XVI
Itwas nearly an hour later when Charter made his way to the fashionable club that he knew Belhaven commonly frequented. He went deliberately, after a brief space of time given to what he would have called deliberation, but which did not deserve the name. He had left Rachel in a storm of feeling, so much more violent than anything usual to his equable nature that he had been unable at first to think with coherence. All smaller considerations, even the events of yesterday, seemed relegated to the limbo of eternal forgetfulness, and nothing was of consequence but this terrible fact, thrust so rudely into his life, this trapping of the woman he loved by a coward who was using her, so Charter felt, as a shield to save him from the punishment which he so richly deserved. Yet, even in his passion, he saw that Rachel's argument was true, that he could do nothing without exposing both sisters to an open scandal, but, in his present mood, even that seemed a small matter compared to Rachel's vindication, and he had no pity for Eva at all.
It was certain, however, that he could not apply primitive methods to the case, and he did not even dream of wringing Belhaven's neck, but, in spite of his rage against him, he was also aware that he could not let this go on without informing him of his own position. When he left the old house on the hill, he had felt keenly the sting of shame and disgust. It seemed to him that he had been there on Belhaven's own errand, to make love to another man's wife, that he was falling to the level of his adversary. But he would not give Rachel up; every instinct battled against such a renunciation, and, being determined to rescue her at any cost, he suddenly hit upon the only course that seemed open to one of his temperament. He would see Belhaven and warn him; he would tell him, face to face, exactly what he intended to do. This idea taking possession of him, he acted upon it with a sudden deviation from his usual tardy deliberation; he went directly to the club and inquired for Belhaven.
As he supposed, he had no difficulty in finding him, seated in a corner of the library reading, or pretending to read, a new book that in reality was only a cover to prevent the interruption of his thought, for Belhaven had more than enough to occupy his mind.
Catching sight of his dark head and handsome profile bent over his book in a remote corner of the big room, Charter walked in, and observing that the only other occupants, two rather elderly men, were deeply engaged with their newspapers, he went over to Belhaven's retreat and addressed him with an abruptness that made him start slightly and lay his book upon his knee.
"I want a word with you."
Belhaven's face darkened with the recollection of John's hands on his throat but he restrained himself with admirable determination.
"I can't exactly prevent you from saying it here," he remarked coolly.
But John took no notice of his manner; instead he leaned against the wall opposite and folded his arms across his breast, perhaps to be certain that he would not make too violent use of them, but he spoke as calmly as Belhaven had, only with a slight stiffening of the lips that with him was a sign of great anger hardly controlled.
"I came over here to tell you that I've just been to your house; I don't want you to think I'm a sneak or a coward. I went there to see Mrs. Belhaven because I've heard—pretty plainly—all the circumstances of your marriage."
Belhaven took up the pipe which he had laid down at John's approach and held it thoughtfully between his fingers, looking into the bowl of it.
"After what occurred the other day I suppose I needn't say I think it's none of your business."
"That's just the point; it is. I love Mrs. Belhaven and I won't give her up to you—after all I've found out!"
Belhaven threw back his head and their eyes met.
"Has she told you?"
Charter hesitated, his face flushing as darkly as his interrogator's. He had not foreseen this natural question.
"I refuse to answer."
Belhaven smiled bitterly. "In other words you've been making love to my wife."
"Exactly; that's what I want to say. I don't propose to be a sneak about it; I love her and I won't allow her to be nothing more than a shield to protect you from Astry."
Belhaven considered this a moment. His first impulse was to resent it angrily, but, after a little thought, he decided to let it go unquestioned. "Perhaps you don't know that she's determined to protect Mrs. Astry."
"I don't consider that Mrs. Astry is worth her life."
"You think she's ruining her life to marry me?"
"You know well enough that you had no right to marry her!"
Belhaven's hand trembled slightly, but he emptied the ashes out of his pipe before he replied.
"You're taking the natural view of a man in love with another man's wife."
"That's neither here nor there; she's the one to consider. If you're a man you'll simply give her her freedom. It's the least thing you can do, the only reparation you can make."
"I don't suppose it occurs to you that, perhaps, she wouldn't take it."
"That's inconceivable."
"You don't know then that she has peculiar ideas about the sacredness of the marriage ceremony?"
"Which couldn't apply to this case; you must see that yourself."
"You mean because she's married me? But I don't suppose I've anything to do with a fixed principle."
"You think she'd apply her scruples even to such a mockery of marriage as this?"
Belhaven assented grimly.
"You've no right to let her do it!"
"Has it occurred to you that I've a right to have my own feelings about it?"
"You haven't; you've got to consider her, to give her up."
"And if I refuse?"
John's angry blue eyes glowed deeply. "Do you think that I'm going to stand it? I'm a factor in this case."
Belhaven eyed him coldly. "Has she made you so?"
Charter winced; he felt keenly that Rachel had not. "No!" he said sharply.
"Well, she won't. I know her well enough for that. You think you know all about her because you're in love with her, but you don't if you imagine she's like that; she—" he stopped and drew a deep breath that was nearer pain than a sigh—"she's too fine for that! I know her better than you do and if I choose to hold her to it I can; she won't listen to you if she feels it to be wrong, and she will."
"And you mean to take advantage of her very goodness to keep her to such a bargain?"
His scorn cut like a knife but Belhaven met it without self-betrayal.
"Why should I give her up to you?" he asked, after a moment.
Charter looked at him attentively. He remembered that Rachel had admitted that Belhaven loved her and he began to suspect now that he would never give her up, that he meant to use his claim upon her to keep her against her will. Such an attitude was almost inconceivable to John.
"You intend to make her stay because you've fallen in love with her?"
"That's no affair of yours."
John glanced across at the old man opposite, who was hunting now for another newspaper on the table. In the distance he saw Count Massena coming through the corridor.
"I'm sorry that this is a place where I can't tell you just what I think of you," he said.
Belhaven did not move. "I can't see that you're in a better situation than I am," he retorted coolly. "You've no right to make love to my wife."
"You've no right to make your wife endure this misery and I tell you now I won't allow it."
Rachel's husband watched him thoughtfully, a drawn look changing his face yet more deeply.
"See here, Charter," he said suddenly, "I'm willing to say this: I've lived in the same house with Rachel long enough to be a changed man. She's humanized me. I'm not quite what you think me, and I'll let her decide in the end, but, by Jove, I won't give her up just for you; I'd die first!"
John looked at him squarely. "If you're a man," he said again, "you'll set her free; then she could choose. Now—if you hold her—"
"Well, and if I do?"
"Then," said John, "you're a damned scoundrel!" and he turned his back on him and walked out of the room.