The Hermit of Far End Part 60

"Please answer my question," she said quickly.

But he remained unmoved.

"Elisabeth Durward has surely supplied you with all the information on that subject which you require," he said in expressionless tones, and Sara was conscious anew of the maddening feeling of impotence with which a contest of wills between herself and Garth never failed to imbue her.

"Garth"--there was appeal in her voice, yet it was still very steady and determined--"I want to know what _you_ say about it. What Elisabeth--or any one else--may say, doesn't matter any longer."

Something in the quiet depth of emotion in her voice momentarily broke through his guard. He made an involuntary movement towards her, then checked himself, and, with an effort, resumed his former detached manner.

"More important than anything either I, or Elisabeth, can say, is the verdict of the court," he answered.

The deadly calm of his voice ripped away her last remnant of composure.

"The verdict of the court!" she burst out. "_d.a.m.n_ the verdict of the court!"

"I have done--many a time!"--bitterly.

"Garth," she came a step nearer to him and her sombre eyes blazed into his. "I _will_ have an answer! For G.o.d's sake, don't fence with me any longer! . . . There have been misunderstandings enough, reticences enough, between us. For this once, let us be honest with each other. I pretended I didn't care--I pretended I could go on living, believing you to be what--what they have called you. And I can't! . . . I can't go on. . . . I can't bear it any longer. You must answer me! _Were you guilty?_"

He was white to the lips by the time she had finished, and his eyes held a look of dumb torture. Twice he essayed to answer her, but no sound came.

At last he turned away, as though the pa.s.sionate question in her face--the eager, hungry longing to hear her faith confirmed--were more than he could bear.

"I cannot deny it." The words came hoa.r.s.ely, almost whispered.

Her eyes never left his face.

"I didn't ask you to deny it," she persisted doggedly. "I asked you--were you guilty?"

Again there fell as heavy silence. Then, reluctantly, as if the admission were dragged from him, he spoke.

"I'm afraid I can give you no other answer to that question."

A light like the tender, tremulous shining of dawn broke across Sara's face.

"Then you _weren't_ guilty!" she exclaimed, and there was a deep, surpa.s.sing joy in her shaken tones. "I knew it! I was sure of it. Oh!

Garth, Garth, what a fool I've been! And oh! My dear, why did you do it? Why did you let me go on thinking you--what it almost killed me to think?"

He stared down at her with wondering, uncertain eyes.

"But I've just told you that I can't deny it!"

She smiled at him--a smile of absolute content, with a gleam of humour at the back of it.

"I didn't ask you to deny it. I asked you to own to it; I tried to make you--every way. And you can't!"

"But--"

She laid her hand across his mouth--laughing the tender, triumphant laughter of a woman who has won, and knows that she has.

"You needn't blacken yourself any longer on my account, Garth. I shall never again believe anything that you may say against--the man I love."

She stood leaning a little towards him, surrender in every line of her slender body, and her face was like a white flame--transfigured, radiant with some secret, mystic glory of love's imparting.

With an inarticulate cry he opened wide his arms and she went to him--swiftly, unerringly, like a homing bird--and, as he folded her close against his breast and laid his lips to hers, all the hunger and the longing of the empty past was in his kiss. For the moment, pain and bitterness and regret were swept away in that ecstasy of reunion.

Presently, with a little sigh of spent rapture, she leaned away from him.

"To think we've wasted a whole year," she said regretfully. "Garth, I wish I had trusted you better!" There was a sweet humility of repentance in her tones.

"I don't see why you should trust me now," he rejoined quietly. "The facts remain as before."

"Only that the verdict of the court-martial was wrong," she said swiftly. "There was some horrible mistake. I am sure of it--I know it!

Garth!"--after a moment's pause--"are you going to tell me everything? I have the right to know--haven't I?--now that I'm going to be your wife."

She felt the clasp of his arms relax, and, looking up quickly, she saw his face suddenly revert to its old lines of weariness. Slowly, reluctantly, he drew away from her.

"Garth!" There was a shrilling note of apprehension in her voice.

"Garth! What is it? Why do you look like that?"

It was a full minute before he answered. When he did, he spoke heavily, as one who knows that his next words will dash all the joy out of life.

"Because," he said quietly, "I can no more tell you anything now than I could before. I can't clear myself, Sara!"

Her eyes were fixed on his.

"Do you mean--you will _never_ be able to?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, I mean that."

"Answer me one more question, Garth. Is it that you _cannot_--or _will not_ clear yourself?"

"I _must_ not," he replied steadily. "I am not the only one concerned in the matter. There is some one to whom I owe it to be silent. Honour forbids that I should even try to clear myself. Now you know all--all that I can ever tell you."

"Who is it?" The question leaped from her, and Garth's answer came with an irrevocability of refusal there was no combating.

"That I cannot tell you--or any one."

Sara's mouth twitched. Her face was very white, but her eyes were shining.

"And you have borne this--all these years?" she said. "You have known that you could clear yourself and have refrained?"

"There was no choice," he answered quietly. "I took on a certain liability--years ago, and because it has turned out to be a much heavier liability than I antic.i.p.ated gives me no excuse for repudiating it now."

For a moment Sara hid her face in her hands. When she uncovered it again there was something almost akin to awe in her eyes.

"Will you ever forgive me, Garth, for doubting you?" she whispered.