gerard was very greatly assisted in this determination by the fact that he had received an invitation to spend the month of august and the beginning of september with his uncle in norfolk. and although it cannot be said that he succeeded in forgetting miss davison while he was away, yet in the enjoyment of his holiday he was able to believe that he had cured himself of what he was ready to call his infatuation about a girl whom he could not but look upon as better forgotten.
again and again he argued with himself, trying to find out some possible reason for her conduct compatible with her being as honorable and noble a woman as he had at first supposed.
but stern facts stood in the way on all sides, and he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that the less he thought about her the better it would be for his peace of mind.
and then, after six weeks of pleasant country life, disturbed indeed now and then by recollections of rachel, and vague longings to see her again and to probe the mysterious depths of her wayward nature, he returned to town, and straightway fell deeper into the toils than ever.
[202]it happened in this way. gerard was with a party of his country friends and relations at the earl’s court exhibition one evening, and had just finished dining with them at one of the restaurants, when, as he smoked a cigarette by himself outside, he caught sight of rachel davison and denver van santen, walking slowly together. the young man was talking very earnestly, and bending down to look into her face, while rachel, as far as gerard could see, was listening to him without displeasure.
in an instant all his good resolutions, his wise resignation, disappeared. he was filled with the maddest jealousy of the handsome american; and no amount of philosophical sneers at women availed him when he looked at the girl who, after an absence of six weeks, seemed to him ten times handsomer than she had ever looked before.
her black dress, of some clinging material, richly embroidered with black chenille and jet, had long sleeves and a vest of tucked chiffon of the palest pink; and her large black hat, trimmed with a cluster of black ostrich tips and with one pale pink rose under the brim, suited her handsome face to perfection.
a cape of some soft black material, lined with tucked pink chiffon, completed her costume, which, as usual with her, was carefully studied down to the well-cut, high-heeled black shoes and black silk stockings, and the glimpse of a pale pink underskirt[203] trimmed with chiffon of the same color that was shown as she held up her dress.
in vain gerard told himself that he was glad to have seen her with denver van santen, that now he could go his way with an easy mind, secure in the knowledge that rachel davison was merely a friend and accomplice of thieves, shop-lifters, and other undesirable persons, and that the very fact of her allowing herself to be made love to by this swaggering gamester proved conclusively how unfit she was to be loved by any honest man.
the fiercer he grew as he told himself these things, the more savagely he watched the two as they sauntered among the people, and at last joined a large group, among whom gerard recognized the pale face and simple gray silk gown of cora van santen, and the homely features of her mother, who, good soul, looked more out of place than ever, in her old-fashioned large bonnet and heavy dolman, among the crowds of well-dressed women around her.
as before at the priory, the family was surrounded by smart english people, of whom gerard recognized two or three. one was sir william gurdon, who was talking eagerly to delia, and another was arthur aldington, who could not tear himself away from cora.
gerard watched them from a distance, but did not go near them.
he saw that denver could not leave rachel’s side,[204] and that she, instead of resenting his persistent attentions, appeared to be encouraging him.
but the firmness with which he told himself that he was glad, and that now he could whistle her off and leave her to her undesirable friends, soon left him; and on the very first opportunity, when he saw rachel for a moment on the outside of the crowd formed by the americans and their friends, he pounced upon her, and suddenly presenting himself like a brigand rather than a casually met friend, said between his clenched teeth—
“i must speak to you. i will.”
he expected to be snubbed, to be dismissed more or less coldly; but, to his surprise, rachel turned very white, as she always did when excited, and then flushed a little, and said—
“very well. we can come back to mrs. van santen afterwards.”
she walked away with him at a rapid pace, so that they were soon lost to the sight of her friends, and mingling in the general crowd.
the night was fine and warm, and the gardens were full. it was without the slightest difficulty that they got the opportunity gerard wanted, of speaking to her from the depths of his heart.
“why do you let that fellow talk to you? do you care for him?” he asked, conscious as he spoke that he was using a tone which, considering all the circumstances, was as unjustifiable as it was absurd.
[205]“i couldn’t help his talking to me, mr. buckland. i was staying with his people before i went abroad with my mother, and i am visiting them again now.”
“do you care for him?”
“i like them all; and as for mr. denver, he wants me to marry him.”
“to marry him! and you are going to?”
she hesitated.
“i haven’t given him any answer yet.”
“of course i know i have no right to ask.”
he was trembling, and trying hard to speak in a quiet and cool tone. he was conscious that, if his suspicions of her were well founded, there was nothing in the least extraordinary in her marrying the swaggering american, who, for that matter, was certainly what would have been called a good match, since he was the son of a rich man.
but the puzzle of the matter was that, knowing all that he knew, and suspecting all that he suspected, gerard felt that she was too good to throw herself away upon this fellow, whom he believed to be guilty of winning money from his guests, at least by dint of superior skill with the cards, if not by something less creditable.
away from her he might and did believe in the possibility of her complicity in crime; when in her presence he felt again that she was incapable of anything dishonorable or criminal.
[206]rachel drew a soft little sigh, which disarmed him completely. if he had thought her capable of deceit, of guilt a moment before, that sigh made him feel ashamed of such thoughts. he turned to her quickly. they were in a dark part of the gardens, where, standing beside her, with his face away from the light, he could speak at his ease.
“rachel,” he said, “i don’t believe you care for this fellow; i don’t believe you would marry him. will you marry me?”
as had happened more than once before, the sudden betrayal of his tenderness softened and unnerved her.
“oh, how can you ask me?” she burst out, in a hoarse whisper. “thinking as you do of me, why do you do it? it’s impossible that you can care for me, impossible that you mean what you say.”
the words, as she uttered them, sent shock after shock through him. at one moment her heart-rending tones made him feel smitten with remorse for doubting her; the next, a sort of shame, of humiliation in her voice revived his worst fears. he stood silent beside her for a space, unable to reply.
a smothered sob from her loosened his tongue. keeping quite still, so that a person might have passed close to them without noticing how vital was the subject of their conversation, how deeply moved they both were, he said—
“how do you know what i think? isn’t it enough[207] for you that i tell you i love you, that i ask you to be my wife? rachel you are miserable. you go and stay with these people, but you don’t care for them; you listen to this man, but you don’t like him, you never could like him. why do you pretend to? don’t tell me you mean to marry him: i know better. you don’t love him, and you don’t trust him: you can’t. but you’ve sometimes spoken, to me and to others, as if you did care a little for me. won’t you give up this feverish, miserable life that you are leading? won’t you be my wife, and rest and forget it all? you won’t make so much money as you are doing now. you won’t be able for a time at any rate, to wear such beautiful dresses as you do now; but you would be happier. i’m not very poor, and i love you, in spite of myself, in spite of—everything. will you give it all up, and give up these dubious american people, and learn to be happy? i could teach you, rachel, you know i could.”
she was moved, as she so easily was by his passionate attempts to solve the mystery of her life.
but she kept her self-control, and shook her head.
“don’t ask me,” she said, in a tremulous whisper; “it’s of no use. i can only say one thing: no, no, no.”
“why must you say that, if you feel that you would like to say something else, rachel? listen.[208] i know you are acting under orders. i know you are leading a life you hate, and that you are doing it because you are under the influence of a will stronger than your own. i know that you wish you could break away from it, that you would give the world to be free. and i know that something stronger than yourself holds you down and binds you, and forces you into ways that torture you, and into a life that is a living tomb for all that is best in you. rachel, rachel, tear yourself away from it—break loose; say you will be free, and with my help you will be.”
his words had the most extraordinary effect upon the girl. at the first mention of the superior power that held her in bondage, a violent convulsion seemed to pass through her frame, and though she uttered no sound, he knew that the unexpected blow had struck home. then she listened rigidly to the rest of his passionate speech, seeming to drink in his words with avidity, to find some painful, piteous pleasure in the expression of his belief, his entreaties. when he had let his voice die away and was waiting for her answer, she did not look at him, but he could hear her drawing her breath as if with difficulty, and he knew that she was going through a great, a pitiful struggle with herself.
he whispered again—
“rachel, won’t you do it? won’t you get free, and be my wife?”
[209]then she turned a startled face towards him in the half-darkness.
“i can’t marry you, mr. buckland,” she said tremulously. “i don’t deny i’m gratified by the feeling you have for me, though i know i don’t a bit deserve it. believe me, you would be miserable if i were to listen to you: i can imagine nothing more terrible for you than to have a wife like me, with a capricious and headstrong temper, and a will that leads her into all sorts of ways which she would perhaps have done better to avoid. so i thank you, but i can only give you one answer.”
he came a little nearer.
“rachel,” he said, “think again. think it all over quietly—to-night—by yourself, and then answer me afterwards. think whether you would not rather give up the life that makes you miserable, for the life which would make you happy. don’t answer me now; think it over first. will you?”
she hesitated. this proud, headstrong girl was always easily moved as a child when once he touched the right chord, as he seemed to be able to do at will.
“yes, yes, i will,” she said, in a timid tone, like a very, very young girl confronted by a difficult choice; “but i’m afraid—”
“don’t be afraid of anything yet. weigh what i’ve said against what others say, and decide which offers you the best chance of happiness.”
[210]there was a short silence, rachel trembling and not looking at him, he watching her with tender, imploring eyes.
suddenly there appeared between them the figure of denver van santen, and gerard started back a step with a shock.
“why, my dear girl,” said the swaggering american, “i didn’t know what had become of you. did you mean to give me the slip?”
as he spoke, he offered her his arm with an air of confident devotion which nettled gerard immensely.
and without so much as a glance at the timid, passionate english lover, whose look and attitude were eloquently expressive of his feelings, miss davison put her hand caressingly through denver’s proffered arm.
“of course i didn’t,” she said, in a very much more openly affectionate tone than she had ever used to gerard. “how could you think i would do such a thing, denver?”
raising his hat mechanically, gerard stepped back, with a look on his face as if he had been stabbed to the heart.
