'I—I couldn't help it—in my relief at finding you weren't dead' he stammered. 'I love you, Margery. I love you.'
'So that—is that,' said a quiet voice from the doorway, and, swinging round, Sam saw Lavina standing there, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
Domestic Upheaval
'Margery fainted and I—I . . Sam stuttered, coming slowly to his feet.
'No need to explain,' said Lavina, with dangerous quietness. 'I understand the situation perfectly,' and, swinging on her heel, she slammed the door.
'Oh, God!' groaned Sam, 'what a hellish mess! I'm sorry, Margery—most terribly sorry—to have let you in for this.'
But Margery was smiling. It was her hour, her triumph, her vindication as a woman. She had loved Sam from the moment that he had kissed her in the cloakroom at Stapleton on his wedding-day. His strength, his kindness and his uprightness of purpose made him all that she had ever wanted in a man. She had not consciously gone out to get him because he was her sister's husband, and her code forbade that; but all her scruples had gone overboard the moment she had come round to find herself in his arms. Morality was man-made; she was woman, aching to be loved. And, joy piled on joy, after Lavina had casually taken every man that had come into their ken, the final victory lay with her, for she, without even scheming to do so, had taken Lavina's own husband.
With an enormous effort of will she forced herself not to show the incredible happiness she was feeling. Sam must be played quietly now. He would become remorseful and she would lose him if she followed her burning impulse to fling her arms round his neck.
'It's all right, Sam,' she said, as she scrambled to her feet. 'If you feel that way you couldn't have helped it; so you're not to blame. I would have done just the same if I had found you lying on the floor and thought you were dead.'
'You would?' he exclaimed, seizing one of her hands.
She quickly withdrew it. 'Of course. You can never know what our friendship has meant to me. I haven't had a very happy life and when you walked into it you were Lavina's fiance. I know I ought to have forced myself not to think of you but I simply couldn't help doing that. Perhaps we poor women are made weak with a purpose. But it wouldn't have been right for me to show you that I loved you.'
'Oh, Margery—Margery!' He passed a hand over his eyes. 'I'm not worthy. This is a terrible thing that I've done.'
'No, Sam. A Providence that sees into all our hearts willed that we should at least have the joy of knowing of each other's love.' Margery was playing her part superbly and she knew it. All the old cliches rolled automatically off her tongue and she could see that for Sam they were the words of the perfect woman. She wondered if she dared risk saying, 'We must forget this—never, never think of it again,' but decided that she had better not chance it. Sam might take her at her word, and that was the last thing she wanted. Instead, she went on: 'We have our duty; we must think of others, not of ourselves. I leave myself in your hands, Sam dear, knowing that whatever you decide will be right.'
Sam hardly knew what to reply to this. Margery was perfectly right, of course. They must think of Lavina, not of themselves. They must not let their guilty passions blind them to their sense of duty. How like her it was to voice those high ideals. The fact that during his long bachelorhood Sam had from time to time kept numerous young women in very comfortable flats did not stand him in any stead now. They had been invariably beautiful and usually empty-headed little gold-diggers without any moral principles, but they had served the purpose of providing him with light recreation during the few hours of leisure he was able to snatch from his preoccupation with big business. Now, for the first time in his life, he was up against something totally different; a woman with ideals, a good woman such as his mother had been; and he felt the enormous responsibility that the declaration of her love had laid upon him. But. for the life of him, he could not see what decision could be taken.
There had been no misconduct. Such a thing was almost unthinkable in connection with Margery. So, in a normal world, Lavina would have had no grounds for divorce, but matters might have been arranged so that he could have persuaded her to give him his freedom; whereas here, in the Ark, how could he possibly even suggest casting off his young wife with a view to marrying her elder sister? In any case, there was no one to divorce or remarry him, unless the father of the two girls could be considered to have special powers as Captain of the Ark; and the fact of Gervaise being with them seemed to make the position even more impossible. Yet Margery obviously expected him to do something about it.
After a moment, the habit of years reasserted itself and, using the same technique as that which he had applied on innumerable occasions when difficult problems had arisen at board meetings, he said firmly:
'Leave this to me. We mustn't hurry things. But after a little thought I'm sure I shall find a way.'
Margery was equally puzzled as to what step could next be taken, but that, she thought, was Sam's affair and, in the meantime, he had definitely committed himself which was all that really mattered.
'Of course we mustn't rush things,' she agreed. 'I'm perfectly content to wait. Your love will give me the strength and courage to do that.'
Sam knew that he would have to do some pretty hectic thinking and had just decided that he would take refuge at once in one of the storerooms so as to be by himself when he suddenly recalled the state in which he had found Margery ten minutes earlier. Turning at the door, he said:
'By Jove! I'd entirely forgotten to ask what happened to you. I thought Finkie must have escaped and attacked you; but it seems you'd only fainted. Whatever caused you to do that?'
Margery's mouth dropped open and her eyes almost popped with excitement. 'Of course, I haven't told you,' she cried, grabbing him by the arm. 'When I came in here to make breakfast I looked out of the port-hole and I saw land, Sam. Land! * 'Good God!' In two strides Sam was across the kitchen staring eagerly out of the port; and there, no more than five miles distant, was that for which they had watched in vain through so many dreary weeks.
'The sight of land after all this time came as such a shock to me that I fainted,' Margery murmured.
'Yes, yes,' Sam breathed, gazing enraptured at the low, green shore. 'But come on! We must tell the others.'
Running from the kitchen with excited shouts they broke the news to the rest of the party. The land was not visible from the port-holes of the living-room so they crowded about those in the cabins on the other side of the Ark; all of them wildly thrilled by this new hope of release from their prison and a real chance, at last, that they might live out their lives to their allotted span instead of slowly starving to death on the empty ocean.
They had naturally anticipated that when they did sight land it would be the top of a mountain chain; some snowy peaks and a jagged, rocky shore; but this was totally different. Before them in the distance spread a low, greenish landscape of trees and meadows splashed here and there with white patches which they knew must be half-melted snow.
Gervaise and Hemmingway had dashed into the men's cabin and, after a moment, Gervaise remarked:
'It's surprising that we didn't see it when we were dressing.'
'I don't think so,' Hemmingway replied. 'It's quite a long time now since we used to look out hopefully each morning. Anyhow, we'd better not waste any time in getting the engines going, otherwise a storm might get up and blow us away from it again.'
'You're right,' Gervaise agreed, and leaving the cabin he called to Derek, who, as their Engineer, hurried below at once.