"Without harm to Jim or this man Garth?"
"I swear it."
"In that case"--Leah extended her hand, to withdraw it suddenly before the Russian could rain kisses on its soft whiteness. A choking sensation, new to one of her superb health, made her gasp frantically after the breath which seemed to be leaving her. With unexpected force came a new sensation. This abominable playing with the lives and hearts of men stirred up to vehement protest a hitherto unknown better self which overwhelmed her with wave upon wave of reproachful shame. Conscience, uppermost for once in her greedy, selfish, animal life, stripped the contemplated sin of its allurements, and she recoiled before an inward vision of the horror her baser nature was creating. It might prove to her what the monster proved to Frankenstein, and haunt her with nightmare insistence for the remainder of an unbearable life.
"So weak, madame?" asked Demetrius, reading the secret handwriting on the wall like a very Daniel.
The sneer nerved her, and she strove desperately to escape from the light of heaven into the material darkness, that would not reveal her sin, unclothed and shameless. "No!" she cried in a loud, ringing voice. "I--I----" Again the celestial light mercilessly and mercifully disclosed the inward foulness of that fair-seeming sin, and the sight beat down her pride and courage into nothingness. "I take it all back," she stuttered, broken-up and panic-struck. "Forget--don't move in--in----" Something clicked in her throat, and only by a violent effort did she repress the climbing hysteria. Incapable of speech, and only anxious to escape from this extraordinary influence, which compelled her to face the powers of darkness in their naked horror, she passed swiftly down the long, echoing gallery. Not till she was safe in her own room did she halt, to consider why she had fled. Her brain was now clear, and the actual world resumed its wonted aspect. Her face was still white, her lips still quivered, her soul was still shaken by the visitation. But, with a courage worthy of a better cause, she sat down and fought with her fears, till the colour returned and the nerves came under control. Yet her material nature could not grasp that the terrible gift of the interior sight had been hers for one short moment.
"I'm a fool!" she assured herself harshly.
And she was. For, as the walls of the flesh closed round her soul, to darken it anew, her good angel, who had wrought the miracle, weeping for the blind that would not see and the deaf that would not hear, left her despairingly. Then the powers of darkness soothed her into such contentment, that she laughed scornfully at her late folly, and adopted their explanation.
"I'm run down with all this worry," said Lady Jim. "I really need a tonic."
A triple knock at the door both interrupted Leah's meditations and annoyed her, as she was far from wishing for company. It could not be Jim, as he usually banged the panels impatiently, and walked in before the invitation to enter could be heard through the noise of his tattoo. Besides, Jim, for obvious reasons, connected with Askew, had made himself scarce for the last four-and-twenty hours. Should it be a visitor, Leah resolved to decline conversation, especially with one of her own sex. But the women of the house-party so rarely ventured into Lady Jim's sitting-room, that she concluded the disturber to be some servant with a message. Perhaps Jim had broken his head while skating, or had made a hole in the ice. If so, his death would greatly simplify matters.
"Come in," she cried impatiently, and to her surprise, Lionel presented himself, with a somewhat diffident look. "Oh, it's you, padre!" Lady Jim had picked up the word from a Sandhurst cadet. "What's the matter,--anything wrong?"
"What should be wrong?" inquired Kaimes, closing the door and remaining on the inside.
"Oh, I don't know. I always expect bad news when I see a lawyer's letter or a parson's face. Well? Has Lady Canvey been converted, or has Jim gone to that place where the climate forbids skating?"
"Nothing of the sort has happened," said Lionel, dryly. "I have merely come to chat with you."
"Sit down, then, though I warn you I don't feel companionable."
"You are worried."
"My dear man, when am I anything else but worried, with Jim for a husband, and the Duke behaving like Shylock at his worst? You and Jim have made a mess of things."
"I don't know about Jim," said Lionel, resenting this ungrateful speech, "but I did my best to put matters in the right light."
"Oh, Lord, who wanted a right light? The less light on Jim's and my affairs the better. A few white lies would have resulted in a larger sum than that miserable two hundred with which the Duke insulted us."
"I am not in the habit of telling lies, white or black, Lady James."
"I daresay. You parsons are so ridiculously punctilious. As if diplomatic lies were not as oil on the troubled waters of this world."
"I did not come to discuss this," said Lionel, seeing how utterly impossible she was, "but to help you in your trouble."
"What trouble?"
"I don't know. I was reading in the library, when a feeling came to me that I must see you at once--that you needed assistance."
Leah looked rather queer. What could he possibly know of her late experience? "Telepathy, I suppose."
"Well, that may be the scientific name for the Divine Spirit."
"The what?"
"The Divine Spirit," he repeated, firmly and seriously. "I believe that the impulse to seek you came from above. You are in danger."
"Am I--of being bored to death?"
"You can't deny that you are in trouble of some sort. I can see it in your expression."
"My trouble is my own. I share it with no one."
"Then you are in----"
"Pray don't question me," snapped Leah, with a nervous glance around. This interference of the Unseen with her material affairs was both weird and uncomfortable. She could not deny the panic that had driven her headlong from the security of the flesh, and it was remarkable that Lionel, unsummoned and unsought, should seek her at so critical a moment. The feeling that he was meddling with what did not concern him, annoyed her the more. "I wish you would not frighten me," she cried, with an angry determination to stop this uncanny business.
"Perhaps it is your conscience that is frightening you."
"How dare you say that?"
"Because there is something serious the matter, or I should not have been called to your assistance."
"I never called you."
"Then your good angel did."
"I don't believe in such things."
"Do you believe in anything?"
"Yes," she said defiantly--"in myself."
"That is a poor help in time of trouble."
"I have managed very well hitherto."
"Can you substantiate that statement, seeing how embarrassed your worldly affairs are at this moment?"
Lady Jim could find no direct answer. "Parsons have nothing to do with worldly matters," she muttered, averting her eyes.
"Very true. But if I can offer spiritual consolation----"
"Take it to Lady Canvey. She needs it more than I do."
"I doubt that, or the call would not have come."
"It's a false alarm, padre," she said jeeringly. "I don't want to be preached at, and you're suffering from indigestion, or softening of the brain."
"Well, Lady James," said Lionel, rising with a sigh, "your limitations may lead you to look at the matter in that light. But if I can do nothing for you, I can only retire, after asking your pardon--as I do--for my intrusion;" and he made for the door.
Her mood changed with feminine rapidity, and she beckoned imperatively that he should remain. Disguise it as she would to Kaimes, his sudden coming on the top of her late puzzling experience drove her to acknowledge that something outside the material was at work. Leah was too clever a woman to deny the existence of more things in heaven and earth than came within the scope of her knowledge.
"It is the duty of you parsons to pry into the secrets of souls, I suppose," she said, leaning her elbow on the chair arm, and her chin on her hand. "But what interest can you have in my soul--if I have one?"
"I, as other servants of the Master, interest myself in all souls."
"That you may save them?"
"Only Christ can do that."
"I may deny His power to do so--I may deny Him."
"And so fall as Peter fell," said Lionel, sadly. "Yet he repented with bitter weeping."
"I am not a tearful woman," she retorted, and turned to look into the fire. She did not wish to meet his eyes when she spoke the ensuing acknowledgment. "You are a good man, Lionel, and--and--you may be able to help me."
Kaimes resumed his seat. "I hope so; but I can only point the way to a better Helper, and One more powerful."
She continued to gaze at the burning coals. "I was frightened a few minutes before you entered," she said abruptly.
"By what?"
"That is the question you must answer. By something which made me see what a horrid nature I have."
Lionel was silent for a few moments, not quite sure of his speech.
"The Unseen presses closely around us," he remarked at length, "and at times reveals itself. For instance, a contemplated sin may be prevented by a spiritual influence informing the intelligence how terrible the consequences of such a sin may be."
"It was the sin itself rather than its consequence which frightened me," murmured Leah, so softly that Lionel caught but one word.
"What is that you say about sin?"
Lady Jim's cunning made her shirk confession. "Nothing--oh, nothing," she said hurriedly; "only it seems to me that everything pleasant is a sin in your eyes."
"Dead Sea Fruit," replied Kaimes, earnestly; "fair to the eye, foul to the taste. If you turn devoutly to the spiritual, the material pleasures of this world lose their attractiveness."
"Perhaps," she said sceptically; "but many things goody-goody people of your sort shudder at are attractive. You can't deny that."
"I have no wish to. Satan always supplies us with rose-coloured spectacles, through which to contemplate his works."
Lady Jim rose and walked up and down the narrow limits of the room, twisting her hands in a nervous, hesitating way, quite unlike her usually calm, decisive self. "I wish you would not talk nonsense," she snapped; "it is absurd to believe in a personal devil."
"And in a possible hell also, I suppose you would say."
"Oh," she said carelessly, "scientists have explained that away."
"And the Inquisition of the middle ages denied that the earth went round the sun," said Kaimes, grimly; "but I understand that it does."
"Clever, but not convincing. What is the use of talking nursery theology and cheap science to me? What can you say that is likely to do me good?"
"The patient must be frank with his physician," hinted Lionel.
"Oh, we always tell the exact truth to doctor and lawyer," said Lady Jim, scornfully, "because we fear for our bodies and our property. But who tells the truth to a parson?"
"Those who are convinced of sin."
"In that case I may as well hold my tongue. I am not convinced of anything, not even if I ought to make you my father confessor."
"I cannot compel your confidence. On the other hand, I cannot help you unless----"
"Unless! Quite so. Let me think," and turning her back on him, she went to the window. The early winter gloom was blotting out the distant landscape, but near at hand the spectral glare of the snow revealed blackly the figures of homeward-bound skaters. The cold deadness of so sinister a world did not tend to soothe Leah's overstrung nerves, and shrouded Nature could give her no counsel. Had it been a summer's twilight of nightingales and roses, of sleeping blossoms and murmuring leaves, she would have recovered sufficient spirit to scoff. But this arctic waste, livid and still in the half light, reminded her of the frozen hell, in the deadly chills of which shuddered Dante, the seer. And the virile Saxon word hinted at the possible, if not at the probable. Of course, it was all very ridiculous, and her system was out of order. Nevertheless, she felt that some kindly human comfort and advice might restore her tormented mind to its usual peace. And whatever she said to Lionel, he would not dare to repeat. As a cousin, as a gentleman, as a priest, his lips would be triply sealed. And he might be able to point out a less dangerous path than that towards which the need of money was driving her. He was a good fellow, too, and honest enough, in spite of his superstition. She decided to speak, and came back to her chair. Had she been less material, she could have heard in the stillness the rustling wings of a returning angel. Lionel looked at her inquiringly. She was about to speak hurriedly, lest the good impulse should pass away, when Jim's tattoo was heard. With a snap Leah closed her lips, as he lumbered, red-faced, hearty, and essentially fleshy, into the room. The mere sight of his tangible commonplace made the woman thank her stars that she had not blundered into hysterical frankness.
"Holloa, Lionel! Holloa, Leah! Sittin' in the twilight an' talkin' secrets--eh? Mind some light?" He clicked the ivory knob near the door, and the room sprang into vivid being. "Had a jolly day's skatin. Y' should ha' come, Leah. No end of a lark. Feel sick?" This polite question was asked because she shaded her eyes from the glare.
"No; but I can't stand wild bulls charging into a room."
"Might call it a china-shop," chuckled Jim, glancing disparagingly at the nicknackery. "Nerves slack, I'll bet. Fresh air an' exercise an' cheerful company is what you want, Leah."
"I'm likely to get the last, with you," she rejoined witheringly, for the overpowering vitality of the man made her wince.
"Well, Lionel here's--been no catch in th' way of fun, I expect. Seems to have given you the hump. Goin', old man? All right! I'll cheer her up. See you at dinner."
The curate nodded and went out. Since Jim's plunge into the middle of their conversation he had not uttered a word, for the interruption had jarred on him, as on Lady Jim. Moreover, he departed with an intuitive feeling that the golden moment had passed. And this was truly the case. When she next saw him, Leah wondered why she had so nearly made a fool of herself. And indeed, she was already wondering while Jim, obviously embarrassed, discoursed in a breezy, blundering way, with an attempt at connubial fondness.
"Poor old girl," he said, sitting opposite to her, looking fresh and handsome, and essentially manly. "'Awfully sorry you're chippy. If I'd known I'd ha' come back to keep you company."
"Are the heavens falling?" asked Leah, listlessly.
Jim, as usual, could not follow this recondite speech. "Don't know what you're talkin' about," he remarked good-humouredly, and bustling to the bell. "You're a peg too low, Leah. Tell you what: we'll have tea here, an' a talk, if you don't mind."
His wife nodded, wondering if he was about to confess his possible Mormonism. She did not think so, as Jim never confessed anything, unless it was dragged piecemeal out of him. Her feelings at this moment did not lean towards cross-examination, so she let him ring the bell and order tea, without using her too-ready tongue. In fact, she unbent so far as to make use of him.
"Get me a dose of sal volatile, Jim," she ordered. "There's a bottle on my dressing-table."
"Poor old girl," said the sympathetic Jim, again, and stumbling into the next room with eager haste.
Leah smiled to herself. This ready obedience argued a guilty conscience.
After Jim dosed her, he was tactful enough to hold his tongue and improve the fire, without clattering the poker and tongs. Then he pulled down the blinds and drew the curtains, and altered the shades of the electrics, so that Leah might not be overpowered by the glare.
"It's quite like a new honeymoon," she said, sarcastically. The drug was doing its renovating work, and her original devil was returning to a swept and garnished house, with seven other spirits more wicked than himself.
Jim took the remark seriously, and coloured with pleasure. "I believe we'd get on rippin'," said he, enthusiastically. "If we only had the money I believe we'd be as happy as birds."
"They can't be very happy in this cold weather," replied Leah, seeing plainly that Jim's amiability was owing to a selfish fear of reproval for his iniquities. "Here's the tea. I don't want any just now, as the sal volatile is doing me good. You can eat."
"Oh, can't I, just," said Jim, when the footman left and he was filling himself a cup. "Th' skatin's given me an appetite. 'Sides, I want to get into form; as I've somethin' serious to say about this insurance business."
Leah looked up suddenly. "I thought you had given that the go-by."
"No--o--o," drawled her husband, not meeting her eyes. "Course, th' pater's a good sort an' all that. But his arrangement will give us a howlin' bad time for the next few years."
"So I told you."
"Well, then," Jim fiddled nervously with a piece of toast, "why not get the twenty thousand?"
"It could be managed, of course, with some little difficulty."
"Through that Russian Johnny?"
"Demetrius? Yes."
"You've see him, then?"
"To-day. He'll see the thing through."
"What's his price?"
Leah smiled blandly, as she thought of what Jim would say did she reply honestly to this question. But she did not intend to. It seemed to her that Jim was driving her towards the very path which Lionel, unknowingly, wished her to avoid. It was useless to fight against fate, so she decided, and like many another person, she laid the blame on those scapegoats, the stars. She was now completely dominated by the selfish influence of the great god Mammon, and the lesser sin of lying was swallowed up in the greater one of idolatry.
"He'll want a few thousands, of course," she said mendaciously; "but, as yet, we have not fixed any sum."
"Hum," muttered Jim, suspiciously. "I thought he'd want something more than money."
Leah rose indignantly, and proclaimed a virtue that her conscience assured her she might yet lose. "I am an honest woman, Jim," she said haughtily, "and, married or unmarried, I should never allow any man to make love to me."
"Seems to me you do."
"Only to pass away the time. I stop short when----"
"When their hearts are broken," growled her husband. "Upon my soul, Leah, I'm straighter than you are."
"I doubt that, since you swear by what you haven't got."
Jim rashly became aggressively virtuous. "I've not been a bad sort of husband to you, Leah."
"I have seen so little of you that it is rather difficult for me to give an opinion," she said, resting her elbow on the mantelpiece. "Mrs. Berring may be in a better position to judge of your virtues."
Kaimes turned white with emotion, and he rose from his low chair as though worked by springs. "It's a lie," he growled hoarsely. "I never married her."
"Married who?"
"The lady you talk about."
"The lady Mr. Askew talked about, you mean. I merely mention her name."
"It is not her name. She is Lola Fajardo."
"Of the Estancia, San Jago. So Mr. Askew explained."
"Oh, if you're goin' to make a row----"
"Do I ever make rows?" asked Lady Jim, impatiently.
"You don't care enough about me to raise Cain," said Jim, rather sorry for himself. "I swear I'd be a different man, if you were a different woman."
"Every husband in the divorce court witness-box makes the same excuse. Sit down, Jim, and let us talk over the matter quietly. Your infidelities have long since converted us from man and wife into a business firm to earn money."
"But, Leah, I swear----"
"By that soul you know nothing about?" she flashed out contemptuously. "Talk sense, if you are capable of doing so. You have been trying to dodge this explanation ever since you met Mr. Askew last night, in the smoking-room. But now that we've stumbled on an opening, perhaps you will explain."
"Explain what?"
"All that Mr. Askew didnottell me."
"Oh, he's been makin' somethin' out of nothin', the silly ass," protested Jim, sitting down and handling the poker with a fervent wish that he could use it on the sailor's head. "I met Señorita Fajardo at Lima, and later at Buenos Ayres. Her brother asked me out to their estancia in the camp of Argentina, near Rosario, and I stopped there for a month. Bit of luck came my way, an' I pulled her from under a beastly mustang, that would have kicked the life out of her. She took a fancy to me, 'cause I saved her life."
"Is that all?"
"Well, I went again to San Jago, last year----"
"Your third visit to South America since our marriage."
"Yes," said Jim, sullenly; "an' I met Lola--I mean Señorita Fajardo."
"Oh, don't apologise. Lola is a pretty name."
"An' she's a pretty woman, an' I'm flesh an' blood," cried Jim, getting up to work himself into a rage. "I met her durin' my second visit, an' went again to the estancia on my third. It was no use luggin' a title round, for these mouldy hotel-keepers always make a chap pay for havin' a handle to his name, so I called myself Berring--James Berring."