The Odd Women Part 60

'I have promised--'

'Leave loose of me! It's because I have come here. You think me a worthless woman, without sense of honour, with no self-respect--'

He protested vehemently. The anguished look in her eyes had its effect upon his senses; by degrees it subjugated him, and made him ashamed of his ign.o.ble impulse.

'Shall I find a lodging for you till Tuesday?' he asked, after moving away arid returning.

'Will you?'

'You are sure you can leave home to-morrow--without being suspected?'

'Yes, I am sure I can. He is going to the City in the morning. Appoint some place where I can meet you. I will come in a cab, and then you can take me on to the--'

'But you are forgetting the risks. If you take a cab from Herne Hill, with your luggage, he will be able to find out the driver afterwards, and learn where you went.'

'Then I will drive only as far as the station, and come to Victoria, and you shall meet me there.'

The necessity of these paltry arrangements filled her soul with shame.

On the details of her escape she had hardly reflected. All such considerations were, she deemed, naturally the care of her lover, who would act with prompt.i.tude, and so as to spare her a moment's perplexity. She had imagined everything in readiness within a few hours; on _her_ no responsibility save that of breaking the hated bond.

Inevitably she turned to the wretched thought that Bevis regarded her as a burden. Yes, he had already his mother and his sisters to support; she ought to have remembered that.

'What time would it be?' he was asking.

Unable to reply, she pursued her reflections. She had money, but how to obtain possession of it? Afterwards, when her flight was accomplished, secrecy, it appeared, would be no less needful than now. That necessity had never occurred to her; declaration of the love that had freed her seemed inevitable--nay, desirable. Her self-respect demanded it; only thus could she justify herself before his sisters and other people who knew her. _They_, perhaps, would not see it in the light of justification, but that mattered little; her own conscience would approve what she had done. But to steal away, and live henceforth in hiding, like a woman dishonoured even in her own eyes--from that she shrank with repugnance. Rather than that, would it not be preferable to break with her husband, and openly live apart from him, alone?

'Be honest with me,' she suddenly exclaimed. 'Had you rather I didn't come?'

'No, no! I can't live without you--'

'But, if that is true, why haven't you the courage to let every one know it? In your heart you must think that we are acting wrongly.'

'I don't! I believe, as you do, that love is the only true marriage.

Very well!' He made a desperate gesture. 'Let us defy all consequences.

For your sake--'

His exaggerated vehemence could not deceive Monica.

'What is it,' she asked, 'that you most fear?'

He began to babble protestations, but she would not listen to them.

'Tell me--I have every right to ask--what you most fear?'

'I fear nothing if _you_ are with me. Let my relatives say and think what they like. I have made great sacrifices for them; to give up _you_ would be too much.'

Yet his distress was evident. It strained the corners of his mouth, wrinkled his forehead.

'The disgrace would be more than you could bear. You would never see your mother and your sisters again.'

'If they are so prejudiced, so unreasonable, I can't help it. They must--'

He was interrupted by a loud rat-tat at the outer door. Blanched herself, Monica saw that her lover's face turned to ghastly pallor.

'Who can that be?' he whispered hoa.r.s.ely. 'I expect no one.'

'Need you answer?'

'Can it be--? Have you been followed? Does any one suspect--?'

They stared at each other, still half-paralysed, and stood waiting thus until the knock was repeated impatiently.

'I daren't open,' Bevis whispered, coming close to her, as if on the impulse of seeking protection--for to offer it was a.s.suredly not in his mind. 'It might be--'

'No! That's impossible.'

'I daren't go to the door. The risk is too frightful. He will go away, whoever it is, if no one answers.'

Both were shaking in the second stage of terror. Bevis put his arm about Monica, and felt her heart give great throbs against his own.

Their pa.s.sion for the moment was effectually quenched.

'Listen! That's the clink of the letter-box. A card or something has been put in. Then it's all right. I'll wait a moment.'

He stepped to the door of the room, opened it without sound, and at once heard footsteps descending the stairs. In the look which he cast back at her, a grin rather than a smile, Monica saw something that gave her a pang of shame on his behalf. On going to the letter-box he found a card, with a few words scribbled upon it.

'Only one of our partners!' he exclaimed gleefully. 'Wants to see me to-night. Of course he took it for granted I was out.'

Monica was looking at her watch. Past five o'clock.

'I think I must go,' she said timidly.

'But what are our arrangements? Do you still intend--'

'Intend? Isn't it for you to decide?'

There was a coldness in the words of both, partly the result of the great shock they had undergone, in part due to their impatience with each other.

'Darling--do what I proposed at first. Stay for a few days, until I am settled at Bordeaux.'

'Stay with my--my husband?'

She used the word purposely, significantly, to see how it would affect him. The bitterness of her growing disillusion allowed her to think and speak as if no ardent feeling were concerned.

'For both our sakes, dearest, dearest love! A few days longer, until I have written to you, and told you exactly what to do. The journey won't be very difficult for you; and think how much better, dear Monica, if we can escape discovery, and live for each other without any shame or fear to disturb us. You will be my own dear true wife. I will love and guard you as long as I live.'

He embraced her with placid tenderness, laying his cheek against hers, kissing her hands.

'We must see each other again,' he continued. 'Come on Sunday, will you? And in the meantime find out some place where I could address letters to you. You can always find a stationer's shop where they will receive letters. Be guided by me, dear little girl. Only a week or two--to save the happiness of our whole lives.'