Chapter XIX
Sylvia, bubbling over with sociability after her evening at the Doanes',was surprised, on reaching the Homestead, to find a lamp set in thewindow and the living-room empty. Ten o'clock was not late and yet bothoccupants of the house had gone upstairs.
This was unusual.
She wondered at it.
Certainly Marcia could not be asleep at so early an hour; nor Heath,either. In fact, beneath the latter's door she could see a streak oflight, and could hear him moving about inside.
Marcia's room, on the other hand, was still. Once, as she pausedlistening, wondering whether she dared knock and go in for a bedtimechat, she thought she detected a stifled sound and thus encouragedwhispered the woman's name. No response came, however, and deciding shemust have been mistaken she tiptoed away.
Having, therefore, no inkling of a change in the delightful relationsthat had for the past week prevailed, the atmosphere that greeted herwhen she came down the next morning was a shock.
Stanley Heath stood at the telephone talking to Elisha Winslow and onthe porch outside were grouped his suit-case, overcoat and travelingrug. He himself was civil--nay, courteous--but was plainly ill at easeand had little except the most commonplace remarks to offer in way ofconversation.
Marcia had not slept, as her pallor and the violet shadows beneath hereyes attested.
Sylvia could see that her duties as hostess of the breakfast table taxedher self-control almost to the breaking point and that only her prideand strong will-power prevented her from going to pieces.
Although the girl did not understand, she sensed Marcia's need of herand rushed valiantly into the breach--filling every awkward pause withher customary sparkling chatter.
Her impulse was to cry out:
"What under the sun is the matter with you two?"
She might have done so had not a dynamic quality vibrant in the airwarned her not to meddle.
When at length the meal was cut short by the arrival of Elisha Winslow,all three of the group rose with unconcealed relief.
Even Elisha's presence, hateful as it would ordinarily have been, camenow as a welcome interruption.
"Wal, Mr. Heath, I see you're expectin' me," grinned the sheriff,pointing toward the luggage beside the door.
"I am, Mr. Winslow."
"I've got my boat. Are you ready to come right along?"
"Quite ready."
Heath went to Sylvia and took her hand.
"Thank you very much," murmured he formally, "for all you've done forme. I appreciate it more than I can say. And you, too, Mrs. Howe. Yourkindness has placed me deeply in your debt."
"I wish you luck, Mr. Heath," called Sylvia.
"Thanks."
"And I, too," Marcia rejoined in a voice scarcely audible.
To this the man offered no reply.
Perhaps he did not hear the words.
They followed him to the door.
It was then that Marcia sprang forward and caught Elisha's arm.
"Where are you taking him, Elisha?" she demanded, a catch in her voice."Where are you taking him? Remember, Mr. Heath has been ill. You mustnot risk his getting cold or suffering any discomfort. Promise me youwill not."
"You need have no worries on that score, Marcia," replied the sheriffkindly, noticing the distress in her face. "You don't, naturally, wantall you've done for Mr. Heath thrown away. No more do I. I'll look outfor him."
"Where is he going?"
"To my house for the present," Elisha answered. "You see, the townain't ever needed to make provision for a criminal. I can't lock himup in the church 'cause he could get out had he the mind; an' out ofthe school-house, too. Besides, them buildin's are kinder chilly. Soafter weighin' the matter, I decided to take him 'long home with me.I've a comfortable spare room an' I figger to put him in it 'til I'vequestioned him an' verified his story.
"Meantime, nobody in town will be the wiser. I ain't even tellin' MayEllen why Mr. Heath's at the house. If I choose to harbor comp'ny,that's my business. Not a soul 'cept Eleazer's in on this affair an'he's keepin' mum. When him an' me decide we've got the truth, we'llact--not before."
"That relieves my mind very much. Mr. Heath is--you see he--"
"He's a friend of yours--I ain't forgettin' that. I shall treat him'cordin'ly, Marcia."
"Thank you, Elisha--thank you a hundred times."
There was nothing more to be said.
Heath bowed once again and the two men walked down to the float wherethey clambered with the luggage into Elisha's dory and put out into thechannel.
Sylvia loitered to wave her hand and watch them row away, but Marcia,as if unable to bear the sight, waited for no further farewell.
Even after the girl had followed her indoors and during the intervalthey washed the breakfast dishes together, Sylvia did not venture toask any explanations. If Marcia preferred to exclude her from herconfidence, she resolved not to intrude.
Instead, she began to talk of her evening with the Doanes and althoughwell aware Marcia scarcely listened, her gossip bridged the gulf ofsilence and gave the elder woman opportunity to recover her poise.
By noon Marcia was, to outward appearances, entirely herself. Shehad not been able, to be sure, to banish her pallor or the traces ofsleeplessness; but she had her emotions sufficiently under control totalk pleasantly, if not gaily so that only an understanding, lynx-eyedobserver like Sylvia would have suspected she was still keyed to toohigh a pitch to put heart in what she mechanically said and did.
That day and the next passed in much the same strained fashion.
That the woman was grateful for her niece's forbearance was evident ina score of trivial ways. That she also sensed Sylvia's solicitude andappreciated her loyalty and impulsive outbursts of affection was alsoobvious.
It was not until the third morning, however, that the barriers betweenthe two collapsed.
Marcia had gone into the living-room to write a letter--a duty sheespecially detested and one which it was her habit to shunt into thefuture whenever possible.
Today, alas, there was no escape. A business communication had come thatmust be answered.
She sat down before the infrequently used desk and started to take upher pen when Sylvia heard her utter a cry.
"What's the matter, dear?" called the girl, hurrying into the otherroom.
No answer came.
Marcia was sitting fingering a slip of green paper she had taken from along envelope.
With wild, despairing eyes she regarded it.
Then, as Sylvia came nearer, she bowed her head upon the desk and beganto sob as if her heart would break.
"Marcia, dear--Marcia--what is it?" cried Sylvia, rushing to her andclasping the shaking figure in her arms. "Tell me what it is, dear."
"Oh, how could he!" moaned the woman. "How could he be so cruel!"
"What has happened. Marcia?"
"Stanley--he has left a check--money--thrown it in my face! And I didit so gladly--because I loved him. He knew that. Yet he could leavethis--pay me--as if I were a common servant. I had rather he struckme--a hundred times rather."
The girl took the check.
It was filled out in Stanley Heath's clear, strong hand and was for thesum of a hundred dollars.
"How detestable of him!" she exclaimed. "Tell me, Marcia--what happenedbetween you and Mr. Heath? You quarreled--of course I know that. Butwhy--why? I have not wanted to ask, but now--"
"I'll tell you everything, Sylvia. I'd rather you knew. I thought atfirst I could keep it to myself, but I cannot. I need you to help me,dear."
"If I only could!" murmured Sylvia, drawing her closer.
As if quieted by the warmth of her embrace, Marcia wiped her eyes andbegan to speak, tremulously.
She unfolded the story of her blind faith in Stanley Heath; her love forhim--a love she could neither resist nor control--a love she had knownfrom the first to be hopeless. She confessed how she had fought againsthis magnetic power; how she had stru
ggled to conceal her feelings; howhe himself had resisted a similar attraction in her; how at last he haddiscovered her secret and forced her to betray it.
Slowly, reluctantly she went on to tell of the final scene betweenthem--his insistence on coming back to her.
"Of course I realized we could not go on," she explained bravely. "Thatwe loved one another was calamity enough. All that remained was forhim to go away and forget me--return to his wife, his home, and theinterests and obligations of his former life. Soon, if he honestlytries, this infatuation will pass and everything will be as before. Menforget more easily than women. Absence, too, will help."
"And you, Marcia?"
"I am free. There is no law forbidding me to remember. I can go oncaring, so long as he does not know. It will do no harm if here, faraway, where he will never suspect it, I continue to love him."
"Oh, my dear, my dear!"
"I cannot give up my love. It is all I have now. Oh, I do not mean tomourn over it, pity myself, make life unhappy. Instead, I shall be glad,thankful. You will see. This experience will make every day of livingricher. You need have no fears for me, Sylvia. You warned me, you know,"concluded she with a pathetic little smile.
"I was a brute! I ought to have shielded you more," the girl cried. "Icould have, had I realized. Well, I can yet do something, thank heaven.Give me that check."
"What do you mean to do?"
"Return it, of course--return it before Stanley Heath leaves town. Isn'tthat what you want done? Surely you do not wish to keep it."
"No! No!"
"I'll take it over to Elisha Winslow's now, this minute."
"I wonder--yes, probably that will be best. You won't, I suppose, beallowed to see Stanley," speculated she timidly.
"I don't suppose so."
"If you should--"
"Well?"
"Don't say anything harsh, Sylvia. Please do not blame him, or--"
"I'll wring his neck!" was the emphatic retort.
"Oh, please--please dear--for my sake! I can't let you go if you go inthat spirit," pleaded Marcia in alarm.
"There, there--you need not worry for fear I shall maltreat your Romeo,richly as he deserves it," was the response. "I could kill him--but Iwon't--because of you. Nevertheless, I warn you that if I get the chanceI shall tell him what I think of him. No power on earth can keep mefrom doing that. He is terribly to blame and ought to realize it. Nomarried man has any business playing round with another woman. He mayget by with it in New York, but on Cape Cod or in Alton City," she drewherself up, "it just isn't done and the sooner Stanley Heath understandsthat, the better. That's that! Now I'll get my hat and go."
"I am half afraid to let you, Sylvia."
"You don't trust me? Don't you believe I love you?"
"I am afraid you love me too much, dear."
"I do love you, Marcia. I never dreamed I could care so intensely foranyone I have known for so short a time. What you did for my motheralone would make me love you. But aside from gratitude there are otherreasons. I love you for your own splendid self, dear. Please do not fearto trust me. I promise you I will neither be unjust nor bitter. The factthat you care for Stanley Heath shall protect him and make me merciful."
"Take the check then and go. I wish I were to see him."
"Well, you're not! Rowing across that channel and hurrying to his sideafter the way he's treated you! Not a bit of it! I'd tie you to yourown bedpost first," snapped Sylvia. "Let him do the explaining andapologizing. Let him cross the channel and grovel at your feet. That'swhat he ought to do!"
"You won't tell him that."
"I don't know what I shall tell him."
"Please, Sylvia! You promised, remember."
"Don't fret. Some of the mad will be taken out of me before I see Mr.Heath. The tide is running strong and it will be a pull to get the boatacross to the mainland. Kiss me and wish me luck, Marcia. You do believeI will try to be wise, don't you?"
"Yes, dear. Yes!"
"That's right. You really can trust me, you know. I'm not so bad as Isound."
Tucking the check into the wee pocket of her sweater, Sylvia caught upher pert beret and perched it upon her curls.
"So long!" she called, looking back over her shoulder as she opened thedoor. "So long, Marcia! I'll be back as soon as ever I can."
The haste with which she disappeared, suddenly precipitated her into thearms of a young man who stood upon the steps preparing to knock.
"Hortie Fuller," cried Sylvia breathlessly. "Hortie! Where on earth didyou come from?"
Her arms closed about his neck and he had kissed her twice before sheswiftly withdrew, rearranging her curls and saying coldly:
"I cannot imagine what brought you here, Horatio."