of that name was electrical. She started, her blueeyes fixed themselves upon me with a hard, terrified look, and her lipshalf parted in fear were white and trembling.
"You know his name?" she gasped.
"Yes, I know the name of the dead man, the poor fellow who was so foullydone to death."
"No, no, Willoughby!" she shrieked aloud, covering her face with herhands. "Spare me, spare me that!" she sobbed.
And I saw that I had acted wrongly in recalling that fatal night. Yetif she were not guilty, why did the mere mention of the dead man's nameproduce such an effect upon her?
I hastened to apologise, but her reply was--
"Ah! Willoughby! I am so doubly cursed that I can laugh to scorn allother ills of life. My cup of misery is full; one drop more and it mustoverflow, and life will ebb with it."
"But can I do nothing to help you--absolutely nothing?" I demanded,looking earnestly into her eyes.
She shook her beautiful head despondently, and her breast heaved andfell in a long deep-drawn sigh.
"You saw the Frenchwoman, and you failed," was her despairing reply."It was the last chance afforded to me, and it is lost--lost. I know,now Richard Keene has returned, that I must suffer."
"But if Marigold can save you from this terrible fate that threatensyou, why does she refuse?"
"She has, I suppose, some motive known to her in secret," was my love'sreply. "You know her character just as well as I do. Before hermarriage there was--well, an incident. And I presume it is this whichshe fears that George may know."
"But if you are aware of it, will you still conceal it though this womanis your enemy? Recollect," I said, "that she has no love for herhusband. Hers was a mere marriage of convenience."
"Ah, yes, I know," she said. "But would you have me condemn a womaneven though she be my enemy? No, Willoughby, that is not like you. Iknow that revenge is never within your heart, you are always toogenerous."
I regretted that I had made such a suggestion, and bowed beneath herreproachful words. Yet it somehow seemed that if she possessed theknowledge of this "incident," whatever it was, she might hold it overher enemy as a threat, and use it as a lever to obtain the informationshe desired from the Countess's lips.
"Poor George!" I exclaimed. "What, I wonder, can be the end of hislife with such a woman? And yet he is so utterly infatuated by her. Ithreatened to speak to him regarding certain of her actions but she hasopenly defied me, saying that he is too deeply in love with her to hearany word of condemnation. And she's absolutely right, I believe," Iadded, sighing.
"She is right. He is more deeply in love with her than before theirmarriage, while on her part her open flirtations and love of admirationare little short of scandalous!" she declared.
"And yet you would protect such a woman--even though she seek yourdownfall?"
"The divine lesson taught us, Willoughby, is to forgive our enemies, andto allow them an opportunity for reform," she answered calmly. "Were Ito hound her down by an exposure of the past, I should myself meritneither pity nor compassion."
"But she remains silent in order that you shall go to your ruin," Iremarked.
"Her silence may be the result of ignorance," she suggested. "She maynot really know the truth, but for some secret reason has made Keenebelieve she is aware of everything."
There was something in that argument which caused me to ponder, for Irecollected that her whole object had been to deceive the man who washer husband's guest.
"But had you no suspicion that she knew the truth?" I asked.
"None whatever."
"It seems, however, that Marigold is also in possession of some secretconcerning this man Keene, for she threatened that if he revealed hisreal name to her husband, or sought to expose her, that she would informthe police of his whereabouts. Does that threat of hers convey anythingto you?"
"Did she really say that?" ejaculated my love in blank surprise. "Ifshe did, then it throws a new light upon the affair. She must have metthe woman Lejeune, and the latter has told her certain very importantfacts in order to place Keene in her power. And yet," she added,pausing, "I doubt very much if Marigold dare denounce Keene for her ownsake."
"Then she is implicated in this ugly affair as well as him?" Iexclaimed quickly.
She saw that she had unintentionally revealed to me one very importantfact, but having made such an assertion there was no withdrawing it,therefore she was forced to respond in the affirmative.
"Ah!" she cried desperately, gripping my hand in both hers. "You do notknow, Willoughby, what conflicts wring my soul. I would barter worldsto tell you the truth, yet dare not. Because if I did so I would loseall your esteem and all your fond affection. I--I cannot live in thisuncertainty," she cried bursting into a torrent of tears. "I wander nowa melancholy woman, and seem unthankful where most I should be grateful.Religion stays my hand from the self infliction of that blow which Ihave vainly sought within the jaws of death. Where can I go? Where canI hide my miserable self? A trackless desert would be paradise to all Isuffer here. But it cannot be. I shall--I must--relieve my woes ineverlasting sleep."
"No, no," I cried, kissing the trembling hands of my white-faceddesperate love. "You must not talk like that, Lolita. You are markeddown as the victim of these intriguers, but you shall not be. There isstill life and love for us. Be patient, be brave--tell me the truth ofthe allegation against you and trust in me."
"Tell you the truth," she cried in a hoarse strained voice. "No, no,not to you--never. You would loathe and hate me then--you the man whonow loves me."
"Say also the man you love," I urged tenderly, her hands still in mine.
Her lips compressed as her tearful eyes turned themselves upon me. Shesighed convulsively, and then with a slight catch in her tremulous voiceconfessed with a sad sweet smile--
"Yes, Willoughby--the man I love."
I clasped her in my arms. I felt the heaving of her breast, mythrobbing heart kept pace with that within her bosom. My lips methers--oh!--what a melting kiss. Love held my heart, entangling everythought.
And yet what changes in our fates must here be registered; what anaccumulated scene of bliss and wretchedness must stain the pages thatare to follow.
Ah! if I could at that moment have read what was written upon my love'sheart--if I could but have torn aside that veil of mystery envelopingher--if I could but have known the truth concerning that man I had foundcold, stark and dead beneath the stars! How differently I would haveacted.
I had thought that her love for me would induce her to tell me somethingof the past, yet as she stood in my embrace she was still persistent inher silence, until it seemed that she really feared lest, knowing thetrue facts, my affection might turn to hatred. I implored, I argued, Iexpressed profound regret to no avail. She would tell me nothing--absolutely nothing.
"I must suffer," was her hard reply. "I am a woman who is the sport ofcircumstance. Yes," she added, "I love you, Willoughby, but in a fewhours will end my brief life of ecstasy. When I am dead--then will youknow the reason why to-night my lips are sealed."
At that instant a rap at the door caused me to release her quickly andspring aside.
A waiter who stood upon the threshold announced--
"Mr Logan, m'lady."
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
INTRODUCES A MAN WITH A HISTORY.
Mention of the name of Logan placed me instantly on the alert. It wassurely the man whom I had seen with her in the wood in the early hoursof the morning following the tragedy--the same whom I had encounteredwith Mademoiselle in Chelsea--the same, I believe, who had lived in suchsuspicious seclusion at Hayes's Farm.
"Tell him I am engaged at present," exclaimed my love, facing the waiterwithout betraying the least anxiety. She was, of course, not aware thatI knew the name of the man with whom I had seen her on that fatefulmorning. Therefore she affected a carelessness that utterly amazed me.Could it be that that bowl of flowers had been placed
in the window as asignal to him, and that he had disregarded it and come to her?
The slightly pursed lips betrayed her annoyance at his presence, butbeyond that she treated the man's announcement with calm indifference.
Was this broad-shouldered man her accomplice--or perhaps her lover, thatshe should thus communicate with him in secret? How my mind struggledto be free; how my restless reason combated with my love. I tried, butcould not contradict the glaring truth which impressed itself upon mysoul; and yet, though I was urged to a conviction, I could not act uponthe principles which subdued me.
I could learn stoicism and be the calm philosopher in every passion,save only love; but he was my divinity, and like a