Part 29 (1/2)
Winston's hand was again on her arm, restraining her. She tried to free herself, but try as she would, she could not make the action final.
Winston's hand slipped down her arm till her hand rested in his.
”Helen, I would say all of this for the sake of friends.h.i.+p alone--”
She strove to draw her hand from his.
”Stop, Ralph, stop right there.”
”I will not.” Winston's grasp tightened, he was drawing her towards him in spite of herself. ”There is more than friends.h.i.+p, Helen. There is love. I cannot tell you how much; you will have to let me teach you.”
His arm was around her now, his eyes striving to look into her own. The pulse of his words, the light of his eyes, the touch of his hand, there was in all these the clear, strong definition between mine and thine.
Mine to desire, mine to ask, mine to plead for my desires; thine to give or to withhold that which is all and more than all to me. My heart, my life, my love; thy acceptance of my offering. No selfish pleading, no imperative demand, only a right to ask in undoubting confidence that which it was hers to give or to withhold. She felt his breath on her cheek, the warm glow of his lips nearer and nearer. She could not put them away; her heart cried out against it. Her will to resist, to act as her conscience dictated, was weakening. Only to be at rest, as she was resting now, at peace, no doubts, no fears; she longed for what in strength of mind and purity of heart he was offering her.
His clasp grew closer. Why should she not accept? Her senses were reeling in an ecstasy of surrender that gives all and gains all in the giving. As in a delicious yet terrifying dream, she shrank closer to the protecting arms that would s.h.i.+eld her forever.
”Tell me, Helen, that you love me, not as I love you, that is too much to ask, but tell me that you love me.”
Her lips trembled in voiceless reply. How she longed to speak the words he desired her to utter. Why could she not? Then her eyes opened wide.
Here was a clean heart and a pure life at her feet, strong, throbbing words pleading with her to accept the offering. What had she to give in return? What was she about to give? A stained heart; how deeply stained she did not, could not know, but stained, in exchange for a pure white soul.
She tore herself from his arms and stood before him, her hands outstretched against him. Her great black eyes were wide, and deep, and unfathomable. Only from their depths, a glow of longing love shone forth; of longing, sorrowing love, of sorrow for herself and of love for the man before her; yet love controlled by a will as strong as the strength of right could make it.
There was an answering light in the eyes that met her own. In them was pain and pleading, but no doubt. His hands reached out to hers that had put him away, but they dropped before they touched.
”Helen, your eyes have answered me.” There was a deep throb of exultation in his voice. ”But let me hear you speak.”
She stood with pale face and laboring breath. Her voice shook with the intensity of her emotion.
”I love you, Ralph. More than I can tell you in a lifetime, I love you.”
She spoke in obedience to a power beyond her will to control.
Winston sprang toward her, but her hand rested on his breast. She could feel the strong, even throb of his heart and this strengthened her will to resist.
”Listen, Ralph!” Her voice was intense but low; every word pierced like pencils of light in deep waters. ”I have been cruel, mercilessly, selfishly cruel. I longed to hear you say what you have said. All my life I shall remember it as a penance for the wrong I have done you.”
”I will not listen to such words.” He clasped the hand that rested on his breast, but she tore it away.
”Don't tempt me further, Ralph.”
He was again close beside her.
”Tell me all, Helen. You have given me the right to know.”
”I have not, I cannot. If I should tell you, you would despise me. If I granted your wish, all my life I should loathe myself.”
Ralph stood with eyes undoubting, unconvinced, but he could go no farther.