The Great Amulet | Page 8

Invulnerable, looking down upon
our folly from the superior height of a snow-peak. . . ."
Lenox read no further. The last words enraged him, like a blow
between the eyes, and set the blood hammering in his temples. It would
seem, at times, that Fate selects with fiendish nicety the psychological

moment when her arrows will strike deepest, and stick fastest. Thus,
when his thirst was at its height, Lenox found the cup dashed from his
lips; and that by the hand of his best friend:--a master-stroke of
Olympian comedy.
With a curse he flung the letter on to the table.
Wounded love, wounded pride, and baulked desire so clashed in him
that clear thought was impossible. He only knew that he had been
deliberately deceived, the most intolerable knowledge to a man
incapable of deceit: and with the knowledge all the natural savage in
him sprang to life. If Richardson had appeared before him in the flesh,
it is doubtful whether he could have stayed his hand: the more so, since
he believed that the man had written the truth: that this girl--whom it
seemed that he had wooed with quite unnecessary reverence--had taken
the best he could give, and utilised it as a mere salve for her wounded
vanity.
He understood now why her heart had proved more difficult of access
than her hand. He had believed it unawakened; had dreamed, as lovers
will, of warming it into life with the fire of his own great love: and lo,
he found himself forestalled by this execrable man in England. Clearly
he had been a fool;--an infatuated fool! He stabbed himself with the
epithet: and a vivid memory of his uncle's stock cynicisms turned the
knife in the wound. All the prejudices and tenets of his youth rushed
back upon him now: an avenging host, mocking at his discomfiture;
narrowing his judgment; blinding him to the woman's point of view.
And while he still stood battling with himself in a vain effort to regain
his shaken self-control, the bedroom door opened, and his wife came
quickly towards him.
His changed aspect arrested her: and the sight of her facing him thus,
with the sunlight in her eyes and on her hair, her young purity of
outline emphasised by the simplicity of her dress, so stirred his senses,
that, in defiance of pride, the whole heart of him went out to her,
claiming her for his own. But it is at just such crises that habit reveals
itself as the hand of steel in a silken glove; and before she could open

her lips, Jock Lenox had stretched out a ghostly arm from his grave in
Aberdeen, and shut to the door of his nephew's heart.
Quita glanced hurriedly from the discarded letter to her husband's face.
"My dear, . . . what has gone wrong? You look terrible. Have you had
bad news?"
The irony of the question brought a smile to his lips.
"Yes. I have had bad news. Read it for yourself." And he pushed the
letter towards her.
"Why? Who is it from?"
"A friend of mine, in England, who seems to know a good deal more
about you than I do."
"What on earth do you mean?" she asked sharply.
"You know well enough what I mean. Read that letter if your memory
needs refreshing."
Her first instinct was indignant refusal. Then curiosity conquered.
Besides, she wanted above all things to gain time: and while she read,
her husband watched her keenly, with God knows what of forlorn hope
at his heart.
But a twisted truth is more formidable than a lie; and intuition warned
Quita that Lenox was in no mood to appreciate the fine shades of
distinction between the literal facts and Max Richardson's free
translation of the same. His frankly masculine comments fired her
cheeks; and at the sight Lenox could restrain himself no longer.
"By Heaven! You care for that fellow still!" he broke out hotly. "And
you had the effrontery to take those solemn words on your lips this
morning, with the love of . . . another man in your heart!"
Quita Lenox, whatever her failings, lacked neither spirit nor courage.

She threw back her head, and faced his anger bravely.
"How dare you say such things to me? I . . . don't care for him. I--I hate
him!"
"Proof conclusive. Indifference kills hatred. No doubt you wanted to
convince yourself, and him, that you were indifferent; and to that end
you must needs crucify the first man who comes handy. An admirable
sample of feminine justice!"
"Eldred, . . . you have no right to speak like that. I won't hear you."
"I have every right; and you shall hear me. It was one thing to know
that you