What should she do?
No; she would not upbraid him. There should be no "scene." She knew
instinctively how much he would loathe a scene. She would just tell
him--what? That--that--it had all been a mistake; that--she did not love
him, and--and ask him to give her back her freedom.
That was all. Not one word of Lady Luce would she say. He would go--go
without a word; she knew that.
And now she must go back to the ballroom, and try and look and behave as
if nothing had happened.
Was she very white? she wondered dully. She felt as if she had died, and
was buried out of reach of any pain, beyond all possibility of further
joy. Her life was indeed at an end. That kiss of Drake's--to her it had
appeared as if indeed it had been his, and not Luce's only, stolen from
him unawares--that kiss had killed her.
Let Ibsen be a great poet and dramatist, or a literary fraud, there are
one or two things which he says which strike men with the force of a
revelation; and when he speaks of the love-life which is given to every
man and woman, and calls him and her a murderer who kills it, he speaks
truly, and as one inspired.
Nell's love-life lay dead at her feet, and Drake, though all
unconsciously, had slain it.
She wiped her lips, though they were dry and parched, and with trembling
hands smoothed her hair--the lips and the hair Drake had kissed so
often, with such rapture--and slowly, fighting for strength and
self-possession, passed into the ballroom.
The brilliant light, the music, the dancers, acted upon her
overstrained nerves as a dash of cold water upon a swooning man. For the
first time since the blow had fallen pride awoke in her. She had lost
Drake forever; but she would make no moan; other women before her had
lost their lovers and their husbands by death, and they had to bear
their bereavements; she must learn to bear hers.
A young fellow hurried up to her with a mingled expression of relief and
complaint.
"Oh, Miss Lorton; this is ours!" he said. "I have been looking for you
everywhere, everywhere, on my honor, and I was nearly distracted!"
Nell moistened her lips and forced a smile.
"I have been out on the terrace; it--it was hot."
"And--you didn't feel faint? You look rather pale now!" he said
apprehensively. "Would you rather not dance?"
"No, no; I would rather dance!" she replied, with a kind of feverish
impatience. "I--I think I am cold." She shivered a little. "I shall be
all the better for a dance!"