It was only momentary. The more depressed she, the more should I support, and therefore I called out cheerfully, “I take this woman to be my wedded wife,” and such other words as I recalled of the marriage service—and I said it so heartily and promised so devoutly, removing my hat when I made my vows, that it heartened up Daphne—and her response, so full of faith and love, gave a kind of holiness to it all. We were two rash and foolish young people—but we loved each other truly, and we made our vows solemnly, determined to keep them. Perhaps that counts for more, in the eyes of God, than all else; at least, we realized the sacredness of our vows.
Scarcely was the brief ceremony over—for ceremony we made it—when the chaise containing Arabella and Giles drew up. And the sight I saw, I can never forget.
Arabella’s face was quite pale, but her eyes were blazing. There were some drops of blood upon her cheek—they came from her wrists, which Giles held firmly. The door of the chaise being opened, she stepped out willingly, disdaining the assistance Giles offered her. His face, too, was very pale, and he looked and moved like a man in a nightmare. The blacksmith grinned broadly; he thought his gains were to be increased—for I had not forgotten to pay him handsomely.
Giles seized her hand. “Arabella,” he cried desperately, “surely you do not now mean to throw me over?”
For answer, she gave him a glance of ineffable hatred.
“This man,” she said, turning to me, “your friend, your intimate—I blush for you—has dragged me here. Rather would I die than marry him. Look!”
“Rather would I die than marry him.” Page [171]
She held up her wrists, and they showed marks of violence.
“’Twas to keep her from jumping out of the chaise,” said Giles wildly. “She would have had me leave her at midnight, on the highway—alone and unprotected. Dearest Arabella,” he cried, turning to her, and trying to clasp her, “will you not listen to my prayer? How can you scorn such love as mine?” And he was near going down on his knees to her, in the mud—but I held him up. I confess that the most painful thing, of all this painful business, was Giles Vernon’s complete surrender of his manhood, under the influence of his wild passion. He, an officer in his Majesty’s sea-service, a man who had smelt powder and knew what it was to look Death in the eye and advance upon him, who would have answered with his life for his courage, was ready to grovel in the earth like a madman for the favor of a woman. Nothing was it to him that low-born creatures like the postboys and the blacksmith beheld him with contempt and disgust; nothing to him that a woman like Daphne, and that I, a brother officer, witnessed his degradation. He seemed to have parted with the last semblance of self-respect.