An Eye for an Eye

by William Le Queux

tell you that it is all a dream impossible of realisation.To-day we must part. Leave me, and we will both forget this meeting."

  "But surely you will not deliberately wreck both our lives, Eva?" Icried, dismayed. "Your very words have betrayed that you reallyentertain some affection for me, although you deny it for reasons thatare inexplicable. Why not be quite plain and straightforward, as I am?"

  "I have been quite clear," she answered. "I tell you that we can neverlove one another."

  "Why?"

  "For a reason which some day ere long will be made plain to you," sheanswered in a low voice, her pure countenance at that moment drawn andashen pale. "In that day you will hate my very name, and yet will thinkkindly of my memory, because I have to-day refused to listen to you andhave given you your freedom."

  "And yet you actually love me!" I exclaimed, bewildered at this strangeallegation. "It is most extraordinary."

  "It may seem extraordinary," she said in a voice that appeared to soundsoft and afar, "but the truth is oft-times strange, especially when oneis draining the cup of life to its very dregs."

  "And may I not know this secret of yours, Eva?" I askedsympathetically, for I saw by her manner how she was suffering a tortureof the soul.

  "My secret!" she cried, glaring at me suddenly as one brought to bay, astrange, hunted look in those clear blue eyes. "My secret! Why"--andshe laughed a hollow, artificial laugh, as one hysterical--"why, howabsurd you are, Mr. Urwin! Whatever made you suspect me of havingsecrets?"

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  THE NEAR BEYOND.

  The remainder of our pull to Riverdene was accomplished in comparativesilence. Crushed, hopeless and despairing, I bent to the oarsmechanically, with the feeling that in all else my interest was dead,save in the woman I so dearly loved, who, lounging back among hercushions, sighed now and then, her face very grave and agitated.

  I spoke at last, urging her to reconsider her decision, but she onlyresponded with a single word, a word which destroyed all my fondesthopes--

  "Impossible."

  In that bright hour when the broad bosom of the Thames sent back thereflection of the summer sun, when the sky was clear as that in Italy,when all the world seemed rejoicing, and the gay laughter wafted overthe water from the launches, boats and punts gliding past us, we alonehad heavy hearts. Overwhelmed by this bitter disappointment and sorrow,the laughter jarred upon my ears. I tried to shut it out, and with myteeth set rowed with all my might against the stream until, skirting theshady wood, we rounded the bend of the stream and suddenly drew up atthe landing-steps of Riverdene.

  "Why, here's Eva!" cried Mary, running down to the water's edge, hertennis-racquet in her hand. "And Frank, too!" Then, turning to Eva aswe stood together on the lawn a moment later, she asked, "Where's yourmother? We've expected her all the afternoon."

  "Isn't she here?" asked Eva, in surprise.

  "No."

  "Well, she started to come here immediately after luncheon. She musthave missed the train or something."

  "She must, for it's now past five. I really hope nothing has happened."

  "Nothing ever happens to mother," observed Eva, with a light laugh."She'll turn up presently." Then she explained how I had called at TheHollies and she had brought me along. On reaching Riverdene she hadinstantly concealed her agitation and reassumed her old buoyant spiritsin order that none should suspect. She was an adept at the art ofdisguising her feelings, for none would now believe that twenty minutesbefore her face had been blanched, almost deathlike in agitation.

  Together we walked up the lawn, being warmly welcomed by Mrs. Blain andintroduced to several friends who, seated beneath a tree, were idlingover afternoon tea, a pleasant function in which we were, of course,compelled to join.

  Seated next to Mrs. Blain I gossiped for a long time with her, learningthat her husband was still in Paris, detained upon his company business.He was often there, for he was one of the greatest shippers ofchampagne, and much of his business was with firms in the Frenchcapital.

  "I don't expect him back for at least a fortnight," she said. "Theother day, when writing, I mentioned that you had visited us again andhe sent his good wishes to you."

  "Thanks," I answered. Truth to tell, I rather liked him. He was atypical City man, elderly, spruce, smartly dressed, always showing alarge expanse of elaborate shirt-front, fastened by diamond studs, and aheavy gold albert, a fashion which seems to alone belong to wealthymerchants and to that financial tribe who attend and speak at meetingsat Winchester House or the _Cannon Street Hotel_.

  From time to time when I glanced at Eva I was surprised to see howhappily she smiled, and to hear how light and careless was her laughter.Had she already forgotten my words and the great overwhelming sorrowher response had brought upon me?

  To Mrs. Blain's irresponsible chatter I answered quite mechanically, forall my thoughts were of that woman whom I loved. Deeply I reflectedupon all she had said, remembering how intensely agitated she had becomewhen I had implied that she was in possession of some secret. Thevehemence with which she had denied my imputation was quite sufficientto show that I had unconsciously referred to the one object uppermost inher mind. I was undecided in opinion whether her refusal to accept mylove was actually in consequence of her fear of Mary's jealousy. If so,then Mary was in possession of this secret of hers. There was no doubtin my mind that she really loved me, and that, if she were fearless, shewould hasten to reciprocate my affection. Apparently hers was a guiltysecret, held over her as menace by Mary Blain, and knowing this she hadbeen compelled to respond in the negative. This theory took possessionof me, and during the hours I spent at Riverdene that evening, diningand boating with several of my fellow-visitors, I reflected upon it,viewing it in its every phase, and finding it to be well founded.

  Indeed, as I sat opposite the two girls at dinner, I watched the actionsof both furtively behind the great silver epergne of roses and ferns,and although they chatted merrily, laughing and joking with their malecompanions, I nevertheless fancied that I could detect a slightexpression of concealed annoyance--or was it of hatred?--upon Eva's facewhenever Mary addressed her. Ever so slight, merely the quivering orslight contraction of the eyebrows, it passed unnoticed by the merryparty, yet with my eyes on the alert for any sign it was to me a proofsufficient that the theory I had formed was correct, and that the womanI loved went in deadly fear of Mary Blain.

  If this were really so, did it not add additional colour to the othervague theories that had been aroused in my mind through variousinexplicable circumstances? Did it not, indeed, point to the fact thatupon Eva, although she might have been a victim of that bewilderingtragedy in Phillimore Place, there rested a terrible guilt?

  I recollected how she had gone to St. James's Park to keep theappointment which the unknown assassin's accomplice had made, and theremarkable allegation of old Lowry, the herbalist--two facts which,viewed in the light of other discoveries, were circumstances inthemselves sufficient evidence of her guilt. Besides, had she not, withher own lips, told me that one day ere long I should hate her very name,and thank her for refusing to accept my love?

  Was not this sufficient proof of the correctness of my theory?

  As evening wore on and darkness deepened into night, the strings ofChinese lanterns at the bottom of the lawn were lit, imparting to theplace a very gay, almost fairylike, aspect. There were many remarksregarding the non-appearance of Lady Glaslyn. Mrs. Blain seemedextremely anxious, yet Eva betrayed no anxiety, merely saying--

  "She may have felt unwell and returned. I shall no doubt find her athome with one of her bad headaches."

  Thus all were reassured. Nevertheless, the incident struck me ascurious, for Eva's calm unconcern showed that her mother must be a womanof somewhat eccentric habits.

  Simpson drove us both to Shepperton Station in the motor-car, and wecaught the ten-thirty train, from which she alighted at Hampton while Icontinued my journey up to Waterloo. During the
fifteen minutes or sowe were alone together in the train our conversation was mainly of ourfellow-visitors. Of a sudden I asked--

  "Have you seen Mr. Langdale lately?"

  "Yes. I often see him. He lives quite near us," she answered frankly.

  "You told me this afternoon, Eva, that you were not engaged. Are youconfident there is not likely to be a match between you?"

  "A match between us!" she exclaimed with an expression of surprise."What, are you joking, or do you actually suspect that I love him?"

  "I have thought so."

  "Never!" she answered decisively. "I may be friendly, but to love a manof that stamp--a man who thinks more of his dress than a woman--never!"

  I