CHAPTER XXII

THE CONFESSION

FOR a long while after she had regained consciousness Rose remained silent. And then she smiled wanly at her aunt and murmured little apologies.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she kept on repeating. “I never felt better in my life. My knees just gave way and down I went.”

Ellen stroked her hand gently.

“I never fainted in my life before!” she went on. “What could have made me do it, honey?”

Ellen’s eyes searched hers for a moment in silence and they were lowered.

“I don’t know, dear; but I think you do. Can’t you tell me?”

The little hand gripped hers fiercely, her eyes closed and the tears pushed through the trembling lids. Ellen waited until the paroxysm passed, bent and kissed the quivering lips. Two arms stole round her neck and held her fast until the tears came to her own eyes.

“Yes, I will,” Rose murmured; “I’ve got to tell you or die. Oh, auntie----”

She paused and flushed scarlet.

“I’m in love with him. I’ve worshipped him from the minute we met in this room. I’ve lived only to see him, to hear his voice--to know that I could be in his life.”

“And he loves you?” she asked evenly.

“I know that he does.”

“He has told you?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“In a hundred things that he did. In the way he spoke to me--the caress in his voice--and----”

She blushed and paused again.

“And the way he looked at me. He didn’t need to say any words.”

“But why didn’t he tell you?”

“Something seemed to hold him back. Something I couldn’t understand. He tried to tell me and couldn’t. But I thought he would. I waited, and loved him more and more.”

“Forget him, dear.”

“I never can!”

“Many a woman has said that before.”

“I don’t want to live without him. Why should he treat me like this, auntie, dear? I’m not ugly!”

“You’re beautiful, my child.”

“I’m nearly as old as he is. He’s not more than ten years older; that’s no matter, is it?”

“No.”

The thing that alarmed Ellen was the feverish, uncanny expression in her eyes; the look of a young animal that has been mortally wounded. She remembered a kitten with a broken back that looked at her like that once in her childhood. She could see now the wide-set glittering eyes with their expression of dumb wonder before it died.

At least she thanked God that he had the decency to respect her own feelings by silence in this the bitterest and loneliest hour her own soul had ever known. His high sense of honor and of decency might prevent his ever declaring his love to Rose even if the girl’s intuitions were correct.

Why add another tragedy to her own? She had sought self-development and lost the way of life in selfishness. Her anger against the man who had deserted her should not be allowed to wreck the happiness of the little girl who trusted her utterly.

Besides, she had given this man the right to go when he saw fit. Against his protest she had forced this freedom upon him. If he had fallen in love with her niece, how could she reproach him? Her anger and misery were illogical. She had made her life what it was by an act of will.

She saw her way clearly in a sudden flash of unselfish love.

“Would you like me to find out why he left you so abruptly, dear?” Ellen whispered.

Her lips moved, but could say nothing.

The dumb anguish and the unspoken appeal found Ellen’s heart.

“I’ll see,” she said cheerfully. “Be still and leave it all to me now, will you?”

“I’ve nobody in the world to leave it to, honey, but you and God.”

“I’ll be back in a minute, dear,” Ellen called from the door.

She quickly descended the stairs and rang the telephone of Manning’s apartment on Thirty-first Street. If he were leaving for a long stay the chances were ten to one that he would take four or five hours to get his papers and personal effects together before returning to Lakewood.

A new voice answered the telephone.

“Yes, this is Mr. Manning’s apartment. I am Mr. Manning’s valet. What is it?”

She smiled at the thought of his rise in the world since the day they met four years ago! From a tiny room on Washington Square to national fame, a fortune, and a valet to attend his personal needs! She threw the thought of petty jealousy from her. He was ill. She was glad he could afford a man.

“May I speak to Mr. Manning, please?” she answered slowly.

“Mr. Manning is lying down. He is quite ill, you know. I have orders not to disturb him. I can’t unless it’s a matter of great importance.”

“It’s the gravest importance--it may be a matter of life and death! Please tell him this.”

“Your name, madam?”

She hesitated an instant.

“Tell him I am speaking for Miss Rose O’Neil.”

She wondered if he would refuse to answer. A refusal would be proof that he didn’t care. Or would it be just the opposite? Was his old sense of loyalty still so strong that he would refuse to humiliate the woman he once loved by the acknowledgment before her that he loved another?

She was not long left in doubt. She heard his quick nervous grip on the telephone receiver.

“What is it?”

“This is Ellen.”

“Oh!”

“You must come at once to my apartment.”

“Please--I’m not equal to it.”

“You must come at once!”

“I was sorry afterwards,” he went on, “that I was so brutal and abrupt, but it’s best after all. I couldn’t endure another such scene to-day.”

“You don’t understand. I am speaking for my niece.”

“But you’re not really--you don’t mean that?”

She caught the tremor in his voice that was unmistakable.

“I do. Surely you know me well enough to realize that I have too much pride to stoop to a lie to get you to the telephone.”

“Forgive me,” he broke in. “She asked you to call me?”

“No. She is very ill.”

“Ill!”

“When I told her that you had called and left without a word she collapsed. You must not go without seeing her.”

“Of course--I’ll--come--at--once.”

His voice was husky with excitement. She could feel in the electric current his nervous tension.

In ten minutes he was mounting her stairs with firmer step than when he called on hour ago.

She could see at a glance that he had recovered himself. He walked with more vigor. His step was quick and nervous as if he were drawing on his last reserve forces, but his voice was under perfect control.

“I hope she’s not in a serious condition,” he said.

Ellen seated herself and looked at him keenly.

“That depends, I think, on you.”

He fumbled his chin nervously and twisted the muscles of his strong mouth.

“On--me--why? What do you mean?”

“Come, now, face it squarely. Be honest with yourself and tell me the truth. I’ve made up my mind since I closed that door on you an hour ago that the first phase of my life is finished forever!”

She paused and struggled with her emotion.

“I’ve some hard battles ahead of me,” she went on, “but I’ll win them. You know this.”

“Yes, I know,” he said tensely. “You’re a marvellous woman.”

“You’re not to think of me any more. I’ll work out my salvation in my own way. You must have your way in life. It’s the old way of the trustful, worshipful, helpful little wife with home and babies----”

Her voice broke in spite of her effort at control. He breathed deeply and looked through the windows on the clearing skies, but made no response.

“I have no reproaches. I had my way. You told me it would be a failure. How tragic it has really been I don’t think you will ever know----”

He raised his hand in protest.

“On the other hand, the certainty that you would suffer is the one thing that hurts me most.”

She looked at him gravely.

“It’s sweet to hear you say it, though I know that only God can understand all this day has meant to me! But I have fought the last battle with self and I have won.”

She rose, slowly crossed the space that separated them and stood over him. She was smiling in the friendliest way.

“Come, now, be fair to yourself! You owe it to me, for I’m going to be your best friend always if I can’t be your wife. You’re in love with my little Rose--is it not so?”

He set his square jaws firmly.

“Why do you torture me like this?” he asked at last.

“I don’t mean it, dear boy! I’m thinking of her too.”

He threw a quick, searching look.

“Does--does--she love me?”

“With a love that might kill her kind unless you are good to her.”

Tears blinded him and he turned away.

“You know that I love her!”

“I’ve feared it.”

“But I couldn’t hurt you by such a declaration.”

“Nonsense!” she protested cheerily. “At least you’ve paid me the high compliment of falling in love with my miniature. And I’ll be frank enough to acknowledge that she’s prettier than I am. You’ve won the heart of the dearest and most unselfish little girl in the world. She will make you very happy. I congratulate you!”

She took his hand in a way so friendly and reassuring he could not resist.

“We must not allow our mistakes to spoil three lives,” she went on rapidly. “Come--tell my girl that you love her and she’ll be laughing all over the place in five minutes.”

He held back stubbornly. She drew him out of the chair toward the balcony stairs.

He stopped and blushed.

“I--can--go--to her room?”

“Certainly. I’ll chaperone you. She’s just lying there on the bed, where I put her after she had fainted.”

She led him gently up the stairs, pushed him into the room and turned away.

Rose lifted herself on her elbow and stared in rapture.

“Oh--you--have--come--back--to--see--me!” she breathed.

He took her in his arms.

“My Rose!” he whispered as his hand gently touched her hair.