“I couldn’t leave you so,” she said tremulously. “You’ve been too good to me. Good-bye, and—forget.”
Before he could answer she was gone again.
Until the tail-light of the train glimmered into obscurity around the curve, Remsen stood uncovered in the gale. Then he turned to the miles of lonely road.
CHAPTER XVIII
DARCY, in her berth, sat huddled up and wide-eyed. She knew at last what had happened to her. The burning memory of that kiss in the woods had left nothing unrevealed to a soul as frank with itself as Darcy’s had grown to be. She knew, too, what she had to face. There was no doubt or hesitancy in her thoughts, no weak attempt to justify herself or find an easy way out. If it had been any one but Gloria Greene whose happiness was at stake, Gloria who had picked her up from the scrap-heap of waste and made a living, pulsating, eager human creature of her, Darcy might have fought for her own hand. But how could a man who had loved Gloria Greene, and whom Gloria loved, care seriously for any other woman on earth? No; this was only a sudden, unreckonable infatuation on Jack Remsen’s part.... Then she recalled the look in his eyes when they parted, and knew that her conscience was lying to her heart. In any case, her course was clear. She must be game.
In her deep trouble her thoughts turned to Gloria, the wise, kind counsellor, the safe refuge. But she would not do for this crisis! To betray Remsen to her—that was unthinkable, and nothing short of the whole truth would serve with Gloria. Darcy knew that she must fight it out alone. Never, not even in the old, dead days, had she felt so alone.
Human nature being what it is, there is nothing strange in the fact that, on her return to New York, Darcy shrank from meeting Gloria. Although the girl’s conscience absolved her, except for that one, instinctive lapse when she had been caught off her guard, her sore heart pleaded guilty to the self-brought charge of a lasting disloyalty. With the thrill of Jack Remsen’s kiss still in her veins, how could she face the woman to whom Remsen owed his allegiance, the woman who, moreover, had been the kindest, most effectual, most unselfish friend of her own unbefriended life?
Yet there remained to be concluded the obsequies of Sir Montrose Veyze, of Veyze Holdings, Hampshire, England. Those remains, of unblessed memory, must positively be removed from the premises before they gave rise to further and even more painful complications. Darcy experienced the grisly emotions of a murderer with an all-too-obvious corpse to dispose of. First of all, Gloria’s absolution from the promise of secrecy must be obtained, which she would doubtless be more than ready to accord, now that Sir Montrose had become too heavy a burden to carry; also Gloria’s advice and aid if she would give it. Nerving herself for the encounter, Darcy went to see the actress and told her the whole (if she herself was to be believed) disastrous tale.
Gloria was too shrewd to believe quite that far. There were obvious hesitancies, blank spaces, and reservations wherever the name and deeds of Mr. Jacob Remsen, alias Sir Montrose Veyze II, or in his own proper person, entered into the narrative. And there was a something in the girl’s eyes, deep down where the warm gray was lighted to warmer blue, which hadn’t been there before. It completed the woman in her. With an inner flush of creative pride Gloria communed with herself upon the new miracle:
“This is a wonderful and lovable thing that I have made.” Instinctive honesty compelled her, however, to add: “But somebody else has given the finishing touch.”