The Pit [125]
you to see me again? Why will you make me more unhappy than I am? Why did you come back?"
"Because," he answered, steadily, "because I love you more than"--he partly raised a clenched fist and let it fall slowly upon the back of the chair," more than any other consideration in the world."
"Don't!" she cried. "You must not. Never, never say that to me again. Will you go--please?"
"Oh, if I had not gone from you four years ago!" he cried. "If I had only stayed then! Not a day of my life since that I have not regretted it. You could have loved me then. I know it, I know it, and, God forgive me, but I know you could love me now----"
"Will you go?" she cried.
"I dare you to say you could not," he flashed out
Laura shut her eyes and put her hands over her ears. "I could not, I could not," she murmured, monotonously, over and over again. "I could not, I could not."
She heard him start suddenly, and opened her eyes in time to see him come quickly towards her. She threw out a defensive hand, but he caught the arm itself to him and, before she could resist, had kissed it again and again through the interstices of the lace sleeve. Upon her bare shoulder she felt the sudden passion of his lips.
A quick, sharp gasp, a sudden qualm of breathlessness wrenched through her, to her very finger tips, with a fierce leap of the blood, a wild bound of the heart.
She tore back from him with a violence that rent away the lace upon her arm, and stood off from him, erect and rigid, a fine, delicate, trembling vibrating through all her being. On her pale cheeks the colour suddenly flamed.
"Go, go," was all she had voice to utter.
"And may I see you once more--only once?"
"Yes, yes, anything, only go, go--if you love me!"
He left the room. In another moment she heard the front door close.
"Curtis," said Laura, when next she saw her husband, "Curtis, you could not--stay with me, that last time. Remember? When we were to go for a drive. Can you spend this evening with me? Just us two, here at home-- or I'll go out with you. I'll do anything you say." She looked at him steadily an instant. "It is not--not easy for a woman to ask--for me to ask favours like this. Each time I tell myself it will be the last. I am--you must remember this, Curtis, I am--perhaps I am a little proud. Don't you see?"
They were at breakfast table again. It was the morning after Laura had given Corthell his dismissal. As she spoke Jadwin brought his hand down upon the table with a bang.
"You bet I will," he exclaimed; "you bet I'll stay with you to-night. Business can go to the devil! And we won't go out either; we'll stay right here. You get something to read to me, and we'll have one of our old evenings again. We----"
All at once Jadwin paused, laid down his knife and fork, and looked strangely to and fro about the room.
"We'll have one of our old evenings again," he repeated, slowly.
"What is it, Curtis?" demanded his wife. "What is the matter?"
"Oh--nothing," he answered.
"Why, yes there was. Tell me."
"No, no. I'm all right now," he returned, briskly enough.
"No," she insisted. "You must tell me. Are you sick?"
He hesitated a moment. Then:
"Sick?" he queried. "No, indeed. But--I'll tell you. Since a few days I've had," he put his fingers to his forehead between his eyes, "I've had a queer sensation right there. It comes and goes."
"A headache?"
"N-no. It's hard to describe. A sort of numbness. Sometimes it's as though there was a heavy iron cap--a helmet on my head. And sometimes it--I don't know it seems as if there were fog, or something or other, inside. I'll take a good long rest this summer, as soon as we can get away. Another month or six weeks, and I'll have things ship-shape and so as I can leave them. Then we'll go up to Geneva, and, by Jingo, I'll loaf." He was silent for a moment, frowning, passing his hand across his forehead and winking his eyes. Then, with a return of his usual alertness, he looked at his watch.
"Hi!" he exclaimed.
"Because," he answered, steadily, "because I love you more than"--he partly raised a clenched fist and let it fall slowly upon the back of the chair," more than any other consideration in the world."
"Don't!" she cried. "You must not. Never, never say that to me again. Will you go--please?"
"Oh, if I had not gone from you four years ago!" he cried. "If I had only stayed then! Not a day of my life since that I have not regretted it. You could have loved me then. I know it, I know it, and, God forgive me, but I know you could love me now----"
"Will you go?" she cried.
"I dare you to say you could not," he flashed out
Laura shut her eyes and put her hands over her ears. "I could not, I could not," she murmured, monotonously, over and over again. "I could not, I could not."
She heard him start suddenly, and opened her eyes in time to see him come quickly towards her. She threw out a defensive hand, but he caught the arm itself to him and, before she could resist, had kissed it again and again through the interstices of the lace sleeve. Upon her bare shoulder she felt the sudden passion of his lips.
A quick, sharp gasp, a sudden qualm of breathlessness wrenched through her, to her very finger tips, with a fierce leap of the blood, a wild bound of the heart.
She tore back from him with a violence that rent away the lace upon her arm, and stood off from him, erect and rigid, a fine, delicate, trembling vibrating through all her being. On her pale cheeks the colour suddenly flamed.
"Go, go," was all she had voice to utter.
"And may I see you once more--only once?"
"Yes, yes, anything, only go, go--if you love me!"
He left the room. In another moment she heard the front door close.
"Curtis," said Laura, when next she saw her husband, "Curtis, you could not--stay with me, that last time. Remember? When we were to go for a drive. Can you spend this evening with me? Just us two, here at home-- or I'll go out with you. I'll do anything you say." She looked at him steadily an instant. "It is not--not easy for a woman to ask--for me to ask favours like this. Each time I tell myself it will be the last. I am--you must remember this, Curtis, I am--perhaps I am a little proud. Don't you see?"
They were at breakfast table again. It was the morning after Laura had given Corthell his dismissal. As she spoke Jadwin brought his hand down upon the table with a bang.
"You bet I will," he exclaimed; "you bet I'll stay with you to-night. Business can go to the devil! And we won't go out either; we'll stay right here. You get something to read to me, and we'll have one of our old evenings again. We----"
All at once Jadwin paused, laid down his knife and fork, and looked strangely to and fro about the room.
"We'll have one of our old evenings again," he repeated, slowly.
"What is it, Curtis?" demanded his wife. "What is the matter?"
"Oh--nothing," he answered.
"Why, yes there was. Tell me."
"No, no. I'm all right now," he returned, briskly enough.
"No," she insisted. "You must tell me. Are you sick?"
He hesitated a moment. Then:
"Sick?" he queried. "No, indeed. But--I'll tell you. Since a few days I've had," he put his fingers to his forehead between his eyes, "I've had a queer sensation right there. It comes and goes."
"A headache?"
"N-no. It's hard to describe. A sort of numbness. Sometimes it's as though there was a heavy iron cap--a helmet on my head. And sometimes it--I don't know it seems as if there were fog, or something or other, inside. I'll take a good long rest this summer, as soon as we can get away. Another month or six weeks, and I'll have things ship-shape and so as I can leave them. Then we'll go up to Geneva, and, by Jingo, I'll loaf." He was silent for a moment, frowning, passing his hand across his forehead and winking his eyes. Then, with a return of his usual alertness, he looked at his watch.
"Hi!" he exclaimed.