The Broad Highway

"Charmian!" I cried "--oh, Charmian!" and seized her hands, and,

despite her resistance, drew her into my arms, and, clasping her

close, forced her to look at me. "And even yet?--what more--what

more--tell me." But, lying back across my arm, she held me off

with both hands.

"Don't!" she cried; "don't--you shame me--let me go."

"God knows I am all unworthy, Charmian, and so low in my

abasement that to touch you is presumption, but oh, woman whom I

have loved from the first, and shall, to the end, have you

stooped in your infinite mercy, to lift me from these depths--is

it a new life you offer me was it for this you came to-night?"

"Let me go--oh, Peter!--let me go."

"Why--why did you come?"

"Loose me!"

"Why did you come?"

"To meet--Sir Maurice Vibart."

"To meet Sir Maurice?" I repeated dully--"Sir Maurice?" And in

that moment she broke from me, and stood with her head thrown

back, and her eyes very bright, as though defying me. But I

remained where I was, my arms hanging.

"He was to meet me here--at nine o'clock."

"Oh, Charmian," I whispered, "are all women so cruel as you, I

wonder?" And, turning my back upon her, I leaned above the

mantel, staring down at the long-dead ashes on the hearth.

But, standings there, I heard a footstep outside, and swung round

with clenched fists, yet Charmian was quicker, and, as the door

opened and Sir Maurice entered, she was between us.

He stood upon the threshold, dazzled a little by the light, but

smiling, graceful, debonair, and point-device as ever. Indeed,

his very presence seemed to make the mean room the meaner by

contrast, and, as he bent to kiss her hand, I became acutely

conscious of my own rough person, my worn and shabby clothes, and

of my hands, coarsened and grimed by labor; wherefore my frown

grew the blacker and I clenched my fists the tighter.

"I lost my way, Charmian," he began, "but, though late, I am none

the less welcome, I trust? Ah?--you frown, Cousin Peter? Quite

a ghoulish spot this, at night--you probably find it most

congenial, good cousin Timon of Athens--indeed, cousin, you are

very like Timon of Athens--" And he laughed so that I, finding

my pipe upon the mantelshelf, began to turn it aimlessly round

and round in my twitching fingers.

"You have already met, then?" inquired Charmian, glancing from

one to the other of us.