The Daughter Pays Part 54

He put out his hands and gently turned her so that she stood facing him. "Do you suppose that, loving you as I do, I could bear to take you in my arms when I knew that you were fighting your natural inclination in order not to flinch from my touch?" he demanded.

She sighed, as if she felt that he was trying her too hard, but she made no attempt to shake off his light hold. Through her thin sleeves she felt the warmth of his hands. She felt, too, the slight vibration which, now that she understood, indicated to her the curb that he was using. Suddenly she gave a little gasping laugh, flas.h.i.+ng a glance up at him.

"Osbert, if you know all about it, tell me--how does one fall in love?"

"How?" he stammered, for a moment at a loss.

"Why did you show me this?" she whispered, moving the least bit nearer to him, as she indicated the statue. "You mean me to see that love is--is a thing that masters you?"

He signified a.s.sent without speech.

"Well, well, master me, then! _Make me understand!_"

He loosed her arms, to stretch out his own. With them thus, almost encircling her, but not touching her, he paused, searching her downbent face. "But the risk," he cried, "you might hate me!... And even this--even what I have endured since you came back to me, would be better than have you loathe me."

"You can but try," she managed to stammer, with broken voice; and the words were stifled upon her lips by the pressure of his own, as he s.n.a.t.c.hed her to his heart.

This once only was his thought. This once, if never again! This once, even though she were merely pa.s.sive, for such invitation could not be foregone. Nay, he must have yielded, even in face of her resistance ...

but she did not resist. She lay at first pa.s.sive in his hold, while he covered her face, her hair with kisses.... Then, when once more he touched her mouth, he could feel her response. She answered his lips with the free gift of her own. She gave him kiss for kiss ... and time slid out of sight for a while.

His first coherent words were something like these:

"But it can't be. How could it be? How could any woman forgive what I made you endure? Even if I were an attractive man, instead of a lame bear."

They were sitting side by side upon the Chesterfield, and as he spoke, Virginia raised her head from his shoulder and contemplated him.

"It is curious," she replied, in tones of candid wonder, "but you know I always thought somehow that this might be. Only things were so strange afterwards, I never could be sure."

"That sounds a bit cryptic," he commented, amused. "Can you explain?"

She smiled with something like mischief. "Are you still certain that you know all about it and I nothing?"

"All about what, in the name of all the elves?"

"About falling in love."

"I know nothing at all about it, except as a man who has tumbled down a precipice knows that he is down."

"Well, I rather think that I am better informed. Shall I try to tell you about it? Quite a long story. I must be careful not to 'prattle.'

Ah, Osbert, don't look so! You must let me tease."

"Every time you stab me in the back like that you will have to pay for it in kisses."

"If that's so, I must be careful. But let me begin at the beginning.

That fatal day at Hertford House, when you followed us about, your face made a queer impression upon me. I don't mean that I liked it--I didn't, so you need not begin to plume yourself. It was simply that I could not forget it. You had done something to me, though we barely spoke. All the rest of the day, and even when I was at the theatre that evening, the memory of your face, and specially of your eyes, kept swimming into my fancy. When I went to bed I dreamed of you. The shocking part is now to come. Perhaps you won't believe it. _I dreamed exactly what has just happened._ I thought we were standing just beside this statue, only, of course, in my dream we were in the Gallery; and at the time I wondered how it was that I could see a garden outside, through the window, you said: 'I am quite a stranger, but may I kiss you?' I answered, 'Remember that if you do, it can never be undone.' Then you--you did."

"I did?"

"Yes; and, in the dream, _I liked it!_"

"Virgie!"

"It's true. When I awoke, of course, I just thought it was absurd and silly, as dreams are. But I could not forget it. The dream haunted me, as your face had haunted me. When mother came home from meeting you in town, and told me that you were the man in the Gallery, and that you wanted to marry me, I was such a conceited p.u.s.s.y-cat that after the first surprise I thought it really probable that you had fallen in love at first sight."

"Is it possible?"

"Oh, don't make any mistake. I would not have dreamed of saying 'Yes'

if I had not been so beaten down and driven into a corner. But I do think the dream turned the scale. I said to mother that, if, when you came, you turned out to be a person whom I felt I could never like, I should refuse. Then you came. I kept thinking of the ridiculous dream all the time; and when you mentioned the statue--do you remember?--I actually thought that you must have dreamed the same thing. I felt as if you were talking a language that you and I understood: as if you knew that you could convey a secret meaning to me--a message--without words. Oh, it is so difficult to explain, but I felt that----"

"Yes? For pity's sake go on!"

"As if one day I might come to like you very much."

"As much as this?" he whispered.

"Oh, I never thought--I never imagined, _this_."

There was a little silence.

"And then," he sighed at last, "into the midst of your timid, hopeful sweetness, fell the bomb-sh.e.l.l of my brutality."

She laughed as in scorn at herself. "It _was_ unexpected," she owned. "I was so sure that you wanted to make love to me and didn't know how to begin. And I was so afraid of you, and growing more and more so every minute. Oh, Osbert, I _did_ suffer."

"Not as I did, for there was no remorse in your agony of mind."

"But there was. I thought I had done so wrong to marry you."

"And I--the moment I read your letter to Pansy, and hers to you, I knew what I had done. I wanted to tell you, but how could I? All one night I wandered about in the rain----"

"It was the very night, I believe, that I had my second dream. In that, you came and spoke to me quite kindly and tenderly. You said: 'All that is happening now is the dream. Those kisses that I once gave you are the reality.' I awoke, feeling so happy and all excited inside--do you know the feeling? It was dreadful to find it just a dream. Ah, I was miserable, what with the torment of Pansy being so ill ... and if I had but known it, you were longing to comfort me!"

"Oh," he muttered, "but I did feel abject! I could have crawled to your foot and begged you to set it on my head."

"I am glad you did not. I like you much better as you are now--fresh from a deed of heroism which will make the whole county buzz with your name for weeks to come."

"Oh, great Scott!" in sudden consternation, "I never thought of that!"

"Shall you grudge me my celebrated husband?"

He laughed audibly, a thing so rare that the very sound thrilled her.

"You are too adorable! It can't be true! I shall awake." ...

"Did you ever dream about me?" she whispered when again he released her.

"Night after night. I was always just on the point of making you understand, but it never came off."

"Well, I dreamed of you one more time. That makes three. It was at Worthing, just before I came back to you, and I thought I was searching for you everywhere, all about this house. I told you part of it the other day--about my dreaming of the alterations in this room. But I didn't tell you how it went on. I wandered out into the garden, and presently you came to me, out of a thick mist, and your eyes were shut.