CHAPTER XX
"THE NEW, STRONG WINE OF LOVE"
The situation, although it was only a brief one, was for a momentpossessed of a singularly dramatic force. The grouping and thecolouring in that dimly lit drawing-room were all that an artist coulddesire, and the facial expressions bordered upon the tragic. Of allmen in the world, his brother was the last whom of his own choosingPaul would have wished to see.
There was a brief silence. Arthur, breathless through his hastyentrance, could only stand there upon the threshold, his face white tothe lips, and his eyes flashing with passionate anger and dismay.To him the situation was more than painful; it was horrible. To havebelieved ill of Paul from hearsay would have been impossible; hisconfidence in his elder brother had been unbounded. He had alwayslooked up to him as the mirror of everything that was honorable andchivalrous. Even now, perhaps there might be some explanation--somepartial explanation, at any rate. Paul was standing back amongst theshadows, and his face was only barely visible. Doubtless it wasonly surprise which held him silent. In a moment he would speak,and explain everything. It was this thought which loosened Arthur'stongue.
"Paul," he cried, and stepping forward into the room, "and Adrea! Youhere, and together! Tell me what it means! I have a right to know. Iwill know."
He had determined to be cool, to bear himself like a man, but theirsilence maddened him. Adrea, it is true, showed no signs of guilt orconfusion in her cold, questioning face. But the deceit, if deceitthere 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 ahidden face, a silent, immovable figure.
"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 truthin these stories which are flying about the county, with no one tocontradict them."
What might have been the tragedy of the situation vanished for Paul atthe sound of his brother's words. After all, it was not the just angerof a deceived man with which he was confronted, but the empty screamof a boy's passion. Arthur's infatuation had but skimmed the surfaceof his light nature. He was pricked, not wounded. Yet, though in asense this realization brought its relief, Paul felt humbled into thedust. He was actually conscious of his own humiliation. So far asa nature such as his could be conventional, he had become so indeference to the opinion of those who looked up to him as the head ofa great house, and of whom much was to be expected, both socially andpolitically. What must become of that opinion now, Arthur's words tooplainly foreshadowed.
He moved forward into the centre of the room, and faced his brother.There was only a small table between them.
"I do not know who sent you here, Arthur," he said, "or what reportsyou have heard, but it seems to me, that any explanation you may wishhad better be deferred until our return home."
Arthur struck the table violently with his riding-whip, "I will notwait!" he cried. "Here is the proper place! I have been deceived andcajoled by--by--you, Adrea, and by my own brother! It is shameful! Youhypocrite, Paul! You, to come up to London, and solemnly lecture meabout a dancing girl. You d----d hypocrite!"
Before his passion, Paul's grave and steadfast silence gained an addeddignity. Adrea, with a red spot burning on her cheeks, sailed betweenthe two.
"Arthur, you are mad," she said, turning suddenly upon him, with hereyes afire. "Have I ever deceived you? Have I ever pretended to carefor you? Bah, no! You are only an unformed, hysterical boy. Before,you were indifferent to me. Now, I am very quickly growing to hateyou! Begone! Leave this house!"
He stood quite still, white and trembling. The scorn of her words hadfallen like ice upon his heart. Then he turned, and groped for thedoor, as though there were a mist before his eyes.
"I suppose you are quite right," he faltered out. "I didn't see itquite the same way, that's all. I understand now."
The door opened and shut. In a moment or two the sound of his horse'shoofs were heard in the avenue, growing rapidly less distinct as hegalloped away into the darkness. To Paul it sounded like the knell ofhis self-respect, but Adrea felt only the relief. Her eyes, full ofsoft invitation, sought his; but he did not move. He stood there,silent and motionless, with his face turned towards the window. Thosedying sounds meant so much to him,--so much that she could neverunderstand.
The consciousness of her near presence suddenly disturbed him. Heturned round. Her warm breath was upon his cheek, and her white armswere twined about his neck.
"Paul," she whispered, "do not look so miserable, please! Come andtalk to me."
Her arms tightened around him. He looked down at her with a peculiarhelplessness. Their light weight seemed to him like a chain of ironweighing him down! down! down!
He had told himself that he had come to bid her farewell; that FatherAdrian's words, vague though they were, yet had a definite meaning,and were worthy of his regard. But at that moment their memory waslike a dying echo in his ears. This first passion of his life wasstrong upon him, and everything else was weak. The future was suddenlybounded 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 nofurther.