Chapter 7

"Very well," she answered. "Then I'll drive, please, I know this country a little. I stayed near here three years ago with the Nevilles. Archie and I used to fish."

"Did you ever catch anything?" Wingarde asked, with his quiet eyes on her face.

"Of course we did," she answered. "Salmon trout--beauties. Oh, and other things. I forget what they were called. We had great fun, I remember."

Her face flushed at the remembrance. Archie had been very romantic in those days, quite foolishly so. But somehow she had enjoyed it.

Wingarde said no more. He rose directly the meal was over. It was a perfect summer morning. The view from the windows was exquisite. Beyond the green stretches of the park rose peak after peak of sunlit mountains. There were a few cloud-shadows floating here and there. In one place, gleaming like a thread of silver, he could see a waterfall tumbling down a barren hillside.

Suddenly, through the summer silence, an octave of bells pealed joyously.

Nina started

"Why, it's Sunday!" she exclaimed. "I had quite forgotten. We ought to go to church."

Wingarde turned round.

"What an inspiration!" he said dryly.

His tone offended her. She drew herself up.

"Are you coming?" she asked coldly.

He looked at her with the same cynical smile with which he had received her overture the night before.

"No," he said. "I won't bore you with my company this morning."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"As you please," she said, turning to the door.

He made no rejoinder. And as she passed out, she realized that he believed she had suggested going to church in order to escape an hour of his hated society. It was but a slight injustice and certainly not wholly unprovoked by her. But, curiously, she resented it very strongly. She almost felt as if he had insulted her.

She found him smoking in the garden when she returned from her solitary expedition, and she hoped savagely that he had found his own society as distasteful as she did; though on second thoughts this seemed scarcely possible.

She decided regretfully, yet with an inner sense of expediency, that she would spend the afternoon in his company. But her husband had other plans.

"You have had a hot walk," he said. "You had better rest this afternoon. I am going to do a little mountaineering; but I mean to be back by tea-time. Perhaps when it is cool you will come for a stroll, unless you have arranged to attend the evening service also."

He glanced at her and saw the indignant colour rise in her face. But she was too proud to protest.

"As you wish," she said coldly.

Conversation during lunch was distinctly laboured. Wingarde's silences were many and oppressive. It was an unspeakable relief to the girl when at length he took himself off. She told herself with a wry smile that he was getting on her nerves. She did not yet own that he frightened her.

The afternoon's rest did her good; and when he returned she was ready for him.

He looked at her, as she sat in the garden before the tea-table in her muslin dress and big straw hat, with a shade of approval in his eyes.

He threw himself down into a chair beside her without speaking.

"Have you been far?" she asked.

"To the top of the hill," he answered. "I had a splendid view of the sea."

"It must have been perfect," she said.

"You have been there?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she answered, "long ago; with Archie."

Wingarde turned his head and looked at her attentively. She tried to appear unconscious of his scrutiny, and failed signally. Before she could control it, the blood had rushed to her face.

"And you found it worth doing?" he asked.

The question seemed to call for no reply, and she made none.

But yet again she felt as if he had insulted her.

She was still burning with silent resentment when they started on their walk. He strolled beside her, cool and unperturbed. If he guessed her mood, he made no sign.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked presently.

"It is the road to the wishing-gate," she replied icily. "There is a good view of the lake farther on."

He made no further enquiry, and they walked on in dead silence through exquisite scenery.

They reached the wishing-gate, and the girl stopped almost involuntarily.

"Is this the fateful spot?" said Wingarde, coming suddenly out of his reverie. "What is the usual thing to do? Cut our names on the gate-post? Rather a low-down game, I always think."

She uttered a sudden, breathless laugh. "My name is here already," she said, pointing with a finger that shook slightly at some minute characters cut into the second bar of the gate.

He bent and looked at the inscription--two names cut with infinite care, two minute hearts intertwined beneath.

Nina watched him with a scornful little smile on her lips.

"Artistic, isn't it?" she said.

He straightened himself abruptly, and their eyes met. There was a curious glint in his that she had never seen before. She put her hand sharply to her throat. Quite suddenly she knew that she was afraid of this monster to whom she had given herself--horribly, unreasonably afraid.

But he did not speak, and her scare began to subside.

"Now I'm going to wish," she said mounting the lowest bar of the gate.

He spoke then, abruptly, cynically.

"Really," he said, "what can you have to wish for now?"

She looked back at him defiantly. Her eyes were on a level with his. Because he had frightened her, she went the more recklessly. It would never answer to let him suspect this power of his.

"Something that I'm afraid you will never give me," she said, a bitter ring in her voice.

"What?" he asked sharply.

"Among other things, happiness," she said. "You can never give me that."

She saw him bite his lip, but he controlled himself to speak quietly.

"Surely you make a mistake," he said, "to wish for something which, since you are my wife, can never be yours!"

She laughed, still standing on the gate, and telling herself that she felt no fear.

"Very well," she said, "I will wish for a Deliverer first."

"For what?"

His naked fist banged down upon the gate-post, and she saw the blood start instantly and begin to flow. She knew in that moment that she had gone too far.

Her fear returned in an overwhelming flood. She stumbled off the gate and faced him, white to the lips.

A terrible pause followed, in which she knew herself to be fighting him with every inch of her strength. Then suddenly, without apparent reason, she gave in.

"I was joking," she said, in a low voice. "I spoke in jest."

He made her a curt bow, his face inflexibly stern.

"It is good of you to explain," he said. "With my limited knowledge of your character and motives, I am apt to make mistakes."

He turned from her abruptly with the words, and, shaking the blood from his hand, bound the wound with his handkerchief.

"Shall we go on?" he said then.

And Nina accompanied him, ashamed and afraid. She felt as if at the last moment she had asked for quarter; and, contemptuously, because she was a woman, he had given it.

IV

A GREVIOUS WOUND

After that moment of madness by the wishing-gate Nina's wanton desire to provoke to wrath the monster to whom she was chained died a sudden and unnatural death. She was scrupulously careful of his feelings from that day forward, and he treated her with a freezing courtesy, a cynical consideration, that seemed to form a barrier behind which the actual man concealed himself and watched.

That he did watch her was a fact of which she was miserably conscious. She knew with the certain knowledge of intuition that he studied her continually. She was perpetually under the microscope of his criticism, and there were times when she told herself she could not bear it. He was too much for her; too pitiless a tyrant, too stern a master. Her life was becoming insupportable.

A fortnight of their honeymoon had passed away, when one morning Wingarde looked up with a frown from a letter.

"I have had a summons to town," he said abruptly.

Nina's heart leapt at the words, and her relief showed itself for one unmanageable second in her face.

He saw it, and she knew he saw it.

"I shall be sorry," he said, with cutting sarcasm, "to curtail your enjoyment here, but the necessity for my presence is imperative. I should like to catch the two-thirty this afternoon if you can be ready by then."

Nina's face was burning. She held herself very erect.

"I can be ready before then if you wish," she said stiffly.

He rose from the breakfast-table with a curt laugh. As he passed her he flicked her cheek with the envelope he held in his hand.

"You are a dutiful wife, my dear," he said.

She winced sharply, and bent her head over her own letters.

"I do my best," she said, after a moment.

"I am sure of it," he responded dryly.

He paused at the door as if he expected her to say more. More came, somewhat breathlessly, and not upon the same subject.

Nina glanced up with sudden resolution.

"Hereford," she said, "can you let me have some money?"

She spoke with the rapidity of nervousness. She saw his hand leave the door. His face remained quite unmoved.

"For yourself?" he asked.

Considering the amount of the settlement he had made upon her, the question was absurd. Nina smiled faintly.

"No," she said, "not for myself."

He took a cheque-book from his pocket and walked to a writing-table.

"How much do you want?" he asked.

She hesitated, and he looked round at her.

"I--I only want to borrow it," she said haltingly. "It is rather a big sum."

"How much?" he repeated.

"Five thousand pounds," she answered, in a low voice.

He continued to look at her for several seconds. Finally he turned and shut up his cheque-book with a snap.

"The money will be placed to your credit to-morrow," he said. "But though a financier, I am not a money-lender. Please understand that! And let your family understand it, too."

And, rising, he walked straight from the room.

No further reference was made to the matter on either side. Nina's pride or her courage shrank from any expression of gratitude.

In the afternoon with intense thankfulness she travelled southward. Never were London smoke and dust more welcome.

They went straight to Wingarde's great house in Crofton Square. Dinner was served immediately upon their arrival.

"I must ask you to excuse me," Wingarde said, directly dessert was placed upon the table. "I have to go out--on business. In case I don't see you again, good-night!"

He was on his feet as he spoke. In her surprise Nina started up also.

"At this hour!" she exclaimed. "Why, it is nearly eleven!"

"At this hour," he grimly responded, "you will be able to dispense with my society no doubt."

His tone silenced her. Yet, as he turned to go, she looked after him with mute questioning in her eyes. She had a feeling that he was keeping something from her, and--perhaps it was merely the natural result of womanly curiosity baffled--she was vaguely hurt that he did not see fit to tell her whither his business was taking him.

A few words would have sufficed; but he had not chosen to utter them, and her pride was sufficient to suppress any display of interest in his affairs. She would not court the snub that she felt convinced he would not hesitate to administer.

So he left her without explanation, and Nina went drearily to bed. On the following morning, however, the sun shone upon her, and she went downstairs in better spirits.

The first person she encountered was her husband. He was sauntering about the morning-room in his overcoat, a cup of strong tea in his hand.

He greeted her perfunctorily, as his fashion was.

"Oh, good-morning!" he said. "I have only just got back. I was detained unavoidably. I am going upstairs for an hour's rest, and then I shall be off to the City. I don't know if you would care to drive in with me. I shall use the car, but it will then be at your service for the rest of the day."

"Have you been working all night?" Nina asked incredulously.

He nodded.

"It was unavoidable," he said again, with a touch of impatience. "You had better have a second brew of tea, this is too strong for you."

He set down his cup and rang the bell.

Nina stood and looked at him. He certainly did not look like a man who had been up all night. Alert, active, tough as wire, he walked back to the table and gathered together his letters. A faint feeling of admiration stirred in her heart. His, strength appealed to her for the first time.

"I should like to drive into the City with you," she said, after a pause.

He gave her a sharp glance.

"I thought you would be wanting to go to the bank," he remarked coolly.

She flushed and turned her back upon him. It was an unprovoked assault, and she resented it fiercely.

When they met again an hour later she was on the defensive, ready to resist his keenest thrust, and, seeing it, he laughed cynically.

"Armed to the teeth?" he asked, with a careless glance at her slim figure and delicate face.

She did not answer him by so much as a look. He handed her into the car and took his seat beside her.

"Can you manage to dine out with some of your people to-night?" he asked. "I am afraid I shall not be home till late."

"You seem to have a great deal on your hands," she remarked coldly.

"Yes," said Wingarde.

It was quite obvious that he had no intention of taking her into his confidence, and Nina was stubbornly determined to betray no interest. Then and there she resolved that since he chose to give himself up entirely to the amassing of wealth, not hesitating to slight his wife in the process, she also would live her separate life wholly independent of his movements.

She pretended to herself that she would make the most of it. But deep in her heart she hated him for thus setting her aside. His action pierced straight through her pride to something that sheltered behind it, and inflicted a grevious wound.

V

A STRUGGLE FOR MASTERY

"Jove! Here's a crush!" laughed Archie Neville. "Delighted to meet you again, Mrs. Wingarde! How did you find the Lakes?"

His good-looking, boyish face was full of pleasure. He had not expected to meet her. Nina's welcoming smile was radiant.

"Oh, here you are, Archie!" she exclaimed, as they shook hands. "Someone said you were out of town, but I couldn't believe anything so tragic."

"Quite right," said Archie. "Never believe the worst till there is positively no alternative. I'm not out of town, and I'm not going to be. It's awfully nice to see you again, you know! I thought the sun had set for the rest of the season."

Nina uttered a gay little laugh.

"Oh, dear, no! We certainly intended to stay longer, but Hereford was summoned back on business, and I really wasn't sorry on the whole. I did rather regret missing all the fun."

Archie laughed.

"Hereford must be doing dark deeds then," he said, "of which he keeps the rest of the world in complete ignorance. The markets are dead flat just now--nothing doing whatever. It's enough to make you tear your hair."

"Really!" said Nina. "He gave me to understant that it was something urgent."

And then she became suddenly silent, meeting Archie's eyes, and aware of the surprise he was too much of a gentleman to express. With a cold feeling of dissatisfaction she turned from the subject.

"It's very nice to be back again among my friends," she said. "Can't you come and dine to-morrow and go to the theatre afterwards?"

Archie considered a moment, and she knew that when he answered he was cancelling other engagements.

"Thanks, I shall be delighted!" he said, "if I shan't be _de trop_."

There was a touch of mockery in Nina's smile.

"We shall probably be alone," she said. "My husband's business keeps him late in the City. We have been home a week, and he has only managed to dine with me once."

"Isn't he here to-night?" asked Archie.

She shook her head.

"What an infernal shame!" he exclaimed impulsively. "Oh, I beg your pardon! That was a slip."

But Nina laid her hand on his sleeve.

"You needn't apologize," she said, in a low voice. "One can't have everything. If you marry--an outsider--for his money, you have to pay the penalty."

Archie looked at her with further indiscretion upon the tip of his tongue. But he thought twice and kept it back.

"I say, you know," he said awkwardly, "I--I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she said gently. "Well, you will come to-morrow?"

"Of course," he said. "What theatre shall we go to? I'll bring the tickets with me."

The conversation drifted away into indifferent topics and presently they parted. Nina was almost gay of heart as she drove homeward that night. She had begun to feel her loneliness very keenly, and Archie's society promised to be of value.

Her husband was waiting for her when she returned. As she entered her own sitting-room, he started up abruptly from an arm-chair as if her entrance had suddenly roused him from sleep. She was considerably surprised to see him there, for he had never before intruded without her permission.

He glanced at the clock, but made no comment upon the lateness of the hour.

"I hope you have enjoyed yourself," he said somewhat formally.

The words were as unexpected as was his presence there. Nina stood for a moment, waiting for something further.

Then, as he did not speak, she shrugged her shoulders and threw back her cloak.

"It was a tremendous crush," she said indifferently. "No, I didn't enjoy it particularly. But it was something to do."

"I am sorry you are feeling bored," he said gravely.

Nina sat down in silence. She did not in the least understand what had brought him there.

"It is getting rather late," she remarked, after a pause. "I am just going to have a cup of tea and then go to bed."

A little tea-tray stood on the table at her elbow. A brass kettle was fizzing cheerily above a spirit stove.

"Do you want a cup?" she asked, with a careless glance upwards.

He had remained standing, looking down at her with an expression that puzzled her slightly. His eyes were heavy, as if they wanted sleep.

"Thank you," he said.

Nina threw off her wraps and sat up to brew the tea. The light from a rose-shaded lamp poured full upon her. She looked superb and she knew it. The knowledge deprived her for once of that secret sense of fear that so brooded at the back of her intercourse with this man. He stood in total silence behind her. She began to wonder what was coming.

Having made tea, she leant back again with her hands behind her head.

"I suppose we must give it two minutes to draw," she remarked, with a smothered yawn. "Isn't it frightfully hot to-night? I believe there is thunder about."

He made no response, and she turned her eyes slowly upon him. She knew he was watching her, but a curious sense of independence possessed her that night. He did not disconcert her.

Their eyes met. Hers were faintly insolent. His were inscrutable.

At last he spoke.

"I am sorry you have not enjoyed yourself," he said, speaking rather stiffly. "Will you--by way of a change--come out with me to-morrow night? I think I may anyhow promise you"--he paused slightly--"that you shall not be bored."

There was a short silence. Nina turned and moved the cups on the little tray. She did not, however, seem embarrassed.

"I happen to be engaged to-morrow evening," she said coldly at length.

"Is it important?" he asked. "Can't you cancel the engagement?"

She uttered a little, flippant laugh. She had not hoped for such an opportunity as this.

"I'm afraid I really can't," she said. "You should have asked me earlier."

"What are you going to do?"

There was a new note in his voice--a hint of mastery. She resented it instantly.

"That is my affair," she said calmly, beginning to pour out the tea.

He looked at her as if he scarcely believed his ears. He was silent for some seconds, and very quietly she turned to him and handed him a cup.

He took it from her and instantly set it aside.

"Be good enough to answer my question!" he said.

She heard the gathering sternness in his tone, and, tea-cup in hand, she laughed. A curious recklessness possessed her that night. She felt as if she had the strength to fling off the bands of tyranny. But her heart had begun to beat very fast. She realized that this was no mere skirmish.

"Why should I answer you?" she asked, helping herself to some more cream with a hand that was slightly unsteady in spite of her effort to control it. "I do not see the necessity."

"I think you do," he rejoined.

Nina said no more. She swallowed her tea, nibbled at a wafer with a species of deliberate trifling calculated to proclaim aloud her utter fearlessness, and at length rose to go.

In that moment her husband stepped forward and took her by the shoulders.

"Before you leave this room, please," he said quietly.

She drew back from him in a blaze of indignant rebellion.

"I will not!" she said. "Let me go instantly!"

His hold tightened. His face was more grim than she had ever seen it. His eyes seemed to beat hers down. Yet when he spoke he did not raise his voice.

"I have borne a good deal from you, Nina," he said. "But there is a limit to every man's endurance."

"You married me against my will," she panted. "Do you think I have not had anything to endure, too?"

"That accusation is false," he said. "You married me of your own accord. Without my money, you would have passed me by with scorn. You know it."

She began to tremble violently.

"Do you deny that?" he insisted pitilessly.

"At least you pressed me hard," she said.

"I did," he replied. "I saw you meant to sell yourself. And I did not mean you to go to any scoundrel."

"So you bought me for yourself?" she said, with a wild laugh.

"I did." Wingarde's voice trembled a little. "I paid your price," he said, "and I have taken very little for it. You have offered me still less. Now, Nina, understand! This is not going on for ever. I simply will not bear it. You are my wife, sworn to obey me--and obey me you shall."

He held her fast in front of him. She could feel the nervous strength of his hands. It thrilled her through and through. She felt like a trapped animal in his grasp. Her resistance began to waver.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I am going to conquer you," he said grimly.

"You won't do it by violence," she returned quickly.

Her words seemed to pierce through a weak place in the iron armour in which he had clad himself. Abruptly he set her free.

The suddenness of his action so surprised her that she tottered a little. He made a swift move towards her; but in a second she had recovered herself, and he drew back. She saw that his face was very pale.

"Are you quite sure of that?" he asked.

She did not answer him. Shaking from head to foot, she stood facing him. But words would not come.

After a desperate moment the tension was relaxed. He turned on his heel.

"Well, I have warned you," he said, and strode heavily away.

The moment she ceased to hear his footsteps, Nina sank down into a chair and burst into tears.

VI

AN OFFER OF HELP

On the following morning Nina did not descend the stairs till she had heard the car leave the house. The strain of the previous night's interview had told upon her. She felt that she had not the resolution to face such another.

The heat was intense. She remembered with regret that she had promised to attend a charitable bazaar in the City that afternoon. Somehow she could summon no relish either for that or the prospect of the theatre with Archie at night. She wondered whither her husband had proposed to take her, half wishing she had yielded a point to go.

She went to the bazaar, fully prepared to be bored. The first person she saw, however, was Archie, and at once the atmosphere seemed to lighten.

He attached himself to her without a moment's delay.

"I say," he said, "send your car back! I'll take you home. I've got my hansom here. It's much more exciting than a motor. We'll go and have tea somewhere presently."

Nina hesitated for barely a second, then did as he required.