The man drew a whistling breath. He realized.
"I believe you hate me," he cried.
Vita shrugged.
"Hate? You are about to give me back my life."
"Yes." The man passed her back the letter. His monosyllable conveyed nothing. It was the expression of one whose thoughts and feelings are entirely preoccupied. A hot fury was surging through his veins. His vanity was outraged. He wanted to pour out the tide of brutal invective which so naturally rose to his lips. But he drove it back under the powerful lash of almost superhuman restraint.
"But you do hate me," he said, with simple regret in his heavy voice. "And I would do anything to change that hate. Why? Why is it? It was not always so. You know the discipline under which we live. All I have done I was compelled to do. Had I not obeyed I could not be here to serve you now. Had I rebelled, and refused to carry out my duty, what hope would there be for you now? None. Farlow could not save you. No one could save you once you were in the clutches of this demon Von Berger. It is only that I have performed my share in your persecution that makes it possible to hold you out a hand of help. You are hard on me—harder than you have any right to be. You would say you are buying your life, I know. Well, do we not buy everything in life? And do we not have to pay a price which always seems exorbitant? The price you are paying; what is it? Wifehood. A future cared for and sheltered by a strong man's hand. Behind you a memory, a memory of that which could never have been fulfilled, because you would have been sacrificed to the discipline of the country which claims you. Ach! it is unreasonable. It is ungenerous. I would give my right hand for your better regard."
But the man's appeal, his arguments, left Vita unmoved.
"Discussion is useless," she said firmly. "We have entered into an agreement which you had power to force upon me. Believe me, I shall not be ungrateful for my father's safety and my own life. But it is a business agreement which makes no demand for the modification of any regard. If my love is demanded, then you must invoke supernatural powers to bring it about. For surely no earthly power could bring about such a revulsion of my feelings. Let us keep to the business."
The hard eyes of the man had grown harder, but his lips smiled, displaying the strong white teeth behind them sharply clenched.
"Yes. To the business. There is much. To-day I have arranged those things which I could arrange. It is fortunate that your father has appointed the one day which we must have chosen ourselves. It must be Sunday night. Sunday night before Von Berger reaches Dorby. Vita, it is a pleasant thought to me that I—I can defeat this man. Ever since he came to England he has treated me like a conscript. I hate him."