Elinor Glyn

“ You will go through it, Sabine, if you have not already done so. It seems we suffer all the time, because when that is over then we learn to appreciate gentleness and chivalry—and probably by then it is out of our reach."
"I don't believe anything is out of our reach if we want it enough," and Sabine closed her firm mouth.
"Then I wonder what you want, Sabine—because I know you do not really want Lord Fordyce—he represents chivalry—and I don't believe you are at that stage yet, dearest." ”

“ Henry felt slightly intoxicated with happiness—while in Michael, passions of various sorts were rising, against his will.
A devil was in Sabine—never had she been so alluring, so feminine, so completely removed from her usual grave, indifferent self.
She did not look at Michael once or vouchsafe him any conversation beyond what cordial politeness compelled. It was to Père Anselme that she almost made love, with shy sallies at Henry, and merry replies to Madame Imogen. But her whole atmosphere was radiating with provoking fascination—and as they all rose from table she took Lord Fordyce's arm. ”

“ All life looked smiling. She was young, healthy and rich. She had inspired the devoted love of a good and great man, whose position would give scope for her ambitions, whose intellect was a source of pleasure and joy to her, and whose tenderness would smooth all her path. What right had she to have even a crumpled rose leaf! None in the world.
She must get accustomed even to hearing of Michael, and perhaps to meeting him again face to face, since Henry was never to know—or, at least, not for years perhaps, when she had been so long happily married that the knowledge would create no jar. ”

“ Sabine clasped her hands suddenly, as though the thought gave her physical pain.
"He loves me too much, Father; no woman should be loved like that; it fills her with fear."
"Fear of what?"
"Fear of failing to come up to the standard of his ideal of her—fear of breaking his heart."
"I told him in the beginning it were wiser to be certain all cinders were cold before embarking upon fresh ties," Père Anselme remarked meditatively, "and he assured me that he would ascertain facts, and whether or no you felt he could make you happy." ”

“ I am not clever like you, but I do know one splendid recipe for taking away pain; every time the thought of Sabine comes up to you and the old pictures you used to hold, look them squarely in the face, and then deliberately replace them with others that you can obtain—the strange law of periodicity will be in motion and, if you have only will enough, gradually the pictures that can be yours will unconsciously have taken the place of the old ones which have caused you pain. Is it not much better to do that than just to let yourself grieve—surely it is more like a man? ”

“ Every moment Sabine was attracting him more deeply—and bringing certain memories more vividly before him with maddening tantalization.
But did she love Henry? Of that he could not be sure. If she did, he certainly must divorce her at once. If she did not—why was she wishing to marry him? Henry was an awfully good fellow, far better than he—but after all, she was his wife—even though he had forfeited all right to call her so, and if she did not love Henry, no friendship toward him ought to be allowed to stand in the way of their reunion. It is astonishing how civilization controls nature! ”

“ Meanwhile, up in Moravia's room, Sabine was seated upon the white sheep's-skin rug before the fire; she was wildly excited and extremely unhappy.
The sight of Michael again had upset all her fancied indifference, and shaken her poise; and apart from this, the situation was grotesque and unseemly. She could no longer suffer it: she would tell Henry the whole truth to-morrow and ask him what she must do. His love almost terrified her. What awful responsibility lay in her hand? But civilization commanded her to dress in her best, and go down and dance gaily and play her part in the world. ”

“ Sabine nodded, and Moravia went on: "But you need not fear! Henry will adore you always—because you really don't care!" and she sighed a little bitterly at the contrariness of things.
"It is good not to care, then?"
"Yes, I think so; for happiness in a home, the woman ought always to love a little the less."
"Well, we shall be very happy, then," and Sabine echoed Moravia's sigh, but much more bitterly.
"You will be good to him, dearest?" Moravia asked rather anxiously. "He is the grandest character I have ever met in my life." ”

“ Her periwinkle cambric was a reflection of her eyes, and her brown hair seemed filled with rays of gold as she stepped across the courtyard at about ten o'clock on her way to the garden. Her guests would sleep late—and at breakfast at twelve would be time enough to see them.
But Michael caught sight of the top of a wide straw hat, and the flutter of a bluish gown from his window, and did not hesitate for a second. Henry, he knew, was only in his bath, while he himself was fully dressed in immaculate white flannels. ”

“ At breakfast the Père Anselme watched her intently while he kept his aloof air. He felt that something extra had disturbed her. He was to stay in the house with them on Christmas night, because it was so cold for him to return to his home after dinner, and Sabine could not possibly spare him; she assured him he must be with them at every meal. His wit was so apt, and with Madame Imogen's aid he kept the ball rolling as merrily as he could. But he, no less than Henry, was conscious that all was not well. ”

“ She would certainly go, and try to punish him as much as she could by showing her absorption in Henry, and her complete indifference to himself. His vanity would be wounded, since he had owned to being a dog in the manger. That would be her only revenge—and what a paltry one! She felt that—and was ashamed of herself; but all human beings are paltry when their self-love is wounded and the passion of jealousy has them in its thrall, and Sabine was no better nor worse than any other woman probably. Once more she made resolutions, firm resolutions to think no more of Michael either good or bad. ”

“ I love this woman more than my life and only desire her happiness."
The Curé of Héronac shrugged his high shoulders slightly.
"It is not for me to give advice to a man of the world—but had it been in the days when I was Gaston d'Héronac, of the Imperial Guard, I should have told you—Use your intelligence, search, investigate for yourself. Make her love you—leave nothing vague or to chance. As a priest, I must say that I find all divorces wrong—and that for me she should remain the wife of the other man."
"Even when the man is a drunkard or a lunatic, and there have been no children?" ”

“ Mrs. Howard held that pleasure could alone come from harmony of body and spirit, while Lord Fordyce maintained that wild discords could also produce it, and that it could not be defined as governed by any law.
"One is sometimes full of pleasure even against one's will," he said. "Every spiritual principle and conviction may be outraged, and yet for some unaccountable reason pleasure remains."
Mrs. Howard opened her eyes wide as if at a sudden thought.
"Yes," she said. "I wish it were not true what you say, but it is—and it is a great injustice."
"What makes you say that?" Henry asked, quickly. ”

“ He bent forward eagerly and asked, with a catch in his breath:
"And that was——?"
"The soul of a woman—shall we say—that something which no brute force can touch."
The fencing bout was over, the foils were laid aside, and grim earnest was in Michael's voice now—modulated by civilization into that tone which does not carry beyond one's neighbor at a dinner party.
"Your soul—Sabine—that is the only thing which interests me, and I was never able to touch your soul? That is not true, as you know—How dare you say it to me. There was one moment——"
"Hush," she whispered, growing very white. ”

“ He reconstructed every word he could remember of his and Sabine's conversation that afternoon. He repictured her innocent baby face—and from there on to the night of the wedding. He reviewed all his emotions in the chapel, and the strange exaltation which was upon him then—and the mad fire which awoke in his blood with his first kiss or of her fresh young lips when the vows were said. Every minute incident was burned into his memory until the cutting of the cake—after that it seemed to be a chaos of wild passion, and moments of extraordinary bliss. ”

“ Henry knocked at the door exactly at eight o'clock, and she went to meet him with all the air of authority of a mother, and led him into the room, pushing him gently into the chair she had prepared for him. A man may have a broken heart—but the hurt cannot feel so great when he is surrounded with every comfort and ministered to by a beautiful young woman, who is not only in love with him, but has the nerve to keep her head and not neglect a single point which can be of use in her game. ”

“ Henry accompanied the old man on his walk back to the village—and they conversed in cultivated and stilted French of philosophy and of Breton fisher-folk, and of the strange, melancholy type they seemed to have.
"They look ever out to sea," the priest said; "they are watching the deep waters and are conscious forever of their own and loved ones' dangers—they are de braves gens."
"It seems so wonderful that anything so young and full of life as Mrs. Howard should have been drawn to live in such an isolated place, does it not, mon père?" Henry asked. ”

“ They were going to part for the rest of their lives; he must make her tell him that she loved him, he wanted to hear her say the words.
"Sabine—little darling—answer me," he pleaded.
She flung her arms round his neck, her whole body vibrating with emotion.
"I love you absolutely, Michael," she cried, "and I have always forgiven you—I was mad to leave you, and I have longed often to go back. Oh! I would sooner be dead than not to be your wife." ”

“ For some reason this appeal touched something in Michael's heart, his voice was full of cordiality and his blue bold eyes swam with kindly affection as he answered:
"I'm not a beast, Henry—and I don't want every woman I see—and anyone you fancied would in any case be sacred to me," and he held out his hand. "Give you my word as I told you before, I'll not only promise you on my honor that I'll not cut in myself, but I'll do everything I can to help you, old man," then he laughed to hide the seriousness of his feeling—"even to lending Arranstoun for the honeymoon." ”

“ A great sob shook his deep voice.
"Darling child—I love you madly, madly, Sabine—dear little one—but you and I are just driftwood, floating down the tide—not like Henry, who is a splendid fellow of great use to England. It is impossible that his whole life should be ruined and sacrificed for our selfishness. Darling—" and he paused and drew her to him again fondly. "It is our own fault. We have let the situation develop through indecision and, I expect, wounded vanity and weakness—and now we must have strength to abide by our words. Henry isn't young like we are, you see. ”

“ He sat down in a chair beside the fire and set himself to think. To have to take some decided course came as a relief. He would go out into the village and telegraph to Michael to come to Héronac at once. He was in Paris, staying at the Ritz, he knew; he could be there to-morrow—on Christmas Day! Surely that was well, when peace and good-will towards men should be over all the earth—and he, Henry, would meet him at the house of the Père Anselme and explain all to him, and then take him back to Sabine. ”

“ The years passed and I thought I had really forgotten you—and my life grew so peaceful with the Père Anselme and Madame Imogen here at Héronac, and all sorts of wonderful and interesting studies kept developing for me. I seemed to grow up and realize things and the memory of you grew less and less—but society never held out any attractions for me—only to be with Moravia. I had taken almost a loathing for men; their actions seemed to me all cruel and predatory, not a single one attracted me in the least degree—until this summer at Carlsbad when we met Henry. ”

“ He knew he ought not to have come, he knew that he ought to tell Henry straight out and then go off before the ball. He felt he was behaving like the most despicable coward; and yet, if it were possible for Henry never to know that he, Michael, was Sabine's husband, it would save his friend much pain. He was smarting under Sabine's insolent dismissal of him, and burning with jealousy over that witnessed caress, the violent passions of his race were surging up and causing a devil of recklessness to show in his very handsome face. Lord Fordyce saw that something had disturbed him. ”

“ But Sabine clung to him still. She could think of nothing but that she loved him, and that he was her mate and her husband, and why must she be torn from his side for the happiness of any other man.
She was in an agony of grief. And then suddenly back to her came the words of Père Anselme, heavy as the stroke of doom. Yes, she had taken matters into her own hands and presumed to direct fate, and now all that she could do was to be true to herself and to her word. Michael was right; they must say good-bye. Henry must not be sacrificed. ”

“ His happiness should not be torn from him without a desperate fight.
The priest's voice was very sad as he answered:
"That is so. She will, no doubt, be ready to marry you whenever you ask it is for you to demand of yourself whether you will accept her sacrifice."
"Sacrifice! I would never dream of any sacrifice. It is unthinkable, Father!"
Anguish now distraught Henry's soul; he stopped in his walk and looked full at the priest, his fine, distinguished face working with suffering. The Père Anselme thought to himself that he would have done very well for the model of a martyr of old. ”

“ How shall I ever be able to live up to being the ideal creature he thinks that I am?" and Sabine gave a forced laugh.
"You are not a bad sort, you know," the Princess told her. "A man would be very hard to please if he was not quite satisfied with you!"
Moravia's own pain about the whole thing never clouded her sense of justice. Henry's love for her friend had been manifest from the very beginning, so she had never had any illusions or doubt about it; and if she had been so weak and foolish as to allow herself to fall in love with him, she must bear it and not be mean. ”

“ Sabine, for her part, found the days not worth living. Nothing in life or nature stays at a standstill; if stagnation sets in, then death comes—and so it was that her emotions for Michael did not remain the same, but grew and augmented more and more as the certainty that they were parted for ever forced itself upon her brain.
They had not been back in London a day when Mr. Parsons announced to her that at last all was going well. Mr. Arranstoun had put the matter in train and soon she would be free. And, shrewd American that he was, he wondered why she should get so pale. ”

“ She firmly and determinedly banished all thought of Michael from her mind, and hardly ever went into the garden summer-house—because, when she did, she saw him too plainly standing there in his white flannels, with the sprig of her lavender in his coat and his bold blue eyes looking up at her with their horribly powerful charm. The force of will can do such wonders that, as the days went on, the pain and unrest of her hours lessened in a great degree. ”

“ We are so clever in our nation, and all the young vitality in us is so splendid, when it is directed and does not turn to nerves and fads. I am growing so much finer, my dear, under his guidance. You will know me when we meet—because each day I grow more to understand. The Père Anselme had only one moment of doubt again, just the last morning before his Dame d'Héronac left for Paris when October had come. It was raining hard, and he found her in the great sitting-room with a legal-looking document in her hand. ”

“ Thoughts of Michael she dismissed as well as she could, but she had passionate longings to go and take out the blue enamel locket from her despatch-box and look at it once more; she would not permit herself to indulge in this weakness, though. Her whole days were ruled with sternest discipline until she became quite thin, and the Père Anselme grew worried about her.
A fortnight went by; it was growing near to Christmastime—but the atmosphere of Héronac contained no peace, and one bleak afternoon the old priest paced the long walk in the garden with knitted brows. ”