XIII
"What have I done? What have I done?" Hector groaned to himself inanguish as he paced up and down his room at the Ritz an hour after theparty had broken up, and he had driven Mrs. McBride back in hisautomobile, leaving hers to father and daughter.
All through supper Theodora had sat limp and white as death, and everytime she had looked at him her eyes had reminded him of a fawn he hadwounded once at Bracondale, in the park, with his bow and arrow, when hewas a little boy. He remembered how fearfully proud he had been as hesaw it fall, and then how it had lain in his arms and bled and bled, andits tender eyes had gazed at him in no reproach, only sorrow and pain,and a dumb asking why he had hurt it.
All the light of the stars seemed quenched, no eyes in the world hadever looked so unutterably pathetic as Theodora's eyes, and gradually asthey sat and talked platitudes and chaffed with the elderly fiancees, ithad come to him how cruel he had been--he who had deliberately usedevery art to make her love him--and now, having gained his end, whatcould he do for her? What for himself? Nothing but sorrow faced themboth. He had taken brutal advantage of her gentleness andinnocence--when chivalry alone should have made him refrain.
He saw himself as he was--the hunter and she the hunted--and theknowledge that he would pay with all the anguish and regret of apassionate, hopeless love--perhaps for the rest of his life--did notbalance things to his awakened soul. If his years should be one long,gnawing ache for her, what of hers? And she was so young. His life, atall events, was a free one; but hers tied to Josiah Brown! And thisthought drove him to madness. She belonged to Josiah Brown--not to himwhom she loved--but to Josiah Brown, plebeian and middle-aged andexacting. He knew now that he ought to have gone away at once, the nextday after they had met. His whole course of conduct had been weak andabsolutely self-indulgent and wicked.
Who was he to dare to have raised his eyes to this angel, and try toscorch even the hem of her clothing! And now he had only broughtsuffering upon her and dimmed the light in God's two stars, which wereher eyes.
And then wild passion shook him, and he could only live again the divinemoments when she had nestled unresisting in his arms. Would it have madethings better or worse if he had not yielded to the temptation of thathour of night and solitude?
After all, the sin was in making her love him, not in just holding herand kissing her lips. And at least, at least, they would have thatexquisite memory of moments of unutterable bliss to keep for the rest oftheir lives.
His windows were wide open, and he leaned upon the balcony and gazed outat the moon. What good had all his life been? What benefit had hebrought to any one? Then he seemed to see a clear vision of Theodora'sshort existence. Every picture she had unconsciously shown him was ofsome gentle thought of unselfishness for others.
And now he had laid a burden upon her shoulders, when he would not hurta hair of her head--that dear, exquisite head which had lain upon hisbreast only two hours ago, and could never lie there again. He knew thiswas the end.
Then anguish and remorse seized him, and he buried his face on hiscrossed arms.
And Theodora staggered up to her room like one half dead. MercifullyJosiah Brown, had gone to bed, leaving a message with Henriette,Theodora's maid, that on no account was she to make any noise or disturbhim.
Henriette adored her mistress--as who did not who served her?--and shefelt distressed to see madame so pale. Doubtless madame had had a mosttiring day. Madame had, and was thankful when at last she was left alonewith her thoughts. Then she, too, opened wide the windows and gazed atthe moon.
She had no cause for remorse for evil conduct like Hector. She had madeno plans for the entrapping of any soul, and yet she felt forlorn andwicked. Oh yes, she was awake now and knew where she had been drifting.And so love had come at last, and indeed, indeed it meant life. Thisblast had struck her, and she had been blind in not recognizing it atonce.
But oh, how sweet it was!--love--and it seemed as if it could makeeverything good and fair. If he and she who loved each other could havebelonged to each other, surely they might have shed joy and gladnessand kindness on all around.
Then she lay on her bed and did not try to reason any more; she onlyknew she loved Hector Bracondale with all her heart and being, and thatshe was married to Josiah Brown.
And what would the days be when she never saw him? And he, too, he wouldbe sad--and then there was poor Josiah--who was so generous to her. Hecould not help being vulgar and unsympathetic, and her duty was to makehim happy. Well, she could do that, she would try her very best to dothat.
But thrills ran through her with the recollection of the moments in thedrive to Paris--oh, why had no one told her or warned her all her lifeabout this good thing love? At last, worn out with all emotions, sleepgently closed her eyes.
And fate up above laughed no more. Her sport was over for a time, shehad made a sorry ending to their happy day.