Leonard came towards Normanstand next forenoon in considerable mental disturbance. In the first place he was seriously in love with Stephen, and love is in itself a disturbing influence.
Leonard's love was all of the flesh; and as such had power at present to disturb him, as it would later have power to torture him. Again, he was disturbed by the fear of losing Stephen, or rather of not being able to gain her. At first, ever since she had left him on the path from the hilltop till his interview the next day, he had looked on her possession as an 'option,' to the acceptance of which circumstances seemed to be compelling him. But ever since, that asset seemed to have been dwindling; and now he was almost beginning to despair. He was altogether cold at heart, and yet highly strung with apprehension, as he was shown into the blue drawing-room.
Stephen came in alone, closing the door behind her. She shook hands with him, and sat down by a writing-table near the window, pointing to him to sit on an ottoman a little distance away. The moment he sat down he realised that he was at a disadvantage; he was not close to her, and he could not get closer without manifesting his intention of so doing. He wanted to be closer, both for the purpose of his suit and for his own pleasure; the proximity of Stephen began to multiply his love for her. He thought that to-day she looked better than ever, of a warm radiant beauty which touched his senses with unattainable desire. She could not but notice the passion in his eyes, and instinctively her eyes wandered to a silver gong placed on the table well within reach. The more he glowed, the more icily calm she sat, till the silence between them began to grow oppressive. She waited, determined that he should be the first to speak. Recognising the helplessness of silence, he began huskily:
'I came here to-day in the hope that you would listen to me.' Her answer, given with a conventional smile, was not helpful:
'I am listening.'
'I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I did not accept your offer.
If I had know when I was coming that day that you loved me . . . '
She interrupted him, calm of voice, and with uplifted hand:
'I never said so, did I? Surely I could not have said such a thing!
I certainly don't remember it?' Leonard was puzzled.
'You certainly made me think so. You asked me to marry you, didn't you?' Her answer came calmly, though in a low voice:
'I did.'
'Then if you didn't love me, why did you ask me to marry you?' It was his nature to be more or less satisfied when he had put any one opposed to him proportionally in the wrong; and now his exultation at having put a poser manifested itself in his tone. This, however, braced up Stephen to cope with a difficult and painful situation. It was with a calm, seemingly genial frankness, that she answered, smilingly:
'Do you know, that is what has been puzzling me from that moment to this!' Her words appeared to almost stupefy Leonard. This view of the matter had not occurred to him, and now the puzzle of it made him angry.
'Do you mean to say,' he asked hotly, 'that you asked a man to marry you when you didn't even love him?'
'That is exactly what I do mean! Why I did it is, I assure you, as much a puzzle to me as it is to you. I have come to the conclusion that it must have been from my vanity. I suppose I wanted to dominate somebody; and you were the weakest within range!'
'Thank you!' He was genuinely angry by this time, and, but for a wholesome fear of the consequences, would have used strong language.
'I don't see that I was the weakest about.' Somehow this set her on her guard. She wanted to know more, so she asked:
'Who else?'
'Harold An Wolf! You had him on a string already!' The name came like a sword through her heart, but the bitter comment braced her to further caution. Her voice seemed to her to sound as though far away:
'Indeed! And may I ask you how you came to know that?' Her voice seemed so cold and sneering to him that he lost his temper still further.
'Simply because he told me so himself.' It pleased him to do in ill turn to Harold. He did not forget that savage clutch at his throat;and he never would. Stephen's senses were all alert. She saw an opportunity of learning something, and went on with the same cold voice:
'And I suppose it was that pleasing confidence which was the cause of your refusal of my offer of marriage; of which circumstance you have so thoughtfully and so courteously reminded me.' This, somehow, seemed of good import to Leonard. If he could show her that his intention to marry her was antecedent to Harold's confidence, she might still go back to her old affection for him. He could not believe that it did not still exist; his experience of other women showed him that their love outlived their anger, whether the same had been hot or cold.
'It had nothing in the world to do with it. He never said a word about it till he threatened to kill me--the great brute!' This was learning something indeed! She went on in the same voice:
'And may I ask you what was the cause of such sanguinary intention?'
'Because he knew that I was going to marry you!' As he spoke he felt that he had betrayed himself; he went on hastily, hoping that it might escape notice:
'Because he knew that I loved you. Oh! Stephen, don't you know it now! Can't you see that I love you; and that I want you for my wife!'
'But did he threaten to kill you out of mere jealousy? Do you still go in fear of your life? Will it be necessary to arrest him?'
Leonard was chagrined at her ignoring of his love-suit, and in his self-engrossment answered sulkily:
'I'm not afraid of him! And, besides, I believe he has bolted. Icalled at his house yesterday, and his servant said they hadn't heard a word from him.' Stephen's heart sank lower and lower. This was what she had dreaded. She said in as steady a voice as she could muster:
'Bolted! Has he gone altogether?'
'Oh, he'll come back all right, in time. He's not going to give up the jolly good living he has here!'