The Odd Women Part 67

'And you wanted to sit at home with a book. That was no close for a perfect day.'

'I found a letter from your cousin. She was with her friends the Goodalls yesterday.'

'The Goodalls--I used to know them.'

'Yes.'

The word was uttered with significance. Everard understood the allusion, but did not care to show that he did.

'How does Mary get on without you?'

'There's no difficulty.'

'Has she any one capable of taking your place?'

'Yes. Miss Vesper can do all that's necessary.'

'Even to inspiring the girls with zeal for an independent life?'

'Perhaps even that.'

They went along by the waves, in the warm-coloured twilight, until the houses of Seascale were hidden. Then Everard stopped.

'To-morrow we go to Coniston?' he said, smiling as he stood before her.

'You are going?'

'Do you think I can leave you?'

Rhoda's eyes fell. She held the long strip of seaweed with both hands and tightened it.

'Do you _wish_ me to leave you?' he added.

'You mean that we are to go through the lakes together--as we have been to-day?'

'No. I don't mean that.'

Rhoda took a few steps onward, so that he remained standing behind.

Another moment and his arms had folded about her, his lips were on hers. She did not resist. His embrace grew stronger, and he pressed kiss after kiss upon her mouth. With exquisite delight he saw the deep crimson flush that transfigured her countenance; saw her look for one instant into his eyes, and was conscious of the triumphant gleam she met there.

'Do you remember my saying in the letter how I hungered to taste your lips? I don't know how I have refrained so long--'

'What is your love worth?' asked Rhoda, speaking with a great effort.

She had dropped the seaweed, and one of her hands rested upon his shoulder, with a slight repelling pressure.

'Worth your whole life!' he answered, with a low, glad laugh.

'That is what I doubt. Convince me of that.'

'Convince you? With more kisses? But what is _your_ love worth?'

'Perhaps more than you yet understand. Perhaps more than you _can_ understand.'

'I will believe that, Rhoda. I know, at all events, that it is something of inestimable price. The knowledge has grown in me for a year and more.'

'Let me stand away from you again. There is something more to be said before--No, let me be quite apart from you.'

He released her after one more kiss.

'Will you answer me a question with perfect truthfulness?'

Her voice was not quite steady, but she succeeded in looking at him with unflinching eyes.

'Yes. I will answer you _any_ question.'

'That is spoken like a man. Tell me then--is there at this moment any woman living who has a claim upon you--a moral claim?'

'No such woman exists.'

'But--do we speak the same language?'

'Surely,' he answered with great earnestness. 'There is no woman to whom I am bound by any kind of obligation.'

A long wave rolled up, broke, and retreated, whilst Rhoda stood in silent uncertainty.

'I must put the question in another way. During the past month--the past three months--have you made profession of love--have you even pretended love--to any woman?'

'To no woman whatever,' he answered firmly.

'That satisfies me.'

'If I knew what is in your mind!' exclaimed Everard, laughing. 'What sort of life have you imagined for me? Is this the result of Mary's talk?'

'Not immediately.'

'Still, she planted the suspicion. Believe me, you have been altogether mistaken. I never was the kind of man Mary thought me. Some day you shall understand more about it--in the meantime my word must be enough.

I have no thought of love for any woman but you. Did I frighten you with those joking confessions in my letters? I wrote them purposely--as you must have seen. The mean, paltry jealousies of women such as one meets every day are so hateful to me. They argue such a lack of brains.

If I were so unfortunate as to love a woman who looked sour when I praised a beautiful face. I would snap the bond between us like a bit of thread. But you are not one of those poor creatures.'

He looked at her with some gravity.

'Should you think me a poor creature if I resented any kind of unfaithfulness?--whether love, in any n.o.ble sense, had part in it or not?'

'No. That is the reasonable understanding between man and wife. If I exact fidelity from you, and certainly I should, I must consider myself under the same obligation.'

'You say "man or wife." Do you say it with the ordinary meaning?'

'Not as it applies to us. You know what I mean when I ask you to be my wife. If we cannot trust each other without legal bonds, any union between us would be unjustified.'