The Secret Power

by Marie Corelli

  CHAPTER XVII

  "So the man from Washington told you to bring this to me?"

  Roger Seaton asked the question of Manella, twirling in his hand anunopened letter she had just given him. She nodded in the affirmative.He looked at her critically, amused at the evident pains she had takenwith her dress and general appearance. He twirled the letter again likea toy in his fingers.

  "I wonder what it's all about? Do you know?"

  Manella shrugged her shoulders with a charming air of indifference.

  "I? How should I know? He is your friend I suppose?"

  "Not a bit of it!" and Roger stretched himself lazily and yawned--"He'sthe friend of nobody who is poor. But he's the comrade of everybodywith plenty of cash. He's as hard as a dried old walnut, without theshred of a heart--"

  "You are wrong!" said Manella, flushing up suddenly--"You are wrong andunjust! He is an ugly old man, but he is very kind."

  Seaton threw back his head and laughed heartily with real enjoyment.

  "Manella, oh, Manella!" he exclaimed--"What has he said or done to youto win your good opinion? Has he made you some pretty compliments, andtold you that you are beautiful? Every one can tell you that, my dear!It does not need Mr. Senator Gwent's assurance to emphasise the fact!That you find him an ugly old man is natural--but that you should alsothink him 'very kind' DOES surprise me!"

  Manella gazed at him seriously--her lovely eyes gleaming like jewelsunder her long black lashes.

  "You mock at everything,"--she said--"It is a pity!"

  Her tone was faintly reproachful. He smiled.

  "My dear girl, I really cannot regard Mr. Senator Gwent as a figure tobe reverenced!"--he said--"He's one of the dustiest, driest olddollar-grabbers in the States. I gave him the chance of fresh grab--buthe was too much afraid to take it--"

  "Afraid of what?" asked Manella, quickly.

  "Of shadows!--shadows of coming events!--yes, they scared him! Now ifyou are a good girl, and will sit very quiet, you can come into my hutout of this scorching sun, and sit down while I read the letter--I mayhave to write an answer--and if so you can post it at the Plaza."

  He went before her into the hut, and she followed. He bade her sit downin the chair by the window,--she obeyed, and glanced about her shyly,yet curiously. The room was not untidy, as she expected it would bewithout a woman's hand to set it in order,--on the contrary it was theperfection of neatness and cleanliness. Her gaze was quickly attractedby the bowl of perpetually moving fluid in the center of the table.

  "What is that?" she asked.

  "That? Oh, nothing! An invention of mine--just to look pretty and coolin warm weather! It reminds me of women's caprices and fancies--alwayson the jump! Yes!--don't frown, Manella!--that is so! Now--let me seewhat Mr. Sam Gwent has to say that he didn't say before---" and seatinghimself, he opened the letter and began to read.

  Manella watched him from under the shadow of her long-fringedeyelids--her heart beat quickly and uncomfortably. She was fearful lestGwent should have broken faith with her after all, and have written ofher and her vain passion, to the man who already knew of it only toowell. She waited patiently for the "god of her idolatry" to look up. Atlast he did so. But he seemed to have forgotten her presence. His browswere knitted in a frown, and he spoke aloud, as to himself--

  "A syndicate! Old humbug! He knows perfectly well that the thing couldnot be run by a syndicate! It must be a State's own singlepossession--a State's special secret. If I were as bent on sheerdestructiveness as he imagines me to be, I should waste no more time,but offer it to Germany. Germany would take it at once--Germany wouldrequire no persuasion to use it!--Germany would make me a millionairetwice over for the monopoly of such a force!--that is, if I wanted tobe a millionaire, which I don't. But Gwent's a fool--I must have scaredhim out of his wits, or he wouldn't write all this stuff about risks tomy life, advising me to marry quickly and settle down! Good God!I?--Marry and settle down? What a tame ending to a life's adventure!Hello, Manella!"

  His eyes lighted upon her as if he had only just seen her. He rose fromhis chair and went over to where she sat by the window.

  "Patient girl!" he said, patting her dark head with his big sun-brownedhand--"As good as gold and quieter than a mouse! Well! You may go now.I've read the letter and there's no answer. Nothing for me to write, orfor you to post!" She lifted her brilliant eyes to his--what gloriouseyes they were! He would not have been man had he not been conscious oftheir amorous fire. He patted her head again in quite a paternal way.

  "Nothing for me to write or for you to post"--he repeated,abstractedly--"and how satisfactory that is!"

  "Then you are pleased?" she said.

  "Pleased? My dear, there is nothing to be pleased or displeased about!The ugly old man whom you found so 'very kind' tells me to take care ofmyself--which I always do. Also--to marry and settle down--which Ialways don't!"

  She stood upright, turning her head away from the touch of his hand.She had never looked more attractive than at that moment,--she wore thewhite gown in which he had before admired her, and a cluster of roseswhich were pinned to her bodice gave rich contrast to the soft tone ofher smooth, suntanned skin, and swayed lightly with the unquiet heavingof the beautiful bosom which might have served a sculptor as a perfectmodel. A faint, quivering smile was on her lips.

  "You always don't? That sounds very droll! You will be unlike every manin the world, then,--they all marry!"

  "Oh, do they? You know all about it? Wise Manella!"

  And he looked at her, smiling. Her passionate eyes, full of glowingardour, met his,--a flashing fire seemed to leap from them into his ownsoul, and for the moment he almost lost his self-possession.

  "Wise Manella!" he repeated, his voice shaking a little, while hefought with the insidious temptation which beset him,--the temptationto draw her into his arms and take his fill of the love she was soready to give--"They always marry? No dear, they do NOT! Many of themavoid marriage--" he paused, then continued--"and do you know why?"

  She shook her head.

  "Because it is the end of romance! Because it rings down the curtain ona beautiful Play! The music ceases--the lights are put out--theaudience goes home,--and the actors take off their fascinatingcostumes, wash away their paint and powder and sit down tosupper--possibly fried steak and onions and a pot of beer. The friedsteak and onions--also the beer--make a very good ordinary 'marriage.'"

  In this flippant talk he gained the mastery over himself he had fearedto lose--and laughed heartily as he saw Manella's expression of utterbewilderment.

  "I do not understand!" she said, plaintively--"What is steak andonions?--how do they make a marriage? You say such strange things!"

  He laughed again, thoroughly amused.

  "Yes, don't I!" he rejoined--"But not half such strange things as Icould say if I were so inclined! I'm a queer fellow!"

  He touched her hair gently, putting back a stray curl that had fallenacross her forehead.

  "Now, dear," he continued, "It's time you went. You'll be wanted at thePlaza--and they mustn't think I'm keeping you up here, making love toyou!"

  She tossed her head back, and her eyes flashed almost angrily.

  "There's no danger of that!" she said, with a little suppressed tremorin her throat like the sob of a nightingale at the close of its song.

  "Isn't there?" and putting his arm round her, he drew her close tohimself and looked full in her eyes--"Manella--there WAS!--a momentago!"

  She remained still and passive in his arms--hardly daring to breathe,so rapt was she in a sudden ecstasy, but he could feel the wild beatingof her heart against his own.

  "A moment ago!" he repeated, in a half whisper. "A moment ago I couldhave made such desperate love to you as would have astonishedmyself!--and YOU! And I should have regretted it ever afterwards--andso would you!"

  The struggling emotion in her found utterance.

  "No, no--not I!" she said, in quick little passionate murmurs--"I couldnot regret
it!--If you loved me for an hour it would be the joy of mylife-time!--You might leave me,--you might forget!--but that would nottake away my pride and gladness! You might kill me--I would die gladlyif it saved YOUR life!--ah, you do not understand love--not the love ofManella!"

  And she lifted her face to his--a face so lovely, so young, so warmwith her soul's inward rapture that its glowing beauty might have madea lover of an anchorite. But with Roger Seaton the impulses of passionwere brief--the momentary flame had gone out in vapour, and the spiritof the anchorite prevailed. He looked at the dewy red lips, delicatelyparted like rose petals--but he did not kiss them, and the clasp of hisarms round her gradually relaxed.

  "Hush, hush Manella!" he said, with a mild kindness, which in heroverwrought state was more distracting than angry words would havebeen--"Hush! You talk foolishness--beautiful foolishness--all women dowhen they set their fancies on men. It is nature, of course,--YOU thinkit is love, but, my dear girl, there is no such thing as love!There!--now you are cross!" for she drew herself quickly away from hishold and stood apart, her eyes sparkling, her breast heaving, with theair of a goddess enraged,--"You are cross because I tell you thetruth---"

  "It is not the truth," she said, in a low voice quivering with intensefeeling--"you tell me lies to disguise yourself. But I can see! Youyourself love a woman--but you have not my courage!--you are afraid toown it! You would give the world to hold her in your arms as you justnow held ME--but you will not admit it--not even to yourself--and youpretend to hate when you are mad for love!--just as you pretend to beill when you are well! You should be ashamed to say there is no suchthing as love! What mean you then by playing so false withyourself?--with me?--and with HER?"

  She looked lovelier than ever in her anger, and he was taken bysurprise at the impetuous and instinctive guess she had made at thecomplexity of his moods, which he himself scarcely understood. For amoment he stood inert, embarrassed by her straight, half-scornfulglance--then he regained his usual mental poise and smiled withprovoking good humour and tolerance.

  "Temper, Manella!--temper again! A pity, a pity! Your Spanish blood istoo fiery, Manella!--it is indeed! You have been very rude--do you knowhow rude you have been? But there! I forgive you! You are only anaughty child! As for love---"

  He paused, and going to the door of the hut looked out.

  "Manella, there is a big cloud in the west just over the ocean. It isshaped like a great white eagle and its wings are edged with gold,--itis the beginning of a fine sunset. Come and look at it,--and while wewatch it floating along I will talk to you about love!"

  She hesitated,--her whole spirit was up in arms against this man whomshe loved, and who, so she argued with herself, had allowed her to loveHIM, while having no love for HER; and yet,--since Gwent had told herthat his mysterious occupation might result in disaster and danger tohis life, her devotion had received a new impetus which was whollyunselfish,--that of watchful guardianship such as inspires a faithfuldog to defend its master. And, moved by this thought, she obeyed hisbeckoning hand, and stood with him on the sward outside the hut,looking at the cloud he described. It was singularly white,--new-fallensnow could be no whiter,--and, shaped like a huge bird, its great wingsspread out to north and south were edged with a red-gold fire. Seatonpushed an old tree stump into position and sat down upon it, makingManella sit beside him.

  "Now for this talk!" he said--"Love is the subject,--Love the theme! Weare taught that we must love God and love our neighbor--but we don't,because we can't! In the case of God we cannot love what we don't knowand don't see,--and we cannot love our neighbor because he is often aperson whom we DO know and CAN see, and who is extremely offensive. Nowlet us consider what IS love? You, Manella, are angry because I saythere is no such thing--and you accuse me of indulging in love for awoman myself. Yet--I still declare, in spite of you, there is no suchthing as love! I ought to be ashamed of myself for saying this--so YOUthink!--but I'm not ashamed. I know I'm right! Love is a divine idea,never realised. It is like a ninth new note in the musical scale--notto be attained. It is suggested in the highest forms of poetry and art,but the suggestion can never be carried out. What men and women call'love' is the ordinary attraction of sex,--the same attraction thatpulls all male and female living things together and makes them mate.It is very unromantic! And to a man of my mind, very useless."

  She looked at him in a kind of sorrowful perplexity.

  "You have much talk"--she said--"and no doubt you are clever. But Ithink you are all wrong!"

  "You do? Wise child! Now listen to my much talk a little longer! Haveyou ever watched silkworms? No? They are typical examples of humanity.A silkworm, while it is a worm, feeds to repletion,--you can never getit as many mulberry leaves as it would like to eat--then when it isgorged, it builds itself a beautiful house of silk (which is taken awayfrom it in due course) and comes out at the door in wings!--wings ithardly uses and seems not to understand--then, if it is a female moth,it looks about for 'love' from the male. If the male 'loves' it, thefemale produces a considerable number of eggs like pin-heads--andthen?--what then? Why she promptly dies, and there's an end of her! Hersole aim and end of being was to produce eggs, which in their turnbecome worms and repeat the same dull routine of business. Now--thinkme as brutal as you like--I say a woman is very like a femalesilkworm,--she comes out of her beautiful silken cocoon of maidenhoodwith wings which she doesn't know how to use--she merely flutters aboutwaiting to be 'loved'--and when this dream she calls 'love' comes toher, she doesn't dream any longer--she wakes--to find her lifefinished!--finished, Manella!--dry as a gourd with all the juice runout!"

  Manella rose from her seat beside him. The warm light in her eyes hadgone--her face was pale, and as she drew herself up to her statelyheight she made a picture of noble scorn.

  "I am sorry for you!" she said. "If you think these things yourthoughts are quite dreadful! You are a cruel man after all! I am sorryI spoke of the beautiful little lady who came here to see you--you donot love her--you cannot!--I felt sure you did--but I am wrong!--thereis no love in you except for yourself and your own will!"

  She spoke, breathing quickly, and trembling with suppressed emotion. Hesmiled,--and, rising, saluted her with a profound bow.

  "Thank you, Manella! You give me a true character!--Myself and my ownwill are certainly the chief factors in my life--and they may workwonders yet!--who knows! And there is no love in me--no!--not what YOUcall love!--but--as concerns the 'beautiful little lady,' you may knowthis much of me--THAT _I_ WANT HER!"

  He threw out his hands with a gesture that was almost tragic, and suchan expression came into his face of savagery and tenderness commingledthat Manella retreated from him in vague terror.

  "I want her!" he repeated--"And why? Not to 'love' her,--but to breakher wings,--for she, unlike a silkworm moth, knows how to use them! Iwant her, to make her proud mind bend to MY will and way!--I want herto show her how a man can, shall, and MUST be master of a woman's brainand soul!"

  A sudden heat of pent-up feeling broke out in this impulsive rush ofwords;--he checked himself,--and seeing Manella's pale, scared face hewent up to her and took her hand.

  "You see, Manella?" he said, in quiet tones--"There is no such thing as'love,' but there is such a thing as 'wanting.' And--for the mostselfish reasons man ever had--I want HER--not you!"

  The colour rushed back to her cheeks in a warm glow--her great darkeyes were ablaze with indignation. She drew her hand quickly from hishold.

  "And I hope you will never get her!" she said, passionately--"I willpray the Holy Virgin to save her from you! For you are wicked! She islike an angel--and you are a devil!--yes, surely you must be, or youcould not say such horrible things! You do not want me, you say? I knowthat! I am a fool to have shown you my heart--you have broken it, butyou do not care--you could have been master of my brain and soulwhenever you pleased---"

  "Ah yes, dear!" he interrupted, with a smile--"That would be so easy!"

  The touch of satir
e in these words was lost on her,--she took themquite literally, and a sudden softness sweetened her anger.

  "Yes!--quite easy!" she said--"And you would be pleased! You would doas you wished with me--men like to rule women!"

  "When it is worth while!" he thought, looking at her with a curiouspitifulness as one might look at a struggling animal caught in a net.Aloud he said--

  "Yes, Manella!--men like to rule women. It is their specialprivilege--they have enjoyed it always, even in the days when theIndian 'braves' beat their squaws out here in California, and killedthem outright if they dared to complain of the beating! Women are busyjust now trying to rule men--it's an experiment, but it won't do! Menare the masters of life! They expect to be obeyed by all the rest ofcreation. _I_ expect to be obeyed!--and so, Manella, when I tell you togo home, you must go! Yes!--love, tempers and all!--you must go!"

  She met his eyes with a resolved look in her own.

  "I am going!" she answered--"But I shall come again. Oh, yes! And yetagain! and very often! I shall come even if it is only to find you deadon this hill--killed by your own secret! Yes--I shall come!"

  He gave an involuntary movement of surprise and annoyance. Had Mr.Senator Gwent discussed his affairs with this beautiful foolish girlwho, like some forest animal, cared for nothing but the satisfaction ofmating where her wishes inclined.

  "What do you mean, Manella?" he demanded, imperatively--"Do you expectto find me dead?"

  She nodded vehemently. Tears were in her eyes and she turned her headaway that he might not see them.

  "What a cheerful prospect!" he exclaimed, gaily--"And I'm to be killedby my own secret, am I? I wonder what it is! Ah, Manella, Manella! Thatstupid old Gwent has been at you, stuffing your mind with a lot ofnonsense--don't you believe him! I've no 'secret' that will kill me--Idon't want to be killed; No, Manella! Though you come 'again and yetagain and ever so often' as you say, you will not find me dead! I'm toostrong!"

  But Manella, yielding to her inward excitement, pointed a hand at himwith a warning air of a tragedy queen.

  "Do not boast!" she said--"God is always listening! No man is toostrong for God! I am not clever--I have no knowledge of what youdo--but this I will tell you surely! You may have a secret,--or you maynot have it,--but if you play with the powers of God you will bepunished! Yes!--of that I am quite certain! And this I will alsosay--if you were to pull all the clouds down upon you and the thundersand the lightnings and all the terrible things of destruction in theworld, I would be there! And you would know what love is!--Yes!"--hervoice choked, and then pealed out like that of a Sybilline prophetess,"If God struck you down to hell, I would be there!"

  And with a wild, sobbing cry she rushed away from him down the hillbefore he could move or utter a word.