FullReads

“I want Spencer,” said the girl through her white lips.

The elder woman stepped back in dumb amazement. She knew and rued her son’s folly. What could Estella want with him?

The young man appeared in the doorway. Estella caught him by the arm and pulled him outside.

“Miss LeMar wants you at once,” she said hoarsely. “At once–you are to come at once!”

“Has anything happened to her?” cried Spencer savagely. “Is she ill–is she–what is the matter?”

“No, she is not ill. But she wants you. Come at once.”

He started off bareheaded. Estella followed him up the road breathlessly. Surely it was the strangest walk ever a girl had, she told herself with mirthless laughter. She pushed the key into his hand at the porch.

“She’s in the parlour,” she said wildly. “Go in and look at her, Spencer.”

Spencer snatched the key and fitted it into the door. He was full of fear. Had Estella gone out of her mind? Had she done anything to Vivienne? Had she–

As he entered, the actress reeled to her feet and came to meet him. He stood and gazed at her stupidly. This could not be Vivienne, this creature reeking with brandy, uttering such foolish words! What fiend was this in her likeness?

He grew sick at heart and brain; she had her arms about him. He tried to push her away, but she clung closer, and her senseless laughter echoed through the room. He flung her from him with an effort and rushed out through the hall and down the road like a madman. Estella, watching him, felt that she was avenged. She was glad with a joy more pitiful than grief.

Vivienne LeMar left the cottage the next day. Mrs. Bowes, suspecting some mystery, questioned Estella sharply, but could find out nothing. The girl kept her own counsel stubbornly. The interest and curiosity of the village centred around Spencer Morgan, and his case was well discussed. Gossip said that the actress had jilted him and that he was breaking his heart about it. Then came the rumour that he was going West.

Estella heard it apathetically. Life seemed ended for her. There was nothing to look forward to. She could not even look back. All the past was embittered. She had never met Spencer since the night she went after him. She sometimes wondered what he must think of her for what she had done. Did he think her unwomanly and revengeful? She did not care. It was rather a relief to hear that he was going away. She would not be tortured by the fear of meeting him then. She was sure he would never come back to her. If he did, she would never forgive him.

One evening in early harvest Estella was lingering by the lane gate at twilight. She had worked slavishly all day and was very tired, but she was loath to go into the house, where her trouble always seemed to weigh on her more heavily. The dusk, sweet night seemed to soothe her as it always did.

She leaned her head against the poplar by the gate. How long Spencer Morgan had been standing by her she did not know, but when she looked up he was there. In the dim light she could see how haggard and hollow-eyed he had grown. He had changed almost as much as herself.

The girl’s first proud impulse was to turn coldly away and leave him. But some strange tumult in her heart kept her still. What had he come to say?

There was a moment’s fateful silence. Then Spencer spoke in a muffled voice.

“I couldn’t go away without seeing you once more, Estella, to say good-bye. Perhaps you won’t speak to me. You must hate me. I deserve it.”

He paused, but she said no word. She could not. After a space, he went wistfully on.

“I know you can never forgive me–no girl could. I’ve behaved like a fool. There isn’t any excuse to be made for me. I don’t think I could have been in my right senses, Estella. It all seems like some bad dream now. When I saw her that night, I came to my right mind, and I’ve been the most miserable man alive ever since. Not for her–but because I’d lost you. I can’t bear to live here any longer, so I am going away. Will you say good-bye, Estella?”

Still she did not speak. There were a hundred things she wanted to say but she could not say them. Did he mean that he loved her still? If she were sure of that, she could forgive him anything, but her doubt rendered her mute.

The young man turned away despairingly from her rigid attitude. So be it–he had brought his fate on himself.

He had gone but a few steps when Estella suddenly found her voice with a gasp.

“Spencer!” He came swiftly back. “Oh, Spencer–do–you–do you love me still?”

He caught her hands in his.

“Love you–oh, Estella, yes, yes! I always have. That other wasn’t love–it was just madness. When it passed I hated life because I’d lost you. I know you can’t forgive me, but, oh–“

He broke down. Estella flung her arms around his neck and put her face up to his. She felt as if her heart must break with its great happiness. He understood her mute pardon. In their kiss the past was put aside. Estella’s martyrdom was ended.