CHAPTER XXVII
THE SECRETARY AND THE LADY
The chief visitor to the little house in the cross street two days laterwas James Sefton, the agile Secretary, who was in a fine humour withhimself and did not take the trouble to conceal it. Much that conducedto his satisfaction had occurred, and the affairs that concerned himmost were going well. The telegrams sent by him from the Wilderness to atrusty agent at an American seaport and forwarded thence by mail toLondon and Paris had been answered, and the replies were of a naturemost encouraging. Moreover, the people here in Richmond in whosefortunes he was interested were conducting themselves in a manner thathe wished. Therefore the Secretary was pleasant.
He was received by Lucia Catherwood in the little parlour where Prescotthad often sat. She was grave and pale, as if she suffered, and there wasno touch of warmth in the greeting that she gave the Secretary. But hedid not appear to notice it, although he inquired after the health ofherself and Miss Grayson, all in the manner of strict formality. She satdown and waited there, grave and quiet, watching him with calm, brighteyes.
The Secretary, too, was silent for a few moments, surveying the womanwho sat opposite him, so cool and so composed. He felt once more thethrill of involuntary admiration that she always aroused in him.
"It is a delicate business on which I come to you, Miss Catherwood," hesaid. "I wish to speak of Miss Harley and my suit there; it is notprospering, as you know. Pardon me for speaking to you of such intimatefeelings. I know that it is not customary, but I have thought that youmight aid me."
"Was it for such a reason that you gave me a pass to Richmond and helpedme to come here?"
"Well, in part, at least; but I can say in my own defense, MissCatherwood, that I bore you no ill will. Perhaps, if the first phase ofthe affair had never existed, I should have helped you anyhow to come toRichmond had I known that you wished to do so."
"And how can I help you now?"
The Secretary shrugged his shoulders. He did not wish to say all thatwas in his mind. Moreover, he sought to bring her will into subjectionto his. The personal sense that he was coming into contact with a mindas strong as his own did not wholly please him, yet by a curiouscontrariety this very feeling increased his admiration of her.
"I was willing that you should come to Richmond," he said, "for a reasonthat I will not mention and which perhaps has passed away. I have had inmy mind--well, to put it plainly, a sort of bargain, a bargain in whichI did not consult you. I thought that you might help me with HelenHarley, that--well, to speak plainly again, that your attractions mightremove from my path one whom I considered a rival."
A deep flush overspread her face, and then, retreating, left it palerthan ever. Her fingers were pressed tightly into the palms of her hands,but she said nothing.
"I am frank," continued the Secretary, "but it is best between us.Finesse would be wasted upon one with your penetrating mind, and I payyou the highest compliment I know when I discard any attempt to use it.I find that I have made a great mistake in more respects than one. Theman who I thought stood in my way thought so himself at one time, but heknows better. Helen Harley is very beautiful and all that is good, butstill there is something lacking. I knew it long ago, but only in thelast few weeks has it had its effect upon me. This man I thought myrival has turned aside into a new path, and I--well, it seems that fateintends that he shall be my rival even in his changes--have followedhim."
"What do you mean?" she asked, a sudden fire leaping to her eyes and acold dread clutching her heart.
"I mean," he said, "that however beautiful Helen Harley may be, thereare others as beautiful and one perhaps who has something that shelacks. What is that something? The power to feel passion, to love with alove that cares for nothing else, and if need be to hate with a hatethat cares for nothing else. She must be a woman with fire in her veinsand lightning in her heart, one who would appear to the man she lovesnot only a woman, but as a goddess as well."
"And have you found such a woman?"
She spoke in cold, level tones.
The Secretary looked at her sitting there, her head thrown slightlyback, her eyes closed and the curve of her chin defiant to the uttermostdegree. The wonder that he had not always loved this woman instead ofHelen Harley returned to him. She was a girl and yet she was not; therewas nothing about her immature or imperfect; she was girl and woman,too. She had spoken to him in the coldest of tones, yet he believed inthe fire beneath the ice. He wished to see what kind of torch would setthe flame. His feeling for her before had been intellectual, now it wassentimental and passionate.
James Sefton realized that Lucia Catherwood was not merely a woman to beadmired, but one to be loved and desired. She had appealed to him as onewith whom to make a great career; now she appealed to him as a womanwith whom to live. He remembered the story of her carrying the woundedPrescott off the battlefield in her arms and in the dark, alone andundaunted, amid all the dead of the Wilderness. She was tall and strong,but was it so much strength and endurance as love and sacrifice? He wasfilled with a sudden fierce and wild jealousy of Prescott, because, whenwounded and stricken down, she had sheltered him within her arms.
His look again followed the curves of her noble face and figure, thefull development of strong years, and a fire of which he had not deemedhimself capable burned in the eyes of the Secretary. The pale shade ofHelen Harley floated away in the mist, but Lucia met his silent gazefirmly, and again she asked in cold, level tones:
"Have you found such a woman?"
"Yes, I have found her," replied the Secretary. "Perhaps I did not knowit until to-day; perhaps I was not sure, but I have found her. I am acold and what one would call a selfish man, but ice breaks up undersummer heat, and I have yielded to the spell of your presence, Lucia."
"Miss Catherwood!"
"Well, Miss Catherwood--no, Lucia it shall be! I swear it shall beLucia! I do not care for courtesy now, and you are compelled to hear mesay it. It is a noble name, a beautiful one, and it gives me pleasure tosay it. Lucia! Lucia! Lucia!"
"Go on, then, since I cannot stop you."
"I said that I have found such a woman and I have. Lucia, I love you,because I cannot help myself, just as you cannot help my calling youLucia. And, Lucia, it is a love that worships, too. There is nothing badin it. I would put myself at your feet. You shall be a queen to me andto all the rest of the world, for I have much to offer you besides mypoor self. However the war may end, I shall be rich, very rich, and weshall have a great career. Let it be here if you will, or in the North,or in Europe. You have only to say."
There was then a feeling for him not all hate in the soul of LuciaCatherwood. If he loved her, that was a cloak for many sins, and shecould not doubt that he did, because the man hitherto so calm and themaster of himself was transformed. His words were spoken with all thefire and heat of a lover, his eyes were alight, and his figure took on acertain dignity and nobility. Lucia Catherwood, looking at him, said toherself in unspoken words: "Here is a great man and he loves me." Herheart was cold, but a ray of tenderness came from it nevertheless.
The Secretary paused and in his agitation leaned his arm upon themantel. Again his eyes dwelt upon her noble curves, her sumptuousfigure, and the soul that shone from her eyes. Never before had he feltso utter a sense of powerlessness. Hitherto to desire a thing was withhim merely the preliminary to getting it. Even when Helen Harley turnedaway from him, he believed that by incessant pursuit he could yet winher. There he took repulses lightly, but here it was the woman alone whodecreed, and whatever she might say no act or power of his could changeit. He stood before her a suppliant.
"You have honoured me, Mr. Sefton, with this declaration of your love,"she said, and her tones sounded to him as cold and level as ever, "but Icannot--cannot return it."
"Neither now nor ever? You may change!"
"I cannot change, Mr. Sefton." She spoke a little sadly--out of pity forhim--and shook her head.
"You think that my loyal
ty is due to Helen Harley, but I do not loveher! I cannot!"
"No, it is not that," she said. "Helen Harley may not love you; I do notthink she does. But I am quite sure of myself. I know that I can neverlove you."
"You may not now," he said hotly, "but you can be wooed and you can bewon. I could not expect you to love me at once--I am not so foolish--butdevotion, a long devotion, may change a woman's heart."
"No," she repeated, "I cannot change."
She seemed to be moving away from him. She was intangible and he couldnot grasp her. But he raised his head proudly.
"I do not come as a beggar," he said. "I offer something besidesmyself."
Her eyes flashed; she, too, showed her pride.
"I stand alone, I am nothing except myself, but my choice in the mostimportant matter that comes into a woman's life shall be as free as theair."
She, too, raised her head and met him with an unflinching gaze.
"I also understand," he said moodily. "You love Prescott."
A flush swept over her face, and then retreating left it pale again, butshe was too proud to deny the charge. She would not utter an untruth noran evasion even on so delicate a subject. There was an armed truce ofsilence between them for a few minutes, till the evil genius of theSecretary rose and he felt again that desire to subject her will to hisown.
"If you love this young man, are you quite sure that he loves you?" heasked in quiet tones.
"I will not discuss such a subject," she replied, flushing.
"But I choose to speak of it. You saw him at the President's house twonights ago making obvious love to some one else--a married woman. Areyou sure that he is worthy?"
She maintained an obstinate silence, but became paler than ever.
"If so, you have a mighty faith," he went on relentlessly. "His face wasclose to Mrs. Markham's. Her hair almost touched his cheek."
"I will not listen to you!" she cried.
"But you must. Richmond is ringing with talk about them. If I were awoman I should wish my lover to come to me with a clean reputation, atleast."
He paused, but she would not speak. Her face was white and her teethwere set firmly together.
"I wish you would go!" she said at last, with sudden fierceness.
"But I will not. I do not like you the least when you rage like alioness."
She sank back, coldness and quiet coming to her as suddenly as her angerhad leaped up.
"You have told me that you cannot love me," he said, "and I have shownyou that the man you love cannot love you. I refuse to go. Awhile sinceI felt that I was powerless before you, and that I must abide by youryea and nay; but I feel so no longer. Love, I take it, is a battle, andI use a military simile because there is war about us. If a goodgeneral wishes to take a position, and if he fails in the directcharge--if he is repelled with loss--he does not on that accountretreat; but he resorts to artifice, to stratagem, to the mine, to thesly and adroit approach."
Her courage did not fail, but she felt a chill when he talked in thiseasy and sneering manner. She had liked him--a little--when he disclosedhis love so openly and so boldly, but now no ray of tenderness came fromher heart.
"I can give you more of the news of Richmond," said the Secretary, "andthis concerns you as intimately as the other. Perhaps I should refrainfrom telling you, but I am jealous enough in my own cause to tell itnevertheless. Gossip in Richmond--well, I suppose I must say it--hastouched your name, too. It links you with me."
"Mr. Sefton," she said in the old cold, level tones, "you spoke of mychanging, but I see that you have changed. Five minutes ago I thoughtyou a gentleman."
"If I am doing anything that seems mean to you I do it for love of youand the desire to possess you. That should be a sufficient excuse withany woman. Perhaps you do not realize that your position depends uponme. You came here because I wrote something on a piece of paper. Therehas been a whisper that you were once a spy in this city--think of it;the name of spy does not sound well. Rumour has touched you but lightly,yet if I say the word it can envelope and suffocate you."
"You have said that you love me; do men make threats to the women whomthey love?"
"Ah, it is not that," he pleaded. "If a man have a power over a woman heloves, can you blame him if he use it to get that which he wishes?"
"Real love knows no such uses," she said, and then she rose from herchair, adding:
"I shall not listen any longer, Mr. Sefton. You remind me of myposition, and it is well, perhaps, that I do not forget it. It may be,then, that I have not listened to you too long."
"And I," he replied, "if I have spoken roughly I beg your pardon. Icould wish that my words were softer, but my meaning must remain thesame."
He bowed courteously--it was the suave Secretary once more--and then heleft her.
Lucia Catherwood sat, dry-eyed and motionless, for a long time, gazingat the opposite wall and seeing nothing there. She asked herself now whyshe had come back to Richmond. To be with Miss Grayson, her next of kin,and because she had no other place? That was the reason she had given toherself and others--but was it the whole reason?
Now she wished that she had never seen Richmond. The first visit hadended in disaster, and the second in worse. She hated the sight ofRichmond. What right had she among these people who were not hers? Shewas a stranger, a foreigner, of another temperament, another cast ofthought.
Her mind flitted over the threats, open and veiled, of the Secretary,but she had little fear for herself. There she had the power to fight,and her defiant spirit would rise to meet such a conflict. But thisother! She must sit idle and let it go on. She was surprised at hersudden power of hatred, which was directed full against a woman in whoseeyes--even in moments of peace--there were lurking green tints.
He had done much for her! Well, she had done as much for him and hencethere was no balance between them. She resolved to cast him out wholly,to forget him, to make him part of a past that was not only dead butforgotten. But she knew even as she took this resolution that she fearedthe Secretary because she believed it lay within his power to ruinPrescott.
The door was opened and Miss Grayson came quietly into the room. She wasa cool, soothing little person. Troubles, if they did not die, at leastbecame more tolerable in her presence. She sat in silence sewing, butobserved Lucia's face and knew that she was suffering much or it wouldnot show in the countenance of one with so strong a will.
"Has Mr. Sefton been gone long?" she asked after awhile.
"Yes, but not long enough."
Miss Grayson said nothing and Miss Catherwood was the next to interruptthe silence.
"Charlotte," she said, "I intend to leave Richmond at once."
"Leaving Richmond is not a mere holiday trip now," said Miss Grayson."There are formalities, many and difficult."
"But I must go!" exclaimed Miss Catherwood vehemently, all her anger andgrief flashing out--it seemed to her that the gates suddenly opened. "Itell you I must leave this city! I hate everything in it, Charlotte,except you! I am sorry that I ever saw it!"
Miss Grayson went on calmly with her sewing.
"I shall not let you go," she said in her quiet, even voice. "I couldhave endured life without you had I never had you, but having had you Icannot. I shall not let you go. You must think of me now, Lucia, and notof yourself."
Miss Grayson looked up and smiled. The smile of an old maid, not herselfbeautiful, can be very beautiful at times.
"See what a burden I am," Miss Catherwood protested. "We nearly starvedonce."
Then she blushed--blushed most beautifully, thinking of a certain roundgold piece, still unspent.
"You are no burden at all, but a support. I shall have money enoughuntil this war ends. The Confederate Government, you know, Lucia, paidme for the confiscations--not as much as they were worth, but as much asI could expect--and we have been living on it."
The face of Lucia Catherwood altered. It expressed a singular tendernessas she looked at Miss Grayson, so soft, s
o small and so gray.
"Charlotte," she said, "I wish that I were as good as you. You are neverexcited, passionate or angry. You always know what you ought to do andyou always do it."
Miss Grayson looked up again and her eyes suddenly sparkled.
"You make a mistake, a great mistake, Lucia," she said. "It is only thepeople who do wrong now and then who are really good. Those of us who doright all the time merely keep in that road because we cannot get out ofit. I think it's a lack of temperament--there's no variety about us. Andoh, Lucia, I tell you honestly, I get so tired of keeping forever in thestraight and narrow path merely because it's easiest for me to walk thatway. I don't mean to be sacrilegious, but I think that all the rejoicingin Heaven over the hundredth man who has sinned and repented was notbecause he had behaved well at last, but because he was so much moreinteresting than all the other ninety-nine put together. I wish I hadyour temper and impulses, Lucia, that I might flash into anger now andthen and do something rash--something that I should be sorry for lateron, but which in my secret heart I should be glad I had done. Oh, I getso tired of being just a plain, goody-goody little woman who will alwaysdo the right thing in the most uninteresting way; a woman about whomthere is no delightful uncertainty; a woman on whom you can alwaysreckon just as you would on the figure 4 or 6 or any other number inmathematics. I am like such a figure--a fixed quantity, and that is whyI, Charlotte Grayson, am just a plain little old maid."
She had risen in her vehemence, but when she finished she sank back intoher chair and a faint, delicate pink bloomed in her face. Miss CharlotteGrayson was blushing! Lucia was silent, regarding her. She felt a greatflood of tenderness for this prim, quiet little woman who had, for arare and fleeting moment, burst her shell. Miss Grayson had alwaysaccepted so calmly and so quietly the life which seemed to have beendecreed for her that it never before occurred to Lucia to suppose anytempestuous feelings could rise in that breast; but she was a woman likeherself, and the tie that bound them, already strong, suddenly grewstronger.
"Charlotte," she said, placing her hand gently upon the old maid'sshoulder, "it seems to me sometimes that God has not been quite fair towomen. He gives us too little defense against our own hearts."
"Best discard them entirely," said Miss Grayson briskly. "Come, Lucia,you promised to help me with my sewing."