The dangerous game
passionately, and in a low, earnest voice said:
“I hope, my darling, you will have a pleasant day. I shall be very
lonely without you. But, as you know, I like you to enjoy yourself.
Don’t go to any dangerous places, will you?”
“Of course I shan’t,” replied the girl. “John has made the ascent
dozens of times, and Karl has been up twice before.”
“You know I would give anything to prevent you going--I----”
“Because you are just a little jealous of Karl? Tell the truth, Seti,”
she said in a tantalizing tone. “I remember what you told me the other
day.”
“I told you that I somehow felt that now Karl has come into your life
you are slipping away from me--and I repeat it!”
“Oh, don’t be so silly!” she replied, stroking his cheek with her
hand. “You know I love you--and only you. But if you really don’t want
me to go with Karl I’ll make an excuse that I don’t feel well enough.”
“No, no, darling. Go,” he urged. “But do not forget that, though he
may flirt with you, you are mine, and mine alone.”
“Trust me. I shall not forget, Seti,” she answered fervently, looking
straight into his face with honesty mirrored in her great, gray eyes.
And again she kissed him passionately upon the lips, saying: “You can
surely trust me, Seti, now that you know that I am yours.”
“I suppose I’m foolishly jealous,” he laughed.
“Why, of course you are! And John is coming with us,” replied the
girl. “Really, Seti, you are behaving quite foolishly. But he is
waiting. I must go.”
She was already dressed in serviceable cord breeches and
climbing-boots, a wind-jacket secured by a leathern belt, and upon her
shingled head her scarlet tam-o’-shanter. Hers was a smart, striking
figure, tall, upright, and athletic. She loved climbing, and was
looking forward to an enjoyable day.
She hurried down the stairs, where Karl awaited her, while John was
outside, laden with a heavy rucksack filled with provisions and
first-aid appliances; across his shoulder was a rope, and in his hand
an ice-ax.
Two minutes later the trio, laughing merrily, left Darville standing
at the door of the hotel.
“We shall be home before dark!” Edris shouted back to her lover,
waving her hand in farewell.
Darville watched them down the snowy road with mixed feelings. The sun
had just risen from behind the serrated snow-peaks, and the sky was
bright and unclouded, with all signs of a brilliant day. In the high
Alps in winter the sun is often amazingly hot all day, with a
deep-blue sky, deeper than that of the Riviera. There, in those high
altitudes above the clouds of winter, though it may be cold, the sun
is brilliant, and the air as invigorating as champagne.
Darville stood gazing blankly along the road for a long time after
they had passed out of sight. He felt that the sun of his life had
gone out.
John had pointed out a certain spot upon the snowy mountain-side which
they would pass about noon, and where, by the aid of his
micro-telescope, he could see them. It was then half-past eight. He
would have to wait some hours before he could catch a glimpse of them.
He sighed, and, turning back, reëntered the hotel, and ascended to
his room. Obtaining his telescope, he went on to the balcony and
focused it upon the far-off rock up which they would climb--a
dangerous and difficult ascent. By the aid of the powerful instrument
he could discern the rock quite plainly.
Returning, he seated himself at his table and commenced his day’s
work.
But he found that he could think of nothing but the apparent change
that had so suddenly come over Edris. Loving her as deeply as he
did--for she was the first woman he had loved in all his adventurous
life--he felt confident that she would never betray him. Elaine he had
never loved. It was the truth he had told her. Through all those years
of her youth she had been his firm friend, but the slightest spark of
passion had never existed between them. Edris was his first love, and
when love comes for the first time to a man of middle age it is a
deep, trustful, and abiding passion.
For a long time he sat with his fountain pen in his hand, without
writing a single word. Suddenly he put it down, and, rising, went to
the window, looking wistfully at the mountain.
“Yes!” he said aloud to himself. “Edris is right. It is absurd to be
jealous. I have never known what jealousy is, and I never shall.”
And with those words he choked down the suspicion which was arising
within him, and applied himself to his work until nearly noon, when he
put down his pen and took his telescope out upon the balcony.
For over an hour he remained there, constantly watching, but nobody
appeared. He saw a chamois in the vicinity of the rock, and the animal
remained undisturbed.
As he sat alone at luncheon there were many inquiries as to Edris’s
absence, for she was ever a popular figure at winter sports. His reply
was that she had gone climbing. He went back to his room determined
that what Edris had vowed before leaving was honestly meant. She, who
now loved him so truly, could never deceive him. It was utterly
impossible. The very thought of such a thing was ridiculous.
What, however, could he have thought had he been present on the
mountain-side, and seen and heard the truth?
The trio passed the rock which John had indicated half an hour earlier
than he had expected, and at half-past one reached the little shelter
hut near the summit, where the food was unpacked and served out.
All the time during the climb the pair had called each other by their
Christian names, and John, to his surprise, saw by their actions and
conversation that they were lovers. He knew that the young lady was
usually with Mr. Darville, but, of course, he, like others, never
suspected Darville to be in love with her. Herr Weiss, who was Swiss
like himself, was, no doubt, Miss Temperley’s admirer. John had been
out with many loving couples, and he knew his place. Therefore, as
soon as they had eaten their meal, he moved away discreetly to allow
them to be alone.
“We shall descend in half an hour,” he said as he left them.
“All right, John,” replied Edris. “It’s lovely up here. Do let us stay
as long as we may.”
“Well, three-quarters of an hour, Miss Temperley,” said the stalwart
Swiss. “We shall then get home just at dark”; and he turned away.
“Isn’t it perfect?” she exclaimed to Karl as she stood outside the
hut, gazing around at the adjoining peaks.
“As perfect as you are, Edris,” he said, taking her hand and kissing
it.
“No,” she said. “Please don’t do that. Have I not told you that I am
engaged to Seti? It isn’t fair to him.”
“But he’ll never know,” he laughed. “Let’s sit upon this rock. You
must be very tired.”
“I am a little. That last hour was very strenuous.”
“Edris,” he said, taking her hand as they sat together and looking
into her eyes, “are you really engaged to Seti?”
“I’ve told you so a dozen times.”
“Oh, it is horrible! Why, he is old enough to be your father. Think
what it means to be tied up to a jealous old man--for all old men are
jealous of young girls like yourself,” he added.
“Why do you say this? Why do you want to set me against Seti?” she
demanded resentfully.
“Because he is too old for you, Edris,” he replied, and then, placing
his arm around her waist, he whispered: “Because I love you!”
“How ridiculous!” she exclaimed with a scornful laugh. “Why do you
keep telling me that? Why, you hardly know me!”
“I know you well enough to be certain of my own feelings towards you,
Edris. I repeat, I love you.”
“Is this a manly action on your part--to try and steal me from the man
who is your friend?” she asked with a reproving look.
“I steal you from him because I mean to save you from yourself,” he
cried excitedly in Swiss-German, which next second he repeated in
English.
“Karl, I didn’t come up here to listen to your poisonous words
concerning the man I love,” she said, drawing her hand forcibly from
his. “I know men too well. They can’t deceive me!”
“Seti has. He thinks he loves you--a man with one foot in the
grave----”
“How dare you speak like that!” cried the girl, jumping up in fury.
“My darling, I----”
“I am not your darling. You suggested this climb. You bring me up here
to tell me all this--to poison my mind against the man I love, to----”
“To tell you how much I love you, darling!” he interrupted, seizing
her forcibly and kissing her again before she was aware of it. She
felt his breath upon her cheek, and, struggling with him, at last
freed herself.
“You swine!” she shouted. “If Seti were here he’d--he’d kill you!”
“Bah! I am not afraid of an old man.”
“Old! Why, he’s more active than you are. I hate all young men--you
included.”
He regarded her for a second with a vindictive expression which she
did not notice.
“You hate me, eh? I am sorry.”
“You need not be. But I tell you the truth, Karl,” she answered.
A silence fell between them for some moments. She was reflecting,
drawing patterns in the snow with her steel-pointed climbing-stick.
Suddenly he looked at her, and said:
“Why should we spoil these wonderful hours alone together by
quarreling? It is foolish of us, is it not? I love you, Edris. If I
have said anything against Seti, it is only in your own interests. He
is temperamental, a man of almost Quixotic views, quick-tempered, and
capable of fierce hatreds.”
“And at the same time he is very sympathetic and humane. The kindlier
side of his nature is wonderful. I know it,” said the girl.
“All his achievements may appear wonderful to you, but I repeat that
his age debars you from marrying him. It is impossible for you, a
young girl, to love a man of his age.”
“Karl, I will not hear another word.”
“You will--and you shall!” he cried, again kissing her with fierce
passion. “I love you, and you shall never marry Seton!”
She laughed defiantly in his face.
Then, in indignation, she disengaged herself from his embrace, and
said:
“This is not fair of you to betray your friend, the man I have decided
to marry.”
“Bah! Marry that old man! Absurd!”
“No, not absurd; he is as young as you are in his ways, and quite as
energetic,” she declared again. “And I love him.”
“So you have told me before,” he said with a sneer. “But I love you
also, Edris. You are the most wonderful girl I have ever met.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” she laughed. “But I have heard those
words from the lips of other men. And after my bitter experience I
believe in the word of no man.”
For a few moments he did not reply.
“Then you do not believe in my love, eh?” he asked, a dark frown on
his face. “You doubt me?”
“No. I don’t exactly disbelieve you, Karl,” she replied in a softened
voice. “But----”
“But you will love me,” declared the tall, good-looking Swiss, a fine,
manly figure in his rough, gray climbing-suit and his gray Balaclava
cap. “You will love me, Edris, my darling--you will see.”
“I’m not your darling!” she retorted again.
“But you will be,” he said, placing his hand firmly upon her shoulder
and looking into her eyes. “You will be. You are already mine,” he
added meaningly.
“Yours? How absurd!”
“We need say no more. You will see. Whenever I will anything, it comes
to pass. I will that you shall love me--that’s all”; and he smiled a
strangely uncanny smile--a smile of evil.
The time had flown while they had been alone together, for at that
moment John, discreetly heralded by a preliminary fit of coughing,
reappeared and announced that it was time for them to return. The sun
had become obscured by a bank of cloud coming up from the east, and,
looking up, he said in his quaint, but pleasant Swiss-English:
“I tink, Miss Temperley, we have a leetle snow.”
“I hope not, John. Let’s get back as soon as ever we can.”