Kitabı oku: «The Dust of Conflict», sayfa 16

A curious anger came upon Nettie. Tony Palliser seemed the embodiment of all that her simple strenuous nature despised, and he who had everything had taken from a better man the blameless name which was his one possession. He sat before her honored and prosperous, while she remembered Appleby’s weariness and rags, and obeyed the impulse that drove her to unmask him. Her answer was coldly incisive.

“There are. You know one of them,” she said.

“No,” said Tony, and there was a trace of anxiety in his glance, “I am not sure that I do, though I have some passable friends.”

“Well,” said Nettie, “I certainly met one, and he did not wear a label. In fact, he was a smuggler of rifles and a leader of the Shameless Legion, but he was very loyal to his comrades, and when he was wounded and weary with battle he risked and lost a good deal to take care of a woman who had no claim on him. She had, he felt, been committed to his trust, and he would have been torn to pieces before he failed in it. That was why the knight’s face reminded me of his – but I have told you about him already.”

Tony’s face expressed relief, and Nettie sat silent a moment until the vicar said, “It was a generous impulse, but it may have been a momentary one, while in the crusader’s case there must have been a sustaining purpose, and a great abnegation, a leaving of lands and possessions he might never regain.”

Nettie realized that her task must be undertaken now, and wondered that she felt so quietly and almost mercilessly collected.

“Still,” she said, “the man I mentioned did as much – not to win fame or a pardon for his sins, but to save a comrade who was not worthy of the sacrifice. You would like me to tell you about it?”

Hester smiled in languid approbation, and the vicar’s face showed his interest; but Tony sat very still, with the fingers of one hand quivering a little, and Violet’s eyes seemed curiously grave as she fixed them upon the girl.

“Then,” said Nettie, “I will try, though it isn’t exactly a pleasant story. There was a man in England who involved himself with a girl whom, because of your notions in this country, he could not marry. It was only a flirtation, but the girl’s father made the most of it, and raised trouble for the man when he wanted to marry a woman of his own degree. He had done nothing wrong as yet, but he was weak – so he sent his friend to bluff off the man who had been squeezing money out of him.”

Tony made a little abrupt movement, and a tinge of gray showed in his cheek, but it passed unnoticed by all save Nettie Harding. The vicar was watching her with a curious intentness, and there was apprehension in Violet’s face, while Hester gazed steadily at Nettie with growing astonishment.

“It was at night the friend met the blackmailer,” she said. “There was an altercation, and then a struggle. Still, the blackmailer was not seriously hurt, and the other man saw him walk away. It was not until next day they found he had fallen into a river from the bridge.”

She stopped a moment, and Violet turned to her, very white in face, with a great horror in her eyes.

“You venture to tell me this?” she said.

“Yes,” said Nettie, glancing at Tony. “It hurts me, but it’s necessary. If you do not believe me ask the man who sent his friend to meet the man he dared not face.”

There was a sound that suggested a gasp, and a dress rustled softly as Violet, moving a little, closed one hand, while Tony’s face showed gray and drawn as he leaned forward in his chair. It was, however, the vicar who broke the tense silence.

“Since you have told us so much, Miss Harding, I must ask you to go on,” he said.

“Then,” said Nettie, “the friend gave up everything, and took the blame that his comrade might marry the woman he loved, He went to America – and when he comes back there from Cuba we will find room for him.”

“I think,” said the vicar very slowly, “in order to make quite sure one of us should ask you for his name.”

Nettie glanced at Violet, who made a little sign.

“It was Bernard Appleby,” she said.

Then Violet turned to Tony, and her voice, which was low and strained, sent a little thrill through the listeners.

“Speak!” she said. “Tony, you can, you must, controvert it!”

Tony rose very slowly to his feet, and the courage of desperation was his. “I can’t. Miss Harding is quite correct,” he said. “I must ask the rest to leave us. This affair is ours – mine and Violet’s only, you see.”

“He is right,” said the vicar, rising. “I will ask you to let the story go no further in the meanwhile, Miss Harding. There is, I think, only one thing Mr. Palliser can do, but the responsibility is his.”

The others went away with him, and for a moment or two Violet and Tony stood face to face. Then when the man would have spoken the girl turned from him with a little gesture of repulsion.

“No,” she said faintly. “It is too horrible. I can bear nothing further now.”

She swept away from him, and Tony, standing rigidly still with hands clenched, let her go. Then he turned and strode with bent head across the lawn.

Five minutes later Hester Earle, entering one of the rooms quietly with the vicar, found Nettie lying in a chair and apparently shivering. She looked up when she saw them, and then turned her head away.

“Oh, I know you don’t want to talk to me!” she said. “Still, though I feel most horribly mean, I did it because I had to.”

“Yes,” said the vicar gently, “I think I understand. It must have cost you a good deal – and I fancy you were warranted.”

“Then go away, both of you, and leave me alone,” said Nettie faintly.

They turned away, and met Violet Wayne in the hall. She made a little gesture when she saw their faces, as though to warn them from any expression of sympathy.

“You will excuse me, Hester,” she said very quietly. “I think I would sooner walk home alone. I will not ask you to remember that what you heard concerns only Tony and me.”

Then she turned and left them, walking slowly, and holding herself very straight with an effort.

XXI – TONY’S DECISION

TONY PALLISER walked home to Northrop, and was glad when he reached it, for he found even the slight physical effort difficult. He felt half-dazed, and brushed past two of his tenants who greeted him on the road without recognizing them. He did not remember whether he offered any explanation as to why he had not remained at Low Wood, as he had purposed, but by and by he found himself sitting in Godfrey Palliser’s chair at the head of the great dinner-table. The big candles were lighted, for the evenings were drawing in, and as he vacantly noticed the glitter of the light on the glass and silver he remembered the opportunity that had been given him there. He had let it pass, and now another had spoken.

Still, as he strove to eat because he felt the servants’ eyes upon him it was the loneliness of the shadowy hall that most troubled him. He had noticed it often since Godfrey Palliser died, for Tony was not fond of his own company; but he had pictured Violet Wayne sitting opposite him then, and now it was borne in upon him that she would never smile at him across his table. As yet he scarcely realized the depth of his humiliation, for it was the result of it which must be faced, and not the thing itself that filled him with horror.

It was a relief when somebody took his plate away, and he went out with a cigar he did not remember lighting into the cool night air and flung himself down in a seat on the terrace. There was no moon in the sky, but the stars were clear, and – for the night was still – a chilly dampness settled on everything. He felt it pleasantly cold upon his skin, and lay still huddled limply in the garden chair, trying to realize the position, but found the attempt almost useless, for his thoughts had no cohesion. It was, however, evident that the love of the woman he desired could never be his. She had given him her promise, and he fancied that if he insisted she would redeem it, for he vaguely understood her sense of responsibility; but it was evident that he could not insist, and with the courage of desperation he nerved himself to face the fact that he must let her go. He could think of nothing else, for he was still bewildered by the blow, and could only realize what had been taken from him.

He did not know how long he lay there, but it was very late when he rose with a little shiver and went back into the hall, where he wrote a note.

“Tell John to ride over with that early to-morrow morning, and ask Miss Wayne for an answer,” he said to the servant, who wondered at his face, and then walked slowly with hopelessness in his very pose towards his room, where, as it happened, he slept heavily until late next morning.

The next day, however, brought him further misery, for his perceptions were clearer now, and the difficulties he must meet more apparent, while he had also a horrible suspense to struggle with when the man he had sent with the note brought him an answer. It was very brief: “I will try to see you this evening.”

Somehow the day dragged through, and Tony was glad when at last he left Northrop as darkness came, for the uncertainty was growing insupportable. It was, however, Mrs. Wayne who greeted him when he reached her house, and she looked at him gravely without shaking hands.

“Yes,” she said, answering his unspoken question, “Violet has told me, and it is she who must decide. She will come down in a minute or two.”

Tony was weak, but he had now the courage of hopelessness, and he met the lady’s eyes.

“I will not try to influence her, madam, and can only thank you for allowing me to speak to her,” he said.

Mrs. Wayne made no answer, but opened the door of a lighted room, and Tony, who sat down, waited for what seemed an interminable time until Violet came in. There was a curious hardness in her eyes, and her face was pale, so pale that it had an ivory gleam in the soft light, which the bronzy clusters of warm-tinted hair emphasized, but she was dressed with more than her accustomed taste, and held herself very straight. Tony rose when he saw her.

“I was almost afraid you would not see me,” he said.

The girl sank into the chair he drew out, and he stood in front of her, with the hand he rested on the table trembling a little.

“I am not sure that it was wise,” she said. “In a case like this one can only say nothing – or too much.”

“I could bear the latter more easily,” said Tony. “You know what I have done. We must have an understanding now.”

His voice was hoarse, but it was even, and Violet Wayne regarded him with dispassionate interest. Tony, it seemed, had risen in his desperation, and his face was, as she had never seen it, set and almost grim.

“Then,” she said quietly, “you have no excuse to make – nothing to urge in extenuation?”

“No. It is all true. There was only my love for you – and you must feel that a humiliation now.”

Violet Wayne made a little gesture of weariness. “Tony,” she said, “I don’t quite catch your meaning, and we must speak plainly to-night.”

“Well,” said the man, in a voice that was curiously expressionless, “you heard Miss Harding’s story. She was very fair – about Lucy Davidson – but you can realize how difficult it is for me to go into that?”

A trace of color crept into Violet Wayne’s face, but her eyes were fixed upon her companion as she said slowly, “Still, I think it is necessary.”

“Then I gave the girl a brooch – and once or twice talked nonsense with her – but it went no further. I can only give you my word for that – and nobody would blame you if you could not credit it. Her father did not, and I could not let you hear the story he built up.”

Violet’s face was faintly flushed with anger now. “That,” she said, “is the one thing I could never forgive you, Tony. I know it is a trifle by comparison, but it hurts the most, and would have killed the confidence that would have drawn us together. You were afraid I would not believe you?”

“Yes, I was afraid.”

The girl’s anger seemed to melt away, and left her face pale again, while it was with a curious wistfulness she answered him.

“I evidently expected too much, but if you had told me I would have believed you had everybody testified your guilt,” she said. “Can’t you understand that love without confidence is a worthless thing – and that had you trusted me I would have borne any suspicion or obloquy with you?”

Her voice broke, but there was once more a faintly scornful ring in it when after a few moments’ silence she spoke again. “But you were afraid – afraid to trust me! Oh, it is almost unendurable!”

Tony stood still looking at her, with his heart throbbing painfully and vague wonder in his eyes. Then he moved forward with swift impulsiveness as though he would have flung himself upon his knees beside her chair, but she checked him with a gesture. Still, he stooped and laid a quivering hand upon her shoulder.

“I might have known,” he said. “If I had had the courage you would have saved me from everything, but is it too late now? I did it because I loved you, Violet – and you will give me the chance to redeem myself. You can’t destroy my last hope by casting me off?”

The girl looked up at him wearily. “A little more restraint, Tony. What has been done can never be undone – and I want to face the position quietly. Last night I struggled with the horror and bitterness of it, and one needs calmness now. We can never reopen the subject again.”

Tony moved away from her, and once more leaned upon the table. His susceptibilities were curiously dulled, but still her coldness stung him like the lash of a whip, for he could see the contempt beneath it and could more easily have borne scathing reproaches.

“Well,” he said very slowly, “nothing can happen to me that I have not deserved. I make no defence.”

He saw the little gleam in the girl’s eyes, and there was something in her face which suggested faint approbation.

“I promised to marry you – and that carries an obligation, but you destroyed the love I had for you,” she said.

“It would be a very hard thing, but I can give you that promise back. I haven’t fallen quite so far that I would take you when you have only contempt for me. I have done wrong, but there may be a faint chance left me, in spite of my worthlessness. Is it quite out of the question that I should redeem the past?”

Violet sat motionless for the space of several minutes, and Tony felt the throbbing of his heart as he watched her. Then she said very slowly, “I cannot see my duty – and so it would be presumption to show you yours, but I am not the person you have wronged most grievously.”

“No. You mean Bernard Appleby? Well, it would be almost too much to expect you to believe in me again; but I can, at least, show you I am sorry for what I have done – and if I brought him back – ”

The girl slowly shook her head. “I can make no promise now,” she said.

“Still, you would wish me to make it right with him?” and Tony stood still looking at her with a faint gleam of hope in his eyes.

“Not because I wish it, Tony. Can’t you realize that you must make him reparation?”

Tony slowly straightened himself, but his face was quietly resolute. “Yes,” he said. “I wonder if Miss Harding will tell me where he is? I am going to Cuba. Of course, it can never give me back your esteem. That I threw away – but perhaps as the days go by you will not think of me so bitterly. You will try? That is all I can ask for in the meanwhile.”

Violet rose, outwardly very calm and cold, though her heart was throbbing painfully. There was something in the man’s face she had never seen there before, and though he spoke very quietly the little thrill in his voice was not without its effect on her.

“I think Miss Harding is here now,” she said. “She asked if she might come, and I fancied I heard her voice a little while ago, but I do not know if she will tell you. I am glad you are going, Tony.”

Tony looked down on her gravely, with a curious wistfulness in his eyes, and then, before she quite grasped his intentions, laid his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheeks.

“My only excuse is that I may never see you again,” he said. “If Miss Harding will not tell me I will find him myself. I leave for London to-morrow, and go straight to Havana. I will not come back to England unless Bernard Appleby comes with me.”

He turned abruptly, as though he feared his resolution might fail him, and it was not until Violet heard the door swing to behind him that she realized she was alone. A minute or two later he was shown into a room where Hester Earle sat with Nettie Harding, and smiled a little when he saw the latter’s heightened color.

“I have come to ask you a favor, Miss Harding,” he said. “I want you to tell me where to find Bernard Appleby.”

“Why?” said the girl chillingly.

Tony made a little deprecatory gesture. “I deserve your suspicions, but I think you can trust me,” he said. “I want to repair the wrong I did him, and bring him back to England.”

Nettie looked at him steadily, though her face was flushed. “I don’t know that he will come,” she said. “He has a good deal to do there – and he has good friends in America.”

Tony smiled curiously. “I was not asking you to do Appleby a kindness. I was thinking of myself.”

Nettie appeared to understand him, for she took out a card and scribbled across it.

“I am sorry – and I think I know what you mean,” she said as she handed it him. “If my father is in Cuba now – and I think he is – he will tell you just what to do.”

Tony thanked her gravely, and with a little formal goodbye, which included Hester Earle, went out of the room. In another minute they heard the outer door close behind him, and Nettie’s color grew a trifle deeper as she glanced at her companion.

“I couldn’t help it, but I’m sorry I wasn’t quite sure of him now,” she said. “There’s a great difference in that man since yesterday. He has had a rough shaking up, but it has brought all that’s good in him up on top.”

Hester nodded. “There is a good deal that’s very nice at least in Tony,” she said. “It is Violet I am most sorry for. She believed in him. I wouldn’t worry her just yet, Nettie.”

Violet Wayne in the meanwhile lay very still in her chair. The blow had blunted her susceptibilities, too, and the pain was less intense. She felt numb and passionless, and only realized that the man she had striven to believe in had never existed. The actual Tony had been shown to her, and it was with difficulty she had overcome the sense of disgust and horror which accompanied the revelation. Still, the evident sincerity of his desire to make reparation had touched her, and she was sensible of a curious pity for him. The tenderness was, however, alloyed with contempt, and she wondered vaguely whether that would pass with time. In the meanwhile she was glad he was going to Cuba, for she would be more sure of herself, and where her duty lay, when he came back with his task accomplished, though she realized with a curious unconcern that she might never see him again. Then there was a little tapping at the door, and it was almost a relief to her when Nettie Harding came in.

“I feel horribly mean, and want to ask you to forgive me because I am going away in a day or two,” she said. “Still, I felt I had to tell that story, and if it was necessary I think I would tell it again. I knew it would hurt you, but I couldn’t help it.”

Violet smiled a trifle wearily. “It was a little painful. One can’t hide it. Still, I don’t think anybody would blame you.”

Nettie came forward and seized her hands impulsively. “My dear,” she said, “it would almost have killed me, and I’m ever so sorry – but what could I do? And you know you told me when I tried to ask you that it was better to know the truth. Can’t you understand that if it was only because you didn’t know what kind of man he was I had to tell you?”

“And that was your only reason?”

“No. There was the other man who took the blame! I didn’t tell you, but the insurrection has broken out around Santa Marta where he is again, and he has left all he had and gone back to his comrades because he promised he would when they wanted him, though he knew my father would have made him rich if he had stayed with him. When I thought of him, ragged, hungry, and thirsty, and perhaps wounded, too, while Tony Palliser had everything, I could not sit still and say nothing.”

Violet’s gaze grew steadier as she said, “What is that man to you?”

“Nothing. Only a friend. Oh, of course, you can’t understand, but a girl in America can be quite fond of a man without falling in love with him. Bernard Appleby never tried even the mildest flirtation with me, and he’d have been sorry if he had. He’s nice, and makes one trust him, but he’s ’way behind the man I’m going to marry.”

Her tone carried conviction with it, and Violet made a little gesture. “Yes,” she said slowly, “it is not astonishing that you believe in him.”

Then Nettie yielded to impulse, and made a venture “There was nothing more,” she said reflectively. “If I had thrown myself and my money at his feet he wouldn’t have had me. I think, though he never told me, there was somebody in England he would always remember.”

The big gray eyes were perfectly steady, but a faint trace of color showed in Violet’s cheek.

“Well,” she said slowly, “Tony is going out to find him.”

Nettie felt a little thrill at what she had noticed, but she rose and, somewhat to her companion’s astonishment, kissed her.

“I’ll feel happier now I know you have forgiven me,” she said.

She had gone in another minute, and Violet Wayne lay still with half-closed eyes and a weary face, while Tony drove home up the Northrop valley with a faint hope in his heart.

It was about the same hour next day when he laid several papers down on the table at which he sat in lawyer Craythorne’s office with a little smile of content.

“It’s all straight now and I’m glad,” he said. “I can make Dane Cop over to Appleby because it never was an integral part of the estate, and it is worth a good deal to anybody now. It should, as you know, have been his in any case, while in the event of my dying unmarried he will get a share of the other property. I would have made it more only that Esmond Palliser has nearer claim.”

Craythorne folded the will just signed. “It is wise to take precautions, but one would certainly expect you to marry,” he said.

Tony rose, and smiled curiously as he straightened himself. “Well,” he said, “one can never be sure of anything – and, you see, I am going to Cuba to-morrow. Travelling there must be a trifle risky just now. Still, I fancy I shall find Appleby.”