"What do you mean by 'the whole?"
"She intends to marry you."
"And failing that?…"
"Failing that, she will dishonour me-or perhaps she means to dishonour me in any case. You heard with your ears what she said."
"Bit if I consented to marry her I should, of course, make her silence a condition." The words came in a very low voice, as he bent his head towards the floor.
"What do you mean?" she demanded, sharply. "How could you marry her? You don't love her."
"No."
"Then it would be wicked of you!…What put that awful thought in your head? I can't understand."
"Yet it would solve other difficulties, too."
"What difficulties? What difficulties can a wrong marriage solve? It would be criminal."
"Some such decisive step must be taken to end the situation. Our friendship won't continue to pass unnoticed."
"You wish to terminate it, then?"
"For your sake; not mine."
"And to achieve that result you accept a living death?…But perhaps you do really love her?"
"No."
Isbel laid her hand on his arm. "Promise me never to think of this again. It is absolute madness. We will find some other way out of our troubles. Promise me."
"You may be sure of one thing," replied Judge, looking at her steadily; "I shall not renounce my moral right to devote my life to your service, except as the very last resource. Beyond that I cannot go."
Suddenly Isbel raised her head and seemed to listen to some sound outside the room.
"What was that?" she asked quickly.
"It sounded extremely like a stiff window-shutter being jerked open; it's probably Mrs. Richborough in the next room."
He had scarcely spoken when another noise, more distinct and far more peculiar, struck their ears.
"It's music!" said Isbel, shaking from head to foot, and attempting unsuccessfully to rise.
"Yes…A bass viol-but some way off. I can't conceive what it can be. Would you wait here while I go and investigate?"
"No, you mustn't-I won't have it! I won't be left…"
Judge sat down again, and they went on listening in silence. The low, rich, heavy scraping sound certainly did resemble that of a deep-toned stringed instrument, heard from a distance, but to Isbel's imagination, it resembled something else as well. She thought she recognised it as the must of that dark upstairs corridor, which she had heard on her first visit to the house. But this time it was ever so much nearer, fuller, and more defined; the electric buzzing had resolved itself into perfectly distinct vibrations…A tune was being played, so there was no doubt about the nature of the noise. It was a simple, early-English rustic air-sweet, passionate and haunting. The sonorous and melancholy character of the instrument added a wild, long-drawn-out charm to it which was altogether beyond the range of the understanding and seemed to belong to other days, when feelings were more poignant and delicate, less showy, splendid, and odourless…After the theme had been repeated once, from beginning to end, the performance ceased, and was succeeded by absolute stillness.
They looked at each other.
"How beautiful!…but how perfectly awful!" said Isbel.
"Do you wish to go downstairs at once?"
Some seconds passed before she answered.
"No, I'll stay. How could we leave it without finding out?…We'll go in there in a minute. I don't wish to while she's there. Let's finish what we were saying…You mustn't commit that crime."
"Your honour comes before everything."
"You don't belong to her." She drew a long breath before proceeding…"You belong to me."
"I do not belong to you."
"Yes-you know it is so."
"I beg you to reflect upon what you're saying. You are not yourself at present. Don't use language you will be sure to regret afterwards."
Isbel ignored his interruption.
"I have lied too much to my own heart, and it's time I were honest. They talk of faith and loyalty, but how can one be loyal to others if one is not first loyal to one's own nature? There cannot be a greater sin than to pretend that our feelings are what in reality they are not."
"This is no place for such deliberations. I beg you earnestly to say no more here and now. Reserve it until later."
"No, I must speak. If I don't speak out now, when shall I get another chance?…My engagement has been a ghastly mistake…It must have always been in the back of my mind, but now I see it all clearly for the first time…" She crouched nearly double, and covered her face with her two hands.
Judge, much agitated, got up.
"I can't listen to this. It's impossible for me to discuss such a subject. It rests entirely between you and your own heart."
"I made the terrible blunder of imagining that identity of tastes and friends means love. I took things too much for granted…His nature had no depth…He has never suffered. It isn't in him."
"You must think it over in quietness. Say no more now."
She sat up suddenly, and stared at him.
"You throw me to him, then?-you who profess to have such ideal love for me!"
Judge was silent.
"So you don't love me?"
"In the end you will understand that I love you deeply and truly."
She slowly rose to her feet. "Then what do you advise me to do?"
"Do nothing at all, but wait."
"You have no questions for me?"
"What questions?"
"I love no one but you," said Isbel. She caught his hand, and crushed it hard in hers; then abruptly turned her back on him…Judge stood like one transfixed.
At the same moment Mrs. Richborough came into the room. Her natural pallor was intensified, while her face was set and drawn, as though she had received a shock.
"Oh, what's the matter?" exclaimed Isbel, taking a step in her direction.
The older woman swayed, as if about to fall. Judge hastened forward to support her.
"I'm afraid I've just seen a sight which I can only regard as a warning. As you look out of the window there is a man, with his back turned. He looked round, and then I saw his face. I can't describe it…I think I'll go downstairs, if you don't mind."
The others looked at one another.
"Shall I take you down?" asked Judge.
"If you would assist me to the head of the stairs, I shall be all right."
He asked no questions, but at once supported her from the room. Isbel followed. On arriving at the top of the staircase, he lent the dazed woman his arm down the first few steps, then watched her out of sight before rejoining his companion.
Again they gazed at each other.
"You heard what she said," remarked Judge quietly. "Under the circumstances I don't feel justified in asking you to accompany me into that room."
"Are you going?"
"Yes, I'm going."
"Then I shall go, too."
Chapter XV THE MUSIC OF SPRING
They walked over to the right-hand door, which Judge, after turning the handle, at once kicked wide open with his foot…A sudden and unanticipated flood of brilliant sunshine, streaming through the room form an open window on the further side, momentarily blinded them, so that they staggered back with the shock.
Judge was the first to recover himself.
"It's all right, we can go in. The room's empty."
Isbel hastened to the window. It was breast-high. There was no glass in it, but it possessed a stout wooden shutter, opening outwards, which at present was swung to its full extent squarely against the outside wall. The aperture of the window was so narrow that there was barely space for their two heads together, and she found her smooth cheek grazing his harsh one.
From out of doors came not only the sunlight but the song of birds, the loud sighing of the wind in its passage through the trees, and an indescribable fresh, sweet smell, as of meadow grass, turned-up earth, and dew-drenched flowers. It seemed more like spring than autumn.