The Womans Way | Page 8

young you are!"
"Why, how young do you think I am?" he interrupted, looking down at her with a grave smile. "As I said just now, you seem to regard me as if I were a boy. I think I am as old as you--older. How old are you--you look like a girl?"
"I am twenty-two--but what has that to do with it? How can you turn aside, trifle----"
"And I am twenty-five," he said, with an involuntary sigh. "So you see I am your senior. But they say a woman is always ten years older than a man of the same age. I suppose that is why you always have us under your thumbs. No, I'm not trifling. Don't you see that I am fighting for time, that I am trying not to think, that I am putting the thing from me as far as I can, even for a few minutes. Immediately you go, I shall have to face it all again, and--alone. You have been very good to me; you don't think I am ungrateful, because I--I play the fool?"
"Don't play it any longer, then," said Celia, earnestly. "Make up your mind to do the right thing. Why should you ruin yourself? But I have said that before. You know I am right; you say you are grateful because I have stopped you from----" She shuddered, and her hand closed still more tightly on the revolver. "Promise me----"
He looked at her wistfully; but he shook his head.
"I can't do that," he said, in a low voice. "Here, I see I shall have to put the case to you." He sank into the chair and leant his head on his hand, and, still with his eyes covered, he continued, in little more than a whisper: "Supposing there was someone you cared for more than anything else in the world, more than life, more than honour. Is there someone?"
Celia did not blush, and without a sign of embarrassment, shook her head.
"I beg your pardon for asking. I am sorry there is not; because, you see, you would understand more readily. Well, there is someone I care for like that, and I am doing this to save her--I mean him," he corrected quickly, "from all that I should suffer if I stood up and faced the music, as you want me to do."
"Whoever she is, she is not worth it," said Celia, her voice thrilling with indignation and scorn.
"I said 'him,'" he corrected, almost inaudibly.
"You said 'her,' first," retorted Celia. "Of course, it's a woman--and a wicked, a selfish one. No woman who had a spark of goodness in her would accept such a sacrifice."
"You wrong her," he said. "There are always exceptions, circumstances, to govern every case. In this case, she does not know. I tell you that, if I take your advice, I should blast the life of the woman I--I love."
"Then you are screening a man for her sake?" said Celia.
"That's it," he admitted; "and you would do the same, if you stood in my place. Oh, you would say you would not; perhaps you think at this moment you would not; but you would. You're just the sort of girl to do it." He laughed again, bitterly. "Why, one has only to look at you----"
For the first time, Celia coloured, and her eyes dropped. As if ashamed of having caused her embarrassment, he bit his lip, and muttered, "I have been offensive, I am afraid. But you see how it is? And now you know the truth, have guessed something of it, you will see that I have either to face the music, plead guilty to the charge and go to prison, or get out of it by the only way."
It was she who hid her face now. He saw that she was trembling; he knew that she was struggling with her tears; he went round to her and laid his hand on her shoulder, very gently, almost reverently. "Don't cry," he said. "I'm not worth it. I am sorry you should be so distressed. I wish--for your sake, now--that you had not come in. Hadn't you better go now?"
Celia rose; her cheeks were wet, her lips were quivering.
"What--what will you do?" she asked, fighting with a sob.
He met her eyes moodily. Celia held her breath; then, with a sudden tightening of the lips, a flash of the eyes, he said, grimly, as if every word cost him an effort,
"I will face it."
With a gasp of relief, and yet with infinite pity and sorrow in her eyes, she flung out both hands to him.
He took them in his, which were burning now, and gripped them tightly.
"My God! what a woman you are," he said, with a sudden uplifting of the brows. "Someone else will find that out some day."
Celia