The Three Sisters Part 80

Something in her said, "Don't let him come in." But she did not heed it. The voice was thin and small and utterly insignificant, as if one little brain cell had waked up and started speaking on its own account. And something seized on her tongue and made it say "Yes," and the full tide of her blood surged into her throat and choked it, and neither the one voice nor the other seemed to be her own.

He followed her into the little dining-room where the lamp was. The Vicar was in bed. The whole house was still.

Rowcliffe looked at her in the lamplight.

"We've walked a bit too far," he said.

He made her lean back on the couch. He put a pillow at her head and a footstool at her feet.

"Just rest," he said, and she rested.

But Rowcliffe did not rest. He moved uneasily about the room.

A sudden tiredness came over her.

She thought, "Yes. We walked too far." She leaned her head back on the cus.h.i.+on. Her thin arms lay stretched out on either side of her, supported by the couch.

Rowcliffe ceased to wander. He drew up with his back against the chimney-piece, where he faced her.

"Close your eyes," he said.

She did not close them. But the tired lids drooped. The lifted bow of her mouth drooped. The small, sharp-pointed b.r.e.a.s.t.s drooped.

And as he watched her he remembered how he had quarreled with her in that room last night. And the thought of his brutality was intolerable to him.

His heart ached with tenderness, and his tenderness was intolerable too.

The small white face with its suffering eyes and drooping eyelids, the drooping b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the thin white arms slackened along the couch, the childlike helplessness of the tired body moved him with a vehement desire. And his strength that had withstood her in her swift, defiant beauty melted away.

"Steven--"

"Don't speak," he said.

She was quiet for a moment.

"But I want to, Steven. I want to say something."

He sighed.

"Well--say it."

"It's something I want to ask you."

"Don't ask impossibilities."

"I don't think it's impossible. At least it wouldn't be if you really knew. I want you to be more careful with me."

She paused.

He turned from her abruptly.

His turning made it easier for her. She went on.

"It's only a little thing--a silly little thing. I want you, when you're angry with me, not to show it quite so much."

He had turned again to her suddenly. The look on his face stopped her.

"I'm never angry with you," he said.

"I know you aren't--really. I know. I know. But you make me think you are; and it hurts so terribly."

"I didn't know you minded."

"I don't always mind. But sometimes, when I'm stupid, I simply can't bear it. It makes me feel as if I'd done something. Last night I got it into my head--"

"What did you get into your head? Tell me--"

"I thought I'd made you hate me. I thought you thought I was awful--like poor Ally."

"_You?_"

He drew a long breath and sent it out again.

"You know what I think of you."

He looked at her, threw up his head suddenly and went to her.

His words came fast now and thick.

"You know I love you. That's why I've been such a brute to you--because I couldn't have you in my arms and it made me mad. And you know it. That's what you mean when you say it hurts you. You shan't be hurt any more. I'm going to end it."

He stooped over her suddenly, steadying himself by his two hands laid on the back of her chair. She put out her arms and pushed with her hands against his shoulders, as if she would have beaten him off. He sank to her knees and there caught her hands in his and kissed them.

He held them together helpless with his left arm and his right arm gathered her to him violently and close.

His mouth came crus.h.i.+ng upon her parted lips and her shut eyes.

Her small thin hands struggled piteously in his and for pity he released them. He felt them pus.h.i.+ng with their silk-soft palms against his face. Their struggle and their resistance were pain to him and exquisite pleasure.

"Not that, Steven! Not that! Oh, I didn't think--I didn't think you would."

"Don't send me away, Gwenda. It's all right. We've suffered enough.

We've got to end it this way."

"No. Not this way."

"Yes--yes. It's all right, darling. We've struggled till we can't struggle any more. You must. Why not? When you love me."

He pressed her closer in his arms. She lay quiet there. When she was quiet he let her speak.