Violet Forster's Lover Part 46

"Because you'll draw deductions from my answer which you must not draw."

"What is your answer? We'll talk about deductions afterwards. Answer me--did you ever think of me when you were picking crusts out of the gutter?"

The man closed his eyes and turned his face away. She pressed her question home.

"Answer me!"

"There was a time when I was so hungry, and so cold, and so deep down in h.e.l.l, that I tried to stop thinking of you--and I couldn't."

"They stole the locket from you which I gave you."

"They did--the devils! Who told you?"

"You cut my picture out of one of the papers, and you made a case for it with a piece of silk with your own hands, and you carried it next your bosom."

"It's there now. Who told you all these things?"

"And if you go to New South Wales you'll take that picture with you?"

"I did mean to."

"And why shouldn't you take me with it? Oh, you needn't if you don't want; but unless you take a whole ship to yourself you can't prevent my travelling by the same boat, which I shall do, with or without your leave. You say you're going with Noel Draycott. I'll soon find out from Mr. Draycott the ship he's going by, if I can't get the information from you, and, as I don't suppose that my money will be refused by the people who own that ship, we'll make a party of three. Of course, you needn't speak to me while we're on the voyage, but I dare say Mr.

Draycott will, when he's a moment to spare. And I hope so to find favour in Mr. Draycott's eyes that he will be able to persuade his father to invite me to pay him a little visit--so we'll all three of us be together there."

"You don't understand what it is you're proposing."

"Do credit me with some perception, please; I do understand, quite well. What you don't understand is that if you go to New South Wales, and leave me here, I shall die--yes, Sydney, I shall die."

"Violet!"

"That's the first time you've called me by my Christian name--you wretch! And now you haven't made it Vi. Hasn't a man any imagination? A girl can project herself into his mind, even when he's miles and miles away, and she doesn't even know where he is; is he absolutely incapable of projecting himself into hers? I know you've been thinking about me--thinking, thinking, thinking! And it's been bread and meat and life to me, and morning, noon, and night, all the long weary time, I've been thinking, thinking of you, and you pretend that you don't know it. You know it perfectly well! Don't you know it?"

She went and stood close up to him.

"What would all the world think of me if I took you at your word? What would you yourself think in the time to come?"

"Isn't every drop of blood in your body burning with the desire to take me in your arms?"

"If I did--afterwards--what then? When I had the consciousness that with my shame I had sullied you?"

"Can't you feel, as I stand here close to you, that I'm all on fire with the longing that you should kiss me as the man kisses the woman who loves him? Do that first--do it first, I tell you! Then, when you've kissed some of the craving out of me--if you only knew how I longed for you to kiss me, you wouldn't keep your lips from the refreshment for which, I believe, they're dying. Kiss me!"

The limit of his powers of resistance had been reached; he did what, from the first, with the whole force of his being, he had longed to do; he took her in his arms.

"Vi!"

"Vi! That's better; say it again, my dear--just like that; say it again, and again, and again! Now, wasn't that worth while?"

She drew herself a little away from him, so that, standing face to face, they held each other's hands.

"Wasn't that worth waiting for?" Her voice dropped to a whisper; she looked at him with eyes which seemed to make him tremble. "Are you going to New South Wales without me?"

The street door was heard to open; someone came along the pa.s.sage.

"Is that someone coming to your room?"

"I think it's Draycott."

"Is it? That's all right. You needn't take your hands away. Sydney! of course he knows."

The door opened, to admit Noel Draycott. He paused when he saw them.

"I beg your pardon, I had no idea----"

"Oh, yes, you had, you had every idea; so you can come right straight in--because you understand. Mr. Draycott, I am coming with you to New South Wales."

"Are you? I'm delighted to hear it; I thought you would."

She turned to Beaton.

"There, Sydney, you see? He thought I would."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

Some Letters and a Telegram

Mrs. Sydney Beaton sat reading a letter. By her, in a ba.s.sinette, was a baby; every now and then, half unconsciously, she would move the ba.s.sinette to and fro, as if to make sure that the baby should go on sleeping. At a little distance two children were playing, a boy and a girl; sometimes the boy called the girl Violet, and she called him Sydney. It was a glorious day; the clear champagne-like air of New South Wales in spring time.

Mrs. Beaton was at home, and a lovely home it seemed to be; a pretty picture of happiness and health its mistress would have made. Though, plainly, she was troubled by the letter. Although it had only arrived that morning, she knew its contents almost by heart, yet she read it again; when she had read it she let it lie upon her knee, while, with something wistful in her glance, she seemed to be looking at some picture which the eye of her imagination conjured up before her. Then, with the faintest little sigh, she took up other letters that were lying on her lap, and glanced through them. Then she reverted to that picture of her imagination; and she sighed again, and this time it was obviously a sigh.

As if conscience-stricken, as if guilty of at least some impropriety, she rose abruptly from her seat, and, with a startled air, looked round her, the letters bundled together in her hand. All at once firm footsteps came hurrying towards her. Turning, a tall, upright, sinewy, wiry man, without an ounce of superfluous flesh about him, his face and neck and hands bronzed by the sun, greeted her with hands outstretched.

"Sydney!" she cried, "you're earlier than I expected. I was coming over to meet you."

"Yes, I came by the earlier train. Hullo, you people!"

The boy and the girl had come rushing to him with boisterous glee. He picked them up, one on either arm; they were full of questions which had to be answered, and news which required his instant attention. It was some minutes before husband and wife were alone together.

"What made you come by the earlier train without letting me know? I can see there was something."

Her quick eyes were skilled in reading the signs of the weather on her husband's face; she could see that on it there was something like a cloud, though no larger than a man's hand.

"Yes," he said, "you are right, there was; I've had a telegram from home. I've been turning it over in my mind as I came along."