"No. But I will come to-morrow. I swear."
"I will meet you here at two-thirty. That is the time when you take a walk. Slip away before the others. I will be waiting in the square. I will have a place ready for you. Afterwards you can choose what you want. Oh, Melisande ... at last!"
"At last!" she repeated.
"Swear to me now that you'll not change your mind."
"I will meet you in the square to-morrow without fail. I swear."
"How long time takes to pass! It is not yet ten o'clock. Fifteen hours must pass before my dreams are realized! It is tormenting to be near you and not to be alone with you."
"You alarm me sometimes," she said. "You always have. I feel like a child watching a fire . . . longing to touch . . . knowing she'll be burned, because she has been warned, and yet not knowing what the burning will be like."
"You'll not be hurt," he said. "To some are given the gift of meeting one woman . . . one man ... in a lifetime, and that is the one . . . the only one. You are that one for me. If I had known it when we first met we would not have missed so much."
"There was always Caroline though, wasn't there? She was there before we met. We should have brought unhappiness to her."
"She would have married someone else."
"I cannot forget her. Sometimes I think I never shall as long as we live."
"You must not think of her. I must not think of her. Think of ourselves and all the happiness we shall have. Should we miss that for the sake of one person who cannot know such happiness in any case?"
"She could if you loved her."
"How could I love anyone but you?"
"Perhaps love grows sated. How do I know? What do I know yet? I am beginning to know. Perhaps I am being wrong. Perhaps I am going to suffer. There was a nun, long ago in the Convent, who loved. I think of her. I always did as a child. She took her vows and had a lover. She suffered terribly. Perhaps I too shall suffer . . . even as she did. They walled her up and left her to die in a granite tomb."
"What a morbid thought! Someone ought to have walled up her judges instead of her."
"We have to see everything through others' eyes as well as our own. They thought they were right. She knew she would be punished. Perhaps she willingly accepted punishment. I should want to do that if I had done something which deserved punishment. I should wish to take it in resignation as the nun did. That is why I must think of Caroline to-night."
"If you attempt to draw back to-morrow," he said, "I shall come and take you by force."
"That would be so easy for me, wouldn't it? None could blame me then. All the burden of sin would be yours."
"Sin! What is sin ? Sin, in the eyes of most people is doing what they don't approve of. Darling, have done with talk. You have promised . . . to-morrow."
"I will be there to-morrow."
"And you'll not draw back?"
"What would be the use? You have sworn to force me to do as you wish."
He touched her hand lightly, for others, sent by Fenella, were joining them.
They talked; she was very gay; she seemed intoxicated. Many were enchanted with Melisande that night, and six women decided that they must have an ivory velvet gown; it gave such a glow to the skin, such a shine to the eyes.
And the long evening passed.
She was demure next morning, quiet and brooding. Genevra and Clotilde watched her anxiously, but she betrayed nothing.
Fenella sent a message to say that she wished to have a chat with Melisande when the girls returned from their afternoon walk. Fenella would never have that chat, for Melisande by then would have left the house for ever.
She feigned sleepiness while they drank their morning chocolate. "Poor darling!" said Genevra. "Last night wore you out. Never mind, ducky. Got to resign ourselves to what's what, you know."
"Yes," said Melisande, "we have to resign ourselves."
"And have you given dear Beddoes the go-by, or have you decided to take what's offered you?"
"I shall never marry Mr. Beddoes."
Clotilde smiled sagely. "I wish you all the best of luck, my dear," she said.
And they did not worry her after that. She read with them during that long morning and, when they were preparing themselves for a walk in the Park, she slipped downstairs and out of the house.
Clotilde saw her go. She stood at the door watching her meeting with Fermor; and Clotilde smiled knowingly and went back to wait for Genevra and Polly.
Neither Fermor nor Melisande spoke much during that short walk to the furnished house which he had found for her.
She was walking away from one existence to another. This was what she wanted—to be with him, not to banter and quarrel as they had always done before, but to exult in being together. It was true that a shadowy third person walked beside them. Melisande could never forget Caroline . . . Caroline in her black mourning dress, with her fair ringlets over her shoulders; there was an intensity about Caroline, something which suggested a capacity for deep feeling— for love, for suffering, for tragedy.
He had taken her hand and gripped it tightly as though he feared she might run away.
"I can't believe it's true," he said, "even now." He turned his face to hers and began to sing quietly but on a note of exultation:
" 'Hark! Hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings . . .' "
"Don't!" she said. "Please. I am so happy."
And she thought: Or I should be if I could forget Caroline.
"Here we are," he said.
They stood before a small house. She looked at the latticed windows, the dainty white lace curtains, the miniature garden, the iron gate and the path which led to the front door.
He opened the gate and they went through.
"You like it?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Here's the key." He held it before her. "Our key, darling." He put his arm round her and laughed aloud. He did not release her while he opened the door. He drew her into the hall. She noticed how bright and clean everything looked and she wondered how he had found such a place so quickly. There were fresh flowers on the table.
"All ready," he said. "All waiting for you." He stopped for nothing—not even to shut the door—before he lifted her off her feet.
"Fermor ..." she began.
"Put your arms about my neck and tell me you don't want to run away."
She did so. "It would be no good if I tried, would it? You wouldn't let me, would you?"
He was trying to kick the door shut, but it would not close. Indeed it was pushed open, and suddenly they were not alone in that little hall.
Two people had come in and shut the door behind them. Fermor put Melisande on her feet, and she stood still in horrified despair.
It was Wenna who spoke first. Caroline stood in silence.
"There! There! What did I tell 'ee? There they are . . . caught in the act, you might say."
Fermor said angrily: "What are you doing here?" And he was addressing Caroline.
W T enna came forward; she looked like a witch in her town clothes, thought Melisande. Her hair escaped in wisps from under her black hat, and her dark clothes made her skin seem browner. There was sweat on her nose and upper lip; her cheeks were fiery red and her black eyes narrow and full of a furious hatred.
"We caught you proper," went on Wenna. "I knew what was going on. I knew what kept you away from home."