Millicent came to him in the garden, as she saw him drive up. Her eyes were compassionate.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Lawless, but she will not see you. Somehow, I felt sure this would happen, and that was why I asked you to stay away for a little while. Oh, don't look like that," she added, as Chris turned his face away.
"You must just humor her a little," she went on gently. "Things will come all right in the end, I am sure . . ." She hesitated, then: "She asked me to give you this letter," she added.
Chris took it without a word. He drove away again along the dusty, sunny road by which he had come, with here and there a glimpse of the river sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight between its green banks.
There was nothing cruel about it to-day, he thought. It was all smiling and seductive, and he shivered as he remembered the feel of the wet, slimy reeds, and realized what his friend's death must have been in the mist and darkness.
He did not open Marie's letter till he got back home, and he read it in the deserted drawing-room where she and Miss Chester had so often sat together. The house felt like a tomb now, he thought wretchedly. He wished never to see it again.
Marie's letter was very short:
"Please do not try to see me. I can't bear it. I want time to think things over and decide what to do. I will send for you if ever I want you.—Marie Celeste."
That was all; but it was like a death warrant to him.
If ever she wanted him! His heart told him that she would never 301 want him again! He had had his chance and thrown it away.