Complete weird tales of.., p.701
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 701
She strove to think, to speak, to master her emotion; but for a moment his mounting passion subdued her and she remained silent, quivering in his embrace.
Then, with an effort, she found her voice and loosened his arms.
“Listen,” she whispered. “You must listen. I know what you are — how you love me. But you are wrong! If I could only make you see it! If you would not think me selfish, self-seeking — believe unworthy motives of me — —”
“What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly chilled.
“I mean that I am worth more to you than — than to be — what you wish me to be to you. You won’t misunderstand, will you? I am not bargaining, not begging, not trading. I love you! I couldn’t bargain; I could only take your terms — or leave them. And I have not decided. But — may I say something — for your sake more than for my own?”
“Yes,” he said, coolly.
“Then — for your sake — far more than for mine — if you do really love me — make more of me than you have thought of doing! I know I shall be worth it to you. Could you consider it?”
After a terrible silence, he said: “I can — get out of your life — dog that I am! I can leave you in peace. And that is all.”
“If that is all you can do — don’t leave me — in peace. I — I will take the chances of remaining — honest — —”
The hint of fear in her eyes and in her voice startled him.
“There is a martyrdom,” she said, “which I might not be able to endure forever. I don’t know. I shall never love another man. And all my life I have wanted love. It is here; and I may not be brave enough to deny it and live my life out in ignorance of it. But, Jim, if you only could understand — if you only knew what I can be to you — to the world for your sake — what I can become merely because I love you — what I am capable of for the sake of your pride in — in me — and — —” She turned very white. “Because it is better for your sake, Jim. I am not thinking of myself, and how wonderful it would be for me — truly I am not. Don’t you believe me? Only — there is so much to me — I am really so much of a woman — that it would begin to trouble you if ever I became anything — anything less than your — wife. And you would feel sorry for me — and I couldn’t truthfully console you because all the while I’d know in my heart what you had thrown away that might have belonged to us both.”
“Your life?” he said, with dry lips.
“Oh, Jim! I mean more than your life and mine! For our lives — yours and mine — would not be all you would throw away and deny. Before we die we would want children. Ought I not to say it?” She turned away, blind with tears, and dropped onto the sofa. “I’m wondering if I’m in my right mind,” she sobbed, “for yesterday I did not even dare think of these things I am saying to you now! But — somehow — even while Captain Herrendene was speaking — it all flashed into my mind. I don’t know how I knew it, but I suddenly understood that you belonged to me — just as you are, Jim — all the good, all the evil in you — everything — even your intentions toward me — how you may deal with me — all, all belonged to me! And so I went back to you, to help you. And now I have said this thing — for your sake alone, not for my own — only so that in years to come you may not have me on your conscience. For if you do not marry me — and I let myself really love you — you will wish that the beginning was to be begun again, and that we had loved each other — otherwise.”
He came over and stood looking down at her for a moment. His lips were twitching.
“Would you marry me now,” he managed to say, “now, after you know what a contemptible cad I am?”
“You are only a man. I love you, Jim. I will marry you — if you’ll let me — —”
Suddenly she covered her eyes with her hands. He seated himself beside her, sick with self-contempt, dumb, not daring to touch her where she crouched, trembling in every limb.
For a long while they remained so, in utter silence; then the doorbell startled them. Jacqueline fled to her room; Desboro composed himself with a desperate effort and went out into the hall.
He welcomed his guests on the steps when Farris opened the door, outwardly master of himself once more.
“We came over early, Jim,” explained Daisy, “because Uncle John is giving a dinner and father and mother need the car. Do you mind?”
He laughed and shook hands with her and Elena, who looked intently and unsmilingly into his face, and then let her expressionless glance linger for a moment on her husband, who was holding out a huge hand to Desboro.
“I’m glad to see you, Clydesdale,” said Desboro pleasantly, and took that bulky gentleman’s outstretched hand, who mumbled something incoherent; but the fixed grin remained. And that was the discomforting — yes, the dismaying — characteristic of the man — his grin never seemed to be affected by his emotions.
Mrs. Quant bobbed away upstairs, piloting Daisy and Elena. Clydesdale followed Desboro to the library — the same room where he had discovered his wife that evening, and had learned in what esteem she held the law that bound her to him. Both men thought of it now — could not avoid remembering it. Also, by accident, they were seated very nearly as they had been seated that night, Clydesdale filling the armchair with his massive figure, Desboro sitting on the edge of the table, one foot resting on the floor.
Farris brought whiskey; both men shook their heads.
“Will you have a cigar, Clydesdale?” asked the younger man.
“Thanks.”
They smoked in silence for a few moments, then:
“I’m glad you came,” said Desboro simply.
“Yes. Men don’t usually raise that sort of hell with each other unless a woman starts it.”
“Don’t talk that way about your wife,” said Desboro sharply.
“See here, young man, I have no illusions concerning my wife. What happened here was her doing, not yours. I knew it at the time — if I didn’t admit it. You behaved well — and you’ve behaved well ever since — only it hurt me too much to tell you so before to-day.”
“That’s all right, Clydesdale — —”
“Yes, it is going to be all right now, I guess.” A curious expression flitted across his red features, softening the grin for a moment. “I always liked you, Desboro; and Elena and I were staying with the Hammertons, so she told that Daisy girl to ask you to invite us. That’s all there is to it.”
“Good business!” said Desboro, smiling. “I’m glad it’s all clear between us.”
“Yes, it’s clear sailing now, I guess.” Again the curiously softening expression made his heavy red features almost attractive, and he remained silent for a while, occupied with thoughts that seemed to be pleasant ones.
Then, abruptly emerging from his revery, he grinned at Desboro:
“So Mrs. Hammerton has our pretty friend Miss Nevers in tow,” he said. “Fine girl, Desboro. She’s been at my collection, you know, fixing it up for the hammer.”
“So you are really going to sell?” inquired Desboro.
“I don’t know. I was going to. But I’m taking a new interest in my hobby since — —” he reddened, then added very simply, “since Elena and I have been getting on better together.”
“Sure,” nodded Desboro, gravely understanding him.
“Yes — it’s about like that, Desboro. Things were rotten bad up to that night. And afterward, too, for a while. They’re clearing up a little better, I think. We’re going to get on together, I believe. I don’t know much about women; never liked ’em much — except Elena. It’s funny about Miss Nevers, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Hammerton’s being so crazy about her. She’s a good girl, and a pretty one. Elena is wild to meet her.”
“Didn’t your wife ever meet her at your house?” asked Desboro dryly.
“When she was there appraising my jim-cracks? No. Elena has no use for my gallery or anybody who goes into it. Besides, until this morning she didn’t even know that Miss Nevers was the same expert you employed. Now she wants to meet her.”
Desboro slowly raised his eyes and looked at Clydesdale. The unvaried grin baffled him, and presently he glanced elsewhere.
Clydesdale, smoking, slowly crossed one ponderous leg over the other. Desboro continued to gaze out of the window. Neither spoke again until Daisy Hammerton came in with Elena. If the young wife remembered the somewhat lurid circumstances of her last appearance in that room, her animated and smiling face betrayed no indication of embarrassment.
“When is that gay company of yours going to return, Jim?” she demanded. “I am devoured by curiosity to meet this beautiful Miss Nevers. Fancy her coming to my house half a dozen times this winter and I never suspecting that my husband’s porcelain gallery concealed such a combination of genius and beauty! I could have bitten somebody’s head off in vexation,” she rattled on, “when I found out who she was. So I made Daisy ask you to invite us to meet her. Is she so unusually wonderful, Jim?”
“I believe so,” he said drily.
“They say every man who meets her falls in love with her immediately — and that most of the women do, too,” appealing to Daisy, who nodded smiling corroboration.
“She is very lovely and very clever, Elena. I think I never saw anything more charming than that rainbow dance she did for us last night in Chinese costume,” turning to Desboro, “‘The Rainbow Skirt,’ I think it is called?”
“A dance some centuries old,” said Desboro, and let his careless glance rest on Elena for a moment.
“She looked,” said Daisy, “like some exquisite Chinese figure made of rose-quartz, crystal and green jade.”
“Jade?” said Clydesdale, immediately interested. “That girl knows jades, I can tell you. By gad! The first thing she did when she walked into my gallery was to saw into a few glass ones with a file; and good-night to about a thousand dollars in Japanese phony!”
“That was pleasant,” said Desboro, laughing.
“Wasn’t it! And my rose-quartz Fêng-huang! The Chia-Ching period of the Ming dynasty! Do you get me, Desboro? It was Jap!”
“Really?”
Clydesdale brought down his huge fist with a thump on the table:
“I wouldn’t believe it! I told Miss Nevers she didn’t know her business! I asked her to consider the fact that the crystallisation was rhombohedral, the prisms six-sided, hardness 7, specific gravity 2.6, no trace of cleavage, immune to the three acids or the blow-pipe alone, and reacted with soda in the flame. I thought I knew it all, you see. First she called my attention to the colour. ‘Sure,’ I said, ‘it’s a little faded; but rose-quartz fades when exposed to light!’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘but moisture restores it.’ So we tried it. Nix doing! Only a faint rusty stain becoming visible and infecting that delicious rose colour. ‘Help!’ said I. ‘What the devil is it?’ ‘Jap funny business,’ said she. ‘Your rose-quartz phoenix of the Ming dynasty is common yellow crystal carved in Japan and dyed that beautiful rose tint with something, the composition of which my chemist is investigating!’ Wasn’t it horrible, Desboro?”
Daisy’s brown eyes were very wide open, and she exclaimed softly:
“What a beautiful knowledge she has of a beautiful profession!” And to Desboro: “Can you imagine anything in the world more fascinating than to use such knowledge? And how in the world did she acquire it? She is so very young to know so much!”
“Her father began her training as a child,” said Desboro. There was a slight burning sensation in his face, and a hotter pride within him. After a second or two he felt Elena’s gaze; but did not choose to encounter it at the moment, and was turning to speak to Daisy Hammerton when Jacqueline entered the library.
Clydesdale lumbered to his feet and tramped over to shake hands with her; Daisy greeted her cordially; she and Elena were presented, and stood smiling at each other for a second’s silence. Then Mrs. Clydesdale moved a single step forward, and Jacqueline crossed to her and offered her hand, looking straight into her eyes so frankly and intently that Elena’s colour rose and for once in her life her tongue remained silent.
“Your husband and I are already business acquaintances,” said Jacqueline. “I know your very beautiful gallery, too, and have had the privilege of identifying and classifying many of the jades and porcelains.”
Elena’s eyes were level and cool as she said: “If I had known who you were I would have received you myself. You must not think me rude. Mr. Desboro’s unnecessary reticence concerning you is to blame; not I.”
Jacqueline’s smile became mechanical: “Mr. Desboro’s reticence concerning a business acquaintance was very natural. A busy woman neither expects nor even thinks about social amenities under business circumstances.”
“‘Business is kinder to men than women sometimes believe’”
Elena’s flush deepened: “Business is kinder to men than women sometimes believe — if it permits acquaintance with such delightful people as yourself.”
Jacqueline said calmly: “All business has its compensations,” — she smiled and made a friendly little salute with her head to Clydesdale and Desboro,— “as you will witness for me. And I am employed by other clients who also are considerate and kind. So you see the woman who works has scarcely any time to suffer from social isolation.”
Daisy said lightly: “Nobody who is happily employed worries over social matters. Intelligence and sweet temper bring more friends than a busy girl knows what to do with. Isn’t that so, Miss Nevers?”
Jacqueline turned to Elena with a little laugh: “It’s an axiom that nobody can have too many friends. I want all I can have, Mrs. Clydesdale, and am most grateful when people like me.”
“And when they don’t,” asked Elena, smiling, “what do you do then, Miss Nevers?”
“What is there to do, Mrs. Clydesdale?” she said gaily. “What would you do about it?”
But Elena seemed not to have heard her, for she was already turning to Desboro, flushed, almost feverish in her animation:
“So many things have happened since I saw you, Jim — —” she hesitated, then added daringly, “at the opera. Do you remember Ariane?”
“I think you were in the Barkley’s box,” he said coolly.
“Your memory is marvellous! In point of fact, I was there. And since then so many, many things have happened that I’d like to compare notes with you — sometime.”
“I’m quite ready now,” he said.
“Do you think your daily record fit for public scrutiny, Jim?” she laughed.
“I don’t mind sharing it with anybody here,” he retorted gaily, “if you have no objection.”
His voice and hers, and their laughter seemed so perfectly frank that thrust and parry pa
ssed as without significance. She and Desboro were still lightly rallying each other; Clydesdale was explaining to Daisy that lapis lazuli was the sapphire of the ancients, while Jacqueline was showing her a bit under a magnifying glass, when the noise of sleighs and motors outside signalled the return of the skating party.
As Desboro passed her, Elena said under her breath: “I want a moment alone with you this evening.”
“It’s impossible,” he motioned with his lips; and passed on with a smile of welcome for his returning guests.
Later, in the billiard room, where they all had gathered before the impromptu dance which usually terminated the evening, Elena found another chance for a word aside: “Jim, I must speak to you alone, please.”
“It can’t be done. You see that for yourself, don’t you?”
“It can be done. Go to your room and I’ll come — —”
“Are you mad?”
“Almost. I tell you you’d better find some way — —”
“What has happened?”
“I mean to have you tell me, Jim.”
A dull flush came into his face: “Oh! Well, I’ll tell you now, if you like.”
Her heart seemed to stop for a second, then almost suffocated her, and she instinctively put her hand to her throat.
He was leaning over the pool table, idly spinning the ivory balls; she, seated on the edge, one pretty, bare arm propping her body, appeared to be watching him as idly. All around them rang the laughter and animated chatter of his guests, sipping their after-dinner coffee and cordial around the huge fireplace.
“Don’t say — that you are going to — Jim — —” she breathed. “It isn’t true — it mustn’t be — —”
He interrupted deliberately: “What are you trying to do to me? Make a servant out of me? Chain me up while you pass your life deciding at leisure whether to live with your husband or involve yourself and me in scandal?”
“Are you in love with that girl — after what you have promised me?”
“Are you sane or crazy?”
“You once told me you would never marry. I have rested secure in the knowledge that when the inevitable crash came you would be free to stand by me!”
“You have a perfectly good husband. You and he are on better terms — you are getting on all right together. Do you expect to keep me tied to the table-leg in case of eventualities?” he said, in a savage whisper. “How many men do you wish to control?”
“One! I thought a Desboro never lied.”
“Have I lied to you?”
“If you marry Miss Nevers you will have lied to me, Jim.”
“Very well. Then you’ll release me from that fool of a promise. I remember I did say that I would never marry. I’ve changed my mind, that’s all. I’ve changed otherwise, too — please God! The cad you knew as James Desboro is not exactly what you’re looking at now. It’s in me to be something remotely resembling a man. I learned how to try from her, if you want to know. What I was can’t be helped. What I’m to make of the débris of what I am concerns myself. If you ever had a shred of real liking for me you’ll show it now.”
“Jim! Is this how you betray me — after persuading me to continue a shameful and ghastly farce with Cary Clydesdale! You have betrayed me — for your own ends! You have made my life a living lie again — so that you could evade responsibility — —”
