(p. 267)

CAPÍTULO 13.

 

            SOON after the distribution of the prizes, James and Margaret started homewards, and Noel remained to join in the dances with which the day was to be concluded. It was not his own wish to do so, for he would never have been an hour longer than he could help it absent from Margaret’s side. The power of her attraction was constant, and effort was ever required to withstand it. It was by no process of reasoning that he, on the present occasion, came to a determination to remain behind her at the hacienda. He had an instinctive conviction that it was on many accounts the best thing to do, and the subtle sympathy by which he read Margaret, told him that she would prefer his doing so. He said, in a loud, voice as they went –

 

            ‘I suppose shall not see you again to-night. So good-bye for to-day.’

 

            And he knew by her grateful face that he was doing exactly what she had longed to ask him to do: and the relief she had gained by his sympathetic self-denial, well repaid him for exercising it.

 

            It is true that Margaret could not have clearly described her own feeling or motive; but she read in James’s look or manner, that which told her that he had entered upon one of those curious fits of moody rumination which now and then made escape from all society necessary to him; and she did not doubt that, whatever the cause might be, she would have to bear the brunt of it.

 

            Of this, however, Noel knew nothing. Ever perfect in her loyalty to James, Margaret admitted no confidence with another concerning their relations. All that touched him was sacred. It was the sole fault that even women found with her. She would not make him a subject for gossip. It was far more by what fell from Maynard, than from her, that Noel inferred the true state of the case. She bore the burden of a love to which she could not respond. Her face grew pale and wan beneath the efforts she made to endure it, and no cry came from the depths of her struggling soul, but that which daily ascended in silence to heaven: ‘Oh, for a life that consists in action, in place of this one of passive endurance;’ and she felt that even if she had been able to return James’s love, her

(p. 268)

trial would have been almost as great: All her genuine regard for him did not blind her to the fact that love with him, – such love, at least, as she inspired in him, – rather irritated than softened his character, and that the result would have been to wear them both out.

 

            They rode in silence up the steep that led homewards, Margaret feeling the cloud of James’s evident dissatisfaction shadowing her heart; and he, angry with her and with himself also. Slowly and steadily their mules picked their way along the narrow track, as they proceeded in single file through the thick pine forest, whose gloom was now deepened by the night that was fast falling on the mountain. The strains of music from the festival accompanied them far on the way, but produced no corresponding joy. Conversation between riders who are not abreast of each other, necessitates shouting; and James, even if he wished to speak to Margaret, could not shout what he had to say. So the silence continued until they emerged from the forest, into the clearing before the house. Then James urged his mule up close to Margaret’s, and said to her, ‘Margaret, I have been deceived in you. You can love.’

 

            She knew not how the revelation had come to him, or to what he referred. She was too much accustomed to his upbraidings to be taken by surprise, least of all now, when she was watching the gathering of the storm. The direction which it took was, however, quite a new one, and Margaret paused in surprise before replying.

 

            She had often wished for a faculty of gentle banter, with which to chase away his evil moods; but she had ever felt too much pain to return him a light answer. This time an unwonted spirit sustained her, and she said –

 

            ‘Then you will be content at last, for you have often made my incapacity a serious charge against me.’

 

            ‘I am wrong,’ he said to himself; ‘or at least she is as yet unconscious of her own feelings. What an idiot I am to put it into her head.’

 

            Nothing more was said. On entering the house, James betook himself to his study, and Margaret went to her children’s room. They were yet awake, and, dismissing the servant for the night, she clasped them passionately.

 

            ‘Ah, me,’ she murmured, as she kissed them; ‘I can love, and I do. Thank God. Thank God.’

 

            And replacing them in their cots, she seated herself beside

(p. 269)

them; and as they sank into sleep, she fell into a reverie which lasted until long past her usual bedtime. Then, leaving them, she went into her own adjoining room, and dressed as she was, lay down on her bed, not knowing what she did, and was soon lost in a deep slumber.

 

Índice Geral das Seções   Índice da Seção Atual   Índice da Obra Atual   Anterior: Capítulo 12   Seguinte: Capítulo 14