Chapter Twenty Six.
Love’s a New Life.
Late that night, after the two men had left, Charmion and I sat together over the bedroom fire, and talked and talked. Her lips were opened now, and she could talk without the old restraint. It seemed a relief to her to talk. I asked if “Edward” had ever discovered who was the sender of the fatal letter. “No,” she said, “not actually. He is practically certain, but he did not trouble to bring it home. The mischief was done. Anyone who had a heart must have been sufficiently punished by the knowledge of the misery she had caused. He left her to that, but, oh! Evelyn, what a conception of love! to try to poison a man’s home because he had chosen another woman as his wife! Not that I am much better! I have no right to speak.”
Her lips quivered. She confessed to me that, on reading the two letters, she had been overcome with sorrow and remorse, but that Edward had refused to listen to her laments. They had both been wrong; each had an equal need of forgiveness, the suffering in either case had been intense—not another moment must be wasted! Away with bitterness, away with remorse, the future lay ahead, it should not be wasted in vain regrets. Then, blushing and aglow, she told me her plans. “To-morrow—to-day,” she raised her eyes to the clock, and glowed anew, “we are going by train to a sunny bay in Cornwall, to spend a second honeymoon. Edward’s writing engagement could be fulfilled better in the country than in town. He had lingered in London for Thorold’s sake, not his own. One month, two months to themselves, they must have, and then”—she straightened herself as in eager anticipation—“America! I must take him back, Evelyn! Back to his old home, and his old friends—to let them all see! Oh! all my life must be spent in making good the shame I have brought upon him, the misery and blame!”
I laid a restraining touch on her arm.
“Remember you are not to grieve! You have promised. That is forbidden ground!”
“Yes—yes, I know, but my heart, Evelyn! My heart will always remember.” She turned to me tenderly. “Darling girl! we talked about you—it is through you that this happiness has come. We cannot be parted. When we are settled in our new home we want you to come over, to pay us a long, long visit. You could see your sister, too. You would enjoy that?”
I felt a momentary rising of bitterness, a momentary impulse to say caustically that it would indeed be soothing for a lonely woman to visit two devoted married couples, but there was a wistful tone in her voice which showed that she understood. I made a big effort to laugh naturally, and made a vague promise. This was Charmion’s night. I should be a poor thing if I damped her joy!