XXXI
The sound of Miss Painter's latch-key made her start. She was still abundle of quivering fears to whom each coming moment seemed a menace.
There was a slight interval, and a sound of voices in the hall; thenMiss Painter's vigorous hand was on the door.
Anna stood up as she came in. "You've found him?"
"I've found Sophy."
"And Owen?--has she seen him? Is he here?"
"SHE'S here: in the hall. She wants to speak to you."
"Here--NOW?" Anna found no voice for more.
"She drove back with me," Miss Painter continued in the tone ofimpartial narrative. "The cabman was impertinent. I've got his number."She fumbled in a stout black reticule.
"Oh, I can't--" broke from Anna; but she collected herself, rememberingthat to betray her unwillingness to see the girl was to risk revealingmuch more.
"She thought you might be too tired to see her: she wouldn't come intill I'd found out."
Anna drew a quick breath. An instant's thought had told her thatSophy Viner would hardly have taken such a step unless something moreimportant had happened. "Ask her to come, please," she said.
Miss Painter, from the threshold, turned back to announce her intentionof going immediately to the police station to report the cabman'sdelinquency; then she passed out, and Sophy Viner entered.
The look in the girl's face showed that she had indeed come unwillingly;yet she seemed animated by an eager resoluteness that made Anna ashamedof her tremors. For a moment they looked at each other in silence, asif the thoughts between them were packed too thick for speech; then Annasaid, in a voice from which she strove to take the edge of hardness:"You know where Owen is, Miss Painter tells me."
"Yes; that was my reason for asking you to see me." Sophy spoke simply,without constraint or hesitation.
"I thought he'd promised you--" Anna interposed.
"He did; but he broke his promise. That's what I thought I ought to tellyou."
"Thank you." Anna went on tentatively: "He left Givre this morningwithout a word. I followed him because I was afraid..."
She broke off again and the girl took up her phrase. "You were afraidhe'd guessed? He HAS..."
"What do you mean--guessed what?"
"That you know something he doesn't...something that made you glad tohave me go."
"Oh--" Anna moaned. If she had wanted more pain she had it now. "He'stold you this?" she faltered.
"He hasn't told me, because I haven't seen him. I kept him off--I madeMrs. Farlow get rid of him. But he's written me what he came to say; andthat was it."
"Oh, poor Owen!" broke from Anna. Through all the intricacies of hersuffering she felt the separate pang of his.
"And I want to ask you," the girl continued, "to let me see him; forof course," she added in the same strange voice of energy, "I wouldn'tunless you consented."
"To see him?" Anna tried to gather together her startled thoughts. "Whatuse would it be? What could you tell him?"
"I want to tell him the truth," said Sophy Viner.
The two women looked at each other, and a burning blush rose to Anna'sforehead. "I don't understand," she faltered.
Sophy waited a moment; then she lowered her voice to say: "I don't wanthim to think worse of me than he need..."
"Worse?"
"Yes--to think such things as you're thinking now...I want him to knowexactly what happened...then I want to bid him good-bye."
Anna tried to clear a way through her own wonder and confusion. She feltherself obscurely moved.
"Wouldn't it be worse for him?"
"To hear the truth? It would be better, at any rate, for you and Mr.Darrow."
At the sound of the name Anna lifted her head quickly. "I've only mystep-son to consider!"
The girl threw a startled look at her. "You don't mean--you're not goingto give him up?"
Anna felt her lips harden. "I don't think it's of any use to talk ofthat."
"Oh, I know! It's my fault for not knowing how to say what I want you tohear. Your words are different; you know how to choose them. Mine offendyou...and the dread of it makes me blunder. That's why, the other day, Icouldn't say anything...couldn't make things clear to you. But now MUST,even if you hate it!" She drew a step nearer, her slender figure swayedforward in a passion of entreaty. "Do listen to me! What you've said isdreadful. How can you speak of him in that voice? Don't you see that Iwent away so that he shouldn't have to lose you?"
Anna looked at her coldly. "Are you speaking of Mr. Darrow? I don'tknow why you think your going or staying can in any way affect ourrelations."
"You mean that you HAVE given him up--because of me? Oh, how could you?You can't really love him!--And yet," the girl suddenly added, "youmust, or you'd be more sorry for me!"
"I'm very sorry for you," Anna said, feeling as if the iron band abouther heart pressed on it a little less inexorably.
"Then why won't you hear me? Why won't you try to understand? It's allso different from what you imagine!"
"I've never judged you."
"I'm not thinking of myself. He loves you!"
"I thought you'd come to speak of Owen."
Sophy Viner seemed not to hear her. "He's never loved any one else. Eventhose few days...I knew it all the while...he never cared for me."
"Please don't say any more!" Anna said.
"I know it must seem strange to you that I should say so much. I shockyou, I offend you: you think me a creature without shame. So I am--butnot in the sense you think! I'm not ashamed of having loved him; no; andI'm not ashamed of telling you so. It's that that justifies me--and himtoo...Oh, let me tell you how it happened! He was sorry for me: he saw Icared. I KNEW that was all he ever felt. I could see he was thinking ofsome one else. I knew it was only for a week...He never said a word tomislead me...I wanted to be happy just once--and I didn't dream of theharm I might be doing him!"
Anna could not speak. She hardly knew, as yet, what the girl's wordsconveyed to her, save the sense of their tragic fervour; but she wasconscious of being in the presence of an intenser passion than she hadever felt.
"I am sorry for you." She paused. "But why do you say this to me?" Afteranother interval she exclaimed: "You'd no right to let Owen love you."
"No; that was wrong. At least what's happened since has made it so. Ifthings had been different I think I could have made Owen happy. You wereall so good to me--I wanted so to stay with you! I suppose you'll saythat makes it worse: my daring to dream I had the right...But all thatdoesn't matter now. I won't see Owen unless you're willing. I shouldhave liked to tell him what I've tried to tell you; but you must knowbetter; you feel things in a finer way. Only you'll have to help him ifI can't. He cares a great deal...it's going to hurt him..."
Anna trembled. "Oh, I know! What can I do?"
"You can go straight back to Givre--now, at once! So that Owen shallnever know you've followed him." Sophy's clasped hands reached outurgently. "And you can send for Mr. Darrow--bring him back. Owen mustbe convinced that he's mistaken, and nothing else will convince him.Afterward I'll find a pretext--oh, I promise you! But first he must seefor himself that nothing's changed for you."
Anna stood motionless, subdued and dominated. The girl's ardour swepther like a wind.
"Oh, can't I move you? Some day you'll know!" Sophy pleaded, her eyesfull of tears.
Anna saw them, and felt a fullness in her throat. Again the band abouther heart seemed loosened. She wanted to find a word, but could not:all within her was too dark and violent. She gave the girl a speechlesslook.
"I do believe you," she said suddenly; then she turned and walked out ofthe room.
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