Robert Kimberly

"I have done nothing to deserve this," shesobbed, frantic with confusion.

"You deserve more a thousand times than mydevotion ever can bring you. But all it can everbring, from the moment I kissed you, is yours."

Her eyes blazed through her tears. In herhelpless wrath she stamped her foot. "You areshameless. I detest your conduct. If you are going tothe house I will stay here. If you are not, let me go."

He met her denunciation with steadiness."Nothing you can say will anger me."

"You mean you have no respect for me." Shespoke so fast she could scarcely frame the words."Why don't you say so? Are you too cowardly?"

The imputation stung him. He seemed toexplode inwardly. "I have nothing but respect foryou, Alice," he insisted with terrifying energy,"but this thing must be fought out-"

She attempted to speak. His words drownedher. "I want to say nothing that will wound oroffend you. You make it very hard for me tospeak at all-"

"You have no right to speak-"

"But, Alice," he exclaimed, throwing all hisforce into the words, "you don't love that man.That is why I speak. If you did love him, if evenhe loved you, I could be silent."

"I love my husband as a wife should," shecried, struggling vainly to escape his accusation.

"You do not. You cannot!"

They spoke at white heat, she fighting vainly tocontrol her trembling limbs and Kimberly pausingat times to deal better his sledge-hammer blowsat her pitiful strength.

"You do not love that man. If I believed youdid," he spoke with a bitterness she had neverheard before, "I should never want to see anothersun rise. I respect you above all women thatbreathe; but in that I am right, I can't be wrong.I have suppressed and stifled and smothered aslong as I can and it will come out!"

"I will not hear you!"

"Sometime, somewhere, you will hear me.Don't speak!" he exclaimed vehemently. Theveins knotted upon his forehead. "I forgot myselffor a moment. If you knew what it costs me toremember! But, Alice, for me it is you-or nothingin this world. Remember! You or nothing!"

She searched his face for pity. "I am sinkingwith shame. What further, what more humiliationdo you want? We are in plain view of thehouse. I am utterly helpless. Will you not havethe decency to leave me?"

"I wish I could have said this better; I donothing well. If I have hurt you, I am very, verysorry." He strode away toward the garden.

Trying to compose herself, Alice walked to thehouse. Providentially, Dolly had already startedfor the field. Summoning a servant, Alice orderedher car and with her head whirling started forhome. As she was hurried over the country roadher mind gradually righted itself, and strangethoughts ran like lightning flashes through herbrain. Reaching home, she hastened upstairsand locked her door.

What startled her most painfully in her reflectionswas the unwelcome conviction that there wasnothing new, nothing surprising in her situation.Nothing, at least, except this violent outburstwhich she now realized she ought long ago to haveforeseen. She was suddenly conscious that shehad long known Kimberly loved her, and thatone day he would call her to account-for thecrime of being loved in spite of herself, shereflected bitterly.

She threw herself on her couch and held herhands upon her burning temples. He had caughther in his arms and forced a kiss upon her. Theblood suffused her face at the recollection. Againand again, though she turned from the picture, imagination brought it back. She saw his eyes ashe bent over her; the thought of the moment wastoo much to support. Her very foreheadcrimsoned as the scene presented itself. And worse, was the realizing that something of fascinationlingered in the horror of that instant ofamazement and fear and mad repulsion of his embrace.She hid her face in her pillow.

After a time she grew calmer, and with her racingpulse quieted, her emotion wore itself somewhatout. Saner thoughts asserted themselves. Shefelt that she could fight it out. She searched herheart and found no wantonness within it. Stronglyassailed, and not, she felt, through her ownfault, she would fight and resist. He hadchallenged her when he had said it should be foughtout. She, too, resolved it should be.

She bathed her forehead, and when she feltsure of herself, rang for Annie. Lunch was servedin her room, but she could eat nothing. Atmoments she felt the comforting conviction ofhaving settled her mind. Unhappily, her mind wouldnot stay settled. Nothing would stay settled. Nomood that brought relief would remain. Theblood came unbidden to her cheeks even whileAnnie was serving her and her breath would catchat the opening of a door.

When she heard the hum of a motor-car onthe open highway her heart jumped. She openedthe porch doors and went out to where she couldlook on the lake. Her eyes fell upon the distantTowers and her anger against Kimberly rose. Sheresolved he should realize how he had outragedher self-respect. She picked from the troubledcurrent of her thought cutting things that she oughtto have said. She despised herself for not havingmore angrily resented his conduct, and determined,if he dared further persist, to expose himrelentlessly to the circle of their friends, even ifthey were his own relations. There should beno guilty secret between them; this, at least, shecould insure.

When the telephone bell rang, Annie answeredit. Dolly was calling for Alice and went into astate when told that Alice had come home affectedby the heat, and had given up and gone to bed; she hoped yet, Annie said, to be all right for theevening. Fritzie took the wire at Black Rock to askwhat she could do, and Annie assured her therewas nothing her mistress needed but quiet and rest.

When the receiver had been hung up the firstbridge was crossed, for Alice was resolved aboveall things not to be seen that night at the dance.When Fritzie came back to Cedar Lodge to dress,Alice was still in bed. Her room was darkenedand Annie thought she might be sleeping. Atdinner-time, MacBirney, who had been in town allday, came in to see how she was. She told herhusband that he would have to go to Dolly's withFritzie.

MacBirney bent over his wife and kissed her, greatly to her mental discomfort. An unwelcomekiss from him seemed to bring back more confusinglythe recollection of Kimberly's kiss, and toincrease her perplexities. She detested herhusband's caresses; they meant no real affection andshe did not intend he should think she believedthey did. But she never could decide where todraw the line with him, and was divided betweena desire to keep him always at a distance and awish not to seem always unamiable.

Fritzie, after she was dressed, tiptoed in. Theroom was lighted to show Alice the new gown. Itwas one of their spring achievements, and Aliceraised herself on her pillow to give a completeapproval of the effect. "It is a stunning thing; simply stunning. If you would only stop runningyourself to death, Fritzie, and put on ten pounds, you would be absolute perfection."

"If I stopped running myself to death whatwould there be to live for?" demanded Fritzie, refastening the last pin in her Dresden girdle."We all have to live for something."

Alice put her hand to her head. "I wonderwhat I have to live for?"

Fritzie turned sharply. "You? Why nothingbut to spend your money and have a good time.Too bad about you, isn't it? You'll soon have amillion a year for pin-money."

Alice shook her head. "A dozen millions ayear would not interest me, Fritzie."

Fritzie laughed. "Don't be too sure, my dear; not too sure. Well," Fritzie's hands ran carefullyover her hair for the last time, "there are a lot ofmen coming over from the Sound to-night. Imay meet my fate!"

"I wish you may with all my heart, Fritzie.Why is it fates always come to people that don'twant them?"

"Don't you believe it," cried Fritzie, "they dowant them."

"They don't-not always."

"Don't you ever believe it-they only say theydon't or think they don't!" she exclaimed, withaccustomed vehemence.

Alice moved upon her pillow in impatient disapproval."I hope you'll have a good time to-night."

MacBirney was ready and Fritzie joined him.The house grew quiet after they left. Anniebrought up a tray and Alice took a cup of broth.She did not long resist the drowsiness that followed.She thought vaguely for a moment of a prayerfor safety. But her married life had long excludedprayer. What good could come of praying to bekept unharmed while living in a state that had initself driven her from prayer? That, at least, would be too absurd, and with a dull feargnawing and dying alternately at her heart she fellasleep.

CHAPTER XXIII

At noon next day MacBirney, seeking hiswife, found her in her dressing-room. Shehad come from the garden and stood before atable filled with flowers, which she wasarranging in vases.

"I've been looking for you." MacBirney threwhimself into a convenient chair as he spoke."Robert Kimberly is downstairs."

"Mr. Kimberly? To see you, I suppose."

"No, to see you."

"To see me?" Alice with flowers in her hand, paused. Then she carried a vase to themantel-piece. "At this time of day?"

"Well-to see us, he says."

She returned to the table. "What in the worlddoes he want to see us about?"

MacBirney laughed. "He says he has somethingto say to both of us. I told him I wouldbring you down."

A breath would have toppled Alice over. "Ican't dress to go down now," she managed to say."It may be something from Dolly. Ask him togive you any message he has."

Walking hurriedly to the mantel with anotherjar of roses, she found her fear extreme. Couldit be possible Kimberly would dream of sayingto her husband what he had said to heryesterday? She smothered at the thought, yet sheknew his appalling candor and felt unpleasantlyconvinced that he was capable of repeating everyword of it. The idea threw her into a panic. Sheresolved not to face him under such circumstances; she was in no position to do so. "Tell him," shesaid abruptly, "that as much as I should like tohear what he has to say, he will have to excuse methis morning."

"He offered to come this evening if you preferred."