_ PART I CHAPTER XV. THE AWAKENING
Olga slept late on the following morning, awaking at length with a wild sense of dismay at having done so. She leaped up as the vivid memory of the night's happenings rushed upon her, and, seizing her dressing-gown, ran out into the passage and so to Violet's room.
Very softly she turned the door-handle, and peeped in. The curtains were drawn, but the morning-breeze blew them inwards, admitting the full daylight. Violet was lying awake with her face to the door.
"That you, Allegro? Come in!" she called. "I've had the oddest night."
Olga slipped in and went to her. The beautiful eyes were very wide open. They gazed up at her wonderingly. The forehead above them was slightly drawn.
"I've been dead," said Violet slowly. "I've just come to life."
"My darling!" Olga said.
"Yes. Isn't it queer? It was so strange, Allegro. I went right up to the very door of Paradise. But I suffered a lot first. I suffered--horribly. And when I got there--the door was shut in my face." Violet uttered a curious little laugh that had in it a note of pain. "That was when I died," she said.
Olga stooped to kiss her. "It was a dream," she said.
"Oh, but it wasn't," said Violet. She threw her arms unexpectedly around Olga's neck, and held her very tightly, as if she were afraid. "Allegro," she said under her breath, "I believe I left my soul behind. It's up there, waiting for the door to open. I hope it won't get lost."
The words sent a sharp chill through Olga. She held her friend closely, protectingly. "Darling, I don't think you are quite awake yet," she said very tenderly. "Stay in bed for a little while, and I'll dress and get your breakfast."
"Oh, no! Oh, no! I'm going to get up!" Quickly Violet made reply, almost feverishly. "I couldn't possibly lie still and do nothing. I've got to find the way out. It's very dark, but I daresay I shall manage. Blind people learn to, don't they? And that's what has happened to me, really. I've gone blind, Allegro, blind inside."
She put Olga from her, and prepared to rise. Her eyes were very bright, but there was a curiously furtive look about them. They seemed afraid to look.
"Wait anyhow till you have had some tea," urged Olga. "I'll run down and order it."
"No, don't go, Allegro! Don't leave me! I don't want to be alone." Impetuously Violet stretched out her hands to her. "Don't go!" she pleaded. "I'm so afraid--he--will come. And I don't want him to know anything about it. You won't tell him? Promise, Allegro!"
"Who, dear?" Olga asked the question though she knew the inevitable answer. She was becoming seriously uneasy, though she sought to reassure herself with the thought that Violet's nerves were of the high-strung order and could scarcely have failed to suffer from the strain they had undergone.
Violet answered her with obvious impatience. "Why, Max, of course! Who else? Promise you won't tell him, Allegro!"
"Tell him what, dear?" questioned Olga.
Violet started up from her bed and sprang to the open door. She closed it and stood facing Olga with arms outstretched across it. Her breath came pantingly through dilated nostrils.
"You're not to tell him--not to tell him--what I have just told you. If he knows I'm trying to get out, he'll stop me. Don't you understand? Oh, don't you understand?" A fury of impatience sounded in her voice; she quivered from head to foot. "He keeps the door," she said. "And he never sleeps. Why, even last night he was there. Didn't you see him? Those dreadful green eyes--like--like a tiger in the dark? Olga--" suddenly and passionately she began to plead "--you won't tell him, dearest! You couldn't be so cruel! Can't you see what it means to me? Don't you realize that it's my better self that's gone? And I've got to follow--I must follow. If he doesn't know, perhaps I shall manage to slip through when he isn't looking. Dear, you wouldn't have me kept a prisoner--against my will? He's so hard, Allegro--so hard and merciless. And he keeps the door so close. I should have got away last night if it hadn't been for him. So you won't tell him, will you? You'll promise me you won't!"
Olga listened to the appeal with a heart that seemed turned to stone. She knew not what to say or do.
"It's my only chance!" urged Violet, in a voice that was beginning to break. "Oh, how can you hesitate? Are you all in league against me? Allegro! Allegro!"
"There, dear, there! It's all right. Don't worry!" Swiftly Olga collected herself and spoke. "There's nothing to be afraid of. No one shall keep you against your will."
"You promise, Allegro?" Violet looked at her doubtfully, yet as if she wished to be reassured.
"Yes, of course, dear. Now really you must let me go and dress. It's eight o'clock, and I shan't be ready for breakfast."
Violet came slowly away from the door. She did not look wholly satisfied, but she said no more; and Olga hastened back to her room with deadly misgiving at her heart. She felt as if there were tragedy in the very air. It seemed to be closing in upon her, a dread mist of unfathomable possibilities.
She dressed with nervous haste, and hurried downstairs, wondering a little that Max had not bestirred himself to ascertain the effect of his treatment.
She wondered still more when she found him calmly established behind the morning paper in an arm-chair in the dining-room. He laid it aside at her entrance, and rose to greet her.
"Well?" he said, with her hand in his.
She looked up to find his eyes piercingly upon her. They shone intensely green in the morning light.
She removed her hand somewhat abruptly. There was something in his manner that she resented, without knowing why. "Well?" she said.
"How do you find yourself this morning?" asked Max.
"I'm perfectly well, thank you," said Olga briefly.
"Ready to start jam-making?" he suggested.
Olga went to the coffee-urn. "I really don't know," she said. "I've had other things to think about."
He smiled a little, the superior, one-sided smile she most detested. "You mustn't let the fruit go bad," he observed, "after all my trouble."
Olga peered into the coffee-urn, without replying. Max in an exasperating mood could be very exasperating indeed. He pulled out the chair next to her, and sat down.
"And how is the beautiful Miss Campion?" he said.
Olga looked at him. She could not help it.
"Well?" said Max.
She coloured hotly. "I wonder you haven't been to see for yourself," she said.
"Perhaps I have," said Max.
She turned from his open scrutiny, and began to pour out the coffee with a hand not wholly steady.
"I presume--if you had--you wouldn't ask me," she said.
He lodged his chin on his hand, the better to study her. "In making that presumption, fair lady," he said, "you are not wholly justified. Has it never occurred to you that I might entertain a certain veneration for your opinion on a limited number of subjects?"
Olga set down the coffee-urn and squarely turned upon him. "Have you seen her this morning?" she asked him point-blank.
"Yes, I have seen her," he said.
"Then you know as much as I do," said Olga.
"Not quite," he returned. "I soon shall however. Did she seem pleased to see you this morning?"
"Of course," said Olga.
"And why 'of course'? Do you never disagree?" He asked the question banteringly, yet his eyes were still upon her, unflaggingly intent.
"We never quarrel," said Olga.
"I see. You have differences of opinion; is that it? And what happens then? Is there never a tug of war?" Max's smile became speculative.
"No, never," said Olga.
"Never?" He raised his red brows incredulously. "Do you mean to say you give in to her at every turn? She can be fairly exacting, I should imagine."
"I would give her anything she really wanted if it lay in my power," said Olga very steadily.
"Would you?" said Max. He suddenly ceased to smile. "Even if it chanced to be something you wanted rather badly yourself?"
She nodded. "Wouldn't you do as much for someone you loved?"
"That depends," said Max cautiously.
"Oh, of course!" said Olga quickly. "You're a man!"
He laughed. "You've made that remark before. I assure you I can't help it. No, I certainly wouldn't place all my possessions at the disposal of even my best friend. There would always be--reservations."
He looked at her with a smile in his eyes, but Olga did not respond to it. An inner voice had suddenly warned her to step warily. She took up the coffee-urn again.
"I wouldn't give much for that kind of friendship," she said.
"But is it always in one's power to pass on one's possessions?" questioned Max. "I maintain that the possessions are entitled to a voice in the matter."
"I don't understand you," said Olga, in a tone that implied that she had no desire to do so.
"No?" said Max indifferently. "Well, I think unselfishness should never be carried to extremes. Some women have such a passion for self-sacrifice that they will stick at nothing to satisfy it. The result is that unwilling victims get offered up, and you will admit that that is scarcely fair."
Olga handed him his coffee. "Will you cut the ham, please?" she said.
"Do you catch my meaning yet?" asked Max, not to be thwarted.
She shook her head. "But really it doesn't matter, and it's getting late."
"Sorry to keep you," he replied imperturbably, "but when I take the trouble to expound my views, I like to guard against any misunderstanding. Just tell me this, and I shall be satisfied. If you were at a ball, and you had a partner you liked and who liked you, and you came upon your friend crying because she wanted that particular partner--would you give him up to her?"
"Of course I should," said Olga. "I don't call that a very serious self-sacrifice."
"No?" said Max. He gave her a very peculiar look, and pursed his lips for an instant as if about to whistle. "And if the unfortunate partner objected?"
Olga began vigorously to cut some bread. "He would have to put up with it," she said.
Max rose without comment and went to the ham. There followed a somewhat marked silence as he commenced to carve it. Then: "Pardon my persistence, fair lady," he said. "But just one more question--if you've no objection. Suppose you were my partner and Hunt-Goring the forlorn friend, do you think I should be justified in passing you on to him? It would be a considerable self-sacrifice on my part."
"Oh, really!" exclaimed Olga, in hot exasperation. "What absurd question will you ask next?"
He looked across at her with a complacent smile. "You see, I'm only a man," he said coolly. "But that illustrates my point. It's not always possible to pass on all one's possessions, is it? It may answer in theory but not in practice. I think you catch my meaning now?"
"Hadn't you better have your breakfast?" said Olga, with a glance at the clock.
Max's eyes followed hers. "Where's Nick? Has he overslept himself?"
"He has not," said Nick, entering at the moment. "It is not a habit of his. Well, Olga, my child, how goes the world this morning?"
She turned with relief to greet him. His genial personality was wonderfully reassuring. He kissed her lightly, and took up his correspondence.
"Let me open them!" she said.
He stood by and watched her while she did it. She was very deft in all her ways, but to-day for some reason her hands were not quite so steady as usual.
Nick threw a sudden glance across at Max while he waited. "Miss Campion all right this morning?" he asked.
"Apparently," said Max, staring deliberately at a point some inches above Nick's head.
Nick pivoted round abruptly, and found Violet standing in the doorway directly behind him. He went instantly to meet her.
"Hullo, Miss Campion! You're just in time for breakfast. Come and have some!"
His tone was brisk and kindly. He took her hand and drew her forward. She submitted listlessly. Her face was white and her eyes deeply shadowed. She scarcely raised them as she advanced.
"Hullo, Nick!" she said indifferently. "Hullo, Allegro! No, I don't want any breakfast. I'm not hungry to-day." She reached the table, and for the first time seemed to become aware of Max, seated on the opposite side of it.
Her eyes suddenly opened wide. She stood still and faced him. "I want my cigarettes," she said, with slow emphasis.
Olga glanced at him sharply, in apprehension of she knew not what. Max's face, however, expressed no anxiety. He even faintly smiled.
"What! Haven't you got any? I shall be happy to supply you with some," he said, feeling in his pocket for his own case.
She leaned her hands upon the table in a peculiar, crouching attitude that struck Olga as curiously suggestive of an angry animal.
"I don't want yours," she said, in a deep voice that sounded almost like a menace. "I want my own!"
Max looked straight at her for a few seconds without speaking. Then, "I am sorry," he said very deliberately. "But you mustn't smoke that sort any more. They are not good for you."
"And you have dared to take them away?" she said.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I had no choice."
"No choice!" She echoed the words in a voice that vibrated very strangely. "You speak as if--as if--you had a right to confiscate my property."
"I have a right to confiscate that sort," said Max.
"What right?" She flung the question like a challenge, and as she flung it she straightened herself in sudden splendid defiance. All the pallor had gone from her face. She glowed with fierce, pulsing life.
Max remained looking at her. There was a glint of mercilessness in his eyes. "What right?" he repeated slowly. "If you saw a blind man walking over a precipice, would you say you hadn't the right to stop him?"
"I am not blind!" she flung back at him. "And I refuse to be stopped by you--or anyone!"
Max raised his red brows. "You amaze me," he said. "Then you are aware of the precipice?"
She clenched her hands. "I know what I am doing--yes! And I can guide myself. I refuse to be guided by you!"
"Violet!" Nervously Olga interposed. "Never mind now, dear! Do sit down and have some breakfast! The eggs are getting cold."
"Quite so," said Nick, putting down his letters abruptly. "The coffee also. Olga, you may tear up all my correspondence. It's nothing but bills. Miss Campion, wouldn't you like to butter some toast for me? You do it better than anyone I know. And I'm deuced hungry."
She turned away half-mechanically, met his smile of cheery effrontery, and suddenly flashed him a smile in return.
"What a gross flatterer you are!" she said "Allegro, aren't you jealous? Which piece of toast do you fancy, Nick? Can I cut up some ham for you as well?"
The tension was over and Olga breathed again. Max continued his breakfast with an inscrutable countenance, finished it, and departed to the surgery.
Violet did not so much as glance up at his departure. She was wrangling with Nick over the best means of attacking a boiled egg with one hand.
There was no longer the faintest hint of tragedy in her demeanour. Yet Olga went about her own duties with a heart like lead. She was beginning to understand Max's attitude at last; and it filled her with misgiving. _