He stopped abruptly, clenching his jaws. He would not tell her how bitterly he had suffered for it, he would not tell her of his angry rebelliousness because all that pain should have come to him. He wanted nobody to know the depths of his agony and of his despair. But he would not give way. He felt that, if he did not keep a tight hold on himself, he would break down and shake with passionate sobbing. He felt a sudden flash of hatred for Julia because she sat there and watched his weakness. But as though she saw at what a crisis of emotion he was, Julia turned her eyes from him and looked down at the ground. She did not speak. She felt the effort he was making to master himself, and she was infinitely disturbed. She wanted to go to him and comfort him, but she knew he would repel her. He wanted to fight his battle unaided.
At last he conquered, but when he spoke again, his voice was singularly broken. It was hoarse and low.
'My love was the last human weakness I had. It was right that I should drink that bitter cup. And I've drunk its very dregs. I should have known that I wasn't meant for happiness and a life of ease. I have other work to do in the world.'
He paused for a moment, and his calmness was restored to him.
'And now that I've overcome this last temptation I am ready to do it.'
'But haven't you any pity for yourself? Haven't you any thought for Lucy?'
'Must I tell you, too, that everything I did was for Lucy's sake? And still I love her with all my heart and soul.'
There was no bitterness in his tone now; it was gentle and resigned. He had, indeed, won the battle. Julia's eyes were filled with tears, and she could not answer. He came forward and shook hands with her.
'You mustn't cry,' he said, smiling. 'You're one of those persons whose part it is to bring sunshine into the lives of those with less fortunate dispositions. You must always be happy and childlike.'
'I've got lots of handkerchiefs, thanks,' she sobbed, laughing the while.
'You must forget all the nonsense I've talked to you,' he said.
He smiled once more and was gone.
Dick was sitting in his bedroom, reading an evening paper, and she flung herself sobbing into his arms.
'Oh, Dick, I've had such a lovely cry, and I'm so happy and so utterly wretched. And I'm sure I shall have a red nose.'
'Darling, I've long discovered that you only weep because you're the only person in the world to whom it's thoroughly becoming.'
'Don't be horrid and unsympathetic. I think Alec MacKenzie's a perfect dear. I wanted to kiss him, only I was afraid it would frighten him to death.'
'I'm glad you didn't. He would have thought you a forward hussy.'
'I wish I could have married him, too,' cried Julia, 'I'm sure he'd make a nice husband.'
XXI
The days went by, spent by Alec in making necessary preparations for his journey, spent by Lucy in sickening anxiety. The last two months had been passed by her in a conflict of emotions. Love had planted itself in her heart like a great forest tree, and none of the storms that had assailed it seemed to have power to shake its stubborn roots. Season, common decency, shame, had lost their power. She had prayed God that a merciful death might free her from the dreadful uncertainty. She was spiritless and cowed. She despised herself for her weakness. And sometimes she rebelled against the fate that crushed her with such misfortunes; she had tried to do her duty always, acting humbly according to her lights, and yet everything she was concerned in crumbled away to powder at her touch. She, too, began to think that she was not meant for happiness. She knew that she ought to hate Alec, but she could not. She knew that his action should fill her with nameless horror, but against her will she could not believe that he was false and wicked. One thing she was determined on, and that was to keep her word to Robert Boulger; but he himself gave her back her freedom.
He came to her one day, and after a little casual conversation broke suddenly into the middle of things.
'Lucy, I want to ask you to release me from my engagement to you,' he said.
Her heart gave a great leap against her breast, and she began to tremble. He went on.
'I'm ashamed to have to say it; I find that I don't love you enough to marry you.'
She looked at him silently, and her eyes filled with tears. The brutality with which he spoke was so unnatural that it betrayed the mercifulness of his intention.
'If you think that, there is nothing more to be said,' she answered.
He gave her a look of such bitterness that she felt it impossible to continue a pretence which deceived neither of them.
'I'm unworthy of your love,' she cried. 'I've made you desperately wretched.'
'It doesn't matter about me,' he said. 'But there's no reason for you to be wretched, too.'
'I'm willing to do whatever you wish, Bobbie.'
'I can't marry you simply because you're sorry for me. I thought I could, but--it's asking too much of you. We had better say no more about it.'
'I'm very sorry,' she whispered.
'You see, you're still in love with Alec MacKenzie.'
He said it, vainly longing for a denial; but he knew in his heart that no denial would come.
'I always shall be, notwithstanding everything. I can't help myself.'
'No, it's fate.'
