He was amazed at her composure, unaware that she was overwhelmed with shame at her own awkwardness. He was in no mood to see any fault in her manner; he was at a white heat of passion. He longed fiercely to take Belhaven by the nape of the neck, as a terrier takes a rat, and shake the life out of him, but he was aware that it was an age of law and order and the conventions. To go to the electric chair for killing Belhaven would not help Rachel; besides, for all he knew, Rachel loved her husband. John ground his teeth at the thought; to have Rachel's love cast away upon such an object was gall and wormwood. A situation that has occurred many times in this world seemed new to him and of intolerable wretchedness. To love well and to see the object of that affection bestowing love unworthily in quite another quarter is not uncommon, but to John it seemed the last straw. He plunged back into the wood with a grim determination in his heart. He was quite simple and sincere; there were no fine shades of reasoning and sarcastic self-examination about John: a beautiful spiritual endowment of honesty and faith was unaccompanied by brilliant worldly gifts, and he was peculiarly unfitted to deal with a man like Belhaven. John saw the truth sharply, spoke it and lived it, because it was his nature to be simple and sincere, and he was going to deal directly now with a problem so complex that another man would have paused before it. He did not; he pursued his purpose through the snowy path with the same singleness of heart with which Sir Galahad pursued the Holy Grail. The brickbat of John's perseverance was in evidence.
Nor was he disappointed. That which we seek diligently we shall find, and in the center of the wood he found Belhaven. The two men had known each other for years, though they had nothing in common, but even John saw the change in Belhaven's face. For six months he had been journeying upon the road which Astry had journeyed before him and he showed that he had passed many milestones, that he was well on toward the end. He looked, even to John's angry eyes, like a man sick at heart, but he spoke first.
"Hello, Charter, I hadn't heard you were here!"
Having made up his mind, John was not one to waste words, or to approach the subject circuitously. "I came about two hours ago," he said slowly, "and I walked through this way twenty minutes ago. Inadvertently I saw you and Mrs. Astry in the path below me."
John paused to let this sink in, and it sank; a deep red flush burned on Belhaven's face. "I might say," he remarked slowly, "that it was none of your business."
John's head went up. "I've known Mrs. Belhaven for many years and it is my business; anything that injures her or causes her disgrace is the business of her friends. No scoundrel, seeing what I saw, would hold his tongue. You've exposed your wife to the misery of a double betrayal, you're insulting her, and making love to her sister. If you bring disgrace on her, I'll—I'll thrash you!" John ended fiercely.
The surging passions that had been chained for weeks in Belhaven's heart broke loose like furies and his face turned from magenta to ashes; he lost himself and flew at John. The assault was as violent as it was unexpected; he struck a fierce blow and John, parrying it, was caught again, then they closed. The path was icy beneath their feet and both men reeled for a moment and swayed together. A sudden, fierce joy leaped into John's heart. He longed to kill him; for one wild moment he was a savage, feeling his power, for Belhaven was no match for him physically, and it was the primitive man fighting for his woman. John's training, his tranquil life, his hard military service, had made his muscles like steel. He had Belhaven by the throat and hurled him back against a tree and held him there. The force of his grip and the consciousness of defeat wrung the life out of his adversary's eyes, but there was no surrender. John held him against the tree and gloried in the hatred and revenge, the savage let loose. Then it all passed.
"I could easily kill you," he said slowly, "but I won't; we're both mad, this only makes for scandal. Go home!"
As he spoke he released him, and Belhaven stood, leaning against the tree. He felt the receding powers of life flowing back but his rage was spent; he could not murder John now, it did not seem worth while. The struggle had revealed something to both men. Belhaven knew that John loved Rachel, John knew intuitively that Belhaven did not love Eva Astry, yet neither of them recognized the hidden powers that had revealed these things to them. John turned and walked rapidly away; he dared not trust himself again with his hand on Belhaven's throat. The fierce leap of passion in his blood warned him to retreat and he remembered Rachel at last and his desire to shield her from disgrace. Had he not been doing that which, once known, would lead to scandal? He scorned himself.
Belhaven stood a long while where John had left him, shame and rage contending with another and a deeper passion in his heart. For months he had lived in torture, he had just been dragging his chains; there seemed to be no way out and he was consumed with the fierce fires of remorse and despair.