The Silent Barrier Part 38

"It conveys my intent. I have no desire to prolong this conversation,"

she cried rather more flurriedly.

"Now, there I agree with you. We have started on the wrong set of rails. It is my fault. I ought to have coughed, or fallen down the moraine, or done any old thing sooner than b.u.t.t into the talk so unexpectedly. If you will allow me, I'll begin again right now."

He turned to the Italians, who were watching and listening in curious silence, trying to pick up an odd word that would help to explain the relations between the two.

"Will you gentlemen take an interest in the scenery for five minutes?"

he asked, with a smile.

Though the valley of the Adda may have lost its wine, it will never lose its love of romance. The polite Italians raised their hats and went out. Helen, drawing a long breath, withdrew somewhat into the shadow. She felt that she would have more command over herself if the American could not see her face. The ruse did not avail her at all.

Spencer crossed the floor of the hut until he looked into her eyes.

"Helen," he said, "why did you run away from me?"

The tender reproach in his voice almost unnerved her; but she answered simply, "What else would you have me do, once I found out the circ.u.mstances under which I came to Switzerland?"

"It may be that you were not told the truth. Who was your informant?"

"Mr. Bower."

"None other?"

"What, then? Is my pitiful story the property of the hotel?"

"It is now. I took care of that. Some of the people there had been spreading a misleading version, and it was necessary to correct it.

The women, of course, I could not deal with. As the General was an old man, I picked out George de Courcy Vavasour as best fitted to digest the wrong edition. I made him eat it. It seemed to disagree with him; but he got through with an effort."

Helen felt that she ought to decline further discussion. But she was tongue tied. Spencer was regarding her so fixedly that she began to fear lest he might notice the embarra.s.sed perplexity that she herself was quite conscious of.

"Will you be good enough to explain exactly what you mean?" she said, forcing the question mechanically from her lips.

"That is why I am here. I a.s.sure you that subterfuge can never again exist between you and me," said he earnestly. "You can accept my words literally. Acting for himself and others, Vavasour wrote on paper the lying insinuations made by Miss Jaques, and ate them--both words and paper. He happened to use the thin, glazed, Continental variety, so what it lost in bulk it gained in toughness. He didn't like it, and said so; but he had to do it."

She was nervously aware of a wish to laugh; but unless she gave way to hysteria that was not to be thought of. Trying to retreat still farther into the friendly shade, she backed round the inner end of the table, but found the way blocked by a rough bench. Something must be said or done to extricate herself. The dread that her voice might break was becoming an obsession.

"You speak of a false version, and that implies a true one," she managed to say constrainedly. "How far was Mr. Bower's statement false or true?"

"I settled that point too. Mr. Bower told you the facts. The deduction he forced on you was a lie. To my harmless notion of gratifying a girl's longing for a holiday abroad he added the motive that inspired his own journey. I overheard your conversation with Miss Jaques in the Embankment Hotel; I saw Bower introduced to you; I saw him looking for you in Victoria Station, and knew that he represented the meeting as accidental. I felt a certain responsibility on your account; so I followed by the next train. Bower played his cards so well that I found myself in a difficult position. I was busy guessing; but was unable to prove anything, while the one story I was sure of was not in the game. And then, you see, he wanted to make you his wife, which brought about the real complication. I haven't much use for him; but I must be fair, and Bower's only break was when he misrepresented my action in subsidizing 'The Firefly.' I don't deny he was pretty mad at the idea of losing you, and jealousy will often drive a man to do a mean thing which might otherwise be repugnant to his better nature----"

"Jealousy!" shrilled Helen, her woman's wit at last finding a joint in his armor. Yet never did woman err more than she in thinking that her American suitor would flinch beneath the shaft.

"That is the word," was the quiet reply.

She flared into indignant scorn. "Pray tell me why he or any other man should feel jealous of you where I am concerned," she said.

"I am going to tell you right away--Helen. But that is the last chapter. There is quite a long record as to the way I hit on your track in St. Moritz, and heard of you by telephone last night. Of course, that part of the story will keep----"

"Is it necessary that I should hear any portion of it?" she interrupted, hoping to irritate him, and thus lessen the strain imposed by his studiously tranquil manner.

"Well, it ought to interest you. But it has humorous points to which I can't do justice under present conditions. You are right, Helen--you most always are. The real question at issue is my position in the deal, which becomes quite clear when I say that you are the only woman I have ever loved or ever shall love. More than that, you are the only woman to whom I have ever spoken a word of love, and as I have set about loving the dearest and prettiest and healthiest girl I have ever seen, it is safe to figure that you will have sole claim on all the nice things I can try to say to any woman during the remainder of my life."

He hesitated a moment. He did not appear to notice that Helen, after a rebellious gasp or two, had suddenly become very still.

"I suppose I ought to have fixed up a finer bit of word painting than that," he continued slowly. "As a matter of fact, I don't mind admitting that ever since eleven o'clock last night, when the proprietor of the hotel below there telephoned to me that Miss Trenholme had gone to the Mortel hut with two guides, I have been rehearsing X plus Y multiplied by Z ways of telling you just how dear you are to me. But they all vanished like smoke when I saw your sweet face. You tried to be severe with me, Helen; but your voice didn't ring true, and you are the poorest sort of prevaricator I know. And the reason those set forms wouldn't work at the right moment is that they were addressed to the silent air. You are near me now, my sweet.

You are almost in my arms. You are in my arms, Helen, and it sounds just right to keep on telling you that I love you now and shall love you for ever. Oh, my dear, my dear, you must never, never, run away again! Search the dictionary for all the unkindest things you can say about me; but don't run away ... for I know now that when you are absent the day is night and the night is akin to death."

Guide Pietro was somewhat a philosopher. Stamping about on the tiny stone plateau of the hut to keep at bay the cold mists from the glacier, he happened to glance through the open door. He drew away instantly.

"Bartelommeo," he said to his companion, "we shall not cross the Sella to-day with our charming _voyageur_."

Bartelommeo was surprised. He looked at the clean cut crest of the rock, glowing now in vivid sunlight. Argument was not required; he pointed silently with the stem of his pipe.

"Yes," murmured Pietro. "We couldn't have a better day for the pa.s.s.

It is not the weather."

"Then what is it?" asked Bartelommeo, moved to speech.

"She is going the other way. Didn't you catch the tears in her voice yesterday? She smiled at my stories, and carried herself bravely; but her eyes were heavy, and the corners of her mouth drooped when she was left to her thoughts. And again, my friend, did you not see her face when the young _signor_ arrived?"

"She was frightened."

Pietro laughed softly. "A woman always fears her lover," he said.

"That is just the reason why you married Caterina. You liked her for her shyness. It made you feel yourself a man--a devil of a fellow.

Don't you remember how timid she was, how she tried to avoid you, how she would dodge into anybody's chalet rather than meet you?"

"But how do you know?" demanded Bartelommeo, waking into resentful appreciation of Pietro's close acquaintance with his wooing.

"Because I married Lola two years earlier. Women are all the same, no matter what country they hail from--nervous as young chamois before marriage--but after! Body of Bacchus! Was it on Wednesday that Caterina hauled you out of the albergo to chop firewood?"

Bartelommeo grunted, and put his pipe in his mouth again.

CHAPTER XVII

THE SETTLEMENT

Though Helen was the better linguist, it was left to Spencer to explain that circ.u.mstances would prevent the lady from going to Malenco that day. He did not fully understand why the men should exchange glances of darksome intelligence when he made this statement.

He fancied they were disappointed at losing a good customer; so he went on brokenly:

"You are in no hurry, eh? Well, then, take us across the glacier to the Aguagliouls. We should obtain a fine view from the summit, and get back to the hotel for luncheon. I will pay the same rates as for the Sella."

Both guides were manifestly pleased. Pietro began a voluble recital of the glories that would meet their enraptured gaze from the top of the mighty rock.

"You will see the Bernina splendidly," he cried, "and Roseg too, and the Gluschaint and Il Chaputschin. If the lady will trust to us, we can bring her down the Tschierva glacier safely. You are a climber, _signor_, else you could never have crossed the Ota before dawn. But let us make another cup of coffee. The middle Roseg ice is safe at any hour, and if we are on the rock by nine o'clock that will be perfect for the sun."