intrusion? At +any rate he could not be pleased; for even if he received +me kindly, he would have his mother's anger +to face. Yet, how could I have kept away?</p> + +<p>We halted, all three of us, before a closed door +at the back of the hall. There was no answer to +the man's somewhat ostentatious knock, and Lady +de Vaux, after a moment's waiting, turned the handle +of the door and swept into the room. I kept close +behind her.</p> + +<p>I can remember it now; I shall always remember +it—the dim, peculiar light which tired our eyes the +moment we had stepped inside. It was easy to discover +the reason. The heavy velvet curtains were +still drawn in front of the high windows, and on a +distant table a lamp was only just flickering out. At +first it seemed as though the great chamber was +empty. There was no one to be seen, and it was +not until we reached a deep recess at the further +end that we discovered Paul.</p> + +<p>At the sight of him we both stood still—Lady de +Vaux moved in spite of her stately composure, and I +spellbound. He was sitting before an oak writing +desk covered with papers, and in the midst of them +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>[pg 258]</span> +his head was resting upon his bowed arms. He neither +spoke nor moved, nor seemed indeed in any way conscious +of our approach. The window fronting him +was, unlike all the others, uncurtained and wide open, +and a flood of sunshine was streaming in upon his +bowed head, and mingling with the sicklier light of +the rest of the apartment. It was a strange and +ghastly combination; not only in itself, but in the sort +of halo it seemed to cast around his dark, bowed head. +Ah! Paul, my love, my love! how my heart ached for +you!</p> + +<p>"He is asleep," Lady de Vaux said fearfully. +"Paul!"</p> + +<p>I held out my hand to check her. "Let him alone!" +I whispered hoarsely. "I will go away. Don't you +see that he is resting."</p> + +<p>She took no notice of me, nor of my backward +movement, but leaned over towards him as though to +touch his arm. A sort of fury came upon me. I knew +that the Paul whom she was trying to recall from the +land of unconsciousness would never again be the Paul +of the past. Father Adrian had kept his word. The +blow which he had threatened had fallen. Paul! +I looked at your dear bowed head until the tears +dimmed my eyes, and the great room swam around +me. For in my heart I felt that it was I who had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>[pg 259]</span> +brought this thing upon you; I who could have saved +you by a single word.</p> + +<p>"Paul, wake up! It is I, your mother."</p> + +<p>I snatched hold of her hand, and drew it away. +"Let him rest," I cried, fiercely. "He will waken +soon enough."</p> + +<p>She looked at me in dignified astonishment. "How +dare you presume to dictate to me in this fashion?" +she exclaimed. "And why should he not be awakened? +It is past mid-day. Paul!"</p> + +<p>The crouching figure moved. He had heard, then! +I held my breath, longing to escape, yet compelled to +watch with fascinated eyes the rising of that bowed +head. There was no start, or hurried awakening, if +indeed he had been asleep at all. He simply turned +his head, and looked at us with surprise, without any +emotion of any sort.</p> + +<p>I hid my face in my hands, and sobbed. Lady de +Vaux was silent with horror. For there was something +inexpressibly, awfully moving in the silent, passionless +sorrow which seemed written with an unsparing +hand onto that white face. All combativeness had +passed away, but resignation had not come to take its +place. And, apart from the outward evidence of the +agony through which he had passed, its physical +traces were very apparent. Deep, black lines seemed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>[pg 260]</span> +furrowed into the flesh under his dull eyes, and the +firm, handsome mouth was drawn and quivering. It was +such a change as might have been worked by some +deadly Eastern poison, eating away the corporal frame. +To think that it had worked from within—that burning +and terrible sorrow had caused it—was horrible.</p> + +<p>Lady de Vaux was the first to speak. The icy composure +of her manner was gone. Her voice was +strained and anxious.</p> + +<p>"Why, Paul, what have you been doing here all +night? Do you know that it is past mid-day? Has +anything happened? Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"Ill? No; I think not." He seemed to be speaking +from a great way off. Nothing about him was natural. +He was on his feet, but I expected every moment +to see him reel and fall.</p> + +<p>"But, Paul, what have you been doing—writing?" +Lady de Vaux asked anxiously. Then, as though +warned by his strange appearance, she checked his +mechanical answer. "Never mind, never mind! You +are tired, I can see. Won't you go and lie down for +awhile? Come, I will go with you."</p> + +<p>She had forgotten me, until she found that he paid +no heed to her words; that his eyes travelled past her, +and remained fixed upon me. Then she turned swiftly +upon me.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>[pg 261]</span> + +<p>"You had better go," she said in a low, imperative +whisper. "Ask them to show you into my room, and +wait there for me."</p> + +<p>I took no notice of her. My eyes were fixed upon +Paul. I felt that he was going to speak to me; and +he did.</p> + +<p>"Adrea! Adrea!" he said slowly. "How is it that +you are here? You did not come with him, did you? +No! no! of course not. And yet, how is it that you +are here?"</p> + +<p>"I feared Father Adrian and his threats, and I was +alone, quite alone, and—and I could bear it no longer. +I was obliged to come."</p> + +<p>His face grew a trifle more animated; I could see +that he was recovering. The dumb stupor which had +held his features rigid was passing away.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am glad you are here. I want to talk to +you. I had some important business which kept me +writing here all night, and must have fallen asleep. I +will go and change my things and come back to you."</p> + +<p>He looked down at his crumpled shirt-front and +disordered tie, and then moved slowly towards the +door. Lady de Vaux hesitated for a moment, with a +dark frown upon her face, and then laid her hand upon +his arm.</p> + +<p>"Your explanation should surely have been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>[pg 262]</span> +addressed to me, Paul," she said coldly. "Who is this +young lady?"</p> + +<p>"She is a friend of mine," Paul answered, "and——"</p> + +<p>"I heard you call her 'Adrea,'" Lady de Vaux +continued. "May I ask whether it is indeed Miss +Adrea Kiros?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you that is my name, Lady de Vaux," +I answered promptly. "You have possibly heard of +me."</p> + +<p>Lady de Vaux turned her back upon both of us, +and left the room without a word.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>[pg 263]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>"ADREA'S DIARY"</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Love, blossoming in the roses, holds a dagger in her hands." +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>We were alone, Paul and I, in that great, solemn +room, full of pale, phantom-like lights and quivering +shadows. He was standing a few yards away from +me, with his head half averted, and his eyes full of a +great, hopeless despair. In silence I approached him, +and took his death-cold hand in mine.</p> + +<p>"It is no matter," I whispered; "I do not care for +your mother! Her words are nothing! I will not leave +you—not till you tell me everything."</p> + +<p>"Everything!" He echoed the word, and looked at +me helplessly. "Everything! Tell you everything!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a change. The numbed, helpless +look left his face, and his features were relaxed. +He was himself again; a strong, brave man, only +shaken by the storm.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, forgive me! Did you think that I was going +mad? I have had a terrible shock, and I have +been up all night listening to a story which brings +great suffering and misery upon me!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>[pg 264]</span> + +<p>His eyes had suddenly a far-away look in them, so +sad that I felt the tears rush into mine. I pressed his +hand to let him know that I understood; but I kept +my face turned from him. Ah! love is a strange thing, +indeed! If I had not cared, Paul, I could have sympathised +with you so nicely, and made so many pretty +speeches. But I love you, and it made me feel very +strange and solemn. I had nothing to say; my heart +was too full. Did you understand, I wonder? Will +you ever understand? Paul, my love! my love! It is +so sweet to say that over and over to myself in this +dark chamber, where there is no one to hear me, or to +see me looking so foolish. You make me feel so different, +Paul! That is because you yourself are so different +from all the men I know; from all the men I +have ever seen.</p> + +<p>We stood there, quite silent, for some moments. +Then he drew a quick, stifled breath, and caught hold +of my hands. "I cannot breathe in this place," he +said, looking half fearfully around; "the very air +seems tainted with that horrible story, and its ghosts +are lurking in every corner!"</p> + +<p>"Let me draw the curtains," I whispered. "The +sunlight will banish them. You are dazed."</p> + +<p>He held my hand tightly, and drew me towards the +window. "Never mind the curtains! We will go out; +out over the moor."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>[pg 265]</span> + +<p>He was feverishly impatient to be gone, but I held +him back. "Your clothes!" I reminded him. "And +you have no hat!"</p> + +<p>He looked down doubtfully at his disordered evening +dress, and then released my hands. "Wait for me, +here," he begged. "Promise that you will not go +away; that nothing shall make you go."</p> + +<p>I promised.</p> + +<p>"See! I shall lock the door," he continued, as he +reached the threshold. "No one can come in and disturb +you!"</p> + +<p>"Please to have some tea and a bath!" I begged. +"I do not mind waiting. You will be ill, if you do +not mind."</p> + +<p>He was gone about half an hour. Once, some one +came and tried the door, but I took no notice. At last +I heard the key turn in the lock, and he entered. "Did +you think that I was long?" he asked, coming up to +me with a smile.</p> + +<p>I shook my head; my eyes were full of tears, and +there was a lump in my throat. I could not speak. He +had changed all his clothes, and was carefully dressed +in a brown tweed shooting suit and gaiters, but the +correctness and order of his external appearance seemed +only to emphasize the ravages which one single night's +suffering had wrought upon his strong, handsome face. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>[pg 266]</span> +Hard, cruel lines had furrowed their way across his +forehead, and under his eyes were deep black marks. +His bronze cheeks were white and sunken, and a bright +red spot burned on one of them. But it was a change +of which the details could give no idea. His face had +caught the inflection of his inward agony, and retained +it. It was there, if not for the world to see, at any +rate terribly evident to me, to those who loved him.</p> + +<p>He was quite calm now, however. It was as though +the fires of suffering had burnt themselves out, leaving +behind them a silent, charred desolation. He took my +arm, and together we left the room, passing through +the high French windows and along an open terrace +until we reached the gardens. We turned down a +broad walk bordered by high yew hedges, at the bottom +of which was a little gate leading into the park. +The air was fragrant with the perfume of violets, and +early stocks and hyacinths, mingled every now and +then with a more delicate perfume from the greenhouses +on the other side of the red-brick wall. How +beautiful it all seemed, in that sweet, dancing sunlight!—the +songs of the birds, the blossoming fruit-trees, +and pink-budded chestnuts, the scents which floated +about on the soft west breeze, and the constant humming +of bees and other winged insects. Only in +England could there have been so sudden a change +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>[pg 267]</span> +from the grey mists and leaden skies of yesterday. +Even in that moment of extreme tension I could not +help an exclamation of admiration as we came to an +end of the gravelled walk, and Paul held open for me +a little iron gate.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful your home is!" I cried. "How you +must love it!"</p> + +<p>A look almost of agony passed across his face. It +came and went in a moment. "Yes! I love it!" he +answered, "but it is not my home. Henceforth I have +no home. I may well be thankful that I have even a +name!"</p> + +<p>I looked at him, waiting for an explanation, but he +walked on in silence. It was not until we were half-way +across the park that I spoke. "I do not understand!" +I said softly. "Will you not tell me something +of your trouble?"</p> + +<p>"I would that I could, Adrea!" he answered. His +voice was so gentle, and yet his face was so stern. +"But no, I cannot. It is a secret. It is only a blotted +page of our family history made clear to me. But it +alters everything!"</p> + +<p>"Does it make you poorer?" I asked falteringly.</p> + +<p>He looked down in my eyes bravely; but his voice +shook as he answered: "If it be true—as I scarcely +doubt—it takes from me everything: my money, my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>[pg 268]</span> +home, my future. It brings everything but disgrace +upon us, Adrea, and even that must touch our name. +Even though the living are spared, the memory of the +dead must suffer!"</p> + +<p>I felt the tears flowing down my cheeks, but I dashed +them away. "I do not understand. I——"</p> + +<p>"Of course not! and I cannot explain. Yet it is +simple! I have an elder brother, of whom I never +heard, to whom everything belongs. I am going to +find him!"</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" I cried. He shook his head. "That +I cannot tell. Father Adrian knows, but he will not +speak. I am going in search of him myself. I am +going to Cruta!"</p> + +<p>To Cruta! The name rang in my ears, and earth +and trees and sky seemed reeling before me. Then I +clutched him by the arm, and cried out hysterically,—</p> + +<p>"You shall not go there! The place is horrible! +You shall not go!"</p> + +<p>He stood still, and looked at me in wonderment. +We had crossed the park now, and were on the edge of +the bare moorland. His figure alone stood out in solitary +relief against the sky. I was half mad with fear +and dismay. He did not understand. How could he?</p> + +<p>"It is at Cruta that I can learn all that there still is +for me to learn," he said. "I shall start for there to-night."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>[pg 269]</span> + +<p>Oh! it was horrible! What could I say? How was +I to stop him? How much dare I tell? I caught hold +of his hands, and held them tightly.</p> + +<p>"Paul, I want to ask you something! When you +heard from the convent that relations had claimed me +and taken me away, and then, a year afterwards, you +found me there—in London—a dancing girl, what did +you think?"</p> + +<p>He answered me at once and without hesitation. "I +thought that you had misled the Lady Superior,—that +you were weary of your life there, and had run away."</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "I knew that you thought so +and I never denied it. But it was not so! I was not +unhappy at the convent, but one day I was sent for +and bidden prepare for a journey. Some relatives had +sent for me, and I was to go. And to where? It was +to Cruta! Paul, it was old Count of Cruta who claimed +me. I cannot tell you anything of the time I spent +there, shut up in the gloomy castle; it was horrible +beyond all words. Even the memory of it makes me +shudder. If only I could tell you! But I must not! +I can tell you this, though. In less than six months I +felt myself going mad; and one night I stole down to +the beach and unfastened a small boat and rowed away, +scarcely caring what happened to me so that I could +but escape from that awful place. It was a desperate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>[pg 270]</span> +chance. I was out all day without food or water, rowing +and drifting until Cruta lay like a speck in the distance. +Then by chance I was picked up by an English +yacht, and they brought me to London. I arrived +there helpless and miserable, and, ah! how lonely! I +dared not go back to the convent for fear I should be +sent back to Cruta. There was only you. I went to +your bankers, and they told me that you were abroad—on +the Continent. By chance they asked me there +my name, and by chance again I told them it truthfully. +They told me that they had money for me +there. I had only to sign a receipt, and they gave me +more than I asked for—ten times more. Then I remembered +the address of an English girl who had +been at the convent with me, and she gave me a home +for a time. It was through her dancing mistress that +I became—a dancing girl. I have told you this, Paul, +because I want you to promise me not to go to Cruta. It +is an evil place. They are mad there. Promise me!"</p> + +<p>He looked at me gravely and very tenderly; but his +tone was firm. "Adrea, it is necessary that I go +there," he said. "I cannot rest for a moment until I +know for certain whether a story which I have just +been told is a true one. The proof lies in Cruta! It +is no whim which is taking me there! I must go!"</p> + +<p>My heart was sick with dread. Yet what could I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>[pg 271]</span> +do? I said nothing; only I covered my face with my +hands and wept.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, you are a foolish child!" he said, bending +over me. "What is there for me to fear at Cruta? +Look up and tell me!"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "You would not heed me," I +answered sadly. "I dare not tell you. But there is +one thing," I added hastily. "Will you do it for me +simply because I ask you?"</p> + +<p>"If it be possible, yes!"</p> + +<p>I stood still on a little hillock, and faced him eagerly. +"Then do not go to Cruta until to-morrow!" I begged. +"It will make no difference to you."</p> + +<p>"And what difference will it make to you, he asked, +perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Never mind! promise!" He hesitated for a moment, +with a frown on his forehead, and his face +turned seaward.</p> + +<p>"Well! I will promise then!"</p> + +<p>I caught hold of his hand, and held it tightly. +"You are very good to me!" I said. "<i>Allons!</i> let us +move onward!"</p> + +<p>We had reached the Hermitage, and I had spoken +scarcely a single word of comfort. An icy coldness +seemed to have stolen into my heart. I had ceased to +think of Paul, or of my love. There was something +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>[pg 272]</span> +else; another passion which made me blind. Yet I let +him come in with me, and yielded myself up for a +while to the dream of loving and being loved by him. +While I lay in his arms, with my head upon his shoulder, +and every now and then felt his light, caressing +touch upon my face,—why then, the world for me was +bounded by that little room, and I had no thoughts +which travelled outside it. But it lasted only while he +was with me. When he stood up, and said that he +must go, I did not seek to keep him.</p> + +<p>"Shall I come again?" he asked, as we stood hand +in hand before the door.</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "Not to-night love! I shall be +better alone. I am weary, and I have my things to +collect."</p> + +<p>I knew he would be surprised. He withdrew his +hand, and manlike, was almost angry. "I forgot. +You will leave here, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. "What should keep me, +Paul? I could not live here alone. Every stone and +tree would be full of barren memories. No! to-morrow +I go to London. I have sent all the servants +away to-day, except Gomez. You will be with me +early!"</p> + +<p>"I will be outside your window before you are up!" +he promised with a touch of gaiety in his tone. "See +that Gomez has breakfast for two!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span> + +<p>He passed down the avenue, and out of sight. I +closed the door with a little shudder and turned round. +Gomez was by my side. Through the gloom I could +see that his dark eyes were full of fire, and his olive +features were set and grim.</p> + +<p>"What do you want Gomez?" I asked quickly.</p> + +<p>He drew close to my side. "The priest," he muttered, +"has he—has he dared——"</p> + +<p>His breath was coming quickly. He spoke English +but slightly, and in the excitement the words seemed +to stick in his throat.</p> + +<p>I interrupted him. "He has told Mr. de Vaux some +strange, horrible story. What do you know of it?"</p> + +<p>"All! All! All! I was there—in the chamber! +My master's words to him—I heard them all. He has +told, then! He has threatened! Oh! if only I had +known when he was here!"</p> + +<p>The man's fierce face and gesture told their own +tale. I beckoned him to follow me into the room where +Paul and I had been sitting, and closed the door.</p> + +<p>"You were Martin de Vaux's faithful servant," I +said. "Do you want to see his son driven from his +home and robbed of his lands?"</p> + +<p>The man moved his lips, making a curious sound, +and drew a long, gurgling breath. He was shaking +with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Who should do it?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span> + +<p>"The priest!" I answered softly.</p> + +<p>"Because of the words, the story of which my master +spoke to him at his death in the monastery?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! because of that."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" He stole up to my side with a noiseless, +animal movement, and whispered in my ear. His eyes +were burning; his face was full of evil meaning. Yet I +did not shrink from him. I welcomed him with a +smile. He whispered into my ear. It was like the +hiss of a snake; but I smiled. I whispered back again. +He nodded. Ah! the way before me was growing clear +at last. Was it not fate that had brought Gomez ready +to my hand? Ay! fate! A good fate! A kind fate! +We stood close together in that dimly lit room; and +though we were alone in the house, we spoke in whispers +to one another. When I moved to the door, Gomez +followed me.</p> + +<p>I came down in ten minutes, clad in a long, dark +cloak, with a small hat and a thick veil. I took a +stick from the rack, and there was something else in +my deep pocket.</p> + +<p>"Alone!" he whispered, as I moved towards the +door.</p> + +<p>"Alone!" I answered. "Make a good fire in the +drawing-room, and let there be food and wine there."</p> + +<p>"For two?" he asked with an evil smile.</p> + +<p>"For two!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>[pg 275]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>"ADREA'S DIARY"</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"A land that is lonelier than a ruin." +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>A cold twilight followed close upon the day. The +sky was strewn with dark clouds, and a wild wind blew +in my face. I was on an unknown road, and in all my +life I had seen nothing so dreary.</p> + +<p>On one side, about a hundred yards away, was the +sea; on the other was a broken stretch of bare moorland +covered with only the scantiest herbage and piles +of barren grey rocks. Some were lying together in +quaint, grotesque shapes; others stood out alone against +the sky, and broken fragments of all sizes covered the +ground, choking and destroying all vegetation. There +was no background of woods or trees; there was nothing +between that barren, stony surface and the leaden +sky. What turf there had been had lost its colour, and +never a fragment of moss had grown upon one of those +weather-beaten boulders. The sea air had stained +them, and the grey evening mists had rotted them, until +their surface was honeycombed with indentations, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span> +but neither had softened or toned down their fierce ugliness. +Even in the bright sunlight such a country as +this must still have been a country of desolation, and a +light heart must sometimes have lost its gaiety and felt +oppressed. To me, as I hurried along, with the cold +evening settling down around me, that walk was horrible. +Strange shadows seemed to dog my path and +stalk solemnly along by my side. Footsteps seemed to +follow behind me, and every stone I dislodged made me +start. Sometimes I fancied that I heard strange whisperings +in my ears, and I started round, shivering and +trembling, to find myself alone. Once I stopped short. +Was that a dead man in the way? How my heart beat! +No! it was only a long boulder of rock! Listen! was +not that the scream of a dying man? My own voice, +raised in helpless terror, drowned the sound, and while +I stood there ready to sink to the ground, a great sea-gull +came circling round my head, and the blood flowed +warm in my veins once more. How sad and mournful +was that solitary cry and slow, hopeless flapping of the +wings! Who was it said that the evil spirits of dead +men dwell imprisoned in those sad-crying birds? It +was very, very human, that cry. Bah! was I getting +superstitious and faint-hearted before my task was +begun? I set my teeth and stepped boldly onwards. +For a while I had no more fancies.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>[pg 277]</span> + +<p>Throughout that hideous walk my whole imagination +seemed coloured with a reflection of the purpose towards +which I was tending. I do not write this in any +morbid fit. Few women have passed through what I +have passed through; fewer still have stopped to record +their sensations. It is strange that it should afford me +any satisfaction to record them here, but it is so. I +have begun, and I must go on. This part of my life +is drawing rapidly to a close, and with its close I shall +seal this little book up and put it away for ever.</p> + +<p>The night grew darker, and the road was fast becoming +little more than a rude cattle-track. A little +distance ahead of me, from some building as yet unseen, +a strong, clear light was steadily burning. Save +for it, I might have feared that I had lost my way, for +as yet I had passed no sign of human habitation. But +that light was sufficient. Gomez had told me of it. It +was the light which burned always, from dusk to morning, +from the tower of the monastery of St. Bernard.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Two things seemed strange to me, or rather seem +strange to me now, when I look back upon that walk. +The first was my utter indifference to all physical pain. +There was a hole in my boot, and I found afterwards +that my foot must have been bleeding most of the time. +I never felt it. I was conscious of neither pain nor +fatigue. The second thing which surprises me is that, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>[pg 278]</span> +as I drew near to my journey's end, I grew calmer. I +had no desire to draw back. I had no fear. The thing +which was before me never assumed any definite shape! +It was there—in the background—a dim, floating purpose, +never once oppressing me, never forcing its way +forward in my mind for more definite consideration, +and only showing itself at all in a vague, lurid glow +which seemed to change even the shapes of all the +gruesome surroundings of my dismal walk. Towards +the end of my expedition this became even more +marked. My thoughts had recoiled from the present +to the past. Vague pictures of the days that had gone +by seemed floating before my eyes. I saw myself in +the convent garden, with all my little world enclosed +in those four walls, and I heard the shrill laughter of +the girls with whom I was walking, and I even fancied +that I could catch the perfume of the lilac trees which +drooped over the smoothly kept lawn. And then the +picture faded away, and from the vessel's side I saw +Cruta, a purple-topped island rising like some precious +jewel from the sea! I shuddered at the memory of +that face, which soon became a living dread to me, and +I heard again the passionate voice of a dark-robed man +reading poetry, and crushing with white, nervous fingers +the hyacinths whose odour was making the air +faint. I saw his white, sad face, in which the struggle +of the man against himself was already born—born, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span> +alas! in those long mornings by the sea, at my unconscious +bidding! And soon Cruta, too, faded away, and +you, Paul, my love, my dear, dear love, your face came +to me. Almost my eyes closed, almost I stayed here +to dream. Ah! how the magic of this love, this wonderful +love, lightens my little world! My heart is +stirred to music, my blood is dancing. I am chilled +no longer. Ah! Paul, it is for you that I strike this +blow, for you that I tread this stony way. It is sweet +to think of it. I go on as blithely as ever a village +maiden stepped forward to her wedding. The way is +as sweet to me as a garden of roses. Your face, too, +is dying out of my thoughts, Paul. Farewell! Farewell!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The valley of the shadow of death! Did any one +speak those words? What an evil fancy! Yet the air +seemed full of whisperings. The valley of the shadow +of death! Yes! it might be that, and these cold, grey +boulders the spirits of the evil ones risen up out of +Hades. Is there a hell, I wonder? How chill and +dark the air seems! There is death about!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The sound of a single bell broke in upon my thoughts. +I raised my eyes. My journey was accomplished. +Before me was a grim, stern building, and attached to +it a chapel. It was the monastery of St. Bernard.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>[pg 280]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>"ADREA'S DIARY"</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Farewell to the dead ashes of life." +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>The path which I had been following led straight up +to the bare, arched door of the building. I had reached +it unmolested, and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>What a hoarse, clanging sound! I shivered as I +stood there listening to its gloomy echoes until they +died away. No one came. The place seemed wrapped +in an austere silence. I listened, but I could hear no +sound within; only the dull, melancholy sighing of the +wind amongst a sickly avenue of firs behind.</p> + +<p>I stretched out my hand, and rang again. Almost +before the echoes had died away I heard footsteps +within. A heavy bolt was withdrawn, and a dark-robed +monk stood on the threshold before me. He +recoiled for a moment at seeing a woman, and I thought +that he would have closed the door, but he did not.</p> + +<p>"What would you have at this hour, sister?" he +asked sternly. "The chapel is closed, and morning is +the time for dispensing charity."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>[pg 281]</span> + +<p>"I have come in search of a priest who is only a +visitor here," I said. "Father Adrian he is called!"</p> + +<p>He seemed still indisposed to admit me. "Is your business urgent?" +he asked doubtfully. "Father Adrian +is at his devotions, and must not be lightly disturbed."</p> + +<p>"It is urgent," I answered.</p> + +<p>He beckoned me to follow him, and in silence led +me a few yards down a bare stone corridor. Then he +threw open the door of a small room, and bade me +enter.</p> + +<p>"This is the guest-chamber," he said. "Wait here, +and I will summon Father Adrian!"</p> + +<p>He closed the door and disappeared. The interior +of the room in which he had left me was bare and +chilling. I turned from it to the window. Almost +opposite was a small eminence, and at its summit a +rude cross of Calvary. A dark figure, with clasped +hands and bent head, was slowly descending the path.</p> + +<p>Even at that distance I thought I recognised the walk, +and as he came nearer I saw that he was wearing the +ordinary garb of a Roman Catholic priest instead of the +monk's robes. I stood close to the window watching him, +and as he crossed the open space before the door he raised +his eyes and saw me. How he started, and how his +eyes seemed to burn in their sockets! Doubtless he +would have turned paler, but he was already deathly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>[pg 282]</span> +white. He stood there, swaying from side to side, with +his eyes fastened wildly upon me, as though an apparition +had appeared before him. Then he took a quick step +forward; I heard the great front door creak and groan +upon its hinges, and almost as soon as I could turn +round he was on the threshold before me.</p> + +<p>"Adrea! Adrea!" he cried, in a low, suppressed +whisper which shook with passion. "You here! What +has happened? Stand in the light! Let me see your +face!"</p> + +<p>I moved a step towards him, and raised my veil. "I +am lonely," I said softly. "Was it very wrong of me +to come here?"</p> + +<p>He stood before me, with hungry, incredulous eyes +fastened upon my face, as though he would see through +it into my false heart. Yet I did not flinch; I was +actress enough for my part. I watched him tremble—watched +the colour flush into his face and die away. It +was a very storm of passion which shook him before he +could find the words to answer me.</p> + +<p>"Adrea! Adrea! have you come here to mock me? +As you are a woman, I implore you to spare me! Speak +the truth!"</p> + +<p>I answered him softly, with my eyes fixed upon the +ground. "I came because I was lonely. Let us go +away from here! Come home with me!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>[pg 283]</span> + +<p>"Home with you! Home with you!" He repeated +my invitation. He scarcely seemed to understand.</p> + +<p>"Yes! I was very silly the other day! I did not +understand you! I did not understand myself! And +you see I have humbled myself very much! I have +come to tell you so! Am I forgiven?"</p> + +<p>I raised my eyes to his, and added in a half whisper: +"Won't you come home with me, and read aloud, as we +used to on the rocks at Cruta?"</p> + +<p>He stood there as though fascinated. I began to +feel impatient, but I dared not show any signs of it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he took a quick step towards me, and +before I could prevent it he had thrown himself at my +feet on the cold stone floor, and was holding my hands +tightly in his.</p> + +<p>"Adrea!" he cried, his voice choked with passion, +"is this thing true? My brain reels with the delight +of it; but, oh, forgive me if I seem to doubt! I know +nothing of women, but surely your lips could never +lie! You are not mocking me? Oh, Adrea, my love, +lift up your eyes and swear that this is no dream. I +am dizzy with joy! Speak to me! Let me look into +your face! I am not doubting you, yet say it once +more! Tell me it is not a dream!"</p> + +<p>I lied to him with my face, and with my eyes, and +with my lips. "It is no dream," I said softly. "I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>[pg 284]</span> +have come to you, Adrian, because I want you. No +one else would do."</p> + +<p>He stood up, pale and shaken. His voice was still +full of deep, throbbing earnestness. "Adrea!" he +cried, "to-day I have been fighting a grim fight. +Look into my face and mark its traces. I am desperate! +For hours I have knelt on what was once a hallowed +spot. In vain! In vain! On my knees before +the cross of Calvary I have striven to pray, as a man +wrestles for his life with the waves of a great ocean. +Alas! alas! In the twilight I fancied always that your +face was moving amongst the shadows, and even the +breeze which rustled in the shrubs around seemed ever +to be murmuring your name. Oh, my love, my love, +sometimes I wonder that I have lived through the +anguish of these days. But it is over! You have come +to me, and the evil days are past. I renounce my +priesthood! It has become only a barren farce to me! +Heaven or hell, what matters it? I leave here with +you to-night never to return! Never! never! never!"</p> + +<p>He pressed hot kisses upon my hands; they stung +me like molten lead, but I did not withdraw them. +Then he rose up and held out his arms to me with a +great yearning stealing into his dark eyes. But I kept +him away.</p> + +<p>"Not here! not here!" I cried. "I heard footsteps +outside. Let us go!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>[pg 285]</span> + +<p>"You are right," he answered. "Wait for me; I +have but few preparations to make."</p> + +<p>He left me, and I breathed freely again. I had no +fears, no hesitation. I never dreamt of turning back; +but I began to find my task more difficult even than I +had imagined. It was his touch, his passionate looks +and words which were so hard to endure. My lips +could lie, but it was hard to govern my looks; and oh, +how I hated him!</p> + +<p>Soon he was back—too soon for me; and then we +left the place. He had changed his clothes, and, to +my surprise, he wore an ordinary dark walking suit +and a long ulster. He had discarded the priest altogether.</p> + +<p>At the bend he looked back. There was a rift in the +clouds just behind the hill of Calvary, and the rude +cross stood out vividly against the sky. "At last!" +he murmured; "at last! Farewell to the dead ashes +of life! It is rest to have ended the struggle, even to +have fallen. My new life is here!"</p> + +<p>He touched my hand fondly, and held it within his +own. "How deathly cold your hand is, Adrea!" he +said. "It is the night air. You are well, are you +not?" he added anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Quite well; only tired."</p> + +<p>He took my arm. I could not resist him, only I +walked the more swiftly. He tried to check me, but I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>[pg 286]</span> +shook my head. "I am cold and tired," I told him. +"This desolate walk frightened me, and even with you +I think I am a little nervous. Let us hurry. Hark! +What was that?"</p> + +<p>"A bittern in the marshes! Why, Adrea, how +frightened you are! It is not like you!"</p> + +<p>"I know it," I answered; "but to-night—to-night +the air seems full of whisperings and strange sounds. +Yes, I am frightened."</p> + +<p>I shivered as I spoke. He would have drawn me +closer to him, but I waved him away. How could he +know anything of the horrors of that walk for me! +Strange phantoms seemed ever rising from the sea, +stalking across the path, and away over the moor, and +passing and repassing, grinning and whispering in my +ear. Sometimes it seemed as though I could have +touched them by stretching out my hand; but when I +tried, my fingers closed upon thin air. What were +they? Why had they come to torment me? Was it +because they scented an evil deed? Would they haunt +me for ever like this? What folly! If I gave way so +I should soon be altogether unnerved, and my task was +still before me. I closed my eyes and opened them +again. They had gone! It was good! I had conquered!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It was late, and we had eaten and drunk together. +He was lying back in an easy-chair, flushed, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>[pg 287]</span> +strange to say, wonderfully handsome. The hollows +in his cheeks seemed suddenly filled up, and his eyes +were soft and bright. I sat at his feet looking into +the firelight.</p> + +<p>"Will you answer me some questions, Adrian?" I +asked. "There has been so much mystery around us +lately, and, like a woman, I am curious."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will tell you anything," he answered. "Am +I not your slave, dearest? Only ask me them quickly. +There are many things I have to talk about. What was +that?" he added quickly. "Is there any one else in +this room?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "No one; it was fancy. Tell +me, who was Madame de Merteuill?"</p> + +<p>"My mother!"</p> + +<p>"Your mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and the old Count of Cruta is my grandfather. +Madame de Merteuill is his daughter. But that is not +her real name!"</p> + +<p>There was a high screen just behind his chair,—a +japanned one, which seemed to have been badly used, +for there was a great hole in it. While we had been +talking a strange thing had happened. A man's hand +had slowly been thrust through, and a crumpled piece +of paper was dropped upon the carpet. I moved to his +side, and raised the cushion in his chair. Before I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>[pg 288]</span> +could help it he had caught my face, and pressed a hot, +burning kiss upon my cheek. I dared not struggle. I +had to yield, and endure for a moment his passionate +embrace. Then I dropped my handkerchief upon the +piece of paper, and picked up both hastily.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me something else, please?"</p> + +<p>"Anything you ask! You know that I will!"</p> + +<p>"The De Vaux estates——"</p> + +<p>"Are mine. I am the son of Martin de Vaux. Paul +de Vaux has no claim at all. If I had remained in the +Church, it was my intention to found a great monastery +here. But now——"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Everything is yours!"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. I drew the piece +of paper from my pocket, as though by accident, and +read it to myself. There were only a few hastily +scrawled lines:—</p> + +<p>"I dare not do it. I am afraid. I will put the knife +on the floor."</p> + +<p>I glanced towards the hole. The hand was there, +holding a long, gleaming dagger. It laid it noiselessly +upon the carpet, and was withdrawn. I went +over to his side, and knelt down there.</p> + +<p>"And what will become of Paul de Vaux?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He laughed grimly. "He must take his chance. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>[pg 289]</span> +He knows the whole story. He has known since last +night. Adrea, tell me once more," he pleaded: "you +never loved him really,—say that you never did!"</p> + +<p>"Are you jealous, sir?" I asked lightly. My left +hand was wandering down his side! Ah! there was +his heart! How it was beating! My right hand was +on the floor, cautiously feeling its way towards the +screen. It reached the dagger! I clutched it by the +hilt! Now was the time. There was his heart. I knew +the exact spot.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, are you ill?" he asked. "How white and +strange you look! Ah!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It was done! Lucrezia Borgia could not have bungled +less! He lay doubled up in the chair, with a long +Genoese dagger buried in his heart, and it was I who +had done it!</p> + +<p>Gomez crawled from behind the screen, and looked +first at him and then at me with protruding eyes. He +tried to speak, but his teeth chattered.</p> + +<p>"It is done!" I said calmly, "and you are saved, +Paul, my love," I whispered to myself. "Be a man, +Gomez. We must carry it into the wood. Lift him +gently; there must be no blood here."</p> + +<p>It took all our strength to move him, and we had to +drag him, yard by yard, down the avenue and across +the road into the little wood.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>[pg 290]</span> + +<p>My pen is weary of horrors. The memory of that +hour is not to be written about. But when he turned +away I took the flowers which he had begged for from +my corsage and threw them down amongst the wet +leaves. It was my sole moment of relenting.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>[pg 291]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>"THE LORD OF CRUTA"</h3> + + +<p>A strange figure stood on the edge of the castle +cliff, looking across the bay of Cruta to the sea. He +was tall, loose jointed, and gaunt, and the long grey +beard and unkempt locks of flowing hair which streamed +behind in the breeze showed that he was an old +man; but his eyes, set back in deep hollows, and fringed +with long, bushy grey lashes, were still dark and +piercing. Great passions had branded his face with +deep-set lines, but had failed to belittle him. On the +contrary, his presence, though forbidding and awesome, +was full of latent strength and dignity. To the +islanders, who never mentioned their lord's name save +with bated breath and after having zealously crossed +themselves, he was the object of the most unbounded +superstition. His personality and the strangeness of +his habits appalled them. They scarcely believed him +a being of the same world as their own. The most +ignorant amongst them firmly believed that the sea +obeyed his uplifted hand, and that when he spoke the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292" id="page292"></a>[pg 292]</span> +thunder rolled amongst the hills. When stories were +told of the mystery and strange isolation in which he +lived, they nodded their heads and were willing to believe +everything. No one ever met him or had speech +with him, for twenty years had passed since he had +issued from the castle gates. But sometimes, most +often when a storm was brewing, they could see +a tall, dark figure standing on the giddy edge of the +castle wall which overhung the sea, or walking, with +slow, stately movements, up and down the narrow foot-path +at the summit of the cliff. If the moon had risen, +or the sky were clear beyond, they could see the huge, +gaunt figure outlined with grim distinctness against +the empty background, always with his face to the sea, +and with a long black cloak flowing behind. It was +not often that they saw him, but when they did they +told one another in whispers; and though the sky were +cloudless and the sea calm, the women whose husbands +were out in their fishing boats beyond the bay told +their beads and prayed for their safe return, and those +who had remained behind prepared for rough weather. +Once, at a marriage feast, when all the little village +was making merry, the whisper had gone about that +"the Count was walking;" and immediately they had +all departed for their homes in fear and silence, and +the luckless bride and bridegroom had hastened to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293" id="page293"></a>[pg 293]</span> +priest and besought him to unloose the knot, that they +might celebrate their wedding on some less ill-omened +day.</p> + +<p>To-night the storm was already breaking when the +Count appeared on the castle wall and turned his face +seaward. One by one the fishing smacks were crossing +the gathering line of surf, and gaining the deep, +still waters of the bay. As they passed underneath +the towering mass of granite rock, against the base of +which the waters were boiling and seething, the men +in the boats gazed fearfully up at that black speck far +away above their heads, and crossed themselves. The +Count had stood there for an hour, they whispered, +ever since that piled-up mass of angry, lurid clouds +had first gathered, and a warning breath of wind had +swept across the smooth, glass-like surface of the +water, now troubled and restless. Not one of them +doubted but that his coming had brought the storm; +but there was not one of them who dared to utter a +word of complaint. Only they stood up in their boats, +and shielding their eyes with an uplifted hand from +the fierce rays of the sinking sun, gazed out seaward, +searching for the boats not yet in safety.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a little murmur arose from amongst them, +and a word was passed from one to another of their +little crafts. The blinding glare of the sun and its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page294" id="page294"></a>[pg 294]</span> +reflection, stretched far away across the surface of the sea, +had dazzled their eyes, and for the last quarter of an +hour they had seen nothing on the westward horizon. +But now the bright silver light was fading into a dull, +glorious purple; and full upon its bosom a strange sail +was seen, making direct for the harbour. The sunlight +was still flashing upon its white sails,—little specks of +gold upon a background of richer colouring—and they +saw that she was a handsome, shapely-looking vessel, +very different to the dirty Italian lugger which put in +at their harbour for a few hours week by week.</p> + +<p>"Will she need a pilot?" cried Francesco, rising +in his boat, and watching the stranger. "Let us wait +here, and see if she signals for one!"</p> + +<p>"Let us all go! There will be something for each!" +cried another.</p> + +<p>"We will race," Antonio answered, whose boat was +the fastest. "The first to reach her shall have the +stranger's money!"</p> + +<p>"No, no! that is not fair," chorused the others. +"We will draw lots!"</p> + +<p>Then up rose old Guiseppe, the father of them all. +He shook his head, and turned a sorrowing face seawards. +"Peace! children. You are like chattering +seabirds squabbling over a bait which will never be +yours. Yonder ship will need no pilot! She is no +stranger to Cruta!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295" id="page295"></a>[pg 295]</span> + +<p>They looked at her, and shook their heads. "We +have never seen her before," they said.</p> + +<p>"Some of you are too young to remember her," the +old man continued, "and you were all away when she +was here within a twelvemonth ago! But I know her! +Three times has she entered this harbour, and each +time has she left sorrow and grief behind her. It is +the ship of the English lord who stole away the +daughter of our Count many years ago!"</p> + +<p>There was a little murmur of suppressed wonder. +Then, as though moved by a common instinct, every +face was turned upward to the castle wall.</p> + +<p>The Count had gone. But, even as they looked, he +reappeared, leading another figure by the hand. They +held their breath with wonder. No one had ever seen +him there save alone, and now a woman stood by his +side. They could see nothing of her, save her long +hair flowing in the breeze, and the bare outline of her +figure. "Who was she? Guiseppe must know! Who +was she?" they asked him eagerly.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Better not ask," he answered. +"Better not know! Strange things have happened up +there! It is not for us to chatter of them!"</p> + +<p>"One night as I sailed homeward," Antonio said, in +a low tone, "I heard strange cries from the castle. +The night was still, and the breeze brought the sound +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296"></a>[pg 296]</span> +to my ears. They came from up above, and when I +strained my eyes I fancied that I could see a white +figure—the figure of a woman—standing on the castle +walls. She was crying for help, but suddenly, as +though a hand were placed over her mouth, her cries +ceased, and the figure vanished. It was three nights +before the English lord died at the monastery!"</p> + +<p>Ferdinand stood up. "On that same night," he +said, in a low, hoarse whisper, "I saw a figure steal up +the path to the castle. It was the English lord! On +the morrow I traced him back again with drops of +blood. They led right into the monastery courtyard. +Two days afterwards he died."</p> + +<p>"Silence! all of you!" commanded Guiseppe, with +shaking voice. "Are these things to be spoken of +thus openly? Know you not, you children, that the +winds have ears, and he listens there above us."</p> + +<p>"It is a thousand feet!" muttered Antonio. "To +him our boats can seem only as specks upon the +water."</p> + +<p>"You fool!" answered Guiseppe. "Do you think +that the man whose presence brings storm and wind +upon us is like ordinary men? Do you think he cannot +hear what he chooses!"</p> + +<p>"Ave Maria!" cried Antonio, crossing himself. "I +would as soon face the devil himself as the Count! I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297" id="page297"></a>[pg 297]</span> +shall ask Father Bernard to say a prayer for me to-night!"</p> + +<p>"Do! and I hope his penance will be a stiff one," +answered Guiseppe grimly. "Come, let us trim our +sails, and get homeward. The English ship will not +want us, and we can watch who lands from the +beach."</p> + +<p>"'Twould be no such bad thing if she struck on the +rocks, if she brings such ill luck to the castle," muttered +Antonio, as he unfurled the sail and grasped the +tiller. "There would be some pickings for us, beyond +doubt—some pretty pickings!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298" id="page298"></a>[pg 298]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>"THE DAWN OF A SHORT, SWEET LIFE"</h3> + + +<p>The little group of fishing smacks, homely-looking +and uncleanly, on close examination, presented a very +different appearance from the deck of the English +yacht fast nearing the harbour. Their brown sails +had gleamed purple in the dying sunlight, and their +rude outline seemed graceful and shapely as they rose +and fell on the long waves. Paul, who stood on the +captain's bridge of his yacht, uttered a little cry of admiration +as they sailed out from the shadows of the +huge rock, and fell into a rude semicircle across the +bay.</p> + +<p>"What colouring one sees in these southern waters!" +he remarked. "Did you notice the glinting light on +those sails?"</p> + +<p>His companion, who was holding firmly the rail by +his side, looked up and smiled. "Yes," she said softly; +"it is beautiful! We have seen more beautiful things +on this voyage, I think, than I ever saw before in +my life. I have never been so happy! You are not +angry with me now for coming, are you?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299" id="page299"></a>[pg 299]</span> + +<p>He looked down into her wistful, upturned face, and +then away to the distant line where sea and sky met. +"No! I am not angry," he said softly.</p> + +<p>Adrea was very beautiful. The fresh sea air and +the southern sun had been as kind to her as to one of +their own daughters. Only a very faint, delicate +shade of pink had stained her clear, transparent skin, +harmonising exquisitely with the slight olive hue of +her complexion. The strong breeze had loosened the +coils of her dark hair, and it was waving and flowing +in picturesque freedom about her face. There was a +change, too, in her appearance, greater than any the +wind or sun could effect. Her dark eyes were glowing +with a new life, and a soft, wistful joy shone in her +face. Those few days had been like heaven for her. +She had been alone, for the first time, with the man +she loved; sailing upon a sunlit sea hour after hour, +with his voice ever in her ears, and his tall figure by +her side. The sense of his presence was ever upon +her, bringing with it a calm, sweet restfulness, a happiness +beyond anything which she had ever imagined.</p> + +<p>And it was heaven, too, after hell! Thrust away in +a dark corner of her memory was the recollection of a +day and a night full of grim, phantasmal horrors, which +were fast becoming little more than a dream to her. +The time was not yet come for remorse. In that deep +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300" id="page300"></a>[pg 300]</span> +glow of passionate and self-forgetful devotion, quickened +now into fullest and sweetest life by his constant +proximity, even sin itself, for his sake, seemed justified +to her. Everything, too, which lay behind her brief +stay in that bare, wind-swept country was fast assuming +a far distant place in her thoughts. It was such a +change from her little rooms in Grey Street, dainty +and home-like though they had been, from the brilliantly +lit drawing-rooms where she had performed, +and the same wearisome compliments ever in her ears. +The bonds of town life had always galled her. She +was an artist, although she had denied it. She had +become subject to her environment but it had been an +imprisonment. Nature was her mother, and Nature +had claimed her now. She knew it all; she knew that +she could never be a dancer again. She had stolen out +on to the deck each morning in her slippers, and had +seen the dawn break through the clouds and descend +upon the quivering waters. She had seen the eastern +sky streaked with faint but marvellous colouring, +growing deeper and deeper, until the sun's rim had +risen from out of the water. Grey had become mauve, +and white amber. It was wonderful! And by night +she had leaned over the side of the yacht, and looked +up into a sky ablaze with trembling stars, casting their +golden reflections down upon the boundless waves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301" id="page301"></a>[pg 301]</span> +which rose and fell beneath—waves which were sometimes +green, and sometimes golden in the wonderful +phosphoric light which touched them with a weird +splendour. It was like the opening of a new world to +Adrea. All that had gone before seemed harsh and +artificial! It was the dawn of a new life.</p> + +<p>Paul had noticed the change. To him it had appeared +chiefly as an increased womanliness, a gentle softness +of speech and mannerism very charming and attractive. +Those few days at sea together had been like a dream +to him. He had come on board as nearly broken-hearted +as a strong man could be, and fiercely anxious +to reach his destination and know the whole, cruel +truth. In a few hours all had been changed. His +sorrows seemed numbed. He was no longer battling +alone with his grief. Adrea knew all, and as they +sailed southwards together, the sense of the present +was strong enough to drive past and future from his +thoughts. The clouds cleared from his face, and his +heart was lightened. It was Adrea who had saved +him from despair.</p> + +<p>He thought of this as she stood by his side, and +he answered her question. Before their eyes, Cruta +was rising up from the sea. The grim castle was +there, looking as old as the rocks on which it was +perched, the wide, open harbour, and the little fleet +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302" id="page302"></a>[pg 302]</span> +of fishing smacks. The seabirds circled about their +heads; every moment brought the rocky little island +more distinctly into view. Paul looked down into +Adrea's face gravely.</p> + +<p>"It is our destination, Adrea," he said. "You +must go now. There will be a lot of surf crossing +the bar, and I shall have enough to do to run her +in. Look behind! It is just as well we are going +into harbour!"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the fast-gathering clouds coming up +from the westward, and she paused with her foot on +the ladder. "We leave the storm behind us," she +said. "There is fair weather ahead!"</p> + +<p>She went down into her cabin, and left Paul upon +the bridge, with his eyes fixed upon the castle. Fair +weather ahead! How dared he hope for it! The sun +had finally disappeared now, but some part of the +afterglow still lingered in curious contrast to the +lurid yellow and black clouds hurrying on behind +him. The old castle was bathed for a moment in a +sea of purple light,—every line of it, and the huge +rock which it crowned, standing out with peculiar +vividness against the empty background. But it was +a brief glory. Even while Paul was gazing, the +colouring faded away, and it resumed its former aspect. +Fair weather ahead! Every moment, as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page303" id="page303"></a>[pg 303]</span> +memories of his former visit to the place thronged in upon +him, Paul doubted it the more.</p> + +<p>He was close to the entrance of the harbour now, +and all his thoughts and energies were required to pilot +his yacht safely. In a few moments the brief line was +passed, and the islanders waiting about upon the beach +saw the English vessel ride smoothly into harbourage +under shadow of the huge castle rock. Presently she +dropped an anchor, and swung gracefully round. A +boat was lowered, and made for the shore.</p> + +<p>There were plenty of hands willing to help pull her +in. Paul stepped out on to the beach, and looked +around for some one to whom he could make himself +understood.</p> + +<p>They were all islanders of the rudest class; but seeing +no one else, Paul lifted his hand to the castle, and +asked them the way in Italian. They understood him, +and pointed along the beach to a point where a rude +road curved inland, and reappeared a little higher up +in zigzag fashion behind the rocks. But no one offered +to go a step with him. On the contrary, directly the +question had left his lips, they all shrunk away, whispering +and exclaiming amongst themselves.</p> + +<p>"It is the son of the Englishman!" cried Antonio. +"He is going into the lion's mouth! Do not let us be +seen with him. The Count may be watching."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page304" id="page304"></a>[pg 304]</span> + +<p>"I wonder if he knows his danger?" Guiseppe said +thoughtfully. "He is young and brave looking. It +would be a good action to warn him."</p> + +<p>"I would not risk it!" cried Antonio.</p> + +<p>"Nor I!" echoed Ferdinand.</p> + +<p>"Nor I!" chorused the others.</p> + +<p>Guiseppe glanced at them in contempt. Then he +stepped forward and laid his hand upon Paul's shoulder—a +strange, picturesque-looking object, in his bright +scarlet shirt, and trousers turned up to his knees. He +had been in Italy once, and he tried to speak the +language of that country as well as he could.</p> + +<p>"Illustrious Englishman!" he said, "go not to that +castle, the home of the Count of Cruta. Danger lurks +there for you—danger and death. It is our lord who +lives there; we are his vassals, and we are dumb. But +he is wild and fierce, and your countrymen are like devils +to him. Strange things have happened up there. +Be wise. Put back your boat, weigh your anchor and +sail away. The stormy seas are dangerous, but not so +dangerous as the Castle of Cruta to an Englishman of +your features. Take the word of Guiseppe, and depart!"</p> + +<p>Paul shook his head. He understood most of what +Guiseppe had said, and he knew that it was kindly +meant. "You are very good," he said. "I thank you +for your warning; but I have important business with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page305" id="page305"></a>[pg 305]</span> +the Count, and I have come from England on purpose +to see him. Here, spend this for me," he added, throwing +a handful of silver money amongst the little group +of men. "Yonder path will take me straight to the +castle, I suppose. Good evening."</p> + +<p>He strode away along the beach alone. Meanwhile +a strange thing was happening. The islanders were +all gathered eagerly around the little shower of money, +but not one had offered to touch a piece.</p> + +<p>"Holy Mother! there are fifty pieces!" cried +Antonio. "If only I was sure that the Count would +not see me! I would keep holiday for a month, and +start again with a fresh set of fishing nets."</p> + +<p>"Touch not the money!" advised Guiseppe, shaking +his head. "The Count's eyes are everywhere!"</p> + +<p>"It is very hard!" groaned Ferdinand. "It has been +such a bad season, too!"</p> + +<p>"I know! I know!" cried Antonio excitedly. "We +will go to the monastery, and get Father Bernard to +come and bless it. He will claim half for the Church, +but we can divide the other half, and we shall, each +man, have given six pieces in charity. What say you? +shall we go?"</p> + +<p>"Bravo! Antonio is right! Antonio is a sensible fellow!" +they all cried. Then there was the sound of +bare feet scampering over the hard sands as they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page306" id="page306"></a>[pg 306]</span> +hastened up to the monastery. Guiseppe was left alone.</p> + +<p>He waited until they were out of sight. Then he +stooped down, and carefully collecting all the coins, +placed them in his pouch. "Ignorant fools!" he muttered. +"The Count can see no further than other men, +and at any rate he will not see these in my pocket."</p> + +<p>He stood up, and gazed steadily along the path +which Paul had taken. "What am I to do now?" he +continued. "It is to the Englishman's father that I +owe my boat and my little hoard of sayings. He behaved +to me as a prince, did Signor de Vaux. Can I +see his son hasten yonder to his doom without one +effort to save him? No. The Count is terrible, but I +need run no risk. At any rate, I will follow a little +way."</p> + +<p>He walked swiftly along the beach, and commenced +the ascent to the castle. In a few minutes the little +band of fishermen returned, carrying lanterns in their +hands, and with a priest walking amongst them. They +reached the spot, and paused, while the priest commenced +to mumble a prayer. He was scarcely halfway +through when he was interrupted.</p> + +<p>"The money is gone!" cried Antonio.</p> + +<p>"Every piece!" echoed Ferdinand.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's blank silence. Then they all +crossed themselves. "Let us go home," whispered +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307" id="page307"></a>[pg 307]</span> +Antonio hoarsely. "The Count knows. He has been +here."</p> + +<p>The priest turned away disgusted, and the others +followed him, talking with bated breath amongst themselves. +And, in the darkness, no one noticed Guiseppe's +absence.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308" id="page308"></a>[pg 308]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>"A VOICE AND FIGURE FROM THE DISTANT PAST"</h3> + + +<p>It was a long, steep ascent, hewn out of the solid +rock; but at last Paul stood before the great gates of +the castle, and paused to take breath. Hundreds of +feet below him his yacht was riding at anchor, looking +like a toy vessel upon a painted sea, and a little group +of scattered lights showed him where the hamlet lay. +Before him was the stern, massive front of the castle, +wrapped in profound gloom, but standing out in clear, +ponderous outline against the starlit sky. There +seemed to be no light from any part of it, and the great +iron gates leading into the courtyard were closed. Nor +was there any sound at all, not even the barking of a +dog. It was like a dwelling of the dead.</p> + +<p>A great, rusty bell-chain hung by the side of the +gate, and as there seemed to be no other means of +communication with the interior, Paul pulled it vigorously. +Its hoarse echoes had scarcely died away before +several rough-looking islanders, carrying flaring +oil lamps, trooped into the courtyard from the rear of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page309" id="page309"></a>[pg 309]</span> +the building, and one of them, drawing the bolts, threw +open the gates.</p> + +<p>"I have come to see the Count," Paul said, addressing +the nearest of them. "Will you conduct me to +him?"</p> + +<p>The man replied energetically, but in a <i>patois</i> utterly +unintelligible. He led the way across the courtyard +towards the castle, however, and Paul followed close +behind. They did not enter by the front, but by a +low, nail-studded door at the extreme corner of the +tower, which the man immediately closed and locked +behind him.</p> + +<p>Paul looked around him curiously, but in the semi-darkness +there was little to see. He was in a corridor, +of which the walls were simply whitewashed, and the +floor bare stone; but as they passed onward, down several +passages, and up more than one flight of steps, the +proportions of the place expanded. The ceilings grew +loftier, and the corridors wider. Yet there was no attempt +anywhere at decoration or furniture of any sort. +The place was like an early-day prison—huge, bare, +and damp. Once, crossing a balustraded corridor, +there was a view of a huge hall down below, bare save +for a few huge skins thrown carelessly around, and a +great stack of firearms and other weapons which lined +the walls on either side. It was the only sign of habitation +that Paul had seen.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page310" id="page310"></a>[pg 310]</span> + +<p>Suddenly his guide paused, and held up his finger. +Paul, too, listened; and close at hand he heard, to his +surprise, the muffled sound of voices chanting some +sad hymn in a deep minor key. The rise and fall of +those mournful voices was wonderfully impressive. +What could it mean? It was a dirge, a funeral hymn! +Its every note seemed to breathe of death.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" Paul asked. "Is any one ill—dying?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head. He could not understand. +He only motioned to Paul to move silently, and hurried +on. They were in a wide corridor, with disused +doors on either side, but their feet fell no longer upon +the bare stone. A rough sort of drugget had been +hastily thrown down in the centre of the passage, and +their movements roused no more strange echoes between +the bare walls and the vaulted roof. At every +step forward they took the chanting grew more distinct, +and at last the man stopped at the end of the +passage before a door, softly tapped at it. It was +opened at once, and Paul found himself ushered into a +great, dimly lit bedchamber.</p> + +<p>He glanced around him with keen interest. If the +interior of the room was a little dilapidated, it was full +of the remains of past magnificence. The walls were +still covered with fine tapestry, of which the design +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page311" id="page311"></a>[pg 311]</span> +was almost obliterated, although the texture and colouring +still remained. The furniture was huge, and +of the fashion of days gone by, and the bedstead was +elaborately carved and surmounted by a coat of arms. +Further Paul had but little opportunity to discover, +for as soon as his presence became known in the room, +a black-cowled monk left the bedside and approached +him.</p> + +<p>"We have been expecting you," he said in Italian, +"and we fear now that you come too late. Our poor +lady is beyond human skill!"</p> + +<p>Paul looked at him in astonishment. "I do not +quite understand you! It is the Count of Cruta whom +I came to see!"</p> + +<p>The priest started back, and commenced fumbling +with a lamp which stood on a table at the foot of the +bed. "Are you not the German doctor from Palermo?" +he asked, bending over towards Paul, with his keen, +dark face alight with suspicion and distrust.</p> + +<p>Paul shook his head. "I am no doctor at all!" he +answered. "I am an Englishman, and my name is +Paul de Vaux!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" There was a faint, incoherent cry from the +bed—a cry, which, faint though it was, shook with +stifled emotion. Both men turned round, and Paul +could see that the other's face was dark and stern.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312" id="page312"></a>[pg 312]</span> + +<p>The woman, who had been lying on the bed still +and motionless as a corpse, had raised herself with a +sudden, spasmodic movement. Her cheeks were sunken +to the bone, and her eyes were large and staring.</p> + +<p>The seal of death was upon her face, but Paul recognised +her. It was the woman whom he had seen +last in the drawing-room of Major Harcourt's house, +the woman whom Adrea had called her stepmother.</p> + +<p>He took a sudden step forward, and she held out her +hands in a gesture half of welcome, half of fear. "Paul +de Vaux! Holy Mother of God! What has brought +you here—here into the tiger's den? Come close to +me! Hasten!"</p> + +<p>Paul stepped forward, but the priest stood between +them, holding out his hands in a threatening gesture. +"Sister, forbear!" he cried sternly. "You have made +your peace with God; you have done with the world +and all its follies. Close your eyes and pray. Fix +your thoughts upon things above!"</p> + +<p>She did not heed him. She did not even look towards +him. Her eyes were fixed upon Paul, and he +read their message aright.</p> + +<p>"This woman wishes to speak to me. Stand aside, +and let me go to her!" he exclaimed. "If she be indeed +dying, surely you should respect her wishes."</p> + +<p>He spoke imperatively, for the priest stood in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page313" id="page313"></a>[pg 313]</span> +way, and prevented his approach; pointing towards the +door with a stern, commanding gesture.</p> + +<p>"There must be no converse between you and this +woman!" he said. "I am no lover of violent deeds; +but if you insist upon forcing your way to her bedside, +I shall summon the Count, and you will pay for +your rashness with your life. Your name and features +are a certain death warrant in this house. Escape +while you may, and <i>pax vobiscum</i>. Remain and I cannot +save you!"</p> + +<p>Paul glanced round the room. Two monks were +standing with lighted tapers on the further side of the +bed, one of whom was mumbling a Latin prayer. The +man who had brought him here was gone. There was +no one else in the room, except the priest and himself.</p> + +<p>"You are inhuman!" he said shortly. "The prayers +of a dying woman are more to me than your threats. +Stand on one side!"</p> + +<p>Paul laid his hand heavily upon the priest's shoulder. +He was prepared even to have used force had it +been necessary, but it was not. The latter moved +away at once, shaking his robes free from Paul's touch +with contemptuous gesture, and calling one of the +monks to him, Paul sank on one knee by the side of +the dying woman, and bent low down over her.</p> + +<p>"Madame de Merteuill, you have something to say to +me!" he whispered. "What is it?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page314" id="page314"></a>[pg 314]</span> + +<p>Her voice was very low and very faint. She was +even then upon the threshold of death. Each word +came out with a painful effort, but with a curious distinctness. +"I am not Madame de Merteuill at all! I am +the daughter of the Count of Cruta!"</p> + +<p>She paused to gather fresh strength, and Paul caught +hold of some of the bedclothes, and clutched them in +his fingers convulsively. This woman, the daughter +of the Count of Cruta! this wan, faded creature, the +girl whom his father had borne away in triumph! His +brain reeled with the wonder of it! If only he had +known a few weeks ago! She should never have left +the Hermitage until she had told him everything! +Was it too late now? She was trying to speak to him. +Was he upon the brink of a tremendous revelation? +Was the whole past about to be made clear? Oh! if +the old Count would keep away for awhile.</p> + +<p>Her lips commenced to move. He bent close over +her, determined not to lose a syllable. "You know +the story about your father, Martin de Vaux and me. +I——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I know!" he assured her softly. "I have +only heard it lately!"</p> + +<p>"From whom?"</p> + +<p>"From the priest who was always with you at De +Vaux,—from your son!" he added, as the truth +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page315" id="page315"></a>[pg 315]</span> +suddenly swept in upon him. Yes; Father Adrian was +this woman's son!</p> + +<p>Her corpse-like face was fixed steadily upon him. +Her words were monotonous and slow, yet they preserved +their distinctness. "You have come here to +know the truth of the story he told you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have come to discover it, if I can!"</p> + +<p>"The holy Saints must have brought you to me. The +story——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"The story is false!"</p> + +<p>Paul bent lower still, with strained hearing. There +had been a plot, then, after all. Oh, if she should die +without finishing her story! He looked into her bloodless +face, and his pulses throbbed at fever-heat.</p> + +<p>"You know my story," she murmured. "I commence +at the time when I left your father in Paris. I +had thought myself hardened in my sin; I was mistaken. +Repentance crept slowly but surely in upon +me immediately after my father's visit to us. His +words haunted me. I began to steal away in the evening +to vespers at the Church of St. Cecilia. One night +a grave, sweet-faced priest stood up in the pulpit; and +as his words sank into my heart my sin rose up before +me black and grim, and the burden of it grew intolerable. +After the service I sought him, and I confessed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page316" id="page316"></a>[pg 316]</span> +On the morrow I left Martin secretly and without +adieu. Count Hirsfeld aided my escape. I came +here!</p> + +<p>"I came, hoping for forgiveness; but he, my father, +could not forget the past. I found him living in grim +and fierce solitude, shunned and dreaded by every one, +ever brooding over my sin and his dishonour. He +made me stay, yet he cursed me.</p> + +<p>"Six months after my arrival Adrian was born. It +was while I lay between life and death that I wrote +that letter to your father. Afterwards I told my father +what I had done. The letter lay there; I dared not +send it without my father's sanction. I sent for him +and told him all. To my surprise, he consented. He +did more than that; he spoke of it to Count Hirsfeld, +and the Count volunteered to take the letter to England. +Their readiness made me worried and anxious. +I knew how they hated Martin de Vaux, and I was suspicious. +I called the doctor to my side, and questioned +him closely. He declared solemnly that I could not +live a fortnight; it was impossible. I put my suspicions +away. It was for the honour of his name that +my father had consented to receive Martin beneath his +roof; there could be no other reason. And I myself +felt that the end was near. My body was cold, and +there was a deadly faintness, against which I was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page317" id="page317"></a>[pg 317]</span> +always struggling. I dreaded only lest he should come +too late!</p> + +<p>"It was only the night before his arrival that I +learnt the truth. I was lying with my eyes closed, and +they thought that I was asleep. The doctor and my +father were talking together in whispers. The crisis +was over, I heard them say. In a few days Adrian +would be born, and I should speedily recover, if all +went well. I nerved myself, and called my father to +me. I had overheard, I said; if Martin came, I would +not marry him. His anger was terrible. Both Count +Hirsfeld and he had known from the commencement +that I was likely to recover, but they wished to see +Martin tricked into marrying me. I was firm; I would +not consent! I had written that letter believing myself +to be dying. If Martin came, I would not see him +now. If he was forced into my presence, I should tell +him the truth.</p> + +<p>"My father left me, speechless with rage. For the +next week my door was kept carefully locked, and no +one but the doctor and the nurse were permitted to enter. +Yet I learnt afterwards all that happened. Marie, +my maid, who was slowly dying of consumption, was +moved into the principal bedchamber; and when Martin +arrived, she was made to personate me. It was the +priest who gained her consent; the priest who confessed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page318" id="page318"></a>[pg 318]</span> +her and gave her absolution. His share of the spoil +was to be the De Vaux estates, handed over to the +Church if ever they carried out their plot successfully. +Martin came, and, as he thought, granted that fervent +prayer of mine. They stood around him with drawn +swords; they would not allow him to approach the bed. +As soon as the ceremony was over, he was thrust from +the castle.</p> + +<p>"It happened that in less than a week Marie died. +From my bed, which faced the window, I saw the little +funeral procession leave the castle—my father and +Count Hirsfeld the chief mourners. I saw Martin following +away off, with sorrowing face, and I was glad +then that I had not deceived him. I saw him weeping +over the grave which he believed to be mine. The +day afterwards my son was born.</p> + +<p>"As soon as Adrian could crawl about, he was taken +from me by the priests. They sent him to Italy, where +he grew up a stranger to me. When he returned, I +did not know him. I spoke to him of that false marriage; +I wept for his lack of parentage. He knew +everything; he spoke to me of it coldly, but without +unkindness. He was a son of the Church, he said; he +needed no other mother.</p> + +<p>"He dwelt for awhile at the monastery, and it was +while he was there that I became suspicious. My +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page319" id="page319"></a>[pg 319]</span> +father, and he, and the Superior of the monastery +were always together. They seemed to be urging +something upon him, which he was loath to undertake. +By degrees I found it all out. Adrian was +to go to England as my lawful son and claim the +De Vaux estates for the Church. At first he was +unwilling; but by degrees they won upon him. +Warning was sent to Martin de Vaux, and he came +here swiftly—to his death! I was kept a close prisoner, +but I found out everything that was happening. +For years afterwards, Adrian was undecided +whether to go to England and claim the estates. At +last he decided, unknown to me, to go. I escaped +and followed him. I tried my best to persuade him, +but failed. I came back here ill—to die—to die!"</p> + +<p>"And Adrea?"</p> + +<p>"Adrea? She knew nothing! How could she?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know who Adrea was?"</p> + +<p>She seemed surprised that anything else could, +for a moment, occupy his mind after the story to +which he had listened; but she struggled to answer +him. "She was Count Hirsfeld's daughter! He +never spoke to me of her mother! It was in Constantinople. +I am afraid——"</p> + +<p>He bowed his head. "I understand," he said +simply. The colour had suddenly flooded into his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page320" id="page320"></a>[pg 320]</span> +cheeks, and there was a mist before his eyes. Even +in that supreme moment, when her senses were failing +and her eyes were growing dim, she saw and +understood.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to be kind to her always," she faltered. +"We would have adopted her, but she would +not stay here. She was unhappy, and I helped her to +escape. I had my reasons!"</p> + +<p>He had already guessed at them, and he held out +his hand. He did not wish to hear any more. There +was a moment's silence. She was looking at him with +dim, wistful eyes.</p> + +<p>"You—you are very like your father!" she said, +painfully. "Will you kiss me?"</p> + +<p>He stooped down and kissed the pale, trembling +lips, and held her hands tightly. Her breath was +coming fast, and she spoke with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Thank God they brought you here instead of the +doctor! I can die—at peace now! But you—you are +in danger! You must escape from here! You must +not lose a minute! Oh, you do not know! you do not +know! The Count is cruel—bitterly cruel! He will +not come to me although I die. He will not forgive, +although I have suffered agonies! He is my father but +he will not forgive me. And you—you are in danger +if he finds you! They have gone for him! Ah! I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page321" id="page321"></a>[pg 321]</span> +remember! Father Andrew went for him! He is afraid +that I shall tell you the truth, and that the Church +will not gain your property. Quick! you must go! +Kiss me once more, Paul, and go! Go quickly! These +monks are wolves, but they are cowards! Strike them +down if they try to stop you! Don't hurt my father! +Farewell! farewell!"</p> + +<p>"I will stay with you till the end," Paul whispered.</p> + +<p>"No, no! away! I cannot die in peace and think of +you—in danger. I want to pray. Leave me, now, +Paul. Dear Martin! Martin, my love—is it you?"</p> + +<p>Her mind was wandering, and she saw her lover of +old days in the man whose hand she clasped so frantically; +and Paul, although out in the passage he could +hear the sound of hurrying feet, could not tear himself +away from her dying embrace. A faint, curious +smile was parting her pallid lips, and her dim eyes +seemed suddenly to have caught a dim reflection of +the light to come.</p> + +<p>"Martin! Martin! there is a mist everywhere—but +I see you, dear love! Wait for me! Let us go hand +in hand—hand in hand through the Valley of the +Shadow of Death. Oh, my love! it has been a weary, +weary while. Hold me tighter, Martin! I cannot feel +your hand! Ah! at last, at last! Farewell sorrow, +and grief, and suffering! We are together once more—a +new world—behind the clouds! I am happy."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page322" id="page322"></a>[pg 322]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>"FROM OUT LIFE'S THUNDERS TO A STRANGE, SWEET +WORLD"</h3> + + +<p>She was dead, and, after all, her end had been +crowned with peace. She did not hear the door +thrown roughly open, the swelling of angry voices, or +the fast-approaching tramp of many feet. Nor did +Paul heed any of these signs of coming danger; he +had folded his strong arms around her, and his lips, +pressed close to her, seemed to draw the last quivering +breath from her frail body. It was only when her +head sunk back, and he knew that she was dead, that +he laid her reverently down and turned around.</p> + +<p>The room was full of strange flashes of light and +grotesque shadows falling upon the white faces of half +a dozen monks. Standing in front of them was Father +Andrew, and by his side was an old man, tall and +straight, with snow-white beard and hair. He stood +in full glare of a torch held by one of the monks behind +him, and his face seemed like the face of a +corpse, save for the steady, malignant light in his jet-black +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page323" id="page323"></a>[pg 323]</span> +eyes. As Paul turned round, with his features +suddenly visible in a stream of lurid light, he raised +his arm and pointed a long, skinny finger steadily +towards him.</p> + +<p>"The son of the devil!" he cried, his deep, tremulous +voice awakening strange echoes in the high +vaulted chamber. "Welcome! Welcome! Thrice welcome!"</p> + +<p>Paul straightened himself, and reverently laid the +little white hand which he had been clasping across +the coverlet. "She is dead!" he said solemnly. "What +I came here to learn from you, I have learnt from her. +Let me go!"</p> + +<p>He moved a step forward, but the old man remained +there in the way, motionless, and around the door were +gathered a solid phalanx of monks. Paul halted, conscious +at once of his danger. The white faces of the +monks were all bent upon him, full of savage, animal +ferocity, and a gleam of something still worse lit up +the dark eyes of that old man. Their very silence +was unnatural and oppressive. Paul bore it, looking +round amongst them with questioning eyes, until he +could bear it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Am I a prisoner?" he cried. "What do you want +with me? Speak! some of you! Count of Cruta, answer +me!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page324" id="page324"></a>[pg 324]</span> + +<p>A dull, hollow laugh echoed through the chamber. +Paul turned away, sick with horror. It was like being +in the power of a hoard of madmen. The air of the +place, too, seemed suddenly to have become stifling. +The perspiration was standing out upon his forehead +in great beads. It was a relief when the Count +spoke.</p> + +<p>"You have done well, Paul de Vaux, to find your +way here—here into the very presence of a dying +woman, and force from her lips a confession that has +made you glad. You think that you will go back +now to your country, and cheat me of my well-planned +vengeance. You will hold up your head once more; +you will mock at the Church's rights. You will go +your way through the world rich and honoured; you +will call yourself by an old name. You will pluck all +the roses of life. Worthy son of a worthy father! +Look at me! Who was it who blasted my life, my +happiness, my honour, my name? A name grander +and older than his, as the oak is older and grander +than the currant bush. When he took my daughter +into his arms, he wrote the funeral of his race! I +played with him, as a tiger plays with a miserable +Hindoo! When life was sweetest to him, I struck. +He came here for mercy; I laughed, and I was merciful. +I stabbed him to the heart. The knife hangs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page325" id="page325"></a>[pg 325]</span> +side by side with the arms of the Crusaders of Cruta. +You are his son! You are the next to die! You will +not leave these walls alive! These monks know you! +It is you who hold the lands of De Vaux, which by +right belong to their Holy Church. You would go +back to resist their just claims! The good of the +Church demands that you should not go back! You +shall not go back! The Count of Cruta demands that +you shall not go back. You shall not go back! You +shall be slain, even where your father was slain, but +you shall not creep back to your hole to die! Your +bones shall whiten and shrivel upon the rocks. Your +blood shall be an honoured stain upon my floor. +Monks of Cruta! there he stands! He who alone can +resist your just possession of the broad lands and +abbey of De Vaux. The despoiled Church cries to +you to strike. The end is great! Haul him away!"</p> + +<p>They were around him like a pack of wolves, their lean +faces hungry and fierce, and their long, skinny fingers +clutching at his throat and at his clothing. One silently +drew a knife and brandished it over him. Paul +wrenched himself free with a tremendous effort, but they +were upon him again. They forced him slowly backwards, +backwards even across the bed where that dead +woman lay with her eyes as yet unclosed. The great +heat, as much as their numbers, was overpowering him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page326" id="page326"></a>[pg 326]</span> +His eyes were bloodshot, and there was a choking in his +throat. Again the long knife was lifted; other hands held +him motionless, ready for the blow. He was too weak to +struggle now. He saw the blue steel quivering in the +air. Then he closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>What was that? There was a shrill cry from one of +the monks, and Paul, finding their grasp relaxed, +started up. They were cowering down like a flock of +frightened animals. The room seemed full of red fire. +The glass in the windows cracked; it flew into pieces, +and a column of smoke curled in. The door was thrown +open; Guiseppe stood for a moment on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Fly!" he cried. "Fly! The castle is on fire. The +flames are near!"</p> + +<p>They rushed for the door like panic-stricken cattle +before a great prairie fire, biting and trampling upon +one another in their haste. Paul followed, but the old +Count stood in his way, trembling, not with fear, but +with anger.</p> + +<p>"Cowards! beasts!" he cried after the flying +monks. "But you shall not escape me!"</p> + +<p>He wound his long arms around his enemy, but the +strength of his manhood was gone, and without effort +Paul threw him on one side. Then, through the +smoke, he found himself face to face with Guiseppe.</p> + +<p>"This way, Signor!" he said coolly. "Follow me +closely!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page327" id="page327"></a>[pg 327]</span> + +<p>The old Count was up again, and seemed about to +attack them. Suddenly he changed his mind, and +with a hoarse cry, ran down an empty corridor. Guiseppe +and Paul turned in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>"We must fly, Signor!" the man cried. "He goes +to the cellars! He is a devil! He will blow up the +castle! Cover up your nose and your mouth!"</p> + +<p>They hurried along wide, deserted corridors, down +stone stairs, and finally reached what seemed to be a +circular underground passage. Round and round they +went, until Paul's head swam; but the air was cooler, +and every moment brought relief. Suddenly there was +a cold breeze. They turned one more corner, and Guiseppe +stopped. They were in an open aperture facing +the sea, barely twenty feet below. A small boat with +a single man in it was there waiting.</p> + +<p>"Dive!" cried Guiseppe. "We must not wait for +the rope!"</p> + +<p>Over they went almost simultaneously. The shock +of the cold water sent the blood dancing once more +through Paul's veins. He came to the surface just +after his guide, cool and refreshed. They scrambled +into the boat, and Paul gave a little cry of wonder. +They were drifting on a sea of ruddy gold, and the +space all around them was brilliant with the reflection. +High above, the flames were leaping up towards the +sky, and the dull sing-song of their roar set the very +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page328" id="page328"></a>[pg 328]</span> +air vibrating. Guiseppe, still dripping, seized an oar.</p> + +<p>"Pull, for your lives! pull!" he cried anxiously.</p> + +<p>His companion shrugged his shoulders. "But why?"</p> + +<p>"Ask no questions! You will see!"</p> + +<p>They did see. They were barely half-way to the +yacht, when there came the sound of a low rumbling +from the castle. Suddenly it broke into a roar. Belching +sheets of flame burst out on every side. Huge +cracks in that brilliant light were suddenly visible in +the walls, creeping in a jagged line from the foundation +to the turret. Fragments of the stone work flew +outwards and upwards. It seemed as though some +mighty internal force were splitting the place up. The +men in the boat sat breathless and transfixed. Only +Guiseppe whispered: "It is the old Count! He is the +devil! He has blown the place up!"</p> + +<p>There was another, and then a series of explosions. +Fragments of the rock and stone fell hissing into the +water scarcely a hundred feet away. Great waves +rolled towards them. It seemed as though the earth +underneath were shaking. Then it all died away, and +there was silence. Only the blackened walls of the +castle remained, with the dying flames still curling fitfully +around them. The air grew darker, and the +colour faded from the sea.</p> + +<p>"It is the last of the Count of Cruta, and his castle +of horrors!" cried Guiseppe. "God be thanked!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page329" id="page329"></a>[pg 329]</span> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>"LOVE THAN DEATH ITSELF MORE STRONG"</h3> + + +<p>I had no thought of writing in you again, my silent +friend. Only a little while ago I said to myself, the +time has gone by when solitude and heart hunger could +drive me to your pages for consolation. Only a little while +ago, it is true; and yet between the past and future is +fixed a mighty gulf. As I write these words I stand upon +the threshold of death! What death may mean, I know +not! I have no religion to throw bright gleams of hope +upon its dark mysteries. I have no hope of any other +life, save the one I am quitting! If I am resigned and +calm, it is because the lamp of my life has burnt out, and +I am in darkness. I wait for death as a maiden waits +for the first gleams of dawn on her marriage day.</p> + +<p>Who said that love was everlasting? They lied! Love +is a dream, a floating shadow full of golden lights, +quenched by the first breath of morning! Who should +know, if I do not know? Who has done more for love +than I—I whose hands are red with blood, I who this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page330" id="page330"></a>[pg 330]</span> +night must die? It was for his sake, I struck—for his +sake! and now that the hour of my punishment must +come, I sit here alone and forsaken, waiting for the signal +which must end my life! It was for his sake! A death-white +face rises up before me, and a hoarse, dying cry +sobs ever in my ears! I pass on my way through the +Valley of the Shadow of Death with no hope to cheer me, +forsaken, friendless, and shaken with dim fears! Am I +alone! He for whom I struck has turned from me. Oh, +the bitter cruelty of it! It was he who taught me what +love was, and yet of love he knows nothing, else I would +not be here to meet my doom alone! Oh! Paul, Paul! +Oh, for one touch of your hand, for one kind look! My +heart is sick and faint with longing! Am I indeed so +low and vile a thing that you should turn away with never +a single word of farewell? O! my love, you are hard +indeed! If my hands are stained with blood—for whose +sake was it? It was only a word I craved for, Paul! +Only a word—a look, even! Was it too great a boon to +grant?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Oh, memory! help me, help me to keep sane just a +few more hours—until the end comes. It is a last luxury! +I will think of those golden days we spent together +ere the blow fell. Ah! how happy we were! Every breath +of life was sweet; every moment seemed charged with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page331" id="page331"></a>[pg 331]</span> +delicious happiness! The past, with its haunting +shadows, and the memory of that grim, deathly figure huddled +up amongst the ferns in the bare pine wood had +perished. Background and foreground had vanished in +the bewildering joys of the present. Oh! Paul, that was +happiness, indeed. All measures of outside things seemed +lost! At times I found it hard to recollect in what country +we were! Oh! the world, such as ours was, is a sweet, +sweet world!</p> + +<p>At last the blow fell. He came to me one morning, +as white as a sheet, with an old, soiled copy of the Times +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Read, Adrea," he cried, thrusting it into my hand. "A +horrible thing has happened!"</p> + +<p>I let the paper fall through my fingers. An agony of +fear was upon me. "I know! I know! Do not ask me +to read it."</p> + +<p>"You knew, and you did not tell me!"</p> + +<p>"No! I—no!"</p> + +<p>There was a deadly swimming before my eyes, and a +throbbing in my ears. I sank back, grateful for the unconsciousness +which gave me respite, however short. When +recovered, I was on the verge of a fever; and Paul, seeing +my condition, did not refer to the news which had +been such a shock to him. But for an hour the next day +he was away from me, writing letters home. When he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page332" id="page332"></a>[pg 332]</span> +returned there was a restraint between us. He was kind +as ever, but restless and unsettled. As yet he had no suspicion, +but I could see that he was longing to get back +to England.... The thought was like madness to +me.</p> + +<p>Then came the beginning of the end. We were staying +in a villa which we had rented for a month near +Florence, and one day we drove into the city together to +do some shopping. Paul was at the post-office, and I was +crossing the square to go to him, when of a sudden I felt +a hand upon my dress, and a hoarse whisper in my ear. +I started round in terror. A man, pale and hollow-eyed, +stood by my side. It was Gomez!</p> + +<p>"Listen quickly!" he said. "I must not stay by your +side! You are in danger! The English police are upon +your track!"</p> + +<p>I caught hold of the railing to prevent myself from +falling. Above my head, a little flock of pigeons lazily +flapped their wings against the deep blue sky. All around, +the sunlit air was full of laughing voices, and gaily dressed +crowds of people were passing backwards and forwards +only a few yards away. Already, one or two were glancing +in my direction curiously. In a moment Paul would +come out of the post-office, looking for me. I made a +great effort, and steadied myself.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page333" id="page333"></a>[pg 333]</span> + +<p>"Tell me! What can I do?"</p> + +<p>He answered me quickly, keeping his back turned +to the stream of people. "You must fly! It may be +already too late, but in twenty-four hours you will certainly +be arrested if you are in Florence. I have +travelled night and day to find you. The holy saints +grant that it may not be too late. Call yourself by a +strange name; and if Paul de Vaux be with you, see +that he alters his also. There are already two of the +detectives in Florence searching for you. A third, +with a warrant, may be here at any time. Get to the +furthest corner of the world, for everything is known. +Farewell!"</p> + +<p>He left me abruptly; and although I felt that my +doom had been spoken, I walked firmly across the +square to meet Paul. I would tell him everything. +He should be my judge. My love should plead for +me! It would triumph; yes! it would triumph! I +was convinced of it! As for the danger I was in, I +thought less of that.</p> + +<p>On the steps of the postoffice I met Paul. He held +in his hand a bundle of papers, one of which he had +opened, and, as he raised his head and looked at me, I +saw that what I had dreaded had come to pass. He +looked like a man stricken down by some sudden and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334" id="page334"></a>[pg 334]</span> +terrible blow. He was white even to the lips, and a +strange light burned in his eyes.</p> + +<p>He laid his hand upon my arm. Was it my fancy, +or did he really recoil a little as he touched me? +"Let us go home!" he said hoarsely. "I have—something +to say to you!"</p> + +<p>We entered the carriage, which was waiting near, +and drove off. We came together into this room. It +was barely two hours ago. He closed the door and +turned towards me. I did not wait for his question. +I told him everything!</p> + +<p>Ah me! I had thought that love was a different +thing. I had sinned, it is true, but he was not my +judge. So I commenced, humbled and sorrowful indeed, +but with no fear of what was before me. But +gradually, as I watched his face, a cold, ghastly dread +crept in upon me. What did it mean—that blank look +of horror, his quiet withdrawal from the only caress I +attempted? I finished—abruptly—and called out to +him piteously,—</p> + +<p>"Paul! Paul! Why do you turn away? Oh! kiss me, +Paul! It was horrible, but it was to save you!"</p> + +<p>He did not answer; he did not hold out his arms, or +make any movement towards me. I touched his arm; +and oh! horrible! he shuddered. I crept away into a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page335" id="page335"></a>[pg 335]</span> +corner of the room, with a strange, burning pain in my +heart.</p> + +<p>"How long is it, since you saw Gomez?" he asked, +and his voice, strained, yet low, seemed to come from a +far distance.</p> + +<p>"An hour!—perhaps more—I cannot tell!"</p> + +<p>He stood before the door like a ghost. "I must go +and try to find him! Forgive me, Adrea! I cannot +talk now! I will come back!"</p> + +<p>So he left me. I have not seen him since! God +only knows whether I shall see him again! My heart +is torn with the agony of it! I cannot bear it any +longer! If he is not here in half an hour I shall +end it!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He has not come! Ten minutes more!</p> + +<p>Five minutes!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It is done; I have taken poison! In half an hour I +shall be dead! Oh! Paul, my love, my love, come to +me! If I could only die in your arms, if I could only +feel once more your kisses upon my lips! It is horrible +to die alone! Already I feel weaker! Oh! if +there be a God in heaven, send me Paul just for one +last moment! I do not ask for forgiveness or pardon, +only send me Paul! I am afraid to die alone! Never +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336" id="page336"></a>[pg 336]</span> +to see him again! Oh! I shall cry out! Paul! Paul! +come to me! I do not ask for heaven, only to die in +his arms, to——</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There were sounds upon the stairs, and in the hall; +the sounds of a man's quick entrance and approach. +Adrea, with that passionate prayer still quivering upon +her lips, dragged herself to the door and listened. A +moment's agonised apprehension, and then she staggered +back, faint with joy. The door was opened, and +quickly closed; Paul stood before her.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my love! my love," she murmured. "Take +me in your arms! It is for the last time!"</p> + +<p>He moved to her side, and supported her. "Adrea," +he said quietly, "I want you to change your things +quickly, and come with me. There is a carriage at +the door, and I have chartered a steamer to take us to +Genoa. From there we can sail to-morrow for New +York. Gomez was right; you are in danger here! Be +brave, little woman, and all will be well!"</p> + +<p>She clung to him passionately, with her arms locked +around his neck, and her wet face close to his. Only +a confused sense of his words reached her. His tone +and his embrace were sufficient.</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"I go with you, of course! We shall begin a new +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page337" id="page337"></a>[pg 337]</span> +life in a new world! Come! We have no time to +lose!"</p> + +<p>"A new life in a new world." She repeated the +words dreamily, still holding him to her. Then a sudden +dizziness came. It passed away, but it reminded +her that the end could not be far off.</p> + +<p>"Adrea, do you not understand? How cold your lips +are! Try and bear up, love! We have a long journey +before us!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head slowly. He began to notice +that she was like a dead weight in his arms.</p> + +<p>"It is a long journey, love, but I go alone. You +cannot come, Paul! Yet I am not afraid, now that you +are here!"</p> + +<p>"Adrea! what do you mean? I will not leave you! +Have courage! Adrea! Soon we shall leave all dangers +behind us!"</p> + +<p>"Paul! do you not understand? I am dying!"</p> + +<p>Dying! He looked at her face, calm and even smiling, +but terribly blanched and white, and he saw the +empty phial upon the table. The whole truth swept +in upon him. He staggered and almost fell with her.</p> + +<p>"It is best so," she whispered. "I only minded +when—I thought that you might not be back in time. +I am quite—content now!"</p> + +<p>"A doctor!" he cried hoarsely. "I must fetch a +doctor! Adrea——"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page338" id="page338"></a>[pg 338]</span> + +<p>"Please don't!" she interrupted. "Long before he +could come—I should be dead. It is so much better! +Did you think, Paul, that I could have you—tied for +life—to a poor, hunted woman—forced to live always +in a foreign country? Oh! no, no! I have had this +poison by me ever since—in case—anything happened. +Paul, carry me—to the sofa! There is—no pain—but +I am getting weaker—very weak. My eyes are a little +dim, too—but I can see you—Paul!"</p> + +<p>He obeyed her, and sank on his knees, with his +arms still around her. It seemed to him that she had +never been so lovely as in those last few minutes of +her life. It was wonderful to see her resigned as she +was.</p> + +<p>There was a brief silence, broken only by a sharp, +convulsed sob from the kneeling man. Adrea, who +heard it, stretched out her hand, and passed it caressingly +along the side of his face. He caught it and +covered it with kisses.</p> + +<p>"Paul, we have been happy together, have we not?"</p> + +<p>"My darling, you know it!"</p> + +<p>She raised herself a little, and spoke earnestly. +"For me—it has been like heaven—and yet I am not +sure—that it would have lasted. You would have +wearied soon! My nature is too light a one to have +satisfied you always. I have felt it! I—I know it!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page339" id="page339"></a>[pg 339]</span> + +<p>She paused, struggling for breath. He did not +answer her. He only held her tighter, and whispered +her name lovingly. In a moment she re-opened her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"So—it is best—" she continued, with a little more +effort. "Paul, things seem all so clear—to me now! +I think of you in the future—it must be a happy future, +Paul—I know it will! I see you the master of +that grand old home of yours, up amongst the moors +you love so much. I can see you there in the future, +living your quiet, country life—always the same, honourable +and just. I like to think of you there—it is +so natural. I want you—to forget—these days then! +Remember that it was—I—who—came to you, Paul! +You had no—choice. I would come. If there has +been—any sin—it has been—mine only. You were +far above—poor me! I have dragged you down—a +little way—but you will go back again! You will +marry—some one good and worthy of you. It is my—last +wish! God bless you, Paul, dear—dear, Paul. +I think that I am—going now—kiss me!"</p> + +<p>"My love! My love! Oh! that you could live to +be happy with me once more!"</p> + +<p>"There are steps upon the stairs—I think—but +they come—too late! The book on the table—take it! +It will—tell you—what you do not know—of my life! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page340" id="page340"></a>[pg 340]</span> +Farewell! Sister Elise! Is that you? Ah! back once +more—in the old convent garden! How sweet—and +gentle—the air is—and what perfumes! You here, +Paul! You too! How dim your face seems—and yet—how +happy it makes me—to see it. Dear Paul! we +have been—so happy! Farewell!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There were strangers in the room, but they came +too late. They found only the corpse of a woman, +whose dead lips were parted in a strangely sweet smile, +and a strong man who had swooned by her side in the +utter abandonment of his grief. The hand of human +justice had been stayed by God's mercy!</p> + +<p>THE END.</p> + + + + +<h1>Do You Like Mental Surprises?</h1> + +<p>Things that make your eyes open wider, and cause +you to assume a changed position, so that you can +continue your reading without tiring? Sustained excitement +and strange scenes that compel you to read +on page after page with unflagging interest? Something +that lifts you out of your world of care and +business, and transports you to another land, clime, +and scenes? Yes? Then don't fail to read</p> + +<h2>THE</h2> + +<h2>MYSTERY OF THE RAVENSPURS</h2> + +<h3>By FRED M. WHITE</h3> + +<p>the best book written by this popular author, since +his "Crimson Blind" and "Corner House," which +met with such tremendous success.</p> + +<p>It is a romantic tale of adventure, mystery and +amateur detective work, with scenes laid in England, +India, and the distant and comparatively unknown +Thibet. A band of mystics from the latter country +are the prime movers in the various conspiracies, and +their new, unique, weird, strange methods form one +of the features of the story.</p> + +<p>The book contains 320 pages, with four full-page +illustrations and wrapper design in colors by +DE TAKACS, handsomely bound in cloth.</p> + +<p><b>PRICE, $1.25, net. BY MAIL, POSTPAID, $1.35.</b></p> + +<p><b>We Heartily Recommend This Book.</b></p> + +<p><b>FOR SALE WHEREVER BOOKS ARE SOLD.</b></p> + +<p>J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> + +<p>57 Rose Street, New York</p> + + + + +<h1>OGILVIE'S POPULAR COPYRIGHT LINE</h1> + + +<h2>The Peer and the Woman</h2> + +<h3>By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM</h3> + +<p><b>Author of "A Monk of Cruta," "The Missioner," etc.</b></p> + +<p><i>One of the Most Popular Authors of the present day.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A story of romance, mystery, and adventure, in +which, as in many mystery stories, there is the adventuress, +with whom, for some reason, the peer, notwithstanding +his breeding and social position, becomes entangled, +until he is mysteriously put out of the way. +From this point on complication and adventure succeed +each other in rapid succession, holding the reader in +rapt fascination until the end of the story is reached, +where the plots of love and mysterious disappearances +are surprisingly unfolded.</p> + +<p>This story has been written in Mr. Oppenheim's most +entertaining and interesting style, and will be appreciated +by all lovers of the class of fiction which has made +him famous.</p> + +<p><i>A Wonderful Story of Mystery.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Bound in cloth, handsomely stamped in colors.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>SENT BY MAIL, POSTAGE PAID, FOR 75 CENTS.</p> + +<p>You can buy this at any bookstore or direct from us.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>J. 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