That evening after supper Saunders and Mostyn were on the veranda smoking together. The exchange of remarks was formal, even forced and awkward. Presently Saunders said: "I saw Leach looking for you at the arbor. Did you run across him?"
"Yes," Mostyn puffed, and Saunders heard him heave a sigh. "I had quite a talk with him. I can't fully account for it, but I like the man very much. It may be his optimism or wonderful faith. I know that he has a very soothing effect on me. The truth is, I have promised to go to California with him."
"Oh!" Saunders leaned against the balustrade, steadily scrutinizing the face of his guest. "He told me something about his proposition, but I thought that perhaps you would not be likely to go—not now, anyway."
"Oh yes, I shall go at once. I must go somewhere, and with him I'd have the benefit of a companion."
"But, of course," Saunders flung out, tentatively, "you will not remain away long?"
"I can't say for sure that I shall ever come back," Mostyn said, sadly. "Of course, I can't say positively as to that, but there is nothing—absolutely nothing to hold me here now."
The eyes of the two met in a steady stare.
"You can't mean that—I'm sure you can't!" Saunders faltered.
Mostyn seemed about to speak, but a tremor of rising emotion checked him. He smoked for a moment in silence; then, with a steadier voice, he began:
"I must be more frank with you, Jarvis," he said. "You have been a true friend to me, and I don't want to keep anything from you at all. Besides, this concerns you directly. To tell you this I may be betraying confidence, but even that, somehow, seems right. Saunders, to-day at that meeting as I sat there—" Mostyn's voice began to shake again, and he cleared his throat before going on. "As I sat there looking at—at the purest, sweetest face God ever made I began to hope. I confess it. I began to hope that God might intend to give me one other chance at earthly happiness. I even fancied that He might purposely have led me back here out of my awful darkness into light. I might not have dared to go so far, but she had her uncle invite me to lunch, and as I sat by her side the very benediction of Heaven seemed to fall on her and me and all the rest. It made me bold. I was out of my head. I was intoxicated by it all. Don't you see, I began to think, late as it is—shamed as I am before the world—I began to think that I might again take some sort of root among men and be worthy of—of the only woman I ever really loved? She and I walked off together. Her consenting to go gave me fresh courage. I determined to speak. I determined to throw my soiled soul at her spotless feet. I did."
"Don't say any more; I know the rest," Saunders said, under his breath. "I congratulate you. I congratulate you with all my heart." He held out his hand, but Mostyn warded it off, his cigar cutting red zigzag lines in the darkness.
"Congratulate me? My God, you congratulate me. Are you blind? Have you been blind all this time? She not only spurned my love, but in a blaze of righteous indignation she told me she loved you. She said she loved, adored, reverenced—worshiped you. She seemed to look on my hopes as some sort of insult to her womanhood. She didn't want you to know of her love, she said, but she wanted me to know it. She seems to feel—she seems to think that in all your kindness to her and nobleness you deserve a wife who has never fancied another, even in girlhood. She told me that her feeling for me was only the idle whim of a child, and that she pitied me as a weak and stumbling creature. She put it that way, with blazing eyes, and she put it right. I am weak—I've always been weak; and to-day, in trying to win her from you, I did the weakest act of my life. I confess it. You have the right to strike me in the face. I knew you loved her. I knew she had become your very life, and yet in my despair and damnable vanity I wanted to take her from you. I am trying to get right, but I fell before that dazzling temptation. In telling you of her love now I am tearing my soul from my body, but I want to atone—I want to atone—as far as possible."
Saunders turned his transformed face away. He said nothing, and the two stood in dead silence for a moment. Suddenly Saunders put out a throbbing hand and laid it on Mostyn's shoulder.
"I thank you; I thank you," he said, huskily. "You must excuse me this I can't wait another minute. I must see her to-night!"
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg