The Man Who Rose Again Part 20

For answer, she put her hand in his, and looked steadily into his eyes.

"You know, Radford," she said.

"Yes," he said; "yes, I know; but not as I love you. No, no, you couldn't. There's not enough in me to love. You are the only woman in the world to me; I could no more marry another than I could rise from the dead. Could you marry another man?"

"Of course not," said the girl; "you know I could not."

"Say that again," he said pa.s.sionately, "say it again. Tell me that whatever may happen--yes, I repeat it--_whatever_ may happen, you'll never marry another."

"Radford, what is the matter with you?" she cried. His face was as pale as death, and his eyes shone with a strange light.

"Matter with me!" he cried. "It is our wedding-day to-morrow; just think of it! I am going to be at the church early, and I am going to wait there till noon, and then you will come, and the minister will read the marriage service, and you will promise to take me for better or for worse, and you will vow to keep to me as long as we both shall live.

Yes, I've been reading the marriage service. My G.o.d, the wonder of it!

That's why I'm afraid. If I lost you, I should sink into a deeper h.e.l.l than ever Dante saw in his wild journeyings. No 'thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice,' no bottomless pit full of fire and brimstone could be as terrible as the h.e.l.l to which I should go if I lost you. That is what is the matter with me. And you promise me, don't you? _Whatever_ may happen, you'll never marry another man?"

"No," she said, "I will never marry another man!"

"You could not, could you?" he said, almost plaintively.

"No," she replied, "I could not."

"And to you a promise is sacred, isn't it? You are not like other women, to whom a promise is no more than a garment which is out of the fashion."

"Of course a promise is sacred to me," she replied.

He looked at her with fierce, devouring eyes. He tried to read her very soul.

"Look at me," he said.

She looked at him, and their eyes met, his burning with the light of his pa.s.sion, yet steady with the strength of the man behind them; hers steady too, and fervent with the love and admiration which filled her heart.

"Say it again."

"Say what again?"

"Say you will never marry another man, whatever may happen."

"I will never marry another man, whatever may happen."

He clasped her to his heart, and rained kisses upon her, and then he laughed.

"I do not fear now," he said, "I am like the man they sing about--'I fear no foe in shining armour bright' I can face anything. Olive, there is no happier man in the world than I; nay, nor not half so happy. I feel as though I were king of the world. Now let us talk quietly."

He sat down by her side, and looked steadily into the fire. Outside the wind wailed its way across the park, but he did not seem to heed it. The flames from a log of wood in the grate shot up the chimney, and although he seemed to be gazing at them he did not see them.

"It's all so wonderful!" he said.

"What is, Radford?"

"My happiness. I am not worthy of it. Yes, I have been a bad fellow. No, I have not been the wild rake about town, my vices have not run in that direction. But I have been a selfish brute; I've been a fellow without hope, mercy, or faith. I've cared nothing for others. If a man has stood in my way I've shoved him aside. I've seen only the worst in life, and I've acted on what I saw. I was drink-sodden, too. I was a slave to a vile habit. But for the fact that drink made no visible impression upon me, I should have been one of those drunken sots that have to be put to bed every night. I did not believe in G.o.d nor man. No, I scorned G.o.d, and religion, and morality, and I sold myself to the devil of my own selfishness. Yes, I did, I know it. And yet you love me! You, you, of all women, you!"

"Yes," she replied, and there was an uneasy look in her eyes, "but you have repented, Radford."

"And if I had not?"

"Then," she said, "I would not have promised to marry you."

"You mean that?"

"Yes, I mean that. I could never truly love a man whom I did not respect. And I could not respect such a man as you were, no matter how clever I might think you to be. Even although I might love a bad man, I would never marry him."

He knew she meant what she said, and while it saddened him, it made him rejoice also. Yes, she had driven all his old theories to the winds.

Whatever was true with other women, this woman was prompted by true thoughts, inspired by high ideals.

He was silent for a while.

"Yes," he said presently, "and you are right. What you say is right. And I want to believe, Olive; sometimes I do, I do now. And I want to be a good man, yes, a good man. You'll help me, won't you?"

"I'll do all that a woman may, Radford; but only G.o.d can make a man truly good."

"It's wonderful, that Christian story," he said.

"And you believe it, don't you, Radford?"

Again he was silent.

"I will not tell a lie even for you, Olive," he said. "Do I believe?

Yes, in a way. I believe in its sublime ethics, I believe in Christ--in a way. Oh yes, He was a wonderful man, ay, a Divine man. I believe, too, that He has enn.o.bled the whole thought of the world about G.o.d; but for the rest--I don't know. Still, you know what I promised you: if there's a G.o.d, I'll find Him. That is all I can say, Olive, except that I'm going to try to be a good man. Faith in man, in human motives? Don't press me too hard, Olive. Are you content?"

There was manifest sincerity in his voice, his eyes were lovelit. What wonder, then, that Olive confessed her contentment, and her happiness?

Shortly before midnight he left The Beeches. For an hour before he said good-night, he seemed to forget all sad thoughts. He talked cheerfully with John Castlemaine, and Mr. Sackville, the minister of the church with which both Olive and her father were a.s.sociated. All dark clouds seemed to have lifted. In less than twelve hours from that time he and Olive would be man and wife. Before the next day had come to an end, they would be on their way to Italy, the land of sunshine and song. The future revealed itself to him in glowing colours. He saw himself climbing the hill of fame with Olive by his side. It was almost certain that the General Election would take place in less than two months from that time, and even if it did not, it could not be postponed later than the following autumn. Then he would enter Parliament, and after that his position was a.s.sured. Already the ex-Cabinet Minister who had spoken with him at Taviton had told him that he expected great things from him in the House, and had also suggested certain questions to which he should give special attention. Moreover, they were questions in which Olive was deeply interested: housing of the poor, the drink curse, and others of a similar nature.

"These things," said the ex-Cabinet Minister, "are bound to be brought forward. Master them, Leicester, and you will make yourself indispensable to your party."

And so he was happy. Hope shone in his sky, love burned in his heart, while his whole being was filled with great purpose.

Olive accompanied him to the door as he left the house. She had entered into Leicester's spirit of gladness. She rejoiced as she saw how her father admired him, and how keenly he enjoyed his conversation. She noted with gladness, too, that her marriage was not going to cause her father the sorrow she had feared. Rather, he seemed to look forward with pleasure to the prospect of having his clever son-in-law to live with him.

"Until to-morrow, Olive," he said, as he kissed her good-night.

"Yes, it will not be long."

"No, only a few hours, although it seems an eternity. You are happy, aren't you?"

"Yes, entirely"; and she meant what she said. "Are you?"

"Happy!" he cried. "Ah, you can't realise how happy! Only until to-morrow, and then there will be no more separation."