She had crossed the room and was bending over the hearth to light the fire.She knew he was approaching her, and that in a moment he would have drawn the cloak from her shoulders and laid his lips on her neck, just below the gathered-up hair.These privileges were his and, however deferently and tenderly he claimed them, the joyous ease of his manner marked a difference and proclaimed a right.
"After the theatre they came home like this," she thought;and at the same instant she felt his hands on her shoulders and shrank back.
"Don't--oh, don't!" she cried, drawing her cloak about her.
She saw from his astonished stare that her face must be quivering with pain.
"Anna! What on earth is the matter?"
"Owen knows!" she broke out, with a confused desire to justify herself.
Darrow's countenance changed."Did he tell you so? What did he say?""Nothing! I knew it from the things he didn't say.""You had a talk with him this afternoon?""Yes: for a few minutes.I could see he didn't want me to stay."She had dropped into a chair, and sat there huddled, still holding her cloak about her shoulders.
Darrow did not dispute her assumption, and she noticed that he expressed no surprise.He sat down at a little distance from her, turning about in his fingers the cigar-case he had drawn out as they came in.At length he said: "Had he seen Miss Viner?"She shrank from the sound of the name."No...I don't think so...I'm sure he hadn't..."They remained silent, looking away from one another.Finally Darrow stood up and took a few steps across the room.He came back and paused before her, his eyes on her face.
"I think you ought to tell me what you mean to do."She raised her head and gave him back his look."Nothing Ido can help Owen!"
"No; but things can't go on like this." He paused, as if to measure his words."I fill you with aversion," he exclaimed.
She started up, half-sobbing."No--oh, no!""Poor child--you can't see your face!"
She lifted her hands as if to hide it, and turning away from him bowed her head upon the mantel-shelf.She felt that he was standing a little way behind her, but he made no attempt to touch her or come nearer.
"I know you've felt as I've felt," he said in a low voice--"that we belong to each other and that nothing can alter that.But other thoughts come, and you can't banish them.
Whenever you see me you remember...you associate me with things you abhor...You've been generous--immeasurably.
You've given me all the chances a woman could; but if it's only made you suffer, what's the use?"She turned to him with a tear-stained face."It hasn't only done that.""Oh, no! I know...There've been moments..." He took her hand and raised it to his lips."They'll be with me as long as Ilive.But I can't see you paying such a price for them.
I'm not worth what I'm costing you."
She continued to gaze at him through tear-dilated eyes; and suddenly she flung out the question: "Wasn't it the Athenee you took her to that evening?""Anna--Anna!"
"Yes; I want to know now: to know everything.Perhaps that will make me forget.I ought to have made you tell me before.Wherever we go, I imagine you've been there with her...I see you together.I want to know how it began, where you went, why you left her...I can't go on in this darkness any longer!"She did not know what had prompted her passionate outburst, but already she felt lighter, freer, as if at last the evil spell were broken."I want to know everything," she repeated."It's the only way to make me forget."After she had ceased speaking Darrow remained where he was, his arms folded, his eyes lowered, immovable.She waited, her gaze on his face.
"Aren't you going to tell me?"
"No."
The blood rushed to her temples."You won't? Why not?""If I did, do you suppose you'd forget THAT?""Oh--" she moaned, and turned away from him.
"You see it's impossible," he went on."I've done a thing Iloathe, and to atone for it you ask me to do another.What sort of satisfaction would that give you? It would put something irremediable between us."She leaned her elbow against the mantel-shelf and hid her face in her hands.She had the sense that she was vainly throwing away her last hope of happiness, yet she could do nothing, think of nothing, to save it.The conjecture flashed through her: "Should I be at peace if I gave him up?" and she remembered the desolation of the days after she had sent him away, and understood that that hope was vain.
The tears welled through her lids and ran slowly down between her fingers.
"Good-bye," she heard him say, and his footsteps turned to the door.
She tried to raise her head, but the weight of her despair bowed it down.She said to herself: "This is the end...he won't try to appeal to me again..." and she remained in a sort of tranced rigidity, perceiving without feeling the fateful lapse of the seconds.Then the cords that bound her seemed to snap, and she lifted her head and saw him going.
"Why, he's mine--he's mine! He's no one else's!" His face was turned to her and the look in his eyes swept away all her terrors.She no longer understood what had prompted her senseless outcry; and the mortal sweetness of loving him became again the one real fact in the world.
XXXIX
Anna, the next day, woke to a humiliated memory of the previous evening.
Darrow had been right in saying that their sacrifice would benefit no one; yet she seemed dimly to discern that there were obligations not to be tested by that standard.She owed it, at any rate, as much to his pride as to hers to abstain from the repetition of such scenes; and she had learned that it was beyond her power to do so while they were together.Yet when he had given her the chance to free herself, everything had vanished from her mind but the blind fear of losing him; and she saw that he and she were as profoundly and inextricably bound together as two trees with interwoven roots.
For a long time she brooded on her plight, vaguely conscious that the only escape from it must come from some external chance.And slowly the occasion shaped itself in her mind.
