strangely you talk, Eva," I said, when we had been conversingtogether a long time beneath the trees, and the sun was already sinking."You seem somehow to entertain an extraordinary antipathy towards me."
"Antipathy!" she echoed. "Oh, no, you are really mistaken. You ask meto love you, and I express myself unfortunately unable."
"But why unable?"
She sighed, but was silent. Her eyes were fixed far away down thetranquil river which ran with liquid gold in the sunset.
From my lips there poured swift, eager, breathless, unconsidered wordsin all their unreason, all their wisdom, their nobility, theirignorance, their folly, their sublimity. Yet I meant to their veryuttermost every syllable I uttered.
"Tell me now," I urged. "You wish me to leave you without a single wordof hope. You give me a negative reply without reason or explanation."
"I have a reason," she answered in a low, mechanical tone, a voice quiteunusual to her.
"What is it?"
"I am a stern fatalist in principle and in action," she responded.
"And is it that which prevents you from reciprocating my affection?"
"No," she answered, shaking her head sadly, and glancing at her rings."I know that happiness can never more come to me. To love would only beto increase my burden of remorse."
"Remorse?" I cried, in a moment recollecting all the mysterious past.
"Yes," she answered in a hard tone of melancholy and despair. "Aremorse that arises from the pang of a wounded conscience, the recoil ofthe violated feelings of my nature, a horror of the ghastly past, atorture of self-condemnation strong as my soul, deep as my guilt, fatalas my resolve, and terrible as my crime."
"Your crime!" I gasped.
She had at last confessed. I sat gazing at her absolutely dumbfounded.My brain seemed dead in me.
"Yes, my crime," she responded, her face white and hard set, herclenched hands perceptibly trembling. "Now at least you are aware ofthe reason that I will not accept your love. I, the woman whom youlove, am unworthy, degraded and perverted, a woman who would havesuffered a thousand deaths of torture rather than have betrayed myself,but who is now without pity or fear, unconscious, helpless,despair-stricken, although still linked with my sex and with humanity.Death alone would be welcome to me as bridegroom." Then panting, sheadded, rising to leave me: "No, Frank, this must all end to-day. I cannever love you. It is utterly impossible. You cannot know--you willnever know--how I suffer."
She had gone from me. She was to me a thing terrible, and almostloathsome. Yet she was dear to me. I was ready to give my life toransom hers.
She stretched out her hand and musingly touched mine. I shrank as ifthe contact burned me. She saw my involuntary gesture of aversion. Itset her heart harder on the thing she meant to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
A NIGHT ADVENTURE.
In the silent evening hour, as the dusk darkened and twilight slowlyfaded into night, I was conscious of a kind of fascination against whichmy moral sense rebelled, but from which there was no escape. We talkedon, I striving ever to learn the truth, she careful to conceal it fromme. I saw how unexpected but natural were her transitions of temper andfeeling, noted the contest of various passions, the wild hurricane ofresentment melting into tears, faintness and languishment, andendeavoured time after time, but always in vain, to obtain a furtherconfession from her lips.
That she existed in deadly fear of some dread secret being revealed wasvividly apparent, just as it was also clear that my ill-timedobservation regarding her mysterious presence in that house of mysteryat Kensington had placed her upon her guard, and proved to her a fact ofwhich before she had no confirmation. Her airy caprice and provokingpetulance, which had so attracted me when we had been first introduced,had been now succeeded by a mixture of tenderness with artifice, andfear with submissive blandishment. She quailed before me when I rebukedher tenderly for her lack of confidence in me, partly because of herfemale subtlety, partly owing to natural feeling.
Nevertheless, when I reviewed the situation, and calmly and deliberatelyreflected upon her attitude, I saw plainly that she regarded me assomething more than a mere acquaintance, even though her character wasso complicated that no one sentiment could exist pure and unvarying insuch a mind.
Therefore, sadly, with a heavy feeling of non-achievement, I took a longand lingering leave of her, and was driven back to Shepperton Station bySimpson, my mind overflowing with puzzling thoughts. Great as was myhesitation to believe that her conscience was a guilty one, neverthelessher own words were now sufficient proof that my suspicions were notunfounded. Yet I loved her. I still adored her with all my soul, eventhough I had kissed the slim white hand that had sought to send me tothe grave.
These and a thousand similar thoughts whirled through my bewilderedbrain as I sat back alone in the ill-lit railway carriage. Puzzled andbaffled, I sat plunged in deepest melancholy and despair, when, on thetrain drawing up at the quiet, lethargic station of Hampton, the door ofthe compartment was suddenly flung open, and a well-known cheery voicecried--
"Hullo, Urwin! Get out here. I want to speak to you."
I roused myself instantly, recognising Boyd standing on the platform inthe semi-darkness. With an expression of surprise at such a meeting Ijumped out and joined him, he explaining that he had come down fromWaterloo with the object of finding me, and had waited at SheppertonStation for my arrival there. He, however, had not spoken to me, lestthe man Simpson should chance to mention the fact at Riverdene.
"But why are you down here?" I inquired surprised.
"Well," he answered in a low voice, "we've got a piece of most secretinvestigation before us to-night. I've waited for your assistance. Weare going to search The Hollies."
"Search the Hollies?" I echoed.
"Yes," he answered. "You'll remember Miss Glaslyn's letter to you,stating that the house was closed and the servants are away on holiday.Therefore, now's our time. We must, however, act so that Lady Glaslynand her daughter have no suspicion that the place has been overhauled.I obtained a search-warrant from Sir John Gibbons, the chief of thelocal bench, this morning, and now we'll just satisfy our curiosity."
"But the place is locked up, isn't it?" I suggested, amazed at thissudden resolve.
"Of course. We must get in how we can, only being careful not toattract the attention of any neighbours, and to leave no trace behindthat intruders have entered."
"Then we are to go to work like burglars?" I observed, smiling.
"Exactly," he answered.
We had now left the station, and were walking along an ill-lit pathwhich skirted the railway until we gained the high road leading into OldHampton. He explained the precautions he had taken, namely, to tell theconstable on the beat of our intentions, and imposing upon him secrecy,and also to arrange for the local plain-clothes officer to be on duty inthe vicinity. His proposal seemed to possess all the elements ofadventure, therefore, notwithstanding my hesitation to commit any actwhich might further implicate the woman I loved, I expressed myselfeager and ready to accompany him.
Nine o'clock chimed from the square old tower of Hampton Church, thatlandmark so well-known to those who frequent the river, and Boyddeclared that it was too early to commence operations. People wereabout, and we might be observed. Therefore we entered thatold-fashioned inn where the ancient sign is still suspended from a beamacross the road, a hostelry much patronised by boating-parties, whothere replenish their hampers, and entering the billiard-room we whiledaway the time, playing and gossiping with a couple of tradesmen, who,judging from their pronouncements, were local notabilities, perhapsDistrict Councillors.
We remained until the landlord called "Time, gentlemen, please!" thenlighting our cigars went forth, strolling through the quaint old-worldvillage, and skirting the long, high wall of Bushey Park towards LadyGlaslyn's. The night was dark and overcast, a gusty wind had sprung upprecursory of rain, and in our ears sounded the hum of the telegraphwires.
The weather favoured us. For such an excursion Boyd did notcare for a perfectly still night.
At length, when we had been walking perhaps a quarter of an hour alongthe dark, deserted road, a man, bearded and rather shabby-looking,suddenly emerged from the shadow of the wall and greeted Boyd with thepoliceman's password--
"All right, sir."
"Are the things there?" Boyd inquired.
"Yes, sir. I've put the lamp, the jemmy and the keys under a laurelbush on the left of the back door."
"Well," said my friend, "I think you'd better come with us. We may havesome difficulty in getting in."
"Very well, sir," the man answered, and continued to walk by our side.He was smoking a pipe, and as we neared the