"Charmian!" I cried "--oh, Charmian!" and seized her hands, and,
despite her resistance, drew her into my arms, and, clasping her
close, forced her to look at me. "And even yet?--what more--what
more--tell me." But, lying back across my arm, she held me off
with both hands.
"Don't!" she cried; "don't--you shame me--let me go."
"God knows I am all unworthy, Charmian, and so low in my
abasement that to touch you is presumption, but oh, woman whom I
have loved from the first, and shall, to the end, have you
stooped in your infinite mercy, to lift me from these depths--is
it a new life you offer me was it for this you came to-night?"
"Let me go--oh, Peter!--let me go."
"Why--why did you come?"
"Loose me!"
"Why did you come?"
"To meet--Sir Maurice Vibart."
"To meet Sir Maurice?" I repeated dully--"Sir Maurice?" And in
that moment she broke from me, and stood with her head thrown
back, and her eyes very bright, as though defying me. But I
remained where I was, my arms hanging.
"He was to meet me here--at nine o'clock."
"Oh, Charmian," I whispered, "are all women so cruel as you, I
wonder?" And, turning my back upon her, I leaned above the
mantel, staring down at the long-dead ashes on the hearth.
But, standings there, I heard a footstep outside, and swung round
with clenched fists, yet Charmian was quicker, and, as the door
opened and Sir Maurice entered, she was between us.
He stood upon the threshold, dazzled a little by the light, but
smiling, graceful, debonair, and point-device as ever. Indeed,
his very presence seemed to make the mean room the meaner by
contrast, and, as he bent to kiss her hand, I became acutely
conscious of my own rough person, my worn and shabby clothes, and
of my hands, coarsened and grimed by labor; wherefore my frown
grew the blacker and I clenched my fists the tighter.
"I lost my way, Charmian," he began, "but, though late, I am none
the less welcome, I trust? Ah?--you frown, Cousin Peter? Quite
a ghoulish spot this, at night--you probably find it most
congenial, good cousin Timon of Athens--indeed, cousin, you are
very like Timon of Athens--" And he laughed so that I, finding
my pipe upon the mantelshelf, began to turn it aimlessly round
and round in my twitching fingers.
"You have already met, then?" inquired Charmian, glancing from
one to the other of us.