He was shrewd enough to see that in his heart of hearts he was sullenly and perpetually angry that so much had come to him from so extraneous a source. Where his own strength and gifts had failed, these people from a world that was not his world, either in thought or mode, had come in and brought him prosperity. This galling sense of absolute dependence on the Robinsons seemed the deepest humiliation he had known. They had given him food when he was nigh starvation; they had given work when the prospect of work had vanished—had showered on him benefits and kindnesses innumerable. They had restored him to society and to the world of art and letters. He owed them the confidence of his bearing before the world, the manly swing of his step, the pride of his glance.
That this should be his destiny was horrible! He rebelled and cried out with all his might. Oh! to wield the sceptre of destiny himself!—to shape the evolution of a brilliant career and merit the crown of a great love by his own power and performance!
And yet at the back of his troubled mind there lay in terrible calm the stern determination to stand by his obligations. His promise to Lady Betty was in no danger. All this feverish agitation was but as the surf beating on a granite shore. He knew that he would bow his head in resignation; that, after the parting with Lady Betty, he would settle down as the most attentive of husbands; acquiescent of an atmosphere of physical well-being, yet paradoxically living from hand to mouth, so far as his deeper life was concerned; thankful for any morsel of good each day might bring him, and looking not beyond its horizon.
Alice should have her happiness, never guessing what turmoil and torture two souls had voluntarily undergone for her.
XX
In the silence and privacy of her room Alice was sobbing her life away. Like an opium eater, she had sought magnificent dreams, had surrendered herself to beautiful illusions, had duped herself supremely. But the awakening was fraught with fever and suffering.
On that memorable afternoon when her father had brought home the wonderful announcement that Wyndham was to follow him, Alice had looked at herself in the glass, and though her favourite dress lay ready for her, she knew he would not of his own impulse bestow a second glance upon her.
The evening had come and passed. As by some enchantment Wyndham had appeared, was seated at the same table with herself, engaged in intimate conversation with the family, left alone to wine and cigars with her father; rejoining them in the drawing-room, listening to her playing, singing to her accompaniment! Then, lo, he was gone; and she was left to ponder on the swift,surprising turn of events. After all these years of emotion, the acquaintanceship was an accomplished fact. She was to penetrate within his door at last, to become, for the time being, part of the very business of his life!