PAGE 4
The Cipher
by
“And what about loving Hawley, then”? Pierre persisted. She did not reply, but a strange look came upon her, and in the pause Hilton came from the house and stood beside them. At this, Pierre lighted a cigarette, and with a good-natured nod to Hilton, walked away.
Hilton stooped over her, pale and eager. “Ida,” he gestured, “will you answer me now? Will you be my wife?”
She drew herself together with a little shiver. “No,” was her steady reply. She ruled her face into stillness, so that it showed nothing of what she felt. She came to her feet wearily, and drawing down a cool flowering branch of chestnut, pressed it to her cheek. “You do not love me”? he asked nervously.
“I am going to marry Luke Hawley,” was her slow answer. She spelled the words. She used no gesture to that. The fact looked terribly hard and inflexible so. Hilton was not a vain man, and he believed he was not loved. His heart crowded to his throat.
“Please go away, now,” she begged with an anxious gesture. While the hand was extended, he reached and brought it to his lips, then quickly kissed her on the forehead, and walked away. She stood trembling, and as the fingers of one hand hung at her side, they spelled mechanically these words: “It would spoil his life. I am only a mute–a dummy!”
As she stood so, she felt the approach of someone. She did not turn instantly, but with the aboriginal instinct, listened, as it were, with her body; but presently faced about–to Hawley. He was red with anger. He had seen Hilton kiss her. He caught her smartly by the arm, but, awed by the great calmness of her face, dropped it, and fell into a fit of sullenness. She spoke to him: he did not reply. She touched his arm: he still was gloomy. All at once the full price of her sacrifice rushed upon her; and overpowered her. She had no help at her critical hour, not even from this man she had intended to bless. There came a swift revulsion, all passions stormed in her at once. Despair was the resultant of these forces. She swerved from him immediately, and ran hard towards the high-banked river!
Hawley did not follow her at once: he did not guess her purpose. She had almost reached the leaping-place, when Pierre shot from the trees, and seized her. The impulse of this was so strong, that they slipped, and quivered on the precipitous edge: but Pierre righted then, and presently they were safe.
Pierre held her hard by both wrists for a moment. Then, drawing her away, he loosed her, and spelled these words slowly: “I understand. But you are wrong. Hawley is not the man. You must come with me. It is foolish to die.”
The riot of her feelings, her momentary despair, were gone. It was even pleasant to be mastered by Pierre’s firmness. She was passive. Mechanically she went with him. Hawley approached. She looked at Pierre. Then she turned on the other. “Yours is not the best love,” she signed to him; “it does not trust; it is selfish.” And she moved on.
But, an hour later, Hilton caught her to his bosom, and kissed her full on the lips…. And his right to do so continues to this day.