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Great Secret

<h2 id="id01574" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXII</h2> <h5 id="id01575">"LOVED I NOT HONOR MORE"</h5> I told Guest exactly what had passed between Adèle and myself, leaving out only the personal element, at which I allowed him to guess. He was thoughtful for some time afterwards. "What is to be the end of it between you and her?" he asked me presently. "Exactly on what terms do you stand at present?" "Some day," I answered, "I shall marry her—or no other woman. As regards other matters, I believe that she is neutral." "You do not think, then, that she will obstruct our plans?" he asked. "Of course, a word from her, and our journey to America can only end in failure." "She will not speak it," I answered confidently. "I do not know, of course, how deeply she was involved in the schemes of those whom we may call our enemies, but I am perfectly certain that she has finished with them now." Guest nodded. "I hope so," he remarked shortly. "At any rate, it is one of the risks which we must take." We said no more about the subject then, and I very soon perceived that the intimacy between Adèle and myself was likely to be of the greatest use to us. For the next two days neither of us referred to those things which lay in the background. We walked and sat together, played shuffleboard, and in every way made the most of all those delightful opportunities of tête-à-têtes which a sea voyage affords. Mrs. Van Reinberg, for some reason or other, watched our intimacy with increasing satisfaction. Mr. de Valentin, on the other hand, though he concealed his feelings admirably, seemed to find it equally distasteful. Gradually the situation became clear to me. Mrs. Van Reinberg desired to reserve the whole interest of Mr. de Valentin for herself and her daughters; he, on the other hand, had shown signs of a partiality for Adèle. The fates were certainly working for me. On the third night out we were all together on deck after dinner. I was standing near Mrs. Van Reinberg, who had been exceedingly gracious to me. "Tell me, Mr. Courage," she asked, "what are your plans when you land?" "I thought of using some of my letters of introduction," I answered, "and going West after Christmas. I have been told that the country round Lenox and Pittsfield is very beautiful just now, and I shall stay, I expect, with a man I know fairly well, who lives up there—Plaskett White." "Why, isn't that strange?" Mrs. Van Reinberg exclaimed. "The Plaskett Whites are our nearest neighbors. If you really are coming that way, you must stay with us for a week, or as long as you can manage it. We are going straight to Lenox." "I shall be delighted," I answered heartily. Mr. de Valentin dropped his eyeglass and polished it deliberately. His usually expressionless face was black with anger. Even the two girls looked a little surprised at their mother's invitation. I felt that the situation was a delicate one. "I should not be able to intrude upon you for more than a day or two," I remarked, a little diffidently, "but if you will really put me up for that length of time, I shall look forward to my visit with a great deal of pleasure." Mrs. Van Reinberg was looking across at Mr. de Valentin with a very determined expression on her pale, hard face. She was obviously a woman who was accustomed to have her own way, and meant to have it in this particular instance. "It is settled, then, Mr. Courage," she declared. "Come whenever you like. We can always make room for you." I bowed my gratitude, and, to relieve the situation, I took Adèle away with me for a walk. We were scarcely out of hearing, before I heard Mr. de Valentin's cold but angry voice. "My dear Madame, do you consider that invitation of yours a prudent one? …" We walked on the other side of the deck. Adèle was silent for several moments. Then she turned towards me, and the old smile was upon her lips—the smile which had always half fascinated, half irritated me. "So," she remarked, "I have become your unwilling ally." "In what way?" I asked. "I suppose," she said, "that an invitation to Lenox was necessary to your plans, wasn't it?" "I had fairly obvious reasons for hoping for one," I answered, smiling. She passed her arm through mine, and leaned a little towards me. It was at such moments that I found her so dangerously sweet. "Ah!" she murmured, "I wish that that were the only reason!" I pressed her arm to mine, but I said nothing. When I could avoid it, I preferred not to discuss those other matters. We walked to the ship's side, and leaned over to watch the phosphorus. Suddenly she whispered in my ear, her lips were so close to my cheek that I felt her warm breath. "Jim," she said, "do you love me very much?" I would have kissed the lips which dared to ask such a question, but she drew a little away. It was not that which she wanted—just then. "Listen," she murmured, "but do not look at me. Watch that star there, sinking down towards the sea—there near the horizon. Now listen. When we land at New York, let us run away from everything, from everybody. We can go west to Mexico and beyond! There are beautiful countries there which I have always wanted to see. Let us lose ourselves for a year, two years—longer even. I will not let you be weary! Oh! I promise you that. I will give you myself and all my life. Think! We can only live once, and you and I have found what life is. Don't let us trifle with it. Jim, will you come?" Soft though her voice was, there was passion quivering in every sentence. When I turned to look at her, her eyes and face seemed aflame with it. The color had streamed into her cheeks, she had drifted into my arms, and her clinging lips yielded unresistingly to mine. "Oh! Jim," she murmured, "the rest isn't worth anything. Tell me that you will come." I did not answer her at once, and she seemed content to lie where she was. My own senses were in a wild tumult of delight, but there was a pain in my heart. Presently she drew a little away. There was a new note in her tone—a note of half-alarmed surprise. "Answer me, Jim! Oh! answer me please," she begged. "Don't let me think—that you mean to refuse." I held her tightly in my arms. The memory of that moment might have to last me all my life. "My dear heart," I whispered, "it would be Paradise! Some day we will do it. But in your heart, you know very well that you would love me no more if I forgot my honor and my duty—even for the love of you!" "It is not your task," she pleaded. "Tell what you know, and leave it to others. You are too honest to play the spy. You will fail, and it will cost you your life." "I shall not fail," I answered steadfastly, "and my life is insured in Heaven for the sake of the things I carry with me. Have faith in me, Adèle. I swear that I will do my duty and live to realize—everything." She shook her head sadly. "There are others," she said, "who could do what you are doing. But for me there is no one else in the world." "You shall not need any one else," I declared. "Mine is, after all, a simple task. You know that I went to see Lord Polloch in London." "Well?" "He would not believe me. Why should he? My story sounded wild enough, and I had no proofs. I only need to gather together a few of these loose ends, to weave something tangible out of them and show him the results, and my task is finished." "Do you suppose," she asked quietly, "that you will be allowed to do that?" "I must do my best,"' I answered. "It is inevitable. There will be more Mr. Stanleys and such like, no doubt. They may hinder me, but I think that, in the end, I shall pull through. And I promise you, dear, that when I have something definite to show, I shall have finished with the whole business. It is no more to my liking than yours." "I cannot move you then," she murmured. "You must not try," I answered. She laughed a little unnaturally. "I do not feel any longer," she said, "that you belong to me. There is something else which comes first." "Without that something, dear," I answered, "I should not be worthy of your love." "With men, there is always something else," she said sadly. "It is the woman only who realizes what love is, who puts it before body and soul and honor. A man cannot do that." "No!" I answered softly, "a man cannot do that." She turned away, and I walked by her side in silence. When she reached the companion-way, she stepped inside a little abruptly. "I am going to my state-room," she said. "Good night!" "You are not angry with me, Adèle?" I asked anxiously. "No! not that," she answered. "Of course, you are right. Only I have been a little mad, and I dreamed a beautiful dream. It is all impossible, of course; but I don't feel like bridge or my stepmother's questions. Say I am coming up again. It will save trouble!" I played bridge later with Mrs. Van Reinberg for a partner. Mr. de Valentin's manner to me was coldly frigid, and a general air of restraint seemed to indicate that the evening had scarcely been a cheerful one. I myself did not feel much like contributing towards a more hilarious state of affairs. We had one rubber only, and then Mrs. Van Reinberg, who as a rule hated to go to bed before midnight, announced her intention of retiring. She accepted my escort to the door, and bade Mr. de Valentin a cold good-night. "I hope you will understand, Mr. Courage," she said, as we shook hands, "that I shall expect you at Lenox. You won't disappoint us?" "There isn't the faintest chance that I shall do so, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I answered. "I have the best of reasons for wishing to come." She smiled at me encouragingly. "May I guess at the attraction?" she asked. "I fancy," I answered, "that it is fairly apparent. May I, by the way, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I continued, "ask you a question?" "Certainly," she answered. "It is rather a delicate matter to allude to," I said; "but your friend, Mr. de Valentin, seemed to find your invitation to me a matter for personal disapproval. I hope that I have not unwillingly been the cause of any unpleasantness?" Mrs. Van Reinberg was a little embarrassed. She hesitated, and dropped her voice a little in answering me. "Since you have mentioned it, Mr. Courage," she said, "I will treat you confidentially. Mr. de Valentin has shown a desire to become an admirer of my stepdaughter. For several reasons, I find it necessary to discourage his advances. In fact, between ourselves, Mr. de Valentin, although he is a person for whom I have a great respect and esteem, would be an altogether impossible suitor for Adèle. I am sure he will realize that directly he thinks the matter over seriously; but you see he is a person who has been very much spoilt, and he annoyed me to-night very much. I do not care to have my invitations criticised by my other guests, whoever they may be. Now you understand the position, Mr. Courage." "Perfectly," I answered. "I am exceedingly obliged to you for being so frank with me." "And we shall expect you at Lenox?" "Without fail!" I answered confidently. She passed down the stairs, humming a tune to herself, followed a few steps behind by her maid. Her wonderfully arranged, fair hair was ablaze with diamonds, her gown was more suitable to a London drawing-room than the deck of a steamer. And yet she seemed neither over-jewelled nor over-dressed. She had all the marvellous "aplomb" of her countrywomen, who can transgress all laws of fashion or taste, and through sheer self-confidence remain correct. I felt a touch upon my shoulder and turned around. It was Mr. de Valentin who stood there. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Courage," he said, "but if you have nothing particular to do for a few minutes, will you smoke a cigarette with me?" "With pleasure!" I answered. "I was just going into the smoke-room." He stalked solemnly ahead, and I followed him along the corridor. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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