Chapter XII: The Confession

Iris looked at him with dazed, bewildered eyes, as if she had not understood what he had said; as if he had spoken in some unknown language. At last, part of the meaning of his words dawned upon her.

“But that is--impossible!” she said tonelessly. “I have never seen you--you have never----”

“No, you have never seen it, but that is because I am out of the reach of temptation here--that is the reason I live in this place--to keep away from danger; when it is in my way--I--fall.”

“Oh, Justin, it can’t be true!” The anguish in her voice was terrible.

He shuddered, but went on courageously: “It _is_ true, and when I have told you a little about my life you will believe me. I am your equal by birth and education, as you say. After leaving Eton I went to Cambridge and my father expected me to have a brilliant career; all his plans were made. But I had a voice and I loved singing with a passion which almost amounted to madness; so I threw up my splendid prospects and took up singing as a profession instead. My father was a proud man of the old school, and it nearly broke his heart that a son of his should choose such a life. To cut a long story short, it led to a complete break between us. I was disinherited, never allowed to visit my old home; and I believe that my name is still never mentioned there. My mother was already dead, or I am sure my conduct would have killed her. Before we finally parted my father made me promise to take another name and never breathe my own to a living soul, so that is why I cannot tell even you. My voice had already been trained and I had splendid offers immediately. But I never appeared in England; I spared my father that, at least. Amazing success followed. I had wonderful receptions in America, France, Russia and everywhere I went. I was making a big fortune. But it was at this time that I learned to--drink. I will not harrow you with horrible details, but I went downhill fast. I could never do anything in a half-hearted way, and in a few years I had nearly drunk myself to death. I could not rely on being sober; concert after concert had to be postponed--I had to pay heavy forfeits for not appearing. At last my voice gave way also and I had to withdraw altogether. Iris, you can guess the rest; there was absolutely nothing to check me now, and I gave way to my vice completely, and became so ill the doctors did not expect me to live. I was in bed for three months, and convalescent with a nurse for another three. Nurse was splendid, she never left my side. It was during this time I discovered I could exist without alcohol--you may hardly believe it, but I had sunk so low that I thought I should die if I did not have it.”

He had been looking away from his companion while he was speaking; the confession was difficult and he had to summon all his courage to make it. Now he continued in the same forced voice: “Then I determined to make another desperate effort to reform--ah! no one knows how many I had already made, how I had striven and struggled to master my vice--yet I could not--every effort had only ended in failure. Now I began to feel there might be hope if only I could keep out of temptation’s way; but alas! that was impossible, living an ordinary life--everywhere the danger confronted me, at the clubs, in houses, walking down the street. Oh, Iris, you don’t know what it means to a man with that burning craving in his system to be continually passing those places!” He shuddered visibly. “I knew I could never live an ordinary life again, so Nurse and I thought out a new future for me. I was to come out here, find a small country place where there were no--temptations, and then I might have a chance. Nurse was fine. She would not let me risk travelling on a big boat, so got a friend of hers, a captain of a sailing vessel, to take me, and this man never allowed alcohol on his ship. I was three months on the water. The many months of abstinence in England had purified my system and partially restored my health; now the long voyage did the rest. My voice and strength came back and I had hope of being able to work again. I landed in Hobart and began to look for the quiet spot I wanted, but it was not easy for a stranger to secure a position in the right place at once. Of course I had to work, as I had run through most of my money and I had refused to take the allowance my father offered me when he knew I had given up singing as a profession and was coming out here to make a fresh start.” A deep melancholy crept into his voice now. “While I was making enquiries for a position--oh, Iris,” he bent suddenly forward and shaded his eyes with his hand, “I fell again. I passed so many hotels in that little town and the scent in the streets as I went along seemed almost to drag me inside. Days of fierce fighting followed. Believe me, I _did_ fight--I walked out on the hills, up mountains, I sometimes tramped about all night to get away from the awful craving consuming me! I could not sleep, so spent the nights roaming about with despair in my heart. But at last I was so exhausted I could not walk any more; and it was then, one evening, that I----” he stopped abruptly. “Iris, I cannot tell you the ghastly details, but eventually I heard of this place. Miss Smith was in need of a driver, as the last one had left her suddenly. I have been here nearly three years and shall never be able to move away--I am chained--chained----”

In the east a slightly waning moon climbed above long strands of slaty clouds. It peered through gaps in the foliage of the large trees hedging the garden, and stray pools of silver began to glimmer on stretches of grass and dense banks of nodding flowers. It illumined swaying branches of roses weighted with scented, pallid blooms. It cast mystic bands of light on stems, tree trunks and whispering branches; it transformed the high spires of hollyhocks into tall dusky lilies.

One silver strand fell full on the girl’s pale immovable face, making it more ghastly white as she sat rigid, tense, trying to frame a reply to the pitiful revelation just made to her.

Justin had stopped speaking, and was evidently waiting for some response.

But Iris made none; her lips could frame no words; she sat speechless, looking fixedly into the confusion of moonlight and shadows about her.

“A drunkard--a drunkard, this splendid man beside her a drunkard----” her brain reeled. Her senses were alternately numb and curiously alive. They conjured up visions of this beloved form reeling, swaying, making its way home in the dark. His wonderful voice thickened, coarsened by liquor. Suddenly she winced, sat up very straight, her slim hands clenched, her white teeth gripping her lower lip.

Then she thought of the afternoon when she heard him sing far down below her in the cave. She remembered how she had fancied he was a chained spirit, singing in a gloomy prison. How true these imaginings had been! He was a bound spirit--chained to a vice, bound to a dark horrible thing. She shivered.

But could nothing set him free? All at once the numbness left her brain; her feelings became acute, vivid, endued with a peculiar piercing intensity. Was there nothing--nothing in the whole vast world which could deliver this dear prisoner from his hopeless cell? If there were deliverance she would go to the end of the earth to find it!

While she remained silent Rees had risen and moved a little away from her.

“Iris,” he said in dull, hopeless tones, “I knew your love could not stand such an awful revelation--I suppose no love could. I knew when I told you everything that it would not only end all between us, but even slay your love itself. A little while ago--forgive me for speaking plainly--you would have let me repeat what--I did--in the cave. You loved me then and I could have taken your love and held it for a little while. But I restrained myself, because it would not have been fair to accept the love you would have given, when I knew that, once I had told you all, you would turn from me in coldness and contempt. I am not blaming you,” he continued as she tried to interrupt him, “I did not expect anything else. Love is not for such as I--I am not worthy of such a gift.”

He stopped. The white-robed girl had risen and stood bathed in a long shaft of moonlight. She looked fearlessly into his face in the shadows, as she said with flashing eyes: “Justin, you are doing my love an injustice. No confession that you have made, could make, has power to change it. I love you as much as--before,” she finished with quiet dignity.

He remained in the shadow of the rosebush, his eyes burning upon her face. “Is it possible?” he murmured almost inaudibly.

“Of course it is,” she took a step towards him; “Justin, try to understand. Your confession stunned me for a while, and it--hurt--as nothing else has ever hurt me in my life before. But--my love is not altered by it--it will always remain the same.”

“Iris--do you mean it?”

“How could I mean anything else?”

He paused a moment. “Iris, you are--wonderful!” The words came as a low sob from his breast. “But--now you see for yourself why--we must--part; why I must bury all between us, all that might have been, under those great white cliffs across the river.”

She stood gazing at him, the moonlight upon her face, then she said in a very low voice: “Are you really going to do that--after all?”

“What else can I do?” The grey eyes scorched her through the gloom.

“Justin--you will break my heart if you do,” she said, an awful pain in her voice.

“Iris,” her name came as a moan from his lips.

She took another step towards him. “Be kind to me--let me stay beside you and--help you; you need me--let me do it!” Her proud strength had suddenly gone; she stood before him humbly pleading.

“Iris,” his voice shook terribly now, “such an offer is too incredible. Do you really mean that you would still--marry me--marry me under--such circumstances?”

“I would.” Her voice was low, but firm.

“Not just out of pity?”

“Oh, Justin; how cruel you are!” she broke out passionately. “Why do you rack my heart with these doubts, these suspicions? Why won’t you believe in my love? Why do you drive me to such desperate measures? Can’t you understand it is cruel of you not to allow me to help you--to be with you? Oh, Justin----” She came close to him, and suddenly she laid her hands on his shoulders and whispered brokenly: “Dearest--please let me!”

“Let you be with me--always?”

“Yes,” she murmured faintly, “please do.”

“Do you realise the awful risk you would be running?”

“Yes--I am prepared for that. But I am sure everything would be all right; we could always live here away from danger, and if temptation should ever come to you--we could fight it out together.”

“Iris,” he said with a catch in his throat; “I don’t know what to say to you.”

Her fingers upon his shoulders tightened. “Justin, be kind!”

“Do you really love me as much--as _that_?”

“Don’t tantalise me--can’t you see--the strain is--awful----”

She trembled violently.

“Iris--Iris,” he said in strained tones, “what am I to do? I can’t possibly endure this if you--if you----”

She did not move, but her breath came faster.

“Iris--I shall take you in my arms if you stay here an instant longer,” he said thickly.

The girl did not stir.

He waited another moment, then suddenly he crushed her to his breast.

Dazed, bewildered by the excruciating sweetness of contact she lifted her face, only to encounter his, and their lips met in a long kiss.

She trembled violently again.

“Darling, don’t tremble so--please don’t----”

“I can’t help it--Justin.”

“I warned you, Iris--shall I let you go?”

“No, no--I shall drop if you do--it is terrible--it is stunning me--blinding me.”

“Iris, this is what we have been drifting to since--the cave. We are beyond our depths--and God only knows where we shall end! Sweetheart, I love you--I love you--tell me again that you--care.”

She swayed in his arms.

“I do, how can I help it--how could any woman help it? But let me go----”

He released her immediately, but she clung to him suddenly, desperately. “Justin, can this really be love--_this--this_----”

Could it be love, this violent strong thing crushing them together, stunning her--blinding her?

“Yes--has it frightened you?” he murmured, folding her to him once more.

Her heart beat wildly; every pulse throbbed. Quivering and confused she yielded to his embrace again.

“Does it frighten you?” he repeated, his lips brushing her ear.

“I don’t know--I don’t know--” she whispered faintly. “I don’t know myself--I never thought I could feel like this.”

They stood for some minutes silent, swaying, clinging. Then Iris drew gently apart.

“Justin, take me back--take me home--if I stay here any longer----” she began in dazed tones.

“Yes, what then?”

“I don’t know--I don’t know--only take me back.”

“Iris, just once more,” he pleaded with profound solemnity; “just once more!”

She yielded her lips to his, and again the contact numbed her senses by its tumultuous sweetness.

Then very slowly, very reluctantly, he released her, but, keeping one arm round her slim waist, led her silently through the silver-spangled garden.

At the rickety gate opening into the dusky avenue of huge walnut trees, leading to the tumbled-down barn where the horse and trap awaited them, he stopped and turned to look back.

A strange wistful brilliance pulsated through the wild deserted garden. It lighted on leaves, picked out isolated flowers, poured its lavish radiance on clustering jasmine, climbing vines, trailing roses and swaying creepers. It approached the brooding shadows under trees; shrank away from the black gloomy places, and stole timidly over the soft inviting grass.

In the distance a bat darted over the apple-trees and vanished into the shade cast by some tall gleaming poplars. The ivory-tinted air was heavily perfumed by the breath of many flowers.

Near the gate from some over-hanging bushes came the sleepy chirp of a bird, it had evidently wakened in the night and twittered in drowsy happiness to its mate.

Rees glanced quickly at Iris, then looked back once more on the riotous beauty of the moonlit garden. And as he stood there, his hand on the gate, watching the scene they were leaving behind them, an awful look of anguish and determination came into his large, shadowy eyes.

Iris caught her breath and blanched with fear. She understood that look. He was saying good-bye to their love for ever. An agonised horror made her dumb. She stood beside him, feeling every part of her being turned to stone.

He made a sudden movement. “We must be going,” he said abruptly.

He held the gate open for her to pass out.

From one of the large walnut trees came the muffled shriek of an owl.

Then silently they entered the dark avenue and shortly afterwards disappeared among the shadows.