The Way of Transgressors

Chapter I. Confession

" Let her know her place ; she is the second, not the first." Stone-still, ice-cold, with her loosely interlocked hands stretched forward in an attitude of appeal, and her face press ing on her arm, there she lay where she had fallen, half unconscious, if she felt anything beyond the physical sense of being weary — so weary. And that day — nay, a few little hours ago, she had borne within her breast one of the happiest hearts in England ; but then she had believed herself the betrothed of a loyal gentleman, and now she knew herself the plaything of a weak and cruel traitor. She recalled every incident of her last interview with Bertie, and all he had said. Of course she understood his meaning now, and even the motive of his VOL. II. B gift — a momentary compunction, a futile wish to undo what he had last done, and re-establish their old relations.

As if their old relations could be re-established — as if she could ever — ever again go back to those happy hours in which she had believed in him ! And yet she was not angry with him, had no wish that the memory of her love and faith could be effaced. Her disaster had overwhelmed her, and left her still and dumb ; that was all. And only that morning her father had spoken so sorrowfully of the time when her marriage would separate her from the old home and friends, and take her quite away from them and their simple ways. What had she answered ? She could not remember ; but she believed she had acquiesced. At this thought a short, little laugh broke the silence oddly. Who had laughed ? She was sure it was not she, and yet there was no one else. It was so strange a laugh, too, so husky and heart less.

Had she two identities ? Perhaps she had, and the one that did not feel was making merry over the one that lay mangled and slain. What would her mother say when she went back and told her that their dream was over ? And what would Mrs. Erroll CONFESSION. 3 say, and the Highfields people ? These would be glad, she knew — would say " serve her right ! " She wondered were there always people who thought humili ation and disappointment the just due of other unfortunates. For her own part, she did not think she could be glad that any rainbow vision resolved itself into its primal nothingness ; but perhaps she might have been glad had she seen some one else's disillusioning, before she had learned for herself the bitterness of pain. It was only of these abstract things she could think with clearness ; the great fact that Bertie was to marry Nellie Austin somehow eluded her, and would not be grappled with.

The wood fire died down, the last muffled footfall in the house was silent, and still she lay there, stiff, and chill, and inert, not thinking anything con nectedly, not feeling anything very acutely. It was only when the long wax candles had guttered and gone out, leaving her in total darkness, that she rose and shook herself, and, groping her way towards what she required, undressed and lay down. She was so exhausted that she slept as soon as her head touched the pillow — slept dreamlessly till a maid awoke her in the morning. b It was lovely winter weather, clear and bright above the snow. She looked out through her white window curtains on the white world, and remembered that on just such a morning she had returned home a year ago. But was it only a year ago ? Was it not a century ? Why that girl who had watched the robin on the window-sill had felt her heartache be cause her father kept a shop, while this girl had lost her lover, and the future that seemed so near and so divine, and she did not feel anything.

She had heard talk of broken hearts, had read how deceptions sometimes killed people, but that was all poetic fancy. There was no such thing as a broken heart, and, no matter what happened, one never really cared. She had had such a good night's rest, and not even an unhappy dream, though she had been so dreadfully, dreadfully tired that her very flesh ached still. Perhaps that was due to cold ; she had been lying on the floor so long. Why had she lain on the floor ? That seemed a piece of sheer stupidity now, that would perhaps result in a cough or a catarrh, and spoil all the pleasures of her visit. She was dressing all this time, not briskly, but limply and languidly, and when she began to brush her hair before CONFESSION. the glass, she quite started to see how pale she was. She had caught cold, of course, but she would fight with it, and overcome it.

She began moving more quickly, putting aAvay certain of her things, and settling the room with her instinct of neatness, before she resumed her hair-dressing. But she was ready in time for breakfast, and found herself with Nellie and a few gentlemen in the morning-room. She did not know very Avell what the conversation was about, but she forced herself to take part in it, though always with the odd feeling that it was her dual self that was talking, while her real self lay dead. And then she asked herself quite sharply why she should lie dead, seeing that the heart was a delusion to string rhymes about. After breakfast she wrote home and told of her safe arrival and described Oakdene and Major Bruce and General Austin with quite a literary pen ; but she said nothing of her interview with Bertie, or of anything Nellie had told her.

After wards she went for a walk with Mr. Thornton and a young lady who was carrying on a brisk flirtation with the latter, and it struck her as odd that the curate was so anxious to talk with her to whom conversation was an effort, while the remarks of the girl who had a hun dred things to say and suggest were for the most part unheeded. On their return to the house lunch was ready. After lunch there was a carriage drive ; then a little gossip over afternoon tea ; then rest and novel-reading till dinner-time, and then a repetition of the evening before, only without the antici pated bedroom tete-a-tete. Nellie was quite determined that her friend should not be deprived of any portion of her natural rest for a week, at least. "The life here is very luxurious and very idle," Viney wrote home, " and though for the present I heartily enjoy it, I know I should tire of it to utter extinction in a year.

I think rich people cannot feel as we common people do — that they have a soul, since their body is such an absorbing thing, needing so much feeding, and dressing, and looking after. I feel rather ashamed to think hoAv strongly I once girded against my life and circumstances, seeing that I am really very little of a fine lady at heart. I am perfectly happy here ; nevertheless I know when I go back to Highfields I shall be able to honestly endorse many of Mrs. Erroll's practical maxims." And yet she was in no haste to go back. The first week passed, and the CONFESSION. second, and they were well into the third before she had the moral courage to fix the day of her return. If she was not happy at Oakdene, ac least she was sheltered. Here no one knew of what had befallen her, or could ask themselves how much she suffered.

How could she go home and tell them all that had occurred, and lead them to think him base and cowardly when she knew that he was only weak? How could she pain them with a knowledge of the truth, or of the cruel fact, that would be worse in their eyes than the truth, since they Avould make no allow ances ? There had been no letters from him for Nellie since Viney's arrival at Oakdene. " He is so busy," his betrothed said, excusing him just as she had done ; " besides men hate correspondence." " And I suppose you write him three or four letters for one ? " " Of course ; is not letter-writing a joy to the female heart ? " It was just her own role being re enacted by another, while for her the stage was empty and the curtain down. It was not till the day of her departure was fixed that she wrote her last letter to Bertie Lyall, and as a communication has seldom been penned under more peculiar circumstances, it is well to give it in full :— " Dear Bertie, " I expect to leave Oakdene for Highfields on Saturday.

I should like you to meet me on the way back, as you did when I was coming. I have had some talk with Nellie, and of course have learned of your engagement to her. It is on that subject I wish to have a little conversation with you. I need not say that the announcement took me a good deal by surprise, but no doubt the arrangement is the best and Avisest that could have been made. It would have been kinder to me if you had giA^en me the information yourself, but no doubt it would have been less easy for you. In your new relations and throughout your future I most sincerely wish you well. Malvina Grace." Would he meet her in London ? She was not sure, since in omitting to do so he would escape a difficulty, and by that she knew for the first time how mean her estimate of him had grown. But he was on the platform as the train steamed slowly into the station, well-dressed, neat, well-brushed, and not much changed save in expression.

There are men who can unconcernedly swagger CONFESSION. through a detected meanness, but Bertie Lyall had not fallen to that level yet. They did not shake hands, or offer each other any recognized form of greeting, these two between whom lay such sweet and bitter knowledge, and her first words were about her luggage, adding : " You might give it in charge ; I wish to talk." He had her boxes conveyed to the cloak-room, procured the ticket for them, and then returned to her. " Where shall we go ? " he asked. " Wherever you like ; I want a quiet place." " There are the parks." " Yes, take me to the Green Park. It is convenient, is it not ? " " You will drive, I suppose. "No, I shall walk." " I'm afraid it is too far." " I don't mind distance." They had gone a little way in silence when he offered her his arm timidly, and a little to his surprise she took it, but he bore himself none the less abjectly on that account.

To know himself a cur is bitter knowledge to which a man accus toms himself only by reluctant degrees. " You have been engaged to Nellie ever since she was at Marly Hall ? " she said abruptly but in a Ioav voice. THE AVAY OF TRANSGRESSORS. He started and gave a faint sigh. He knew that her suggestion was untrue, and so did she, and yet he was glad she had offered it, for adopting it showed him a path, albeit a tortuous one, out of his difficulty. " Unfortunately, yes." This damaging admission staggered her all the more that she knew it to be a lie. " Then what did you mean by teaching me to love you ? " " I loved you first. I tried not to do so. I tried to be true, but I was not able. I love you still." There was so much genuine truth in his statement that it carried a certain amount of conviction with it.

She began actually to admire him ; but alas ! for the woman who is constrained to admire the clever villainy of the man she has worshipped. " You are so different from other women— so clever, so sympathetic, so lovely too ! What could I do but love you and forget my honour ! " " And having forgotten it, what then ? " " Our marriage is impossible," he answered in a low tone. " For what reason ? Is it because you are engaged to Nellie, or because I am poor and come of common people ? " CONFESSION. " Both ; to be honest with you — both ! " he said with a kind of groan. " Then are the conditions different since you told me you loved me ? " " I do love you — Heaven knows I love you ! " " But you are going to marry Nellie." . " There is no other way." " I think Nellie deserves better." " I shall be kind to her.

I shall never treat her badly ; you do not think I am a fellow to treat any woman badly ? " " If you mean you will not beat or starve her, I do not think you will." " More than that, I shall try to make her happy. I shall try to atone to her for having injured you." She could have laughed, only that the pain at her heart was so assertive and bitter. He would atone to Nellie Austin, General Austin's only child and petted heiress, for having broken the heart of poor little Viney Grace. " That will be very noble of you," she said, after a slight pause. " But would it not be better to abstain from the offence, and therefore from the needed atonement? If you love .me, I cannot see the necessity you are under to marry Nellie Austin." " But I have promised." " Was there not a promise to me, also ?

" THE AArAY OF TRANSGRESSORS. She was determined to play out the dreary farce to its bitter end. " If I were rich, I should marry you this very day — now, before you leave me." " Then it is a question of money ? " " It is. How could I bind you to my poverty — how could I turn you into the miserable drudge you would be as a poor man's wife, you who love all lovely things ? " " Well, it would be hard, I confess." Then she turned to him appealingly. " We are about to part, Bertie. Perhaps this is our final interview in this world, and, therefore, my last request to you is that you leave me one small shred of respect for you remaining. If you are going to be base, at least be base in a manly way." " Then you will give me up ? " She gave a bitter, heart-sick laugh. " What do you want ? " she asked.

" I want you to be true to me, even if I am so false to you. I want you not to break with me — I want you to leave me your love." " In fact, you want me to go to your wedding, and to remain on your wife's visiting-list, and to Avrite you platonic letters now and then. Well, possibly the position has had parallels in history, but CONFESSION. it does not appeal to me. Now, our say is almost out, so we had better turn back, I think. I want to return you your ring. Why did you give it to me ? " " I wish you to keep it." " Why, is it because it possesses a certain pecuniary value, and will there fore be a kind of consolation left over from our parting ? " " You have nothing but contempt for me now. A week ago it was quite different." " Yes ; quite different." " I never thought I should lose your good opinion so utterly."

"No. Neither did I; but you have not answered my question yet. Why did you give me the ring ? " " I thought if you wished to tell Nellie the truth, it would be a proof to her." " Then you would have been satisfied that your engagement was at an end ? " " Quite satisfied. There are times when I have wished it ended more than any thing else in the world." " But your friends would be displeased, and Lady Mildred would withdraw her favour and her allowance, and possibly you would be constrained to marry me, saute de mieux. Well, after all," she added wistfully, " I do not know that that would be the most disastrous thing THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS. that could happen. We are both young and strong, and moderately clever, and we love, or have loved, each other. You have your profession, and I have a little honestly-earned money — not much, but enough to start us in a simple way ; and before now, I think, people have ventured on as bold steps as our marriage would be."

He kept his eyes fixed moodily on the ground, and did not answer, and, after a pause, she went on impatiently, — " But you don't wish it ? You are bent on this other course." " My honour is at stake." She dropped his arm impatiently. " Don't be so mean, for Heaven's sake ! Brazen it out ! Say you never had a thought of marrying me, and have done with it." " But I had." "You had?" " Yes. I hoped something would happen. Nellie might have fallen in love with some one else, or Aunt Milly might have given me an independence free of conditions, or I might have made a hit at the bar." " But neither of the latter contin gencies would have freed your honour." " You bring me to book very sharply," was the sullen rejoinder. CONFESSION. " Yes. Perhaps so ; but you see I am striving to understand. I think we had better turn back now.

There is a train somewhere about four from St. Pancras." " I shall call a hansom ; you will be tired." " Very well." He hailed one, and got jgst beside her ; but they drove most of the way in silence. What was there to say? He did not relent, and she had no thought of pleading. She did not know if this thing that he was doing had been planned from the first, but she felt sure that at least it had lain in his mind as an accepted possibility, and was, therefore, the motive of his rare and cautious letters ; and then she found herself wondering if he had done this often before, or if he had shown himself so keen and clever at a first essay. And yet, though her comprehension of him had become all at once so profound and contemptuous, she did not hate him. She had loved him, and love is not recalled in a day.

Perhaps she would hate him some time, but if she did, the fact would make no iota of difference to any one but herself. At Charing Cross he got her luggage, THE AVAY OF TRANSGRESSORS. and put her into a four-wheeler, and then he held the door-handle hesitatingly. " May I go with you to St. Pancras ? " he asked. " Do just as you like." " Of course I should like to go." " Very well ; one drive more or less is of very little consequence now." He closed himself in beside her, and then he took her hand, and she left it in his passively. " This is hard and bitter," he said, " but in a few years I believe you will have come to think our parting a piece of good fortune for you." " Very likely." " You will love and marry some man far worthier than I." She drew her hand from him at this, but did not answer.

" I suppose you hate me now." "No." " If you knew how wretched I am ! " " You will survive the wretchedness." They jogged on a little in silence, and then she said : " You are to be married in the summer ? " " I think so." " You are not sure ? " " No ; not having much interest in the matter. Marriage means, for me, but the beginning of hard work." CONFESSION. " And why will you work so hard? " " That I may forget." " Forget what ? " " The woman who loved me well enough to let me go." " Do you think yourself a prize worth clinging to ? " she asked with a certain sharpness. " No — oh no ! " sighing. " You see, you have not left me much of an alternative ; and yet you might have risked more with impunity. It would have been quite enough to have let me know that this other marriage would be adArantageous for you, and neither by a word nor a look should I have held you back from it ; but you never gave me the chance of showing myself magnanimous.

It is best so. If I had thought you great, I might have died at losing you ; now I shall not die, for in time my scorn will kill my love. You are an earl's grandson, and I am a grocer's daughter, yet I would not change natures with you for any consideration imagination could offer." " I deserve all you say," he replied in a Ioav tone. " You were ahvays aboAre me." " That is more of your cant," she said bitterly. " And yet you believe it, though you do not think you do. You know I A'OL. II. c THE AVAY OF TRANSGRESSORS. could show you in such a light to the Austins that they would decline even a bowing acquaintance with you hence forward, and yet you trust me enough to know I will not do it." " Say what you like ; I shall not justify myself." " As if you could ! As if you could explain aAvay even the one fact that we have talked now for an hour, and that you have not in all that time given one thought to me — have never once asked how I shall take up the burden of my future under the added weight of loss and disillusioning — have not once said, ' Forgive me that I have sacrificed you.' Well, though you have not asked it, I do forgive you.

I shall not wish you evil — not once through all the coming years that you have rendered desolate. But — and this in itself would constitute a reason, were there none other — it will not be necessary to wish you evil, because the evil will come of itself. A traitor's nature advances step by step to a traitor's doom." " What is a traitor's doom ? " he asked in a dull voice. " Ruin ! What form it may assume in your case we shall see some day," she answered gravely. " And yet changing one's mind is not CONFESSION. the greatest wrong that has been com mitted under the sun." " Quite true ; yet in my eyes it is so grave a wrong that I had rather suffer than inflict it." They had arrived at St. Pancras now, and he had alighted and helped her to the pavement. He did not answer her, and in the yellow flare of the gas his face looked haggard and white.

While her luggage was being put into the van, she procured her ticket, and he purchased some periodicals for her, half realizing that these little every-day details deprived their position of half its tragedy. Then he found an empty compartment for her, and entered it after her, and when they were alone together, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with eyes that were distended and dark. " Whatever you may think of me, I have loved you," he said. " At this moment the life before me is, in my eyes, quite valueless — an empty, heartless trifle. No doubt you are right in what you foresee for me, and yet I do not know that I could have helped anything I have done, though I cannot say what has impelled me to a course whose baseness I recognize. It seems to me now as if you, my better angel, stood at the cross- C A THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSOR?. ways of my life, and I had turned my back on you, and had chosen the lower way.

Well, the choice is made, and I must abide by it ; but at least we need not part in anger. Kiss me once, as you have kissed me a score of times, and say farewell." She looked up at him with her miserable gaze, and then she put her arms about his neck and kissed him heart brokenly. When he had left her, stum bling blindly to the platform, she leaned towards the window, and said " Fare well" again, but he did not answer, or turn his head, or seem to hear. CHAPTER IT. VINEY TELLS. " I cry my cry in silence and have done." It was not till Viney was at home again that she fully realized all that had be fallen her. Before that the strangeness of place and surroundings had helped her — had lent to the fact of her loss an unreality. Besides, she had not then heard the thing from Bertie's own lips, and some Arague, shadowy hope that he would be able to right himself in her eyes, that he would yet stand justified before her, even if she must lose him, had buoyed her up unconsciously.

But once at home the position was quite different ; then she understood how all her hopes and happiness had resolved themselves into their first unsubstantial atoms, how the man she had loved was a delusion, a dream, a mere creation of her fancy, and the future to which she had looked forward in such glad confidence, as illusory as he. That first horrible feeling of being a dull spectator at the tragedy of her own life came back to her with doubled intensity. She had witnessed her own death, yet still she was under cruel com pulsion to live and move on towards an end that she could not understand, for her own end had come, and there was nothin erbef ore her. Life had broken sheer off, like a road cut across by a precipice, and she stood on the edge helpless, feeling that no other course was possible, and that this was one ended.

Behind her was the blank, familiar desert of the life she knew, and towards this her feet would bear her back perforce. The plain, vulgar, homely old house, the little room with white curtains and maple-wood furniture, where she had written her love-letters and indulged in her day-dreams, the kindly, familiar home faces, the bright, eager interest in all she had seen and done, tortured her, and the bitter sense of being wasted and flung away, after having been wrested to possible shape and use, came back to her. But she had to hide all that — had to meet their eager interest, to answer their questions smilingly, to endure Chrissie's "chaff" about the conquests she must have made, but always with that longing VINEY 'CELLS. at her heart to die, faint, pass away from it all into merciful oblivion before the inevitable explanations came.

But healthy young women possessed of sound organs do not escape in that way from the consequences of wrong-doing inflicted or suffered. Viney Grace had to take her tea and answer every one circumstantially regarding everything at Oakdene ; had to stand some bantering on the subject of her loss of appetite, and the probability that home-fare was too coarse for her palate now ; had to defend herself against the charge of looking peaky and washed-out, and had to feel all the time that the eyes that seemed to see through her and her pretences, down to her crushed and sorroAvful heart, were the eyes of Harry Caffyn. For the first time she was vaguely touched by the thought that Harry loved in vain. She glanced at him as he sat opposite her, regarding him for the first time almost as a human creature with a heartache.

Now that she understood the anguish of loving in vain, she was sorry for any one who experienced it, even if he were ridiculous enough to love her. The personal aspect of Harry's devotion was as absurd and offensive as ever, but otherwise she was sorry for him. During the first two days after her return, her mother felt her way towards confidences about Bertie, but did not insist on them. Viney had seen the young man both going to and returning from Oakdene, and he was well. Beyond general statements Mrs. Grace had not been taught to expect much, and was easily convinced that no amount of questioning would elicit more. On the fourth morning, she said tentatively, — " There is no letter from Mr. Lyall to day either." And Viney wondered how she would take it if she should answer, " There will never be a letter from him again."