CHAPTER XV
Elise was standing just inside the door, smiling at him from the shadows.
She had changed her costume. A gauzy black wrap covered her black evening gown, from which her white shoulders could be seen rising. Her small, tight-fitting black hat was draped with black lace that shaded her eyes almost with the effect of a mask. She was quite aware of the impression she made as she stood there silently. The tired man raised his eyes and stared at her. Then he pulled his long, handsome body out of the chair and arose questioningly.
At length she approached him and said lightly, "Ah, you are a man of your word after all. I was afraid the work was just a bluff."
"Why have you come back?" he asked almost sharply from behind the table. "You must go at once."
"Oh, don't be annoyed, Rodrigo. No one saw me come in. I have a private key to the place, you know. Please don't begrudge me the innocent pleasure of doing something slightly clandestine." She came near to the chair opposite him, and went on, "And now that I am here, won't you be a polite host and ask me to sit down?" Without waiting for the invitation, she took the chair, laying aside her wrap as she did so.
He sank into the chair opposite and rustled the papers uneasily.
"I haven't had dinner yet, Rodrigo," she suggested. "I thought that if I came back you might relent and take me to dinner. In fact, I was so sure of it that I dashed up to Aunt Helen's and changed my gown."
He was silent for a moment, and then he raised his head suddenly and, looking her in the eyes, said, "I'm sorry you came back, and I won't take you to dinner. But now that you are here, it's as good a time as any to talk certain things out that are bound to come up sooner or later."
She made a wry little face, cupped her finely ovaled chin in her hands, and smiled at him. "Heavens, Rodrigo, I believe you, of all men, are about to preach to me. Please don't, I beg of you! Remember that I am the wife of a man who is somewhat of a preacher."
"Leave John out of it," he returned. "He's altogether too good for either of us to discuss. You and I understand each other, Elise. I am quite aware of the game you have been playing. I——"
She cut in with an unpleasant little laugh. She rather enjoyed his violent seriousness.
"So—I have been playing a game," she encouraged him.
"Yes. You married John for his money. You wanted to marry me until you discovered that I was poor."
She was not offended. "Why didn't you warn your best friend then, if you saw through my purpose so clearly?" she asked calmly.
"What chance did I have to warn him? He was head over heels in love with you at once, and it was too late. It would have half killed the poor chap to tell him the truth. I had to let him make his mistake."
Her smile left her face and her eyes darkened. "No, I will not let you say that," she replied earnestly. "I will grant you that I married John chiefly for his money. I admire him—but I have never loved him. And I did outwit you, my friend. You made a very clever attempt to show John what an error he was making in falling in love with me, but I forestalled you. And that was quite a feat, Rodrigo, for you are usually rather keen in matters of that sort.
"But I have made John happy. He tells me that fifty times a day—fifty times too many! One does not enjoy having it drummed into one that one is an angel. I have taken his money and his love, but I have been faithful to him and I have made him a good wife. Now I think I have earned the right to a little something for myself."
He stared at her tensely. "What do you mean, Elise?" he asked.
Her manner lost its hardness, and she leaned toward him.
"I had to marry the wrong man, Rodrigo," she said softly. "My whole existence has had its foundation in money. But it hasn't made me happy. I have been miserable ever since my marriage. It hasn't made me stop—loving you!"
"Elise—no! You mustn't say that," he cried, and rose swiftly to his feet.
She had risen too as she said, "I won't believe that you are as surprised as you pretend to be. You must have guessed it plainly enough many times. I think that we were meant for each other and that a few words spoken by a minister is not going to keep us apart. I will ask John for a divorce if you wish, and marry you. I will do anything—but I will not go on living a lie."
He stared at her, fascinated, wondering if he had heard her aright. Had some malignant fate brought her and her confession to him at the precise moment when Mary had abandoned him?
He said slowly, "You will have to go on. You are mad to think of anything else. I will go away at once, home to Italy. I had planned to go over there this fall anyway. But I will change my plans, and not return."
She laughed. "And you think that I am innocent enough to believe that would be the only reason for your departure. Mary Drake has evidently told you that she is leaving here also."
He started, suspicion dawning in his eyes. He asked, "Mary has told you that? You must have spoken to her about me first. What did you say to her?"
"Yes, I spoke to her about you. I told her the truth. I told her that she could never be happy with you, that you are not the sort to stay contented with such a wife. And I think she agreed with me. She is a very sensible girl. There are certain traits in your character, Rodrigo, that a girl like Mary could never reconcile herself to."
He returned fiercely, "That's rot! If there's anything about me that Mary could object to, it's long since passed. I'm through with my past forever. No woman in the world means a thing to me but Mary."
Her answer was to come close to him and say softly, "You have lost Mary forever, Rodrigo. In your heart you know it. And in your heart you know that what you have just said is nonsense. I dare you to test it. I dare you to hold me in your arms and repeat it. I dare you to kiss me—and then let me go!"
He caught her hand. "Elise, are you crazy!" But he did not relinquish her hand, until her arms had slipped slowly around his neck and her lips were very close to his.
"Why do we pretend any longer, you and I?" she murmured. "You are not like John or Mary. You are only chasing thin, white shadows when you try to fashion yourself after them." And with a swift movement of her head she had kissed him.
He cried, "No—no! You must go—please."
"I love you." And she clung to him.
Fascinated, harassed, he did not resist her any longer. He took her into his arms and buried her face in his kisses.
When at last he let her go, she still held him close and said almost in a whisper, "We will go to the Van Clair, Rodrigo, and dine high up on the roof, near the stars. You can go to your appointment afterward. No one will know—or care."
"Except our own souls."
"I don't believe we have any," she said, with a queer little note of solemnity. "I think this life, this happiness, is all—and we must take it while we may."
He kissed her again, completely under her spell, and then he said tensely, "Go now, Elise. I will finish here, and I will meet you in fifteen minutes at the Van Clair."
Obediently she secured her wrap from the table, flung it about her and started for the door.
She smiled back at him, whispering, "In fifteen minutes, Rodrigo." And just as she closed the door, "I love you."
He turned, his emotions running riot within him, back to the papers on his desk. For ten minutes he tried in vain to work. Then, with a gesture of helplessness, he started tossing the papers into his brief case. He had risen and taken his hat when the telephone rang.
It was John.
"Did you line up the stuff, Rodrigo?" came Dorning's distant voice. "I took a chance on finding you at the office. I wanted to make sure to-night that everything was all right and you were coming down here, because Hodge and Story's representative just got in and is all set to take the business away from us."
John! It was like the voice of a rescuing angel. Rodrigo with an effort composed himself and replied, "Everything is fine, John, and I'm taking a train in half an hour."
"Great," said the voice on the wire. "And Elise—did you have dinner with her? Have you seen her?"
Rodrigo replied, "No."
By the time he had hung up the receiver he had made his decision. Elise's spell was broken, broken by that trusting voice on the wire. He would not even telephone her that he was not coming to her. He could not trust himself to talk with her. If she were desperately offended, so much the better!
He seized his brief case and hat and made for the door and a taxi-cab.