It was Burke who stood with his back against the closed door, looking at her, and his face had upon it in those first waking moments of bewilderment a look that appalled her. For it was to her as the face of a murderer.
CHAPTER XII
THE COST
He did not speak in answer to her exclamation, merely stood there looking at her, almost as if he had never seen her before. His eyes were keen with a sort of icy fierceness. She thought she had never before realized the cruelty of his mouth.
It was she who spoke first. The silence seemed so impossible.
"Burke!" she said. "What--is the matter?"
He came forward to her with an abruptness that was like the breaking of bonds. He stopped in front of her, looking closely into her face. "What are you doing here?" he said.
In spite of herself she shrank, so terrible was his look. But she was swift to master her weakness. She stood up to her full height, facing him. "I have come to find Guy," she said.
He threw a glance around; it was like the sweep of a rapier. "You are waiting for him--here?"
Again for a moment she was disconcerted. She felt the quick blood rise to her forehead. "They told me he would come here," she said.
He pa.s.sed on, almost as if she had not spoken, but his eyes were mercilessly upon her, marking her confusion. "What do you want with him?"
His words were like the snap of a steel rope. They made her flinch by their very ruthlessness. She had sprung from sleep with bewildered senses. She was not-prepared to do battle in her own defence.
She hesitated, and immediately his hand closed upon her shoulder.
It seemed to her that she had never known what anger could be like before this moment. All the force of the man seemed to be gathered together in one tremendous wave, menacing her.
"Tell me what you want with him!" he said.
She shuddered from head to foot as if she had been struck with a scourge. "Burke! What do you mean?" she cried out desperately.
"You--you must be mad!"
"Answer me!" he said.
His hold was a grip. The ice in his eyes had turned to flame. Her heart leapt and quivered within her like a wild thing fighting to escape.
"I--don"t know what you mean," she panted. "I have done nothing wrong. I came after him to--to try and bring him back."
"Then why did you come secretly?" he said,
She shrank from the intolerable inquisition of his eyes. "I wanted to see him--alone," she said.
"Why?" Again it was like the merciless cut of a scourge. She caught her breath with a sharp sound that was almost a cry.
"Why?" he reiterated. "Answer me! Answer me!"
She did not answer him. She could not. And in the silence that followed, it seemed to her that something within her--something that had been Vitally wounded--struggled and died.
"Look at me!" he said.
She lifted an ashen face. His eyes held hers, and the torture of his h.e.l.l encompa.s.sed her also.
"Tell me the truth!" he said. "I shall know if you lie. When did you see him last?"
She shook her head. "A long while ago. Ages ago. Before you left the farm."
The memory of his going, his touch, his smile went through her with the words. She had a sickening sensation as of having been struck over the heart.
"Where did you spend last night?" he said.
"At Ritzen." Her white lips seemed to speak mechanically. She herself stood apart as it were, stunned beyond feeling.
"You came here by rail---alone?"
The voice of the inquisitor pierced her numbed sensibilities, compelling--almost dictating--her answer.
"Yes--alone."
"You had arranged to meet here then?"
Still the scourging continued, and she marvelled at herself, that she felt so little. But feeling was coming back. She was waiting for it, dreading it.
She answered without conscious effort. "No--I came after him. He doesn"t know I am here."
"And yet you are posing as his wife?"
She felt that. It cut through her apathy irresistibly. A sharp tremor went through her. "That," she said rather breathlessly, "was a mistake."
"It was." said Burke. "The greatest mistake of your life. It is a pity you took the trouble to lie to me. The truth would have served you better." He turned from her contemptuously with the words, setting her free.
For a moment the relief of his going was such that the intention that lay behind it did not so much as occur to her. Then suddenly it flashed upon her. He was going in search of Guy.
In an instant her pa.s.sivity was gone. The necessity for action drove her forward. With a cry she sprang to the door before him, and set herself against it. She could not let him go with that look of the murderer in his eyes.
"Burke!" she gasped. "Burke! What--are you going to do?"
His lips parted a little, and she saw his teeth. "You shall hear what I have done--afterwards," he said. "Let me pa.s.s!"
But she barred his way. Her numbed senses were all awake now and quivering. The very fact of physical effort seemed to have restored to her the power to suffer. She stood before him, her bosom heaving with great sobs that brought no tears or relief of any sort to the anguish that tore her.
"You--you can"t pa.s.s," she said. "Not--not--like this! Burke, listen! I swear to you--I swear----"
"You needn"t," he broke in. "A woman"s oath, when it is her last resource, is quite valueless. I will deal with you afterwards.
Let me pa.s.s!"
The command was curt as a blow. But still she withstood him, striving to still her agitation, striving with all her desperate courage to face him and endure.