The Secret Power Part 30

"I? How should I know? He is your friend I suppose?"

"Not a bit of it!" and Roger stretched himself lazily and yawned--"He's the friend of n.o.body who is poor. But he's the comrade of everybody with plenty of cash. He's as hard as a dried old walnut, without the shred of a heart--"

"You are wrong!" said Manella, flus.h.i.+ng up suddenly--"You are wrong and unjust! He is an ugly old man, but he is very kind."

Seaton threw back his head and laughed heartily with real enjoyment.

"Manella, oh, Manella!" he exclaimed--"What has he said or done to you to win your good opinion? Has he made you some pretty compliments, and told you that you are beautiful? Every one can tell you that, my dear!

It does not need Mr. Senator Gwent's a.s.surance to emphasise the fact!

That you find him an ugly old man is natural--but that you should also think him 'very kind' DOES surprise me!"

Manella gazed at him seriously--her lovely eyes gleaming like jewels under her long black lashes.

"You mock at everything,"--she said--"It is a pity!"

Her tone was faintly reproachful. He smiled.

"My dear girl, I really cannot regard Mr. Senator Gwent as a figure to be reverenced!"--he said--"He's one of the dustiest, driest old dollar-grabbers in the States. I gave him the chance of fresh grab--but he was too much afraid to take it--"

"Afraid of what?" asked Manella, quickly.

"Of shadows!--shadows of coming events!--yes, they scared him! Now if you are a good girl, and will sit very quiet, you can come into my hut out of this scorching sun, and sit down while I read the letter--I may have to write an answer--and if so you can post it at the Plaza."

He went before her into the hut, and she followed. He bade her sit down in the chair by the window,--she obeyed, and glanced about her shyly, yet curiously. The room was not untidy, as she expected it would be without a woman's hand to set it in order,--on the contrary it was the perfection of neatness and cleanliness. Her gaze was quickly attracted by the bowl of perpetually moving fluid in the center of the table.

"What is that?" she asked.

"That? Oh, nothing! An invention of mine--just to look pretty and cool in warm weather! It reminds me of women's caprices and fancies--always on the jump! Yes!--don't frown, Manella!--that is so! Now--let me see what Mr. Sam Gwent has to say that he didn't say before---" and seating himself, he opened the letter and began to read.

Manella watched him from under the shadow of her long-fringed eyelids--her heart beat quickly and uncomfortably. She was fearful lest Gwent should have broken faith with her after all, and have written of her and her vain pa.s.sion, to the man who already knew of it only too well. She waited patiently for the "G.o.d of her idolatry" to look up. At last he did so. But he seemed to have forgotten her presence. His brows were knitted in a frown, and he spoke aloud, as to himself--

"A syndicate! Old humbug! He knows perfectly well that the thing could not be run by a syndicate! It must be a State's own single possession--a State's special secret. If I were as bent on sheer destructiveness as he imagines me to be, I should waste no more time, but offer it to Germany. Germany would take it at once--Germany would require no persuasion to use it!--Germany would make me a millionaire twice over for the monopoly of such a force!--that is, if I wanted to be a millionaire, which I don't. But Gwent's a fool--I must have scared him out of his wits, or he wouldn't write all this stuff about risks to my life, advising me to marry quickly and settle down! Good G.o.d!

I?--Marry and settle down? What a tame ending to a life's adventure!

h.e.l.lo, Manella!"

His eyes lighted upon her as if he had only just seen her. He rose from his chair and went over to where she sat by the window.

"Patient girl!" he said, patting her dark head with his big sun-browned hand--"As good as gold and quieter than a mouse! Well! You may go now.

I've read the letter and there's no answer. Nothing for me to write, or for you to post!" She lifted her brilliant eyes to his--what glorious eyes they were! He would not have been man had he not been conscious of their amorous fire. He patted her head again in quite a paternal way.

"Nothing for me to write or for you to post"--he repeated, abstractedly--"and how satisfactory that is!"

"Then you are pleased?" she said.

"Pleased? My dear, there is nothing to be pleased or displeased about!

The ugly old man whom you found so 'very kind' tells me to take care of myself--which I always do. Also--to marry and settle down--which I always don't!"

She stood upright, turning her head away from the touch of his hand.

She had never looked more attractive than at that moment,--she wore the white gown in which he had before admired her, and a cl.u.s.ter of roses which were pinned to her bodice gave rich contrast to the soft tone of her smooth, suntanned skin, and swayed lightly with the unquiet heaving of the beautiful bosom which might have served a sculptor as a perfect model. A faint, quivering smile was on her lips.

"You always don't? That sounds very droll! You will be unlike every man in the world, then,--they all marry!"

"Oh, do they? You know all about it? Wise Manella!"

And he looked at her, smiling. Her pa.s.sionate eyes, full of glowing ardour, met his,--a flas.h.i.+ng fire seemed to leap from them into his own soul, and for the moment he almost lost his self-possession.

"Wise Manella!" he repeated, his voice shaking a little, while he fought with the insidious temptation which beset him,--the temptation to draw her into his arms and take his fill of the love she was so ready to give--"They always marry? No dear, they do NOT! Many of them avoid marriage--" he paused, then continued--"and do you know why?"

She shook her head.

"Because it is the end of romance! Because it rings down the curtain on a beautiful Play! The music ceases--the lights are put out--the audience goes home,--and the actors take off their fascinating costumes, wash away their paint and powder and sit down to supper--possibly fried steak and onions and a pot of beer. The fried steak and onions--also the beer--make a very good ordinary 'marriage.'"

In this flippant talk he gained the mastery over himself he had feared to lose--and laughed heartily as he saw Manella's expression of utter bewilderment.

"I do not understand!" she said, plaintively--"What is steak and onions?--how do they make a marriage? You say such strange things!"

He laughed again, thoroughly amused.

"Yes, don't I!" he rejoined--"But not half such strange things as I could say if I were so inclined! I'm a queer fellow!"

He touched her hair gently, putting back a stray curl that had fallen across her forehead.

"Now, dear," he continued, "It's time you went. You'll be wanted at the Plaza--and they mustn't think I'm keeping you up here, making love to you!"

She tossed her head back, and her eyes flashed almost angrily.

"There's no danger of that!" she said, with a little suppressed tremor in her throat like the sob of a nightingale at the close of its song.

"Isn't there?" and putting his arm round her, he drew her close to himself and looked full in her eyes--"Manella--there WAS!--a moment ago!"

She remained still and pa.s.sive in his arms--hardly daring to breathe, so rapt was she in a sudden ecstasy, but he could feel the wild beating of her heart against his own.

"A moment ago!" he repeated, in a half whisper. "A moment ago I could have made such desperate love to you as would have astonished myself!--and YOU! And I should have regretted it ever afterwards--and so would you!"

The struggling emotion in her found utterance.

"No, no--not I!" she said, in quick little pa.s.sionate murmurs--"I could not regret it!--If you loved me for an hour it would be the joy of my life-time!--You might leave me,--you might forget!--but that would not take away my pride and gladness! You might kill me--I would die gladly if it saved YOUR life!--ah, you do not understand love--not the love of Manella!"

And she lifted her face to his--a face so lovely, so young, so warm with her soul's inward rapture that its glowing beauty might have made a lover of an anchorite. But with Roger Seaton the impulses of pa.s.sion were brief--the momentary flame had gone out in vapour, and the spirit of the anchorite prevailed. He looked at the dewy red lips, delicately parted like rose petals--but he did not kiss them, and the clasp of his arms round her gradually relaxed.

"Hush, hush Manella!" he said, with a mild kindness, which in her overwrought state was more distracting than angry words would have been--"Hus.h.!.+ You talk foolishness--beautiful foolishness--all women do when they set their fancies on men. It is nature, of course,--YOU think it is love, but, my dear girl, there is no such thing as love!

There!--now you are cross!" for she drew herself quickly away from his hold and stood apart, her eyes sparkling, her breast heaving, with the air of a G.o.ddess enraged,--"You are cross because I tell you the truth---"

"It is not the truth," she said, in a low voice quivering with intense feeling--"you tell me lies to disguise yourself. But I can see! You yourself love a woman--but you have not my courage!--you are afraid to own it! You would give the world to hold her in your arms as you just now held ME--but you will not admit it--not even to yourself--and you pretend to hate when you are mad for love!--just as you pretend to be ill when you are well! You should be ashamed to say there is no such thing as love! What mean you then by playing so false with yourself?--with me?--and with HER?"

She looked lovelier than ever in her anger, and he was taken by surprise at the impetuous and instinctive guess she had made at the complexity of his moods, which he himself scarcely understood. For a moment he stood inert, embarra.s.sed by her straight, half-scornful glance--then he regained his usual mental poise and smiled with provoking good humour and tolerance.

"Temper, Manella!--temper again! A pity, a pity! Your Spanish blood is too fiery, Manella!--it is indeed! You have been very rude--do you know how rude you have been? But there! I forgive you! You are only a naughty child! As for love---"