An Eye for an Eye

by William Le Queux

sweetlyconcealed, and danger lurk where you may least suspect its presence."

  "You wish to place a gulf between us," I cried impatiently. "But that'simpossible. I cannot rest without you; I am drawn to you as though bysome power of magic. I am yours in life, in death."

  "Ah, no!" she cried suddenly, putting up her hands to her face. "Speaknot of death. You are making vows that must ere long be broken," andshe sighed deeply.

  Was not her attitude, standing there pale and trembling, the attitude ofa guilty woman who feared the revelation of her crime? I looked againat her, and becoming convinced that it was, I regarded her withinexpressible scorn and love, horror and adoration. She seemed to havechanged of late. She pondered over my words, weighing them without anyidle misleadings of fancy. Did she never dream as she had done when wefirst met?

  "Why must my vows be broken when my love for you is so fervent, Eva?" Idemanded, in a voice a trifle hard, I think.

  She shuddered and gave a gesture of despair as if there were, indeed, nodefence for her. A great darkness was over my mind like the plague ofan unending night.

  "I have warned you," she responded, in a strange low tone. "If youreally love me as you say you do, remain away from this house."

  "Why are you so anxious that I should not visit you?" I demanded,puzzled. Then I added: "Of course in order to gain your love I amprepared to accept any conditions you may propose. If I do not againcome here, will you meet me in London?"

  "I can say nothing of the future," she answered slowly. "For your ownsake--indeed, for mine also--do not come here again. Promise me, I begof you."

  This request was the more curious in the light of recent events. Was itthat she could not bear me to kiss the hand that had attempted to slayme?

  "All this is very strange, Eva," I said with a sudden seriousness. "Icannot understand your attitude in the least. Why not be moreexplicit?"

  The heart of man is an open page to women. Love, though greatest of allselfish ecstasies, must yet have self-forgetfulness. She had none. Sheglanced at me and seemed to divine my thoughts. She cast a furtive lookacross the room to the lawn beyond, and I read on her face the birth ofsome new design.

  "I have been quite explicit," she laughed, with a strenuous attempt topreserve her self-control. "I merely give you advice to keep away fromthis house."

  "Yes, but you give me no reason. You do not speak plainly and openly,"I protested.

  "One cannot speak ill of those of whose hospitality one is partaking,"she answered with a calm smile. "Is it not sufficient for the presentthat you are warned?"

  "But why?" I demanded. "I am always a welcome guest here."

  Again she smiled, with a strange curl of the lip, I thought.

  "I do not deny that," she answered. "Have I not, however, alreadypointed out that treachery may be marvellously well concealed?"

  Did she really warn me of the danger of associating with these intimatefriends of hers merely because in her heart she really loved me? or hadshe some ulterior motive in getting me out of the way? She washand-in-glove with this suspected family, therefore the latter seemedthe theory most feasible.

  Yes, she was undoubtedly playing me false.

  A new thought suddenly arose within me, and with my eyes fixed upon herI said, in a voice hard and determined--

  "Eva, just now you gave utterance to a remark which is to me full ofmeaning. You said that I had escaped death by little short of amiracle. True, I have." Then I paused. "Yet, if the truth were told,have you not also escaped a swift and sudden end by means almost asmiraculous?"

  Her face blanched instantly, her mouth, half-opened, seemed fixed. Shewas unable to articulate, and I saw what an effect this speech of minehad upon her. She tottered to the table and laid her hand upon it inorder to steady herself. Her eyes glared upon me for an instant, likethose of some animal brought to bay.

  Yet, with a marvellous self-control, her white face a moment laterrelaxed into a smile, and she replied--"I really don't know to what yourefer. In the course of our lives we have many hairbreadth escapes fromdeath, for dangers are around us on every side." By this I saw what aconsummate actress she was, and was filled with regret that I had thusreferred to the tragedy at Kensington, fearing lest this revelation ofmy knowledge should hamper Boyd in his inquiries. Through all she kepta calm and steady judgment that was remarkable.

  "Reflect at leisure," I responded, "and perhaps you will not find mywords quite so puzzling as your own veiled references."

  "A few minutes ago," she exclaimed reproachfully, "you declared that youloved me. Now, however, you appear to entertain a desire to taunt me."

  "With what?"

  She hesitated, for she saw how nearly she had been entrapped. Everywoman is a born diplomatist, so she answered--

  "With having endeavoured to mislead you."

  "I only know that I love you, Eva," I said in softer tones, againtenderly taking her hand. "I only know that I think of no other womanin all the world besides yourself. I only know that I cannot livewithout your love."

  Her bosom heaved and fell painfully, and from her large blue eyes tearssprang--quick, salt, bitter drops that burned her as they fell.

  "Ah, no?" she cried protestingly. "Do not let us talk of that. Do notlet us dream of the impossible."

  "Then you really love me?" I cried in quick earnestness, bending overher, my arm about her slim waist.

  But she shuddered within my grasp. Her frame was shaken by a convulsivesob, and gazing upon me with serious eyes she, in a low whisper, gaveher answer.

  "Alas! I cannot--I--I dare not!"

  I drew back crushed and hopeless. Once again the strange thoughtpossessed me that Mary Blain held her within her power; that althoughshe actually loved me she feared the relentless vengeance of that womanwho posed as her most intimate friend, who smiled upon us both, althoughin her heart was a fierce and jealous hatred.

  Eva's was a strange character. She seemed a brilliant antithesis--acompound of contradictions--of all that I most detested, of all that Imost admired. Her whole character seemed a triumph of the external overthe innate; even though she presented at first view a splendid andperplexing anomaly, there was yet deep meaning and wondrous skill in theenigma when I came to analyse and decipher it. What was mostastonishing in Eva's character was its antithetical construction, itsconsistent inconsistency, which rendered it quite impossible to reduceit to any elementary principles. The impression she gave was that ofperpetual and irreconcilable contrast.

  In those months I had known her she had enchanted me. Her mentalaccomplishments, her unequalled grace, her woman's wit and woman'swiles, her irresistible allurements, her starts of hauteur, her vivacityof imagination, her petulant caprice, her fickleness and her falsehood,her tenderness and her truth, all had dazzled my faculties and bewitchedmy fancy. She held absolute dominion over me.

  My reference to that fatal night when I had discovered her apparentlydead in that weird house in Kensington had utterly unnerved her. I hadapparently, by those words, given her proof of the strong suspicionwhich she had entertained, and now she held aloof from me as from anenemy. Again and again Boyd's forcible words recurred to me. Try how Iwould I could not place from me the increasing belief that she hadactually given me that fatal draught on the last occasion when we met.

  Yet, after all, she had my welfare at heart to some extent, or she wouldnot utter this strange inexplicable warning; she would not have sopointedly told me that the family whose guests she was were my actualenemies. The latest passion of my love had long ago kindled into aquenchless flame, and again, after this declaration of fear which shehad uttered, I repeated my inquiry as to its cause.

  But she shook her head, and remained silent to all my entreaty, eventhough her panting breast plainly showed her agitation. Had she, Iwondered, really perpetrated a deed of horror? Was she, although sopure-looking and so beautiful, one of those women with inexorabledetermination of purpose, an actua
l impersonation of the evil powers?

  At her invitation we strolled together across the lawn to a shady spotat the river's brink, where we sat in long wicker chairs, tea beingbrought to us by the smart man-servant. Again and again I sought todiscover some truth from her, but she was ever wary not to betray eitherherself or those under whose roof she was now living. As I loungedthere by her, gazing upon her neat-girdled figure, so graceful andstriking in every form, I could not help reflecting that, in a mind notutterly depraved and hardened by the habit of crime, conscience mustawake at some time or other, and bring with it a remorse closed bydespair, and despair by death.

  Had her conscience been awakened that afternoon? To me it seemed verymuch as though it had.

  "How