CHAPTER III
THE FIRST ORDEAL
All the birds in the Manor garden were singing on that afternoon in May.The fruit trees were in bloom. The air was full of the indescribablefragrance of bursting flowers. There was no single note of sadness in allthe splendid day. But the woman who paced slowly to and fro under theopening lilacs because she could not rest knew nothing of its sweetness.
The precious peace of the past few weeks had been snatched from her. Shewas face to face once more with the problem that had confronted her for afew horror-stricken minutes on that awful evening in March. Then she hadthrust it from her. Since she had resolutely turned her back upon it. Butto-day it was with her, and there was no escaping it. It glared at herwhichever way she turned, a monster of destruction waiting to devour. Andshe was afraid, horribly, unspeakably afraid, with a fear that wasneither physical nor cowardly, yet which set her very soul a-trembling.
Restlessly she wandered up and down, up and down. It was a day fordreams, but she was terribly and tragically awake.
When Nap Errol came to her at length with his quick, light tread that waswary and noiseless as a cat's, she knew of his coming long before hereached her, was vividly, painfully aware of him before she turned tolook. Yesterday she had longed to look him in the face, but to-day shefelt she dared not.
Slim and active he moved across the grass, and there came to her ears aslight jingle of spurs. He had ridden then. A sudden memory of the man'sfree insolence in the saddle swept over her, his domination, hisimperial arrogance. Turning to meet him, she knew that she was quiveringfrom head to foot.
He came straight up to her, halted before her. "Have you no welcome forme?" he said.
By sheer physical effort she compelled herself to face him, to meet thefierce, challenging scrutiny which she knew awaited her. She held out herhand to him. "I am always glad to see you, Nap," she said.
He took her hand in a sinewy, compelling grip. "Although you prefer goodmen," he said.
The ground on which she stood seemed to be shaking, yet she forcedherself to smile, ignoring his words.
"Let us go and sit down," she said.
Close by was a seat under a great lilac tree in full purple bloom. Shemoved to it and sat down, but Nap remained upon his feet, watchingher still.
The air was laden with perfume--the wonderful indescribable essences ofspring. Away in the distance, faintly heard, arose the bleating of lambs.Near at hand, throned among the purple flowers above their heads, athrush was pouring out the rapture that thrilled his tiny life. The wholeworld pulsed to the one great melody--the universal, wordless song. Onlythe man and the woman were silent as intruders in a sacred place.
Anne moved at last. She looked up very steadily, and spoke. "It seemslike holy ground," she said.
Her voice was hushed, yet it had in it a note of pleading. Her eyesbesought him.
And in answer Nap leaned down with a sudden, tigerish movement and laidhis hand on hers. "What have I to do with holiness?" he said. "Anne, comedown from that high pedestal of yours! I'm tired of worshipping agoddess. I want a woman--a woman! I shall worship you none the lessbecause I hold you in my arms."
It was done. The spell was broken. Those quick, passionate words hadswept away her last hope of escape. She was forced to meet him face toface, to meet him and to do battle.
For a long second she sat quite still, almost as if stunned. Then sharplyshe turned her face aside, as one turns from the unbearable heat andradiance when the door of a blast-furnace is suddenly opened.
"Oh, Nap," she said, and there was a sound of heart-break in her words,"What a pity! What a pity!"
"Why?" he demanded fiercely. "I have the right to speak--to claim my own.Are you going to deny it--you who always speak the truth?"
"You have no right," she answered, still with her face averted. "No manhas ever the faintest right to say to another man's wife what you havejust said to me."
"And you think I will give you up," he said, "for that?"
She did not at once reply. Only after a moment she freed her hands fromhis hold, and the action seemed to give her strength. She spoke, hervoice very clear and resolute. "I am not going to say anything unkind toyou. You have already borne too much for my sake. But--you must know thatthis is the end of everything. It is the dividing of the ways--where wemust say good-bye."
"Is it?" he said. He looked down at her with his brief, thin-lippedsmile. "Then--if that's so--look at me--look at me, Anne, and tell methat you don't love me!"
She made an almost convulsive gesture of protest and sat silent.
For a little he waited. Then, "That being so," he said very deliberately,"there is no power on earth--I swear--I swear--that shall ultimatelycome between us!"
"Oh, hush!" she said. "Hush!" She turned towards him, her face whiteand agitated. "I will not listen to you, Nap. I cannot listen to you!You must go."
She stretched a hand towards him appealingly, and he caught it, crushingit against his breast. For a moment he seemed about to kneel, and then healtered his purpose and drew her to her feet. Again she was aware of thatsubtle, mysterious force within him, battling with her, seeking todominate, to conquer, to overwhelm her. Again there came to her thatsense of depth, depth unutterable, appalling. She seemed to totter on thevery edge of the pit of destruction.
Very quietly at length his voice came to her. It held just a touch ofridicule. "What! Still doing sacrifice to the great god Convention? Mydear girl, but you are preposterous! Do you seriously believe that I willsuffer that drunken maniac to come between us--now?"
He flung his head back with the words. His fiery eyes seemed to scorchher. And overhead the rapturous bird-voice pealed forth a perfect paeanof victory.
But Anne stood rigid, unresponsive as an image of stone. "He is myhusband," she said.
She felt his hand tighten upon hers, till the pressure was almost morethan she could endure. "You never felt a spark of love for him!" he said."You married him--curse him!--against your will!"
"Nevertheless, I married him," she said.
He showed his teeth for a moment, and was silent. Then imperiously heswept up his forces for the charge. "These things are provided for in theStates," he said. "If you won't come to me without the sanction of thelaw, I will wait while you get it. I will wait till you are free--till Ican make you my lawful wife. That's a fair offer anyway." He began tosmile. "See what a slave you have made of me!" he said. "I've neveroffered any woman marriage before."
But Anne broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Oh, don't you know me betterthan that?" she said. "Nap, I am not the sort of woman to throw off theyoke like that. It is true that I never loved him, and I do not thinkthat I shall ever live with him again. But still--I married him, andwhile he lives I shall never be free--never, never!"
"Yet you are mine," he said.
"No--no!"
She sought to free her hand, but he kept it. "Look at me!" he said. "Doyou remember that day in March--the day you saw me whipped like a dog?"
Involuntarily she raised her eyes to his. "Oh, don't!" she whispered,shuddering. "Don't!"
But he persisted. "You felt that thrashing far more than I did, though itmade a murderer of me. You were furious for my sake. Did you never askyourself why?" Then in a lower voice, bending towards her, "Do you thinkI didn't know the moment I saw your face above mine? Do you think Ididn't feel the love in your arms, holding me up? Do you think it isn'tin your eyes--even now?"
"Oh, hush!" she said again piteously. "Nap, you are hurting me. I cannotbear it. Even if it were so, love--true love--is a sacred thing--not tobe turned into sin."
"Sin!" he said. "What is sin? Is it sin to fulfil the very purpose forwhich you were created?"
But at that she winced so sharply that he knew he had gone too far.It was characteristic of the man that he made no attempt to recoverlost ground.
"I'm a wicked pagan no doubt," he said, with a touch of recklessness."Everyone will tell you so. I fancy I've told you so
myself more thanonce. Yet you needn't shrink as if I were unclean. I have done nothingthat you would hate me for since I have known you."
He paused and seemed to listen, then very quietly released her hand. Acurious expression flickered across his face as he did so, and a littlechill went through her. It was like the closing of the furnace door.
"I am going," he said. "But I shall come back--I shall come back." Hissmile, sudden and magnetic, gleamed for an instant and was gone.
"Do you remember the missing heart?" he said "There are some things thatI never forget."
And so, without farewell, he turned and left her, moving swiftly andeasily over the grass. She heard the jingle of his spurs, but no sound ofany footfall as he went.