"We had that mutual pleasure nearly a week ago," nodded Sir
Maurice, "when we agreed to--disagree, as we always have done,
and shall do--with the result that we find each other agreeably
disagreeable."
"I had hoped that you might be friends."
"My dear Charmian--I wonder at you!" he sighed, "so unreasonable.
Would you have us contravene the established order of things? It
was preordained that Cousin Peter should scowl at me (precisely
as he is doing), and that I should shrug my shoulders, thus, at
Cousin Peter--a little hate with, say, a dash of contempt, give a
zest to that dish of conglomerate vapidity which we call Life,
and make it almost palatable.
"But I am not here on Cousin Peter's account," he went on,
drawing a step nearer to her, "at this moment I heartily wish
him--among his hammers and chisels--I have come for you,
Charmian, because I love you. I have sought you patiently until
I found you--and I will never forego you so long as life lasts
--but you know all this."
"Yes, I know all this."
"I have been very patient, Charmian, submitting to your whims and
fancies--but, through it all; I knew, and in your woman's heart
--you knew, that you must yield at last--that the chase must end
--some day; well--let it be to-night--my chaise is waiting--"
"When I ran away from you, in the storm, Sir Maurice, I told you,
once and for all, that I hated you. Have you forgotten?--hated
you!--always and ever! and tried to--kill you--"
"Oh, Charmian! I have known such hate transfigured into love,
before now--such love as is only worth the winning. And you are
mine--you always were--from the first moment that our eyes met.
Come, my chaise is waiting; in a few hours we can be in London,
or Dover--"
"No--never!"
"Never is a long time, Charmian--but I am at your service--what
is your will?"
"I shall remain--here."
"Here? In the wilderness?"
"With my--husband."
"Your--husband?"
"I am going to marry your cousin--Peter Vibart."
The pipe slipped from my fingers and shivered to pieces on the
floor, and in that same fraction of time Sir Maurice had turned
and leapt towards me; but as he came I struck him twice, with
left and right, and he staggered backwards to the wall. He stood
for a moment, with his head stooped upon his hands. When he
looked up his face was dead white, and with a smear of blood upon
it that seemed to accentuate its pallor; but his voice came
smooth and unruffled as ever.