The Rubicon

Lord Hayes adjusted his trousers about the knee before he answered.

"I have all the symptoms of dangerous heart disease," he said. "I may live for many years, and die of something else. Again, I may die almost at any moment."

Eva's book drooped off her knee.

"How horrible!" she said at length. "Can nothing be done? Are they sure they are right?"

"Unfortunately, they are quite sure," he said; "and nothing can be done. They consider the chance of my dying quite suddenly at any time as possible, but not at all likely."

Eva, in her serene health, felt a sudden, great pity for him, but not unmixed with horror. She had no sympathy with disease; it seemed to her hardly decent.

"Poor Hayes," she said. "I cannot tell you how shocked I am."

"I thought it was best to tell you," said he, "but let us avoid the subject altogether. I shall live to bore you for many years yet."

Eva looked at him admiringly.

"You are a brave man. But you are right. Don't let us talk about it."

This took place late in November, but the fact that the symptoms, which had been the result of over-fatigue, did not re-occur, made Eva soon get used to the thought, and, in a measure, her husband too. He took the doctor's advice, did not over-exert himself at all, and found that the discovery they had made did not affect his health. The days soon began to pass on as usual.

Eva had suddenly determined to go abroad for a few weeks, for she had an intense dislike to an English winter. Hence it came about that one morning at breakfast, when she and her husband were alone, she had said to him, —

"What do you propose to do during these next two months, Hayes?"

Lord Hayes looked up from his breakfast, not quite understanding the purport of her question.

"I suppose we shall remain here till Easter," he said. "We are paying some visits in January, I believe."

"I should rather like to go abroad for a few weeks now this horrible weather has begun." She looked out of the window, where snow was beginning to fall heavily, and shivered sympathetically. "I hate this English weather," she said; "it is like being in a cold bath. Dry cold is not so bad, there is something exhilarating about it. But this doesn't suit me in the least. Why shouldn't we go to Algiers again?"

"I thought you didn't like Algiers," he said. "Do you propose that we should go alone?"

"Oh no, we won't make any intolerable demands of that sort on each other. I think it suits us best to have people with us. I daresay Percy would like to come for a bit, perhaps your mother would join us, and then there's Jim Armine, who always wants to go abroad whenever he can."

Eva spoke with the utmost indifference, but her husband found himself wondering whether that indifference was not a very subtle piece of acting. That he had some inkling of the young man's feelings towards his wife was very possible, but he had not the least objection to that. In fact, it rather pleased him than otherwise, as it afforded a sort of testimonial to his own admirable taste in wishing her to become his wife, and to his enviable success in securing her for that purpose. He knew quite well that the rôle of jealous husband would not suit him in the least, and he had no intention of being a complaisant one, but he had sense enough to guess that complaisance was not necessary. He had no reason to believe that Eva had a heart at all; and he had no desire to make a mistake. If he suggested to Eva that he would rather not have Jim Armine with them, his remark would be liable to be interpreted in a way which she might with justice resent; in fact, that was the only interpretation open to her, for he liked the young man well enough in himself. He did not even admit the smallest suspicion into his mind; he only realised that there was the possibility of an avenue, down which suspicion might some day choose to walk; and when suspicion was seen by him walking down that avenue, he would go and take its hand, and they would knock at Eva's door, and show themselves.

Eva rose from the table.

"Then you don't mind coming to Algiers?"

It was clearly impossible to say "No; but I do mind Jim Armine coming," and so he proposed a date some ten days off for their departure.

"Why shouldn't we go sooner?" asked Eva.

"There's been some unpleasantness down at the ironworks," he said, "and I think that, as owner, I ought to just wait till it's settled in some form or another."

"Do you mean down at Trelso?"

"Yes; the men are striking, or wanting to strike, for higher wages – more pay, in fact."

"Couldn't you go down there to-day, and see the agents or managers or whoever they are?"

"There is nothing definite yet; we only know that there is a good deal of discontent."

"Surely, then, you can leave it with your manager to deal with, when it occurs. It is absurd waiting in England for a handful of miners to tell you what they want."

"It would be better, I think, if I waited," he said.

"I wish you would explain to me exactly why."

"Simply because, as owner," he said, "they would wish to consult me if anything went really wrong."

"Surely there is a telegraph to Algiers. I should infinitely prefer starting in less than a week. I really cannot stand this sort of weather."

"I feel sure I am right to stop," he said. "It is certainly best."

Eva hesitated a moment.

"Would you mind my going on without you, then? Perhaps that would be the best plan. I daresay Jim will come with me."

Her husband looked at her narrowly. He felt he was playing a losing game.

"I will go down to Trelso to-day, and see exactly what the state of affairs is – how they stand, in fact."

"Very good. I shall start on Thursday, then. I will write to Jim to-day. I hope you won't lose any more money over this."

He smiled rather grimly.

"I hope not. This last year has been very expensive. I don't grudge it in the least; in fact, it is very interesting to me to see how much a woman can spend."

He was conscious of an impotent desire to make it not quite pleasant for Eva, even if she did get her own way in the main, and he was pleased to see her flinch, just perceptibly. She was annoyed with herself for doing it.

"Yes, I suppose you find you spend much more now than you used."

"About ten thousand a year more."

"Dear me, that is a great deal. You can hardly have counted the cost."

"I did not quite realise it at the time. That's what I mean by saying it was more than I anticipated."

"Ah! of course you wouldn't anticipate it," said Eva. "Love is blind, you know."

Lord Hayes was rather sorry he had begun. He was somewhat in the position of a dog which runs out from its shelter to bite a passer-by, and when it gets into the open, discovers that its intended victim carries a stick.

Eva waited long enough to give him time to reply if he wanted, but finding he said nothing, turned and left the room.

Two days after this, as they were sitting at dinner, Eva asked him what had happened about the ironworks.