_ CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. FROM HOPE TO FEAR
For a few moments nothing was said, and Guest paid no heed to his companion, but stood bent forward listening for some exclamation of surprise uttered by Stratton, or a word from Myra.
But all was silent as the grave, and, with his pulses increasing the rapidity of their beats, he gazed at the faint, narrow streak of light, almost within reach of his hand, where the edge of the inner door was within a quarter of an inch of the jamb.
"Ought I to have let her go in alone?" he asked himself. "Ought I not to have sent in Edie, too--is there any risk?"
Then, quick as lightning, followed thought after thought as to the peril to which, through his and Edie's scheming, Myra might be exposed; and he saw himself afterward face to face with father and aunt, bearing the brunt of their reproaches for what now began to seem a wild escapade.
He was brought back to himself in the midst of the semi-darkness by a low, catching sigh, and he turned sharply round to see behind him, as in another frame, the outlined figure of Edie. He took a step toward her quickly, but she drew back right to the great balustrade of the landing, and supported herself against it.
"Edie," he whispered, trying to take her hand; but she repulsed him, and turned her back to look down the opening to the hall.
"Edie," he said again quickly; and this time he caught her hand.
"Don't touch me!" she said in a low, passionate whisper.
"Nonsense, dear! There is no danger, I think. We must not stay here listening: it would be so unfair. Come and stand in Mr Brettison's passage. You will be out of the draught and cold."
"Don't touch me, I say," she whispered angrily; and she drew her hand from his grasp with a sharp snatch.
"Don't be foolish," he said excitedly. "Come along here."
"No--no--no."
"But, Edie, dear!"
"How dare you!" she cried quite aloud.
"Edie! Can you not trust me?" he said reproachfully. "It was for your sake I spoke. People may be coming up or going down. Let's go back to Mr Brettison's door."
"No," she said hoarsely; "I will stay here."
"But there is no need," he said gently. "I know what you feel in your anxiety about Myra; but really there is no need. Come."
He tried to take her hand again, but she recoiled from him so suddenly that her little hood fell back, and, dim though the staircase landing was, he could see the bright little face before him convulsed with anger, and that her eyes literally flashed.
"Edie!" he whispered, "how can you be so foolish! I tell you I will answer for Myra's safety there with my life if you like."
"Myra!" she said in an angry whisper; "do you think I was considering her? I--oh, it is too much. How could I be so mad and stupid as to--as to--come!"
Guest gazed at her wonderingly. At first he merely attributed her actions to her anxiety on her cousin's behalf, but her words contradicted that; and, utterly astounded, he stammered out:
"Edie--speak to me--have I offended you? What have I done?"
"Oh, nothing. It is I who have been foolish," she said hysterically. "Girls are so silly sometimes."
"Then there is something," he said eagerly. "I have offended you. Edie, dear, pray tell me."
He took hold of her unwilling hand and, in spite of her effort, drew it through his arm, and led her toward the short passage in which Brettison's door was placed.
"You don't answer me," he whispered as they reached the spot where she and her cousin had waited only a short time before, and his love for her speaking now warmly in the tone of his voice. "Edie, dearest, I would suffer anything sooner than give you pain. Forgive me if I have done anything; forgive me, too, for speaking out so plainly at a time like this, but I do love you, darling, indeed--indeed."
As he spoke he raised her hand passionately, and yet reverently, to his lips, and the next moment he would have pressed it warmly, but the kiss was upon vacancy, for the hand was sharply snatched away.
"It is all false!" cried Edie in a low, angry voice. "I do not believe a word."
"Edie!" he whispered reproachfully.
"Do you think I am blind? Do you think because I am so young that I am a child?"
"I--I don't know what you mean," he faltered, utterly taken aback by the silent vehemence of the passion displayed by the quivering little lady before him.
"It is not true. You are deceiving me. You, too, whom I did think honest and true. But you are all alike, and I _was_ mad to come--no, I was not, for I'm very glad I did, if it was only to learn that you are as full of duplicity as your friend."
"Am I? Well, I suppose so, Edie, if you think so," he said dismally. "But we came here to try and get out of a fog--I've got farther in. I didn't know I was such a bad one, though, and you might be fair to me and explain. Come," he cried, changing his manner, and speaking out in a frank, manly way, "this is not like you, little woman. If it's to tease me and keep me at a distance because we are alone here in the dark it is not needed, Edie, for God knows that if a man ever loved a woman, I do you."
"What!" she cried; "and act toward Myra as I saw just now?"
"Toward Myra?"
"Yes; I know she's a hundred times nicer than I am, but I did think--I did think--O Percy, how could you kiss her hand like that?"
He caught her to his breast as she broke down into a fit of sobbing, and held her there.
"O Edie," he said, "you silly, blind little thing! Why, I never even thought--oh, but go on--go on," he whispered; "I am so glad--jealous of me like that! Then you do love me dearly, and you can't deny it now."
Edie made little effort to escape from the close encircling arms which held her tightly, fluttering like a bird; none to deny Guest's charge. It was very lonely and dark upon that staircase, and in another moment she would have been shrinking from her companion's kisses; but, moved by the same impulse, they sprang apart, for from Stratton's room a wild, appealing cry broke the silence of the echoing stairs. _