The Keeper of the Door Part 47

CHAPTER XIX

THE REVELATION

It was certainly a perfect day for a cruise. The sea lay blue and still as a lake, so clear that the rocks made purple shadows in its crystal depths. Under any other circ.u.mstances, Olga would have revelled in the beauty of it, but there was no enjoyment for her that day. She stood on the deck of the yacht as she steamed away from the jetty, and watched the uneven sh.o.r.e recede with a feeling of impotence that was not without an element of fear. For it seemed to her that she was a prisoner, looking her last upon the liberty of her youth.

The vessel was of no inconsiderable size and moved swiftly through the still water, cleaving her way like a bird through s.p.a.ce. It was not long before they pa.s.sed the jutting headland that hid the little fis.h.i.+ng-village from view; but Olga still stood motionless at the rail, fighting down the cold dread at her heart.

She could hear Violet's voice on the other side of the deck, gaily chattering to Hunt-Goring. The scent of their cigarettes reached her, and she clenched her hands. She was sure now that he had been supplying Violet with them secretly. She had been too deeply engrossed with her own affairs to think of this before, and bitterly did she blame herself for this absorption.

Poor Olga! It was the prelude to a life-long self-reproach.

They were heading out to sea now, running smoothly into the glaring suns.h.i.+ne. It poured upon her mercilessly where she stood, but she was scarcely aware of it. She gazed backward at the sh.o.r.e with eyes that saw not.

Suddenly a soft voice spoke at her shoulder. "What! Still sulking? Do you know you are remarkably like a boy?"

She turned with a great start, meeting the eyes she feared. "I don't know what you mean," she said, drawing sharply back.

He laughed his smooth, easy laugh. "I mean that you are behaving like a cub in need of chastis.e.m.e.nt. Do you seriously think I am going to put up with it--from a chit like you?"

She looked him up and down with a single flas.h.i.+ng glance of clear scorn.

"How much do you think I am going to put up with?" she said.

He leaned his arms upon the rail in an att.i.tude of supreme complacence.

"I may be the villain of the piece," he observed, "but I have no desire to be melodramatic. I have come over here to talk to you quietly and sensibly about the future. Of course if you--"

"What have you to do with my future?" she thrust in fiercely. She would have given all she had to be calm at that moment, but calmness was beyond her. Though her fear had utterly departed, she was quivering with indignation from head to foot.

Hunt-Goring kept his face turned downwards towards the swirl of water that leaped by them. He was quite plainly prepared for the question.

"Since you ask me," he responded coolly, "I should say--a good deal."

"In what way?" she demanded.

She could see that he was still smiling--that maddening, perpetual smile, and she thought that her sheer abhorrence of the man would choke her. But with all her throbbing strength she held herself in check.

He did not answer her at once. She waited, compelling herself to silence.

At length quite calmly he turned and faced her. "Well now, Olga, listen to me," he said. "I am a good deal older than you are, but I am still capable of a certain amount of foolishness. What I am now going to say to you, I have wanted to say for some time, but you have been so absurdly shy with me that--as you perceive--I have been obliged to resort to strategy to obtain a hearing."

He paused, for Olga had suddenly gripped the rail as if she needed support. Her face was deathly, but out of it the pale eyes blazed in fierce questioning.

"What do you mean?" she said. "What strategy?"

He laid his hand upon hers and gripped it hard. "Don't be hysterical!"

he said. "I am paying you the compliment of treating you like a woman of sense."

She shrank away from him, but he continued to grip her hand with brutal force till the pain of it reached her consciousness and sent the blood upwards to her face. Then he let her go.

"Yes," he said coolly, "I have been laying my mine for some time now. It has not been particularly easy or particularly pleasant, but since I considered you worth a little trouble I did not grudge it. The long and the short of it is this: I fell in love with you last winter. You may remember that I caught your brothers poaching on my ground, and you came to me to beg them off. Well, I granted your request--for a consideration. You may remember the consideration also. You had been at great pains to snub me until that episode. I made you pay for the snubbing. I imposed a fine--do you remember?"

"I have loathed you ever since," she broke in.

"Oh, yes," he said. "I know that. That was what started the mischief. I am so const.i.tuted that resistance is but fuel to the flame. In that respect I believe I am not unique. It is a by no means remarkable trait of the masculine character, you will find. Well, I made you pay. It was to be two kisses, was it not? You gave me one, and then for some reason you fled. That left you in my debt."

"It is a debt I will never pay!" she declared pa.s.sionately. "I will die first!"

He laughed. There was something in his eyes--something intolerable--that made her avert her own in spite of herself. In desperation she glanced around for Violet.

"She is asleep," said Hunt-Goring.

She turned on him then like a fury. "You mean you have drugged her!" she cried.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Not to that extent. You can wake her if you wish, but I think you had better hear me out first--for her sake also.

It is better for all parties that we should come to a clear understanding."

With immense effort she controlled herself. "Very well. What do you wish me to understand?"

"Simply this," said Hunt-Goring. "I know very well that your engagement to Wyndham was simply a move in the game, and that you have not the faintest intention of marrying him. That is so, I think?"

She was silent, taken by surprise.

"I thought so," he continued. "You see, I am not so easy to hoodwink.

And now I am going to act up to my villain's _role_ and break that engagement of yours--which is no engagement. To put it quite shortly and comprehensibly--I am going to marry you myself."

She stared at him in gasping astonishment. "You!" she said. "You!"

He laughed into her eyes of horror. "You will soon get used to the idea," he said. "You see, Wyndham doesn't really want you, and I do.

That is the one extenuating circ.u.mstance of my villainy. I want you so badly that I don't much care what steps I take to get you. And so long as you continue to hate me as heartily as you do now, just by so much shall I continue to want you. Is that quite plain?"

She was still staring at him in open repulsion. "And you think I would marry you?" she said breathlessly. "You think I would marry you?"

"I think you will have to," said Hunt-Goring, with his silky laugh. "I love you, you see." He added, after a moment, "I shan't be unkind to you if you behave reasonably. I am well off. I can give you practically anything you want. Of course you will have to give also; but that goes without saying. The point is, how soon can we be married?"

"Never!" she cried vehemently. "Never! Never!"

He looked at her, and again her eyes fell; but she continued, nevertheless, with less of violence but more of force.

"I don't know what you mean by suggesting such a thing. I think you must be quite mad--as I should be if I took you seriously. I am not going to marry you, Major Hunt-Goring. I have never liked you, and I never shall.

You force me to speak plainly, and so I am telling you the simple truth."

"Thank you," said Hunt-Goring. "Well, now, let us see if I can persuade you to change your mind."

"You will never do that," she said quickly.