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Page 52
Lloyd caught at his hand, shut so desperately upon the knob, striving to
loosen his clasp. She hardly knew what she was doing; she threw her arms
about his neck, imploring, commanding, now submissive, now imperious,
her voice now vibrating with anger, now trembling with passionate
entreaty.
"You are not only killing him, you are killing my love for you; will you
let me go--the love that is so dear to me? Let me love you, Ward; listen
to me; don't make me hate you; let me love you, dear--"
"Hurry, oh, hurry!"
"Let me love you; let him live. I want to love you. It's the best
happiness in my life. Let me be happy. Can't you see what this moment is
to mean for us? It is our happiness or wretchedness forever. Will you
let me go?"
"No."
"For the last time, Ward, listen! It is my love for you and his life.
Don't crush us both--yes, and yourself. You who can, who are so
powerful, don't trample all our happiness under foot."
"Hurry, hurry; oh, will nobody come to help?"
"Will you let me go?"
"No."
Her strength seemed all at once to leave her. All the fabric of her
character, so mercilessly assaulted, appeared in that moment to reel,
topple, and go crashing to its wreck. She was shattered, broken,
humbled, and beaten down to the dust. Her pride was gone, her faith in
herself was gone, her fine, strong energy was gone. The pity of it, the
grief of it; all that she held dearest; her fine and confident
steadfastness; the great love that had brought such happiness into her
life--that had been her inspiration, all torn from her and tossed aside
like chaff. And her patient--Ferriss, the man who loved her, who had
undergone such suffering, such hardship, who trusted her and whom it was
her duty to nurse back to life and health--if he should perish for want
of her care, then what infinite sorrow, then what endless remorse, then
what long agony of unavailing regret! Her world, her universe grew dark
to her; she was driven from her firm stand. She was lost, she was
whirled away--away with the storm, landmarks obliterated, lights gone;
away with the storm; out into the darkness, out into the void, out into
the waste places and wilderness and trackless desolation.
"Hurry, oh, hurry!"
It was too late. She had failed; the mistake had been made, the question
had been decided. That insensate, bestial determination, iron-hearted,
iron-strong, had beaten down opposition, had carried its point. Life and
love had been crushed beneath its trampling without pity, without
hesitation. The tragedy of the hour was done; the tragedy of the long
years to come was just beginning.
Lloyd sank down in the chair before the table, and the head that she had
held so high bowed down upon her folded arms. The violence of her grief
shook her from head to foot like a dry, light reed. Her heart seemed
literally to be breaking. She must set her teeth with all her strength
to keep from groaning aloud, from crying out in her hopeless sorrow her
impotent shame and despair.
Once more came the cry for help. Then the house fell silent. The minutes
passed. But for Lloyd's stifled grief there was no sound.
Bennett--leaning heavily against the door, his great shoulders stooping
and bent, his face ashen, his eyes fixed--did not move. He did not speak
to Lloyd. There was no word of comfort he could address to her--that
would have seemed the last mockery. He had prevailed, as he knew he
should, as he knew he must, when once his resolve was taken. The force
that, once it was unleashed, was beyond him to control, had accomplished
its purpose. His will remained unbroken; but at what cost? However, that
was for future consideration. The costs? Had he not his whole life
before him in which to count them? The present moment still called upon
him to act. He looked at his watch.
The next quarter of an hour was all a confusion to him. Its incidents
refused to define themselves upon his memory when afterward he tried to
recall them. He could remember, however, that when he helped Lloyd into
the carryall that was to take her to the depot in the village she had
shrunk from his touch and had drawn away from him as if from a
criminal--a murderer. He placed her satchel on the front seat with the
driver, and got up beside the driver himself. She had drawn her veil
over her face, and during the drive sat silent and motionless.
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