The Way of an Eagle. Ethel M. Dell
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Название: The Way of an Eagle
Автор: Ethel M. Dell
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4057664616340
isbn:
He paused, for her fingers had closed suddenly within his own. She was looking at him no longer. Her memory had flashed back to that last terrible night of her father's life. Again she heard him telling her of the one man to whom he had entrusted her, who would make it his sole business to save her, who would protect her life with his own, heard his speculative question as to whether she knew whom he meant, recalled her own quick reply, and his answer—and his answer.
With a sudden sense of suffocation, she freed her hand and rose. Once more her old aversion to this man swept over her in a nauseating wave. Once more there rose before her eyes the dread vision which for many, many nights had haunted her persistently, depriving her of all rest, all peace of mind—the vision of a man in his death-struggle, fighting, agonising, under those merciless fingers.
It was more than she could bear. She covered her eyes, striving to shut out the sight that tortured her weary brain. "Oh, I don't know if I can!" she almost wailed. "I don't know if I can!"
Nick did not move. And yet it seemed to her in those moments of reawakened horror as if by some magnetic force he still held her fast. She strove against it with all her frenzied strength, but it eluded her, baffled her—conquered her.
When he spoke at length, she turned and listened, lacking the motive-power to resist.
"There is nothing to frighten you anyhow," he said, and the tone in which he said it was infinitely comforting, infinitely reassuring. "I only want to take care of you; for you're a lonely little soul, not old enough, or wise enough to look after yourself. And I'll be awfully good to you, Muriel, if you'll have me."
Something in those last words—a hint of pleading, of coaxing even—found its way to her heart, as it were, against her will. Moreover, what he said was true. She was lonely: miserably, unspeakably lonely. All her world was in ashes around her, and there were times when its desolation positively appalled her.
But still she stood irresolute. Could she, dared she, take this step? What if that phantom of horror pursued her relentlessly to the day of her death? Would she not come in time to shrink with positive loathing from this man whose offer of help she now felt so strangely tempted in her utter friendlessness to accept?
It was impossible to answer these tormenting questions satisfactorily. But there was nothing—so she told herself—to be gained by waiting. She had no one to advise her, no one really to mind what happened to her, with the single exception of this friend of hers, who only wanted to take care of her. And after all, since misery was to be her portion, what did it matter? Why should she refuse to listen to him? Had he not shown her already that he could be kind?
A sudden warmth of gratitude towards him stirred in her heart—a tiny flame springing up among the ashes of her youth. Her horror sank away like an evil dream.
She turned round with a certain deliberation that had grown upon her of late, and went back to Nick still seated on the sofa.
"I don't care much what I do now," she said wearily. "I will marry you, if you wish it, if—if you are quite sure you will never wish you hadn't."
"Well done!" said Nick, with instant approval. "That's settled then, for I was quite sure of that ages ago."
He smiled at her quizzically, his face a mask of banter. Of what his actual feelings were at that moment she had not the faintest idea.
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