He helped her out and paid the fare, and while Marguerite stood still in the bright sunshine at the entrance to a Park pathway, the cool breeze blowing on her hot cheeks and forehead, her face a little turned away lest the cabman should see that she had been crying, suddenly a great burden seemed to roll from her.
She had expected to find herself desperate, agonized, unable to live longer, when she got away from that terrible office where she had undergone such awful revelations; but suddenly it seemed to her a great relief. The fearful responsibilities of life that a day ago had lain upon her heart with deathlike heaviness, were gone. Life had been settled for her, and her path diverted from a dark and perilous way, into brightness and sunshine again.
The only thing that hung about and troubled her was her own shame. Her part in the terrible drama that had just been played to the finish. Her foolishness and gullibility, her readiness to fall for the handsome eyes of a man of the world, whose flattery had been merely used for his own passing amusement. She, Marguerite Sheldon, with a long line of respectable and noble ancestors, with a heritage of Christian training and tradition, with a mother such as hers had been, and a father whose memory was enshrined forever in her heart! To think that she had been so easy to deceive!
She started suddenly at the thought of how her heart was arraigning the man who had been her lover—almost her husband, but a few brief days ago! Three hours ago she would have sworn to anyone who asked that she loved him with her whole soul; that life would be worthless without him; that she would cling to him with her last breath though she were separated from him for years; that she would love him and believe him, yes and even forgive him no matter what others said, no matter what he had done.
And now in a few short minutes, the cloak of illusion had been torn from him, and left his shame naked to her view; left him without a charm or virtue; shown his love to be a mere worthless pretense, for how could he possibly love her when he had so deceived her? How could he dare bring her a love so dishonored by his own broken, worse than broken vows? For she was not one of those girls who feel it a fine feather to have won for herself a man who belongs to another.
She shivered as she remembered the way he had said: "My wife," and, "my daughters," in that accustomed married way. If she had heard nothing else but that it would have convinced her. And sharply to her memory came her own words to Mrs. Dunlap, "Unless I can hear him say with his own lips—"
Well, she had heard him! How terrible it had been! Hot irons had seared her heart, and she would never, never forget!
As she turned toward Nelson, she glanced down, and there in the path behind him she caught the gleam of a bit of metal, gold or silver shining in the sun. It proved to be only a bit of foil wrapping from candy or gum that someone had flung down carelessly in passing. But with the unexplained whimsicality of such little inanimate things, it took for the moment the form of a tiny trinket in likeness to a gold and platinum charm that the one-time Rufus Keller had worn on his watch chain. During those intimate days she had more than once toyed with it lovingly, pleased to think such was her privilege. She had even worn it about her neck on a little gold chain for a few days, till alarmed lest her mother should see it, she had given it back for the time.
Suddenly it came to her that he had worn it that very morning. She had noticed its gleam as he turned away with that guilty look, that look that she never would forget. The look that had torn from her heart the last shred of respect, and what she had once thought was love for this man. And the little gleaming trinket had twinkled wickedly at her as he went, and stabbed her with the things that she once had held so dear. Stabbed her as when a thorn that has bruised the bleeding flesh is torn away and can hurt no more.
She caught her breath in a sob as Nelson came up with her and slipped his hand within her arm steadying her.