The Top of the World Part 38

He smiled at her and closed his eyes. "Good night!" he murmured.

"Good night, dear!" she whispered back.

And then in the silence that followed she knew that he fell asleep.

Someone touched her shoulder, and she looked up. Burke was standing by her side.

"You can leave him now," he said. "He won't wake."

He spoke very quietly, but she thought his face was stern. A faint throb of misgiving went through her. She slipped her hand free and rose.

She saw that Kieff had already gone, and for a moment she hesitated. But Burke took her steadily by the arm, and led her from the room.

"He won't wake," he reiterated. "You must have something to eat,"

They entered the sitting-room, and she saw with relief that Kieff was not there either. The table was spread for luncheon, and Burke led her to it.

"Sit down!" he said. "Never mind about Kieff! He can look after himself."

She sat down in silence. Somehow she felt out of touch with Burke at that moment. Her long vigil beside Guy seemed in some inexplicable fashion to have cut her off from him. Or was it those strange words that Kieff had uttered and which even yet were running in her brain? Whatever it was, it prevented all intimacy between them. They might have been chance-met strangers sitting at the same board. He waited upon her as if he were thinking of other things.

Her own thoughts were with Guy alone. She ate mechanically, half unconsciously watching the door, her ears strained to catch any sound.

"He will probably sleep for hours," Burke said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him with a start. She had almost forgotten his presence. She met his eyes and felt for a few seconds oddly disconcerted. It was with an effort she spoke in answer.

"I hope he will. That suffering is so terrible."

"It's bad enough," said Burke. "But the morphia habit is worse.

That's d.a.m.nable."

She drew a sharp breath. She felt almost as if he had struck her over the heart. "Oh, but surely--" she said--"surely--having it just once--like that----"

"Do you think he is the sort of man to be satisfied with just once of anything?" said Burke.

The question did not demand an answer, she made none. With an effort she controlled her distress and changed the subject.

"How long will Dr. Kieff stay?"

Burke's eyes were upon her again. She wished he would not look at her so intently. "He will probably see him through," he said.

"How long that will take it is impossible to say. Not long, I hope."

"You don't like him?" she ventured.

"Personally," said Burke, "I detest him. He is not out here in his professional capacity. In fact I have a notion that he was kicked out of that some years ago. But that doesn't prevent him being a very clever surgeon. He likes a job of this kind."

Sylvia caught at the words. "Then he ought to succeed," she said.

"Surely he will succeed!"

"I think you may trust him to do his best," Burke said.

They spoke but little during the rest of the meal. There seemed to be nothing to say. In some curious fashion Sylvia felt paralyzed.

She could not turn her thought in any but the one direction, and she knew subtly but quite unmistakably that in this they were not in sympathy. It was a relief to her when Burke rose from the table. She was longing to get back to Guy. She had an almost overwhelming desire to be alone with him, even though he lay unconscious of her. They had known each other so long ago, before she had come to this land of strangers. Was it altogether unnatural that meeting thus again the old link should have been forged anew? And his need of her was so great--infinitely greater now than it had ever been before.

She lingered a few moments to set the table in order for Kieff; then turned to go to him, and was surprised to find Burke still standing by the door.

She looked at him questioningly, and as if in answer he laid his hand upon her shoulder, detaining her. He did not speak immediately, and she had a curious idea that he was embarra.s.sed.

"What is it, partner?" she said, withdrawing her thoughts from Guy with a conscious effort.

He bent slightly towards her. His hold upon her was not wholly steady. It was as if some hidden force vibrated strongly within him, making itself felt to his very finger-tips. Yet his face was perfectly composed, even grim, as he said, "There is one thing I want to say to you before you go. Sylvia, I haven't a.s.serted any right over you so far. But don't forget--don't let anyone induce you to forget--that the right is mine! I may claim it--some day."

That aroused her from preoccupation very effectually. The colour flamed in her face. "Burke! I don't understand you!" she said, speaking quickly and rather breathlessly, for her heart was beating fast and hard. "Have you gone mad?"

"No, I am not mad," he said, and faintly smiled.

"I am just looking after our joint interests, that's all."

She opened her eyes wide. "Still I don't understand you," she said. "I thought you promised--I thought we agreed--that you were never to interfere with my liberty."

"Unless you abused it," said Burke.

She flinched a little in spite of herself, so uncompromising were both his tone and att.i.tude. But in a moment she drew herself erect, facing him fearlessly.

"I don't think you know--quite--what you are saying to me," she said. "You are tired, and you are looking at things--all crooked.

Will you please take a rest this afternoon? I am sure you need it.

And to-night--" She paused a moment, for, her courage notwithstanding, she had begun to tremble--"to-night,"--she said again, and still paused, feeling his hand tighten upon her, feeling her heart quicken almost intolerably under its weight.

"Yes?" he said, his voice low, intensely quiet, "Please finish!

What am I to do to-night?"

She faced him bravely, with all her strength. "I hope," she said, "you will come and tell me you are sorry."

He threw up his head with a sharp gesture. She saw his eyes kindle and burn with a flame she dared not meet.

A swift misgiving a.s.sailed her. She tried to release herself, but he took her by the other shoulder also, holding her before him.

"And if I do all that," he said, a deep quiver in his voice that thrilled her through and through, "what shall I get in return? How shall I be rewarded?"

She gripped her self-control with a great effort, summoning that high courage of hers which had never before failed her.

She smiled straight up at him, a splendid, resolute smile. "You shall have--the kiss of peace," she said.

His expression changed. For a moment his hold became a grip that hurt her--bruised her. She closed her eyes with an involuntary catch of the breath, waiting, expecting she knew not what. Then, very suddenly, the strain was over. He set her free and turned from her.

"Thank you." he said, in a voice that sounded oddly strangled.

"But I don't find that--especially satisfying--just now."