"My darling! My darling! You are afraid. Of _what_ are you afraid? I am here--no one can harm you. Give me your dear hands! Lean against me! The whole world cannot separate us, Eve, if we choose to be together. Why are you afraid?"

He felt the shudder that ran through her limbs. Close against his ear her lips trembled over the words:

"I am afraid of losing you; of being left alone! They will try to separate us. If they knew what we had been planning, they would plot together so that we might not meet. You are strong, but they are stronger, and I am in their power... Take me away, Rupert, take me now, or it will be too late!"

He took her hand, and raised it solemnly to his lips.

"I swear to you," he said, "that I will take you. I swear that I will be the truest and most faithful of husbands so long as G.o.d gives me life!"

"I swear to you," she cried in response, "that I will be a true wife.

Whatever has happened, whatever may come, I swear that you shall never regret it. I will love you; I will be your slave. Nothing, nothing can be too much!"

They clung together in silence. The nearness, the stillness, the deep welling of joy in the sweet human contact, were all-engrossing. Rupert would fain have banished all difficulties into the future, and given himself up to untrammelled enjoyment of the hour, but the urgency of Eve's appeal forbade postponement.

He raised himself, supporting her in his arms.

"Eve! from this moment you and I are one. What belongs to one, belongs to the other; we can have no secrets, no concealments. If there are difficulties in our way, I must be prepared to meet them. Who is this woman? What right has she or anyone else to dictate what you should or should not do?"

Her eyes gazed back into his with a deep, unseeing gaze, the delicate eyebrows creased as if in an effort of thought; then once again she lifted her hand and pressed it against her brow. Poignantly beautiful, poignantly sad, she sat and gave him her answer.

"I live with them," she said quietly. "They take care of me. I think-- I think I am mad!"

Rupert Dempster lost no time in questioning his hostess as to the history of the Dream Woman who had come to fill such a real place in his life. As soon as the guests had departed he put in a plea for a private conversation, whereupon Mrs Melhuish seated herself on a chair at the farther side of the lawn, and drew a long breath of mingled fatigue, and relief.

"That's over, thank goodness! This annual garden-party to the neighbourhood looms over me like a nightmare. I feel ten years younger when the last carriage has driven away from the door. Now! what can I do for you? But I know, of course. You've fallen a victim to Eve Bisdee and her _beaux yeux_. They _are_ beautiful! It's about once in a lifetime that one meets an Englishwoman with such eyes as hers. It seems superfluous to have a tongue, when all that one feels can be expressed so eloquently in a glance. Even now her eyes are wonderful; but if you'd seen her as a girl, before--"

"Before what? That's what I am waiting to hear. What happened to her?

Some tragedy, of course. Tell me about it."

Mrs Melhuish gave him a searching glance.

"You realised that--that she is not--like other people?"

Rupert's smile was half sad, half triumphant.

"Not in the least like other people. But we can discuss that later on.

I am waiting for your story."

Mrs Melhuish leaned her head on her hand and her face fell into thoughtful lines.

"I've known Eve since she was a girl of eighteen--the loveliest thing!-- and as gay and sweet as she was lovely. She was an only child, and her parents adored her, and--what is by no means so usual!--she adored them in return. They were not rich--quite poor, in fact; but the family was exceptional, and everyone visited them. When Eve came out, Mrs Bisdee used to give charming little evenings, so simple and unpretentious, but so well done. Eve was so different, too, from the ordinary fair, placid English girl that she made quite a sensation in the county. We expected her to make a great match. Then one day they were all travelling together to Burnham to attend a hunt ball, and the train they were in--"

Mrs Melhuish shuddered, as at a terrible remembrance. "You will remember it--the Tunford accident--a terrible affair! Over sixty pa.s.sengers killed in the most appalling circ.u.mstances. Eve escaped.

She was travelling with a friend in the rear part of the train. They were pulled out and carried up the bank, and there that poor child stood and looked on, helpless, maddened, while her parents and the other poor wretches in the wrecked carriages lay pinned down, devoured by the names. Oh, my dear man, we read of such things, we agonise over them, or we _think_ we agonise, but imagine the real thing! Seeing, hearing, within a few yards, yet as powerless to help as though one were at the other side of the world... Well! Eve went through that torture, and it wrecked her life. She had brain fever, and when that pa.s.sed, her mind remained--what shall I say?--_clouded_. Yes, that's the right word. It expresses exactly the truth. There is a cloud hanging over her, shutting out the sun. Her memory is impaired, so that she does not remember any actual event; but there is an impression of horror and dread. It is ten years since the accident, and the cloud has not lifted. She lives with our doctor and his wife; they are good, honest people, and do their best; but I wish sometimes she could have a change.

At the best of times they are not her type, and after ten years together--"

"You say that the cloud has not lifted. Is she _no_ better than at the beginning of the time?"

"Oh, yes! When one looks back over the years one can see that there is improvement. Her health is better, and she has lost her dread of society. At times, as you saw her to-day, one would hardly realise that she was not normal. But the cloud falls. She is always sweet, always gentle, but terrible, terribly sad."

"But she _is_ better," Rupert insisted. "She is going to get quite well. I am going to make her well... Mrs Melhuish"--he leaned forward, his hand on the arm of her chair--"you are my very kind friend.

It is only right that I should tell you at once.--I am going to marry Eve Bisdee!"

"My _dear_ Rupert!" cried Mrs Melhuish deeply. Her face flushed, her mild eye showed a flash of anger. She was shocked--more than shocked, outraged. Her voice took an edge of coldness. "Really, this is too much. Eve is a most appealing creature, and it is natural that a man should feel chivalrous and protective when he hears her history. But marriage! That's unthinkable! It offends me. Please think of what you are saying!"

Rupert lifted his hand and laid it gently on hers. They were old friends, these two, and for years back had been able to speak together frankly without fear of offence.

"Wait!" he said. "Listen to what I have to say before you give your verdict. What I propose to do may be unusual, but it is eminently sane.

I propose to change places with that doctor, and to see what I can do towards removing that cloud. There is only one way in which I can gain the right, and that is by going through a form of marriage. Therefore a form of marriage it must be. Don't look at me in that commiserating manner, dear lady! This is not philanthropy, it's not pity. I am going to undertake this thing because I want to do it more than anything on earth! Now do you understand? You know my ideas about love. We have talked of them together, and you know for what I have been waiting. It came to me this afternoon, at the moment when Eve's eyes looked into mine. From that moment there was no going back."

"My dear Rupert!" cried Mrs Melhuish again. The anger had faded from her face, but she looked infinitely distressed. With all her heart she wished that this meeting had never taken place. "My dear Rupert, to have waited so long, and then to rush into folly like this! I do know your ideas, and very beautiful they are; all the more reason why you should make no mistake. There is always the reverse side of the picture, and as you can love more keenly than other men, so of a certainty can you suffer more. You may feel powerfully attracted to poor Eve, but you have no idea of the strain and weariness of battling with a mind diseased. It's hard enough when such a task comes to one as an obvious duty, but to _choose_ it!"

"I did not choose it," Rupert said quietly. "There is no question of choice. It has to be. Don't make it harder for me by misunderstanding.

For a moment I thought my kingdom had come, but that was a mistake. I have met my Queen, but I shall have to serve for her before she is really mine. Seven years I may have to serve--perhaps for twice seven years. Do you think a man would deliberately _choose_ such a fate?

It's something stronger than choice between Eve and me. The simple truth is that I have no object in life but to help her to get back to the light. I'll tell you something else, too--_I'm the only man who can do ill_. I possess a power over her which no doctor or nurse could obtain. Good heavens! Haven't they had ten years for their experiments? How much longer would you have me content to stand by and wait? If she has any relations, they must be thankful to give her a chance of being cared for, for love instead of money. I'll find her a nurse, the best nurse that can be had. We'll take her abroad to live in the sun, away from all her old a.s.sociations. She is afraid of those people--did you know that? She is not afraid of me. She _wants_ to come. My dear lady, this thing is going to _be_! The question is--am I to have your help?" Mrs Melhuish was not easily convinced, but she was conquered in the end, as were, in turns, the few relatives whom Eve possessed. All had been conscious that the time had come to make a change, and no more promising change could be imagined than the one proposed. From Eve's own point of view, that was to say! For Dempster it was a different matter. The relations felt it their duty to argue with him, to point out that he was recklessly shattering his life. But Dempster smiled, and persisted.

Very well, then! let him have his way. So Rupert and Eve were married, and immediately after set sail for Egypt.

One midsummer afternoon two years later, Rupert Dempster walked along an exquisite stretch of road in North Wales which divides the rocky course of the river Dee from a sleepy ca.n.a.l with fern-covered banks, and an overhanging arch of green. After the blazing Eastern lands in which the past years had been spent, the dewy loveliness of the scene was a delight to the senses. On every side rose the crests of green, smiling hills; the river broke into ripples of foam round the scattered rocks which strewed its bed. Along the still stream to the left floated a miniature barge, carrying a gay awning overhead. This was the omnibus of the neighbourhood, plying up and down the stream several times a day, and even as Rupert watched, its slow course was stayed, and one of the pa.s.sengers alighted and walked slowly towards him.

She was a slightly-made girl with a noticeable daintiness of movement.

Under her wide-brimmed hat her face showed small and pale, and her hair was of a light flaxen hue. Rupert knitted his brow, and his pace quickened instinctively. The girl walked with her eyes on the ground, oblivious of his approach. Another moment and they were side by side, and Rupert gave a cry of recognition.

"Lilith! It is Lilith! What an extraordinary chance, to meet you here!

My dear Lilith, I am so pleased to see you."

And indeed there was unmistakable pleasure in his voice; the somewhat worn face lightened with animation. He gripped the girl's hand with eager fingers, and she smiled back at him, a calm, unperturbed smile, as though she had parted from him but an hour before.

"How do you do, Rupert? Are you staying down here? Is Mrs Dempster with you?"

"Yes. We have taken the house just behind those trees. Do you know it?

You cross the next bridge, and follow the lane to the left."

"Yes, I know it. I'm staying at the Inn."

Lilith walked by his side, her eyes quietly searching his face, but having vouchsafed these bare words of information, she added nothing more. The silence lasted for several minutes, nevertheless it was with an overwhelming impression of answering a question, that Rupert spoke again, saying slowly:

"She is better, but she is not cured. The attacks of depression come on less frequently, but they still come. We are tring to ward off another at this moment. She grew tired of the East. For a time she delighted in it, and the novelty took her out of herself; but it became wearisome--the eternal glare, the absence of green, the medley of tongues. She wanted to come home. We've been wandering about for the last four months, and landed here last week. It's a charming spot, and _peaceful_. It ought to do her good!"

There was an appeal in his voice which a woman's ear should have been quick to read, but Lilith made no response. She turned her strange, expressionless eyes first on the silent, shaded ca.n.a.l, then on the river, sparkling in the sun, its waters beating against the jagged rocks. Until that moment Rupert had regarded the two streams from an artistic standpoint only, now of a sudden they seemed charged with a spiritual meaning. Peace and storm, stagnation and action, life and death,--he saw them all in the contrast between those two streams, and for the first time a doubt crept into his mind whether he had done well for Eve in shielding her from the great current of life, and lapping her round with eternal calm. He turned abruptly to the girl and put another question:

"Will you come with me now and see her? I think perhaps you might do her good."

"Yes, I will come," Lilith answered, with a courteous indifference at which Rupert smiled with grim amus.e.m.e.nt. For two long years he had guarded his treasure with never-ceasing vigilance, finding for her the most secluded retreats, where no alien eye should disturb her repose; avoiding the society of his fellow-creatures as if it had been the plague. And now at last he had invited an outsider to disturb that calm, and she had received the honour with the indifference accorded to the most ordinary of invitations! But, after all, what had he expected?

Who had ever yet seen Lilith moved out of her colossal calm!

Rupert led the way towards his temporary home, opened the gate, and escorted Lilith through a brilliant tangle of garden to the front of the house, where several long chairs were ranged along a shaded veranda. On one of these lay Eve, in a reverie so deep that the new-comers had time to take in the details of her appearance before she was aware of their approach.

She wore a white dress, the skirt of which was scattered with the petals of crimson roses, which her restless hands had pulled asunder. Her head was tilted back on the cushion, showing the beautiful line of the throat; her face was ivory white, and the curved bow of her lips showed vividly, startlingly red. Even that first glance brought an impression of strain and unrest; and as her ear at last caught the sound of the approaching footsteps, she leaped upward with a gesture of alarm. Her eyes fell upon Lilith's figure and distended in wild distress, but the next moment she beheld Rupert, and in a flash the fear disappeared and was replaced by the most melting tenderness. She came forward with the shy grace of a child, slipped her hand into his, and stood pa.s.sively waiting for what it should please him to do next. Anyone who doubted if Rupert Dempster's love had stood the strain of those two long years of waiting would have found his answer in one glimpse at the man's face as he stood holding that little hand in his.