Read Ebook: The Terms of Surrender by Tracy Louis

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Ebook has 1441 lines and 74175 words, and 29 pages

"Yes," she said composedly. "It was hardly necessary, but I wanted to dispose of my last doubt; though in my own mind I was sure of the ground already. My father went straight to Denver on receipt of that letter, and, of course, chanced to travel by the same train as Hugh Marten, the man to whom the whole amount of the mortgage was little more than a day's income. Marten was gracious, the lawyer-man adamant. Within a week I was told of a new suitor, and of my father's certain and complete ruin if I refused him.... Ah, me! How I wept!... When did you post your first letter, Derry?"

"Two days after I arrived at the placer mine," he replied unhesitatingly. The chief revelation in Nancy's story was her crystal-clear knowledge of facts which, he flattered himself, he had kept from her ken. Then his heart leaped at the thought that she had known of his love from the night they met in the dining-room of the Ocean House. But he choked back the rush of sentiment; for she was demanding his close attention.

"And I wrote on or about that same date," she went on. "My father--Heaven forgive him!--stole your letters to me; but the scheme for suppressing my letters to you must have been concocted before you went to Sacramento. Such foul actions are unforgivable! I, for one, refuse to be bound by the fetters which they forged. I come to you, my dear, as truly your wife, as unstained in soul and body, as though Hugh Marten had never existed!"

A sudden note of passion vibrated in her voice, and Power realized, by a lightning flash of intuition, with what vehement decision she had severed already the knot which seemed to bind her so tightly. He fancied it was her due that he should endeavor to relax an emotional strain which was becoming unbearable.

He stopped awkwardly, aware that, although she was apparently listening to his words, they were making no impression on her senses. A sudden silence fell, and the hitherto unheeded noises of the night smote on his ears with uncanny loudness. The leisured plash of waves so tiny that they might not be dignified by the name of breakers swelled into a certain strength and volume as his range of hearing spread, and the faint cries of invisible sea-fowl now jarred loudly on the quietude of nature. A pebble rolled down the cliff, and he could mark its constantly accelerated leaps until it reached the shingle with a crash which, even to a case-hardened pebble, betokened damage.

So she had followed what he was saying. What was it that he meant to say? Something about the rocks and shoals that lay ahead before he could take her to some safe anchorage. Nevertheless, he shied off at a tangent, and chose haphazard the one topic which his sober judgment might have avoided.

"I was about to utter a banal remark; but it may as well be put on record and dismissed," he said. "It is fortunate that I am a rich man. Mere weight of money can achieve nothing against us; while the possession of ample means will simplify matters in so far as we are concerned personally."

"Were those really the words on the tip of your tongue, Derry?"

"Well, no," he admitted.

"Are you afraid of hurting my feelings?"

"Interval! What interval?"

"You cannot secure a divorce without some sort of legal process, and the law refuses to be hurried."

"Ah, yes. Divorce--law--they are words which have little meaning here and now."

"But they are all-important. Awhile ago you spoke of your Paris friends, and there are others, like Mrs. Van Ralten, whose sympathies and help will be of real value in years to come. You see, I want you to hold your pretty little head higher as Mrs. John Darien Power than you ever held it as Mrs. Hugh Marten."

"That will cost no great effort, Derry. If we have to pass through an ordeal of publicity, we can surely use the vile means for our own ends, so that our friends may know the whole truth.... Derry, if you were not such a good and honorable man, you would not be so dense."

In his anxiety to follow each twist and turn of her reasoning he had crept nearer, and was now on his knees, having imprisoned her hands in his, and peering intently into her face. In that dim light her eyes shone like faintly luminous twin stars, and he laughed joyously when, to his thinking, he had solved the doubt that was troubling her.

"If it will help any that all the world should know that I, the aforesaid John Darien Power, have been, and am, and will ever remain frantically in love with a lady heretofore described as Nancy Willard, I shall nail a signed statement to that effect on the Casino notice-board tomorrow morning," he vowed.

She gently released her hands, placed them lovingly on his cheeks, and drew him close, so that he could not choose but yield to any demand she might make.

Stirred by a common impulse, they both stood upright. All at once she seemed to be unable to bear his burning gaze any longer, and her head sank on his breast. He had thrown a protecting arm around her shoulders, and he felt her supple body quiver under a sob which she tried to restrain.

"Nancy," he whispered, "am I to take you with me?"

"Yes," she said brokenly.

"You mean that we are to be a law unto ourselves, and thereby make divorce proceedings inevitable? I must put it that way, my dear one! I must understand!"

He held her so tightly that he became aware of the mad racing of her heart, and a great pity stirred his inmost core. How she must have suffered! What agony was this forced discarding, one by one, of her maidenly defenses! Though he had been blind and deaf solely because of the depth and intensity of his love and reverence, he could utter now only a halting plea that would explain his slowness of perception.

"Forgive me, Dear!" he murmured. "I can find nothing better to say than that--forgive me! I was so absorbed in my own dream of happiness that I gave no heed to the means. But I shall never again be so thoughtless."

"Thoughtless!" She raised her sweet face once more, tear-stained and smiling. "You thoughtless, Derry? Women thank God for that sort of thoughtlessness in men like you!"

And with that, before he could forestall or even divine her intention, she had withdrawn from his embrace, and had run lightly up half a dozen of the Forty Steps.

"Come!" she cried, with an alteration of manner and voice that was almost stupefying to her hearer. "We have been here an unconscionable time, and just think how awful it will be if our cabman has taken home his tired horse! Of course, even at the twelfth hour, I have loads of things to pack. And, since I don't know where I am going, the task of selecting a reasonable stock of clothes is too appalling for words. Oh, don't gaze at me as if I were a ghost, Derry! I am not about to flit away into space. You will have another half hour of my company; because, let that poor horse do his best, we sha'n't reach our respective habitations till long after eleven o'clock."

Yet she was neither excited nor hysterical. A great load had been lifted off her heart, and her naturally gay temperament was asserting itself with vital insistence. There was no possibility of drawing back now. Nothing but death could separate her from her lover. Nothing but death! Well, that separation must come in the common order of things; but a bright road stretched before her mind's eye through a long vista of years, and her spirit sang within her and rejoiced exceedingly. No shred of doubt or hesitation remained. She had passed already through the storm, and though its clouds might roll in sullen thunder among distant hills yet awhile, the particular hilltop on which she stood was bathed in sunlight.

Above all else, despite her complete trust in Power, she thrilled with the consciousness that her love contained a delicious spice of fear, and that is why she climbed the Forty Steps in a sort of panic; so that he marveled at her change of mood, and discovered in it only one more of the enchantments with which his fancy clothed her.

The driver regarded them as a moonstruck couple, since that sort of moon shines ever on fine evenings by the sea. He was obviously surprised when the lady's address was given, because he expected a return journey to one of Newport's many boarding-houses; but any suspicions he may have entertained were dispelled when he witnessed a polite farewell in the presence of a pompous butler, and heard Nancy say:

"I am going straight to my room now to write that letter to my father. Then I shall finish packing. What time is the train--nine o'clock. Goodnight, Derry! Sleep well!"

If he thought at all about the matter, the cabman might well have imagined that no young lady in Newport that night had used words less charged with explosive properties; yet no giant cannon on the warships swinging to their moorings in the bay could have rivaled the uproar those few simple sentences might create. Moreover, he heard the gentleman address the butler by name, and witnessed the transference of a tip, accompanied by the plain statement that the giver was leaving Newport early next day. Indeed, once he had deposited his fare at the Ocean House, the man probably gave no further heed to one or other of the pair who had some foolish liking for a prolonged stroll on the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, nor, to his knowledge, did he ever again see them, or even hear their names spoken of.

Power was crossing the veranda with his alert, uneven strides when a voice came out of the gloom:

"Hullo, Power, that you? Come and join me in a parting drink."

It was Dacre, the one person in the hotel from whom such an invitation was not an insufferable nuisance at the moment.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry," said Power, "as I am off tomorrow morning; but I'm glad to find you here. You've received my note?"

"Yes. Sit down. I'm just going to light a cigar, and the match will help you to mix your own poison. Had a pleasant evening?"

It was a natural though curiously pertinent question; but Power was at no loss for an answer.

"I have really been arranging certain details as a preliminary to my departure," he said.

"Where are you bound for, New York?"

"After some days, or weeks, perhaps. I hardly know yet."

"You've changed your plans, it seems?"

Power remembered then that he had invited the Englishman to visit Colorado. It was practically settled that Dacre should come West within three weeks or a month.

"Same here," said the other, with John Bull directness.

"But neither of us is likely to shuffle off the map yet awhile," continued Power. "You have my address, both in Colorado and at my New York bank, and I have yours. Keep me posted as to your movements, and we shall come together again later in the year."

He was eager to dissipate a certain starchiness, not wholly unjustifiable, which he thought he could detect in his companion's manner; but the discovery of its true cause disconcerted him more than he cared to acknowledge, even to himself. Enlightenment was not long delayed. Dacre's evident lack of ease arose from circumstances vastly more important than the disruption of his own plans; he hesitated only because he was searching for the right way to express himself.

"You and I have cultivated quite a friendship since we forgathered here nearly three weeks ago," he began, after a pause which Power again interpreted mistakenly.

"Not just yet. You are on the wrong tack, Power. You believe I'm rather cut up about the postponement of your invitation. Not a bit of it. This little globe cannot hold two men like you and me, and keep us apart during the remainder of our naturals. No, mine is a different sort of grouch. Now, I'm a good deal older than you. You won't take amiss anything I tell you, providing I make it clear that I mean well?"

"I can guarantee that, at any rate."

Power's reply was straightforward enough; but his tone was cold and guarded. The chill of premonition had fallen on him. A man whom he liked and respected was about to fire the first shot on behalf of unctuous rectitude and the conventions.

"I may as well open with a broadside," said Dacre, unwittingly adopting the simile of social warfare which had occurred to his hearer. "I was out with a yachting party this afternoon, and we were becalmed. Three of us came away from the New York Yacht Club's boathouse about half-past eight, and took a street-car in preference to one of those rickety old cabs. Luckily, by the accident of position, I was the only one of the three who saw a lady and gentleman come out of an Italian restaurant. The presence of two such people in that locality was unusual, to say the least; but, as the man was a friend of mine, and the lady one whom I admire and respect, I said nothing to the other fellows."

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