Paulines Passion and Punishment | Page 9

truehearted boy, not a
falsehearted man. If I am a slave, I never know it. Can you say as
much?"
Her woman's tongue avenged her, and Gilbert owned his defeat. Pain
quenched the ire of his glance, remorse subdued his pride, self-
condemnation compelled him to ask, imploringly, "Pauline, when may
I hope for pardon?"
"Never."
The stern utterance of the word dismayed him, and, like one shut out
from hope, he rose, as if to leave her, but paused irresolutely, looked
back, then sank down again, as if constrained against his will by a
longing past control. If she had doubted her power this action set the
doubt at rest, as the haughtiest nature she had known confessed it by a
bittersweet complaint. Eyeing her wistfully, tenderly, Gilbert
murmured, in the voice of long ago, "Why do I stay to wound and to be

wounded by the hand that once caressed me? Why do I find more
pleasure in your contempt than in another woman's praise, and feel
myself transported into the delights of that irrecoverable past, now
grown the sweetest, saddest memory of my life? Send me away,
Pauline, before the old charm asserts its power, and I forget that I am
not the happy lover of a year ago."
"Leave me then, Gilbert. Good night."
Half unconsciously, the former softness stole into her voice as it
lingered on his name. The familiar gesture accompanied the words, the
old charm did assert itself, and for an instant changed the cold woman
into the ardent girl again. Gilbert did not go but, with a hasty glance
down the deserted hall behind him, captured and kissed the hand he had
lost, passionately whispering, "Pauline, I love you still, and that look
assures me that you have forgiven, forgotten, and kept a place for me in
that deep heart of yours. It is too late to deny it. I have seen the tender
eyes again, and the sight has made me the proudest, happiest man that
walks the world tonight, slave though I am."
Over cheek and forehead rushed the treacherous blood as the violet
eyes filled and fell before his own, and in the glow of mingled pain and
fear that stirred her blood, Pauline, for the first time, owned the peril of
the task she had set herself, saw the dangerous power she possessed,
and felt the buried passion faintly moving in its grave. Indignant at her
own weakness, she took refuge in the memory of her wrong, controlled
the rebel color, steeled the front she showed him, and with feminine
skill mutely conveyed the rebuke she would not trust herself to utter, by
stripping the glove from the hand he had touched and dropping it
disdainfully as if unworthy of its place. Gilbert had not looked for such
an answer, and while it baffled him it excited his man's spirit to rebel
against her silent denial. With a bitter laugh he snatched up the glove.
"I read a defiance in your eye as you flung this down. I accept the
challenge, and will keep gage until I prove myself the victor. I have
asked for pardon. You refuse it. I have confessed my love. You scorn it.
I have possessed myself of your secret, yet you deny it. Now we will
try our strength together, and leave those children to their play."

"We are the children, and we play with edge tools. There has been
enough of this, there must be no more." Pauline rose with her
haughtiest mien, and the brief command, "Take me to Manuel."
Silently Gilbert offered his arm, and silently she rejected it.
"Will you accept nothing from me?"
"Nothing."
Side by side they passed through the returning throng till Mrs.
Redmond joined them, looking blithe and bland with the exhilaration of
gallantry and motion. Manuel's first glance was at Pauline, his second
at her companion; there was a shadow upon the face of each, which
seemed instantly to fall upon his own as he claimed his wife with a
masterful satisfaction as novel as becoming, and which prompted her to
whisper, "You enact your role to the life, and shall enjoy a foretaste of
your reward at once. I want excitement; let us show these graceless,
frozen people the true art of dancing, and electrify them with the life
and fire of a Cuban valse."
Manuel kindled at once, and Pauline smiled stealthily as she glanced
over her shoulder from the threshold of the dancing hall, for her
slightest act, look, and word had their part to play in that night's drama.
"Gilbert, if you are tired I will go now."
"Thank you, I begin to find it interesting. Let us watch the dancers."
Mrs. Redmond accepted the tardy favor, wondering at his unwonted
animation,