Chapter V: Remorse

It was five o’clock the following afternoon when Rees woke from his long, heavy sleep. He opened his eyes wearily, they felt so oddly weighted and a strange dull pain racked his head. He looked round the room slowly--how did he come to be there, he wondered vaguely. Then memory came back to him. The previous night and all which had taken place rose in grotesque reality before him. He saw the smoke-laden bar, the crowd of drinking men; he heard again the foolish voice of the young Irishman. Was his absurd clamor to be made a Justice of the Peace only a pitiful clutch at respectability, an attempt to retrieve all he had lost? Or was it only an idiotic fancy conceived in numbed, befooled brain cells? Rees saw again the woman he had mistaken for Iris and--kissed! A dull red mounted to his pale face. Great God! What havoc that liquor had wrought with his senses! He had kissed another woman, a stranger and a _barmaid_; and he had been so steeped in drink that he had actually imagined she was his beautiful Iris! A half-stifled moan escaped his slightly parted lips.

Ah, how he had sunk during that one irretrievable night! Three years of soberness, of fierce struggle to keep on the straight path, seemed suddenly to have been swept away and he was back again in the old life of misery and degradation, back once more in pollution and despair! What had been the use of all his striving, his hard work, and his constant renunciation of all that belonged to the past? Now he had fallen. He had again slipped down among the sordid, repugnant things. How he hated to be there and how he loathed himself! Yes, that was one of the worst results of his debauchery, this hideous self-loathing! During the last three years he had climbed out of the revolting past and had in a measure recovered his self-respect; but now--it had vanished again. He was back once more in the old miry, slippery place, and he must begin the dreary climb afresh. But could he climb? Was it possible for such as he? All confidence had gone. A terrible despair distorted his white, quivering features.

Oh, if only he might climb back to the foothold he had reached during the last few years! They had been hard, humiliating years, but they had at least been clean, fresh and useful. If only this writhing, torturing self-accusation could be silenced and he could win back his self-respect. But that respite might not be his now--only utter hopelessness stared back at him wherever he looked.

And there was Iris. What would she say when he returned and confessed all? Would she not turn from him in abhorrence and disgust? Her love might forgive the past--had forgiven it; but no love could or would forgive this unpardonable fall. She was lost to him for ever now. She had really been out of his reach all the time; there always had been an impassable gulf between them. But before, the gulf was narrow enough to be bridged by her kindness. Now it had widened so vastly that no bridging was possible. Of course all had really been over between them when he had given her up to Captain Barton. He had made that supreme sacrifice to guard her from the possible degradation that a life united to his might involve, and in doing this there had at least been the consciousness that he had voluntarily renounced all she was willing to give. He might have married her, but he had relinquished this wonderful joy for her sake. But now it was no more a case of renunciation. He had hopelessly disgraced himself, and his conduct would for ever cut him off from all contact with her life.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a gentle knock at the door, and, in response to his toneless “Come in,” the barmaid entered with a tray.

He looked at her wonderingly with heavy, sad eyes. She was still powdered, but her hair looked less red in the daytime, and small lines round her lips and eyes were visible now.

“Mr. Rees,” she began, “we haven’t disturbed you all day because we thought a long sleep would do you good, but you must have something to eat now.”

The driver protested, and said he had no appetite. But the woman insisted and at last he sat up, more to relieve her of the tray than from any intention of taking what was on it.

“Try this fish, and drink this hot coffee, and you will feel much better,” she said brightly.

His hand went up to his head as if the effort of sitting up was causing him excruciating pain. His companion noticed it at once, and piled up pillows behind him, making him lean comfortably back against them. “Now you must have your meal,” she coaxed with an indulgent smile.

But he was not ready for his meal yet. “I am afraid I behaved disgracefully last night,” he said looking at her steadily. “I owe you an apology.”

She looked away from his quiet gaze and said a little confusedly, “Oh, you were not too bad, Mr. Rees.”

“I thought I--kissed you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, turning her auburn head a little away, “but then----”

“It was a detestable thing to do, and my only excuse, if it is one, is that I was not--myself.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she stammered, finding the steady gaze from those sad, grey eyes extraordinarily disconcerting. What a strange man to apologise to her for his conduct! Lots of men had kissed her; but they had not apologised afterwards. She had never met any man like this handsome stranger before. Even last night she had felt sure he was not a bad man; now she was certain he was a good one.

She watched his weary form reclining languidly among the pillows. The air of refined aloofness had come back to him. As she stood beside him, he looked up at her again and there was infinite sadness in his large eyes as he said gently--

“Thank you for being so forgiving and kind.”

She blushed a little. “Oh, that’s nothing at all, but you must have your meal at once or your fish will be quite cold,” and, with another pat to his pillows, she left the room. But there was a curious flutter somewhere within her as she went downstairs. The stranger’s sorrowful eyes haunted her. They were such beautiful eyes, shaded by long dark lashes, and there was a wonderful expression of purity in them. They looked so unsullied, as if they belonged to a white soul who had suddenly fallen into the mire and was in deep distress at being smirched.

* * * * *

The next morning Rees was up at sunrise, and after a hasty breakfast went to the stable to get Prince. It was very early, but the barmaid was awake. Hearing the light footsteps of the horse, she jumped out of bed, and, from behind lace curtains, watched his rider swing into the saddle.

“That is the only gentleman and the only real man I have ever met,” she said, dabbing a highly scented handkerchief to her dark eyes, while the black thoroughbred bore the handsome stranger quickly away.