CHAPTER XVII
THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS
It seemed to Anne presently that she had left the earth altogether, andwas gliding upwards through starland without effort or conscious movementof any sort, simply as though lifted by the hands that held her own.Their vitality thrilled through her like a strong current of electricity.She felt that whichever way they turned, wherever they led her, she mustbe safe. And there was a quivering ecstasy in that dazzling, rapid rushthat filled her veins like liquid fire.
"Do you know where you are?" he asked her once.
And she answered, in a species of breathless rapture, "I feel as if Iwere caught in a rainbow."
He laughed again at that, a soft, exultant laugh, and drew her moreswiftly on.
They left the other masqueraders behind; they left the shimmeringlake and its many lights; and at last in the starlight only theyslackened speed.
Anne came out of her trance of delight to find that they were between thebanks of the stream that fed the lake. The ground on each side of themshone white and hard in the frost-bound silence. The full moon was justrising over a long silver ridge of down. She stood with her face to itscold splendour, her hands still locked in that vital grip.
Slowly at last, compelled she knew not how, she turned to the man besideher. His eyes were blazing at her with a lurid fire, and suddenly thatsensation that had troubled her once before in his presence--a sensationof sharp uneasiness--pricked through her confidence.
She stood quite still, conscious of a sudden quickening of her heart. Butshe did not shrink from that burning gaze. She met it with level eyes.
For seconds they stood so, facing one another. He seemed to be trying insome fashion to subjugate her, to beat her down; but she would not yieldan inch. And it was he who finally broke the spell.
"Am I forgiven?"
"For what?" she said.
"For pretending to disbelieve you this morning."
"Was it pretence?" she asked.
"No, it wasn't!" he told her fiercely. "It was deadly earnest. I wouldhave given all I had to be able to disbelieve you. Do you know that?"
"But why, Nap?"
"Why?" he said. "Because your goodness, your purity, are making a slaveof me. If I could catch you--if I could catch you only once--cheating, asall other women cheat, I should be free. But you are irreproachable andincorruptible. I believe you are above temptation."
"Oh, you don't know me," she interposed quietly. "But even if I were allthese things, why should it vex you?"
"Why?" he said. "Because you hold me back, you check me at every turn.You harness me to your chariot wheels, and I have to run in the path ofvirtue whether I will or not!"
He broke off with a laugh that had in it a note of savagery.
"Don't you even care to know what was in that letter that you never had?"he asked abruptly.
"Tell me!" she said.
"I told you that I was mad to have missed you that day. I begged you tolet me have a line before you came again. I besought you to let me callupon you and to fix a day. I signed myself your humble and devoted slave,Napoleon Errol."
He ceased, still laughing queerly, with his lower lip between his teeth.
Anne stood silent for many seconds.
At last, "You must never come to see me," she said very decidedly.
"Not if I bring the mother as a chaperon?" he jested.
"Neither you nor your mother must ever come to see me again," shesaid firmly. "And--Nap--though I know that the writing of thatletter meant nothing whatever to you, I am more sorry than I can saythat you sent it."
He threw back his head arrogantly. "What?" he said. "Has the queen nofurther use for her jester? Am I not even to write to you then?"
"I think not," she said.
"And why?" he demanded imperiously.
"I think you know why," she said.
"Do I know why? Is it because you are afraid of your husband?"
"No."
"Afraid of me then?" There was almost a taunt in the words.
"No," she said again.
"Why, then?" He was looking full into her eyes. There was somethingpeculiarly sinister about his masked face. She almost felt as if he weremenacing her.
Nevertheless she made unfaltering reply. "For a reason that means muchto me, though it may not appeal to you. Because my husband is notalways sane, and I am afraid of what he might do to you if he wereprovoked any further."
"Great Lucifer!" said Nap. "Does he think I make love to you then?"
She did not answer him. "He is not always sane," she repeated.
"You are right," he said. "That reason does not appeal to me. Yourhusband's hallucinations are not worth considering. But I don't proposeon that account to write any more letters for his edification. For thefuture--" He paused.
"For the future," Anne said, "there must be no correspondence between usat all. I know it seems unreasonable to you, but that cannot be helped.Mr. Errol, surely you are generous enough--chivalrous enough--tounderstand."
"No, I don't understand," Nap said. "I don't understand how you can, bythe widest stretch of the imagination, believe it your duty to conform tothe caprices of a maniac."
"How can I help it?" she said very sadly.
He was silent a moment. His hands were still gripping hers; shecould feel her wedding-ring being forced into her flesh. "Like ourmutual friend, Major Shirley," he said slowly, "I wonder why youstick to the man."
She turned her face away with a sound that was almost a moan.
"You never loved him," he said with conviction.
She was silent. Yet after a little, as he waited, she spoke as onecompelled.
"I live with him because he gave me that for which I married him. Hefulfilled his part of the bargain. I must fulfil mine. I was nothing buthis bailiff's daughter, remember; a bailiff who had robbed him--for whoseescape from penal servitude I paid the price."
"Great Heavens!" said Nap.
She turned to him quickly, with an impulsiveness that was almost girlish."I have never told anyone else," she said. "I tell you because I knowyou are my friend and because I want you to understand. We willnever--please--speak of it again."
"Wait!" Nap's voice rang stern. "Was it part of the bargain that heshould insult you, trample on you, make you lead a dog's life without asingle friend to make it bearable?"
She did not attempt to answer him. "Let us go back," she said.
He wheeled at once, still holding her hands.
They skated a few yards in silence. Then suddenly, almost under hisbreath, he spoke. "I am not going to give up my friendship with you. Letthat be clearly understood."
"You are very good to me," she said simply.
"No. I am not. I am human, that's all. I don't think this state ofaffairs can last much longer."
She shuddered. Her husband's condition had been very much worse of late,but she did not tell him so.
They were skating rapidly back towards the head of the lake. In front ofthem sounded the swirling rush of skates and the laughter of many voices.
"I'm sorry I've been a beast to you," Nap said abruptly. "You mustn'tmind me. It's just my way."
"Oh, I don't mind you, Nap," she answered gently.
"Thanks!" he said.
And with that he stooped suddenly and shot forward like a meteor, bearingher with him.
They flashed back into the gay throng of masqueraders, and mingled withthe crowd as though they had never left it.