Part 59

"Well--you owe him nothing," pursued she.

"Nothing that would interfere with the cause," replied he. "And that would be true, no matter what he had done."

"I mean he did nothing for you," she explained. "I forgot to tell you yesterday. The whole thing was simply a move to further his ambition. I happened to be there when he talked with father and enlisted him."

Victor laughed. "It was your father who put it through. I might have known!"

"At first I tried to interpose. Then--I stopped." She stood before him with eyes down. "It came to me that for my own sake it would be better that you should lose this fall. It seemed to me that if you won you would be farther out of my reach." She paused, went steadily on: "It was a bad feeling I had that you must not get anything except with my help. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," said he cheerfully. "You are your father's own daughter."

"I love power," said she. "And so do you. Only, being a woman, I'd stoop to things to get it, that a man--at least your sort of man--would scorn. Do you despise me for that? You oughtn't to. And you will teach me better. You can make of me what you please, as I told you yesterday. I only half meant it then. Now--it's true, through and through."

Victor glanced round, saw near at hand the bench he was seeking. "Let's sit down here," said he. "I'm rather tired. I slept little and I've been walking all morning. And you look tired, also."

"After yesterday afternoon I couldn't sleep," said she.

When they were seated he looked at her with an expression that seemed to say: "I have thrown open the windows of my soul. Throw open yours; and let us look at each other as we are, and speak of things as they are." She suddenly flung herself against his breast and as he clasped her she said:

"No--no! Let's not reason coldly about things, Victor. Let's feel--let's LIVE!"

It was several minutes--and not until they had kissed many times--before he regained enough self-control to say: "This simply will not do, Jane. How can we discuss things calmly? You sit there"--he pushed her gently to one end of the bench--"and I'll sit at this end. Now!"

"I love you, Victor! With your arms round me I am happy--and SO strong!"

"With my arms round you I'm happy, I'll admit," said he. "But--oh, so weak! I have the sense that I am doing wrong--that we are both doing wrong."

"Why? Aren't you free?"

"No, I am not free. As I've told you, I belong to a cause--to a career."

"But I won't hinder you there. I'll help you."

"Why go over that again? You know better--I know better." Abruptly, "Your father--what time does he get home for dinner?"

"He didn't go down town to-day," replied Jane. "He's not well--not at all well."

Victor looked baffled. "I was about to propose that we go straight to him."

If he had been looking at Jane, he might have seen the fleeting flash of an expression that betrayed that she had suspected the object of his inquiry.

"You will not go with me to your father?"

"Not when he is ill," said she. "If we told him, it might kill him. He has ambitions--what he regards as ambitions--for me. He admires you, but--he doesn't admire your ideas."

"Then," said Victor, following his own train of thought, "we must fight this out between ourselves. I was hoping I'd have your father to help me. I'm sure, as soon as you faced him with me, you'd realize that your feeling about me is largely a delusion."

"And you?" said Jane softly. "Your feeling about me--the feeling that made you kiss me--was that delusion?"

"It was--just what you saw," replied he, "and nothing more. The idea of marrying you--of living my life with you doesn't attract me in the least. I can't see you as my wife." He looked at her impatiently. "Have you no imagination? Can't you see that you could not change, and become what you'd have to be if you lived with me?"

"You can make of me what you please," repeated she with loving obstinacy.

"That is not sincere!" cried he. "You may think it is, but it isn't. Look at me, Jane."