Alary Compton stood transfixed. The colour had faded from her face, leaving it sallow with fear and grief. She bit her lips, trying desperately to hold back an overwhelming rush of tears. She hated tears. Now they choked her. Through a mist, she saw Sigrid lay her hand lightly on her side. "A little affair of the heart—c'est tout."
Mrs. Compton dropped on her knees. Reckless of the expensive gown, she buried her face on Sigrid's breast, clinging to her with a defiant fierceness.
"Oh, my dear, my dear—and we didn't know. I can't believe it—you so strong—so perfect——"
"Yes—almost perfect." She passed her hand caressingly over the grey-flaked, curly head much as though the grief was not her own. "Perfect in my Art—almost perfect in body. But the 'almost' was the price I paid. Oh Mary, just once again to glide out into the lights, to hear the music—to lose the sea of gaping faces—to rise right up on the crest of living——" She drew herself erect, her eyes burning. "Oh, my Art, the greatest Art of all! Scientists, musicians, painters—just so many lopsided distortions! But I was the soul and the body, the perfect union. I was music and poetry and speech. I was a miracle greater than the dreams of science. I was the perfect human body with an inspired soul——" Her voice failed. The life died out of her eyes. She sank back, laughing brokenly. "Isn't that absurd—funny—for I am going to marry Mr. Barclay."
There was a long, heavy silence. Both women faced the tragedy, the one with the bitter knowledge that her understanding could only be dim and incomplete. She roused herself at last, disengaging herself gently from the enfolding arm, rubbing the tears from her cheeks.
"Sigrid—there were other men—good men—of one's own blood——"
"Oh yes, I know. There was one in England. I meant—but things happened. I can't explain. You've got to take that much on trust. Mr. Barclay offered me more than money."
"You mean——?"
"Silence."
Mary Compton rose slowly to her feet. She was quiet now and very grave. She gazed at the woman in the chair and realized for the first time a change in her. The old serenity, the laughing, godlike attitude towards life had gone. She had the wan dignity of a fighter who, from a post of easy vantage, has gone down into the arena.