The Vision of Desire
"Brett, please be merciful! Put me outside the matter altogether. It isn't
a question of you and me. It's Tony. And"--her voice breaking--"I want to
save him."
"I think it's very much a question of you and me," he retorted. "You asked
me just now to extend the time of payment 'as an act of personal friendship
to you.'"
She was silent, Inwardly writhing under the lash of his tongue. She
wondered if Tony would ever know or guess all that this interview had cost
her.
"I know I did," she acknowledged at last in a low voice.
Brett appeared to meditate a moment. Suddenly he looked across at her with
eyes that sparkled dangerously.
"I won't take Coventry's money," he said deliberately. "But I tell you what
I will do--I'll let _you_ liquidate the debt."
"I?" She glanced at him swiftly. "I? How can I?"
"It's quite simple. Come and have supper with me--alone--to-morrow night on
board the _Sphinx_, and in return I'll give you back those notes I hold of
Brabazon's--every one of them."
"Oh, I couldn't!" Ann drew away from him instinctively. "You know I
couldn't do that, Brett."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Very well, then, Tony must pay up--or go under," he answered nonchalantly.
"No, no!" She made a quick step forward. "Brett, it isn't fair--to ask me
to do such a thing."
"Isn't it? It's asking very little, I think." His voice vibrated with a
sudden note of passion. "You're going to marry Coventry. Very well. What
am I asking? One little evening out of all your life--to call mine, to
remember you by."
Ann was silent. Her thoughts were in a whirl. Here was a way by which
she could save Tony--put things right for him. But at what a price! She
shrank from the risk involved. If Eliot were to hear of it, to learn that
she had had supper with Brett on board his yacht--alone, what would he
think--suspect? His faith in her had not stood testing once before, when a
pure accident had forced her into a false position. Would it stand now, if
she did this thing? If, being Eliot's promised wife, she deliberately spent
the evening on board the _Sphinx_ with Brett? She knew it would not. The
faith of very few men would remain proof against circumstances such as
those--least of all, Eliot's. The grey, relentless shadow had suddenly
swung forward, completely enveloping her path.
"No, Brett," she said at last. "I can't--do--that."
"Then, as I said, Tony must go under"--coolly.
She clenched her hands in an agony of indecision. Tony, whom Virginia had
bequeathed to her--whom she had promised to shield from harm "if it was in
any way possible"! She had thought that already she had paid to the utmost
in the fulfilment of her trust by stooping to beg mercy at Brett's hands.
But it seemed that the keeping of her promise to the dead woman was to cost
still more--demanded the sacrifice of her own happiness, the faith and
trust of the man who loved her. Piteously Ann reflected that could Virginia
have known how matters stood she would never have exacted the fulfilment of
any promise at such a fearful price. But Virginia could not know. And the
promise held.
"Well?" queried Brett. He had been watching Ann's face closely while she
fought her battle. "Well, will you come?"
She drew a long, shuddering breath.
"Yes. I'll come," she said.
Her voice sounded curiously weak and strange to her own ears--like that of
some one else speaking. She wondered if she had really spoken audibly, and,
in a sudden terror lest he shouldn't have heard her, she repeated the words
with jerky emphasis.
"Yes. I'll come."
He made an abrupt movement towards her, but she shrank back out of his
reach.
"You'll give me the notes if I come?" she asked rather Wildly. "You'll play
fair, Brett?"
"Yes. I'll play fair."
"Then--then--will you go now, please?" She felt as though her strength were
deserting her--as though she could bear no more.
He paused, regarding her irresolutely. Then he turned to the door.
"Very well, I'll go now. The dinghy will be waiting for you at the jetty
to-morrow night at nine o'clock."
The door closed behind him and, left alone, Ann sank down on to the nearest
chair, utterly overwhelmed by what had befallen her. An hour ago there
had been not a cloud in her sky--the whole of life seemed stretching out
before her filled with the promise of love and happiness. And now, with
unbelievable suddenness, black and bitter storm-clouds had arisen and
covered the entire heavens, till not even a flickering ray of light was
visible. She remembered her strange, unconquerable fear of the yacht ...
like a sleek cat watching at a mousehole.... Well, the cat had sprung
now--leaped suddenly, striking into her very heart with its pitiless claws.
No tears came to her relief. She felt stunned--stunned, and remained limply
in her chair, staring with dazed, unseeing eyes into space....
* * * * *
She was still sitting in the same position, gazing blankly in front of her,
when Maria threw open the door to admit Mrs. Hilyard.
"I just looked in--" Cara, beginning to speak almost as she entered, broke
off abruptly as she caught sight of Ann's stricken face. She hurried to her
side. The girl's mute immobility frightened her.
"Ann!" she cried quickly. "What's happened? What is the matter with you?"
Slowly Ann turned her head towards her, regarding her with lack-lustre
eyes.
"Nothing," she said. "Or everything. I'm not quite sure which."
She began to laugh a trifle hysterically, and Cara laid her hands firmly on
her shoulders.
"Don't do that," she said sharply, giving her a little shake. "Pull
yourself together, Ann, and tell me what's gone wrong."
With an effort Ann caught back the sobbing laugh that struggled in her
throat for utterance. Getting up, she crossed the room to the window and
stood there silently for a few moments, with her back towards Cara. When
she turned round again it was obvious she had regained her self-control.
"I'm all right, now," she declared, smiling more naturally.
"Then tell me what's wrong, and let's put our heads together to get it
right," replied Cara practically.
"Oh, yes, I'll tell you. But there's nothing in the world will put things
right, all the same."
Very briefly she recapitulated the facts of the case, while Cara listened
with an expression of increasing gravity.
"You can't go," she said with decision, when Ann ceased speaking. "Whatever
else you do, you mustn't spend the evening on board his yacht alone with
Brett."
"And if I'm to save Tony, it's the only thing to be done," replied Ann
quietly.
"Then you must leave Tony to get out of his difficulties by himself. Sir
Philip would pay, I expect, if the matter were put up to him."
Ann shook her head.
"I'm quite sure he wouldn't," she said, "There's no question of that.
He's reached the limit of his patience. He'd simply turn Tony out of the
house--turn him adrift. And that means shipwreck. Tony might--might even
do--what he tried to do the other night. Kill himself. He's desperate.
Don't you see, everything's doubly bad for him now--when he's in love with
Doreen. Unless he's pulled out of this hole somehow, it means smashing up
his whole life."
"And if you pull him out of it the way you propose doing, it means smashing
up yours," returned Cara succinctly. "You know what Eliot's like--how
jealous and suspicious. And you know Brett's reputation!"
"I can manage Brett," insisted Ann.
Cara made a swift gesture.
"It isn't that! It's Eliot, and you know it. If he ever came to hear that
you'd been to supper on the _Sphinx_ with Brett, he'd never trust you
again."
"He might. I'm hoping--"
"He wouldn't"--with conviction. "It would wreck everything. Ann, don't be
such a fool--such a _fool_!" Cara spoke with desperate intensity. "For
God's sake, give up this crazy plan!"
"I can't. I must go. I've promised."
Her brows drawn together, Cara reflected a few minutes in silence. She
looked as though she were trying to work out a problem of some
kind--balancing the pros and cons. At last:
"There's only one way out of it," she said slowly. "Let me go instead of
you. I think--I think I could make Brett see reason, and persuade him to
give those notes of hand to me instead of to you. At any rate, let me try."
"No good," said Ann, shaking her head. "He wouldn't give them to you. He
wants his pound of flesh"--bitterly.
"Why don't you ask Eliot to give you the money?" demanded Cara suddenly.
A deep flush stained Ann's cheeks.
"I've not fallen so low that I'll ask the man I'm engaged to for money with
which to pay another man's debts."
"You'd ask him if you were married"--defiantly.
"In certain circumstances--yes. But that's different. Oh, you must see
it's different! Besides, Tony would accept money from _me_, even though my
husband had given it to me. But he'd be too proud to take it from Eliot--or
from any one else."
"Too proud! It seems to me Tony's precious little to be proud about!"
"The more reason why he should keep any pride he has remaining. Don't be
hard on him, Cara. Remember he's young, and that the instinct to gamble is
in his very blood. This has been a lesson to him--a frightful lesson. I
_know_--if he once gets clear of this--he'll run straight for the future."
"Then you must let me go to the yacht," insisted Cara with finality.
"No" The reply came with a definiteness there was no mistaking. "I've given
my word to Brett that I'd come,"
"You know what Eliot will think if he hears of it? He'll probably--almost
certainly--distrust you utterly, and it will ruin both your lives."
"I must risk that," said Ann quietly. "Tony's got to be saved somehow, and
it's up to me to do it. He was 'left' to me, you know. Virginia trusted me.
And I can't let her down."
There was something curiously strong and steadfast in her face as she
spoke--something against which Cara realised that it was futile to strive
any further. Reluctantly she desisted, but it was with a heavy heart that
she at last quitted the Cottage, leaving Ann firm in her resolve to save
Tony, no matter at what cost.
Ann woke early next morning, feeling rather as though it were to be her
last day on earth. She thought she could appreciate to some extent the
sensations of a man condemned to be executed the following dawn. To-day she
was tremendously alive, with happiness cupped betwixt her hands, while the
future of rose and gold beckoned her onward. To-morrow, that whole future
might be wrenched from her, leaving her like one dead, with nothing to live
for, nothing to hope.
When Eliot paid his usual daily visit she went tremulously to meet him.
This might be the last time he would ever look at her with the eyes of
love--the last time they would ever talk together as lovers. For her, his
kisses held all the poignant ecstasy and pain of kisses that may be the
last on earth.
He had noticed the _Sphinx_, lying at anchor in the bay, on his way to the
Cottage.
"I suppose that chap Forrester is going to favour Silverquay with another
visit," he remarked, as he and Ann strolled in the garden together. "I
don't care for him," he added. "When we are married, Ann, I'd rather you
didn't see any more of him than you can help. From all I can hear he hasn't
too savoury a reputation."
Ann's heart sank. If Eliot thought that--felt like that about Brett,
then there could be no hope of forgiveness if he ever found out that she
had been to supper with him on the yacht. And now, appearances would be
even stronger against her. It would look as though she had gone there
deliberately in defiance of Eliot's expressed wishes.
She became unwontedly quiet--so much so that Eliot's solicitude was
awakened.
"What's the matter with you to-day?" he asked, looking down keenly into