“Can’t I help?”
Burke’s voice broke across the drowsy6 quiet so unexpectedly that she jumped, almost letting fall the scissors with which she was scientifically snipping7 the stems of the roses. She bestowed8 a small frown upon the head and shoulders appearing above the wooden gate on which he leant.
“It’s not very helpful to begin by giving one an electric shock,” she complained. “How long have you been there?” His attitude had a repose9 about it which suggested that he might have been standing10 there some time watching her.
“I don’t know. But as I am here, may I come in?” Without waiting for her answer, he unlatched the gate and came striding across the velvet12 greenness of the lawn.
His visits to Staple13 had grown of late so much a matter of daily occurrence that they were no longer hedged about by any ceremony, and Jean had come to accept his appearance at any odd moment without surprise.
Since the day when she had lunched at Willow14 Eerry, and learned, as she believed, to understand and make allowances for the bitterness which had so warped15 Judith’s nature, her acquaintance with both brother and sister had ripened16 rapidly into a friendly intimacy17. But the fact that Burke’s feeling towards her was something other, and much warmer than mere18 friendship, had failed to penetrate19 her consciousness.
It was patent enough to the lookers on, and probably Jean was the only one amongst the little coterie20 of intimate friends who had not realised what was impending21.
It is not very often that a woman remains22 entirely23 oblivious24 of the small, unmistakable signs which go to indicate a man’s attitude towards her. In Jean’s case, however, her thoughts were so engrossed25 with the one man that, at the moment, all other men occupied but a very shadowy relationship towards the realities of life as far as she was concerned.
So that she scarcely troubled to look up as Burke halted beside her, but went on cutting her roses unconcernedly, merely observing:
“Idlers not allowed. You can make yourself useful by paring the thorns off the stems.” She gestured towards a basket which stood on the ground at her side, already overflowing26 with its scented27 burden of pink and white and crimson28 roses.
He glanced at the russet head bent29 studiously above a bush rose and there was a gleam, half angry, half amused, in his eyes. His fingers went uncertainly to his pocket, where reposed30 a serviceable knife, then suddenly he drew his hand sharply away, empty.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t come over to be useful this morning. I came over”—he spoke32 slowly, as though endeavouring to gain her attention—“on a quite different errand.” There was a vibration33 in his voice that might have warned her had she been less intent upon her task of wrestling with a refractory34 branch. As it was, she merely questioned absently:
“And what was the ‘quite different’ errand?”
The next moment she felt his hand close over both hers, gardening scissors and wash-leather gloves notwithstanding.
“Stop cutting those confounded flowers, and I’ll tell you,” he said roughly.
She looked up in astonishment35, and, at last, a glimmering36 of what was coming dawned upon her. Even the blindest of women, the most preoccupied37, must have read the expression of his eyes at that moment.
“Oh, no—no,” she began hastily. “I must finish cutting the roses—really, Geoffrey.”
She tried to release her hands, but he held them firmly.
“No,” he said coolly. “You won’t finish cutting your flowers—at least, not now. You’re going to listen to me.” He drew the scissors from her grasp, and they flashed like a fish in the sunshine as he tossed them down on to the rose-basket. Then, quite deliberately38, he pulled off the loose gloves she was wearing and his big hands gripped themselves suddenly, closely, about her slight, bared ones.
“Geoffrey——”
Her voice wavered uncertainly. The realisation of his intent had come upon her so unexpectedly, rousing her from her placid39 unconsciousness, that she felt stunned—nervously unready to deal with the situation. She struggled a little, instinctively40, but he only laughed down at her, a ring of masterful triumph in his voice, holding her effortlessly, with all the ease of his immense strength.
“It’s no good, Jean. You’ve got to hear me out. I’ve waited long enough.” He paused, then drew a deep breath. “I love you!” he said slowly. “My God, how I love you!” There was an element of wonder in his tones, and she felt the strong hands gripping hers tremble a little. Then their clasp tightened41 and he drew her towards him.
“Say you love me,” he demanded. “Say it!”
It was then Jean found her voice. The imperious demand, infringing42 on that secret, inner claim of which she alone knew, stung her into quick denial.
“But I don’t! I don’t love you!” Then, as she saw the blank look in his eyes, she went on hastily: “Oh, Geoffrey, I am so sorry. I never guessed—I never thought of your caring.”
“You never guessed! Good God!”—with a harsh laugh—“I should have thought I’d made it plain enough. Why, even that first day, on the river—I wanted you then. What do you suppose has brought me to Staple every day? Affection for Blaise Tormarin?”—cynically.
“I thought—I thought——” She cast about in her mind for an answer, then presented him with the simple truth. “I’m afraid I never thought about it at all. I just took your coming over for granted. I knew you and Judith were old friends and neighbours, so it seemed quite natural for you to be here often—just as Claire Latimer is.”
Burke searched her face for a moment. He was thinking of the other women he had known—women who would never have remained blind to his meaning, who had, indeed, shown their willingness to come half-way—more than half-way—to meet him.
“I really believe that’s true,” he said at last, grudgingly43. “But if it is, you’re the most unselfconscious woman I’ve ever come across.”
“Of course it’s true,” she replied simply. “I’m—I’m so sorry, Geoffrey. I like you far too much to have wished to hurt you.”
“I don’t want liking44. I want your love. And I mean to have it. You may not have understood before, Jean, but you do now.”
She drew herself away from him a little.
“That doesn’t make any difference, Geoffrey. I have no love to give you,” she said quietly.
He shook his head.
“I won’t take no,” he said doggedly45. “You’re the woman I want. And I mean to have you.... Don’t you understand? It’s no use fighting against me. You may say no, now; you may say no fifty times. But one day you’ll say—yes.”
Jean’s slight frame tautened.
“You are mistaken,” she said, in a chill, clear voice calculated to set immeasurable spaces between them. “I’m not a cave woman to be forced into marriage. Oh!”—the ludicrous side of this imperious kind of wooing striking her suddenly—“don’t be so absurd, Geoffrey! You can’t seize me by the hair and carry me off to your own particular hole in the rocks, you know.” She began to laugh a little. “Let’s just go on being good friends—and forget that this has ever happened.”
She held out her hand, but he took no notice of the little friendly gesture. There was a red gleam in his eyes, a smouldering glow that needed but a breath to fan it into flame.
“You speak as if it were something that was over and done with,” he said in a low, tense voice. “But it isn’t; it never will be. I love you and want you, and I shall go on loving you and wanting you as long as I live. Jean—sweetest”—his voice suddenly softened46 incredibly—“I’ll try to be more gentle. But when a man loves as I do, he doesn’t stop to choose his words.” He stepped closer to her. “Oh! You little, little thing! Why, I could pick you up and carry you off to my cave with two fingers. Jean, when will you marry me?”
His big frame towered beside her. He paid no more attention to her dismissal of him than if she had not spoken, and she was conscious of an odd feeling of impotence.
“You don’t seem to have understood me,” she said forcing herself to speak composedly. “If I loved you, you’d have no need to ‘carry me off’ to your cave. I’d come—gladly. But I don’t love you, Geoffrey. And I shall never marry a man I don’t love.”
“You’ll marry me,” he returned stubbornly. “Do you think I’m going to give you up so easily? If you do, you mistaken. I love you, and I’ll teach you to love me—when you’re my wife.”
The two pairs of eyes met, a challenging defiance47 flashing between them. Jean shrugged48 her shoulders.
“I think you must be mad,” she said contemptuously, and turned to leave him.
In the same instant his hands gripped her shoulders and he swung her round facing him again.
“Mad!” he exclaimed hoarsely49. “Yes, I am mad—mad for you. You little cold thing! Do you know what love is—man’s love?”
She felt his arms close round her like a vice31 of steel, lifting her off her feet, so that she hung helpless in his embrace. For a moment his eyes burned down into hers—the hot flame of desire that blazed in them seeming almost to scorch50 her—the next, he had hidden his face against the warm white curve of her throat, where a little affrighted pulse throbbed51 tempestuously52. Then, as though the touch of her snapped the last link of his self-control, his mouth sought hers, and he was kissing her savagely53, crushing her soft, wincing54 lips beneath his own. Her slender body swayed helpless as a reed in his strong grip, while the tide of his passion, like some fierce, untamable flood, swept over her resistlessly.
When at last he released her, she stood back from him, staggering a little. Instinctively he stretched out his hand to steady her.
“Don’t... touch me!” she panted.
The words came driven between clenched55 teeth, chokingly. Her face was milk-white and her eyes blazed at him out of its pallor. She felt as if her heart were beating in her throat, stifling56 her, and for a little space sheer physical stress held her silent But she fought it back, asserting her will against her weakness.
“How dare you?” There was bitter anger in her still tones. “How dare you touch me—like that?”
With a swift movement she passed her handkerchief across her lips and then let it fall on the ground as though it were something unclean. He winced57 at the gesture; for a moment the passion died out of his face and a rueful look, almost of schoolboy shame, took its place.
“Do you—feel like that about it?” he said, nodding towards the handkerchief.
“Just like that,” she returned. “Do you think—if I had known—I would ever have risked being alone with you? But I thought we were friends—I never dreamed I couldn’t trust you.”
“Well, you can’t,” he said unsteadily. The sight of her slender, defiant58 figure and lovely, tilted59 face, with the scornful lips he had just kissed showing like a scarlet60 stain against its whiteness, sent the blood rioting through his veins61 once more. “You’ll... you’ll never be able to trust any man who loves you, Jean.”
Her thoughts flew to Blaise. She would trust herself with him—now, at any time, always. But then, perhaps—the after thought came like a knife-thrust—perhaps he did not care!
“A man who—loved me,” she said dully, “would not do what you’ve just done.”
“He would—sooner or later. Unless his veins ran milk and water!” He drew a step nearer and stood staring down at her sombrely. “Do you know what you’re like, I wonder? With your great golden eyes and your maddening mouth and that little cleft62 in your white chin.... You’re angry because I kissed you. I wonder I didn’t do it before! I’ve wanted to, dozens of times. But I wanted your love more than a passing kiss. I’ve waited for that—waited all these weeks. And now you refuse it—you’ve not even understood that you’re all earth and heaven to me. God! How blind you must have been!”
She was silent. Her anger was waning63, giving place to a certain distressful64 comprehension of the mighty65 force which had suddenly broken bondage66 in the man beside her. Dimly, from her own knowledge of the yearning67 bred of the loved one’s nearness, she envisaged68 what these last weeks must have meant to a man of Burke’s temperament69. Was it any wonder, when suddenly made to realise that the woman he loved not only did not love him in return, but had failed even to sense his love for her, that his stormy spirit had rebelled—flung off its shackles70? An element of self-reproach tinctured her thoughts. In a measure the fault had been hers; her self-absorption was to blame.
“Yes,” she acknowledged. “I’m afraid I have been blind, Geoffrey. Indeed—indeed I would have prevented all this if I had known, if I had guessed. But, honestly, I just thought of you—you and Judith—as friends.”
“I believe you really did,” he said slowly, almost incredulously. Then, as though in swift corollary: “Jean, is there anyone else?”
The question drove at her with its sudden grasp of the truth. Her face grew slowly drawn71 and pinched-looking beneath his merciless gaze and her lips moved speechlessly.
“So it is that, is it? And does he—has he——”
“Geoffrey, you are insufferable!” The words came wrung72 from her in quick, low protest. “You have no right—no right——”
“No, I suppose I haven’t,” he admitted, touched by the stricken look in her eyes. “I’d no business to ask that. For the moment, it’s enough that you don’t love me.... But I shall never give you up, Jean. You’re mine—my woman!” The light of possession flared73 up once more in his eyes. “Do you remember I told you once that, if a man makes up his mind, he can get his own way over most things? Well, it’s true.”
He paused a moment, then abruptly74 swung round on his heel and without a word of farwell, strode away across the garden towards the gate by which he had entered.
As the latch11 clicked into its place behind him, Jean was conscious of a sudden tremor75, of a curious, uncontrollable fear, as though his words held something of prophecy. The man’s dominating personality seemed to swamp her, overwhelming her by its sheer physical force.
The remembrance of her sinister76 dream, and of the dream Burke’s threat: “It’s too late to try and run away. If you don’t come into my parlour, you’ll be stamped with the mark of the beast forever,” returned to her with a disagreeable sense of menace. She shivered a little and, picking up her basket, almost ran back to the house, as though seeking safety.
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1
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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pulsating
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| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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5
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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7
snipping
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| n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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8
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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14
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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16
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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18
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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coterie
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| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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27
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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28
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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32
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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refractory
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| adj.倔强的，难驾驭的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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37
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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38
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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41
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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42
infringing
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的现在分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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43
grudgingly
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44
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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45
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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46
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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47
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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48
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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49
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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50
scorch
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| v.烧焦，烤焦；高速疾驶；n.烧焦处，焦痕 | |
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51
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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52
tempestuously
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| adv.剧烈地，暴风雨似地 | |
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53
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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54
wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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55
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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57
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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59
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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60
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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61
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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62
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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63
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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64
distressful
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| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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66
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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67
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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68
envisaged
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| 想像，设想( envisage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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70
shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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71
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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72
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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73
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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74
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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75
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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76
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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