CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.
THE PITY OF IT ALL.
Left alone, John Schuyler sat for long, never-ending moments. He was weak—weak unto the weakness of death. His soul was torn and tossed and twitched within him. At length he rose, slowly, to his feet. A dizziness— a nausea—overmastered him. He reached for the bottle on the table top. As he did so, his foot touched some object upon the floor…. He looked down. It was a bit of broken mirror…. He stooped and picked it up. The light upon the table was on. He turned it so that it might illumine with its merciless rays the last cruel line upon his face…. Slowly, holding the mirror so that eyes might see, he looked…. He fell to his knees…. This thing that he saw was he! He! John Schuyler!
Came to him at length strength to rise. Came to his heart great resolves. He would make atonement to the woman whom he had forsaken—the woman who had not forsaken him. He would make atonement in as far as it lay within possibility—and to the child that was of him and of her he would make atonement. He was but a young man; many years of life should lie before him; and of these years he would give, give all, and ask nothing. It was the sad wreck of a life that lay before him—a stinking, noisome wreck— yet there must be something in it that was neither foul nor unsightly. That thing he would find. He set his jaw. Leaden eyes became bright…. Then, he was near to being a man….
He had started toward the door, to leave forever the scene of his moral, mental, spiritual death—he was almost to the portal—another step would carry him through, and beyond—
She stood there. Red lips were parted in a little, inscrutable smile. White shoulders shimmered. Lithe muscles rippled beneath her gown with every movement of her delicate body. She was beautiful—beautiful as an animal is beautiful. And her eyes were upon his.
He staggered back, clutching at the door jamb for support.
She laughed a little, lightly:
"Just in time. You're going away. Bien. I trust you may have a very pleasant journey."
She swung into the room, lithely, eyes upon him, vivid lips smiling.
Rounded arms were clasped behind lissome back.