A Woman's Will Part 63

"I've just heard from Von Ibn," he said briefly.

"Is that letter from him?"

"No; he's not writing any letters these days."

"Oh--" she began, and then stopped.

He kept his back towards her, and then, after a short pause:

"He's going all to pieces," he said in a low tone, very slowly.

"Oh--" she exclaimed again, and again stopped.

"I reckon he's pretty badly off; he's got beyond himself. He's--well, he's--. Rosina, the long and short of it is, he's gone crazy!"

She rose slowly out of her seat, her face deadly white, her finger-nails turned cruelly into her palms.

"Jack!" she stammered; "Jack!"

He continued to look from the window.

"I knew he'd take it awfully hard," he said, in a voice that sounded strained, "but I didn't think he'd give up so completely; he's--"

Then she screamed, reaching forth and touching his hand.

"You're not breaking it to me that he's dead! You're not telling me that he's dead!"

He turned from the window at that, and was shocked at her face and the way that her hands were twisting.

"I know he's dead!" she screamed again, and he sprang forward and caught her in his arms as she sank down there at his knees.

"He is _not_ dead!" he told her forcefully; "honestly, he is _not_ dead!

But he's in a bad way, and with it all just as it is, I don't know what to do about you. If you don't care, why, as I said before, it's not our funeral; but if you do care, I--well, I--"

"Oh, Jack, can I go to him? I must go to him! Can't you take me to him?"

She writhed in his arms as if she also was become a maniac.

"Do you really want to go to him? Do you know what that means? It means no more backing out, now or never."

"I know, I understand, I'm willing! Only hurry! only telegraph that I will come! only--" she began to choke.

"I'll tell you," said he, putting her into the big chair again; "you shall go to him. Stay there a minute and I'll get my railway guides and look it up right away. Collect yourself, be a good girl!"

He went out, and she folded her hands and prayed wildly:

"G.o.d, let him live! G.o.d, take me to him!" over and over again.

And then her impatience stretched the seconds into minutes, and she sought her cousin's room, which was just across the hall from the suite given to herself.

She flung the door open without knocking and entered precipitately, expecting to find Jack and the railway guides. But Jack was not there.

There _was_ a man there, sitting by the window, twisting his moustache and biting his lips in raging impatience. To this man Jack had said three minutes before, "She'll be in here in less than sixty seconds. I'm going to the steamship office," and then the man had been left to wait, and his was not a patient disposition....

A tall man, a dark man, a man whose hair lay in loose, damp, wavy locks above his high forehead; a man whose eyes were heavy-circled underneath, and whose long, white hands beat nervously upon the chair-arms.

At the sound of the opening door the man looked up. She was there, staring as if petrified, by the door.

He made one bound. She was within his arms.

"_Alors tu m'aimes!_" he cried, and something mutual swallowed her reply and the consciousness of both for one long heaven-rifting minute.

"_Alors tu m'aimes?_" he said again, with a great quivering breath; "_tu m'aimes, n'est-ce pas?_"

"With my whole heart and soul and life," she confessed.

And then he kissed her hastily, hungrily, murmuring:

"_Ma cherie!_ my angel, mine, mine!"

She cried a little and laughed a little, looked up a little and looked down a little, tried to draw away from him and found herself drawn yet nearer; was kissed, and kissed him; was looked upon and returned the look; felt the strength of his love and felt the strength of her own; feeling at last that the wavelets of Lucerne which had splashed softly up against the stones at Zurich, and murmured in her ears at Constance, had been swelled by the current of the Isar into a mighty resistless storm that here, this day, upon the rocky coast of the Mediterranean, had come resistlessly roaring upwards, and, sweeping away all barriers, carried her heart and her life out into its bottomless depths forevermore.

"_Attends!_" he said, after a minute, loosing her suddenly to the end that he might turn the key in Jack's door; then he took her by the hand and led her to the chair where he had been sitting. It was one of those vast and luxurious _fauteuils_ which have prevented the Old World from ever importing the rocker. He installed her in its depth and placed himself upon the broad and cushioned arm.

"_Mon Dieu, que je suis heureux!_" he said, smiling down into her eyes; "_alors tu m'aimes vraiment_?"

"Jack told me that you were terribly ill," she said, her eyes resting upon his face with a sort of overwhelming content.

"And you have care?"

"I thought that I should lose my mind!"

"_Ma cherie!_"

"But you really look as if you had been ill?"

"Not ill, but most _malheureux_. It has not been easy always to wait and believe that you shall love me yet."

"But you always did believe it?"

He smiled his irresistible smile of eyes and lip.

"Your cousin has said to me in Tagernsee, 'She will certainly marry you because she declares that she will not, and she always does do exactly _le contraire_;' but, _Mon Dieu_, how could I trust to that?"

Rosina laughed ringingly.

"Dear Jack! I wish that I had known myself as well as he knows me."

"He has been very good to me," said Von Ibn, leaning above her and breaking his sentences in a manner that was perhaps only natural, all things considered; "he has kept me from--the real madness. But for him I was quite willing to shoot myself. It has never been anything so terrible for me as--when you enter the door of the _pension_ that night and shut it between us."