XX
The big house was brilliantly lighted for the expected dinner guests when Astry and Belhaven came in out of the driving storm, and the sybaritic atmosphere, the vista of spacious rooms, the mocking cries of the parrots in the conservatory, all gave Belhaven the same strange feeling of unreality that had once so strongly affected Rachel. As he followed Astry into the library, it crossed his mind that external things would look much like this to him if he ever came back after death, as a disembodied spirit. He seemed to have no immediate concern with this artificial life except a feeling of being outside of it.
But, however vague and unreal might seem the mise-en-scène, he was vividly aware of the untenable position in which his fate had involved him. Astry had made that absolutely plain; only a few words had been said but those had keenly revealed the situation. The humiliation which had pursued him ever since he had permitted Rachel to intervene to save her sister, now became unbearable; there was no fate so miserable that he would not have preferred it to the shame and despair that he felt as he realized the futility of any effort of his to overcome Astry's contempt. In veiled and courteous phrase he had been allowed to perceive that he was esteemed a coward, and to his maddened senses one of the parrots in the conservatory seemed to echo the insulting cry.
He walked over to the table and stood there, mechanically turning the leaves of a magazine, while Astry found a newspaper with a marked paragraph and handed it to him.
"You see there's no doubt about the drift of it," was his dry comment.
Belhaven read it slowly, a deep flush mounting to his forehead. It was one of those slightly veiled bits of scandal that sometimes appear in scurrilous journals and it gave, with only too well defined details, the outline of his marriage and the preceding scandal which had involved "a beautiful young matron, the sister of the bride."
"No; there's no doubt about it," he admitted slowly; "but what do you expect me to do?"
Astry stood looking at him with a singular expression; if he had expected violent anger and determined resistance he was none the less aware that Belhaven was neatly trapped. A denial would only confirm the report and a divorce would blazon the story to the world. Rachel's reasoning was sound; quite aside from any ethical consideration divorce was impossible. He had become aware, too, in their brief talk, that Belhaven did not desire it, that he was deeply and hopelessly in love with his own wife.
"Something must be done to stop this," he said at last. "I shall do it if you don't."
Belhaven laid the paper on the table. "It's Sidney Billop; of course I can thrash him, but—you know the result."