"Maud! Maud, my darling! What is it? What is the matter?"
She forgot everything in the comfort of companionship as, still shaking with fear, she went swiftly to his side.
"Edward. I think he is ill. Oh, Eustace, I am so frightened!"
And he in his turn, taken utterly by surprise, seemed to forget everything save that the woman he loved passionately was there beside him. His thoughts had been so full of her, nothing but her, and now--
"Oh, come! please come; he is ill. I know he is ill."
"Yes! I am coming," he said with an effort at self-control. "Where is he--in your room?"
Then, with his arm round her, they went back through the silent house together. Those two alone. Yet not, it seemed to her, so much alone as when they stood at last with that drunken figure lying on the floor between them. She knew the truth at once in his quick exclamation, and then everything under sun and stars seemed to slip away and leave them face to face. "Eustace and she." "Eustace and me." The low rush of the waves caught the refrain and repeated it ceaselessly.
"Don't be alarmed; you had better go away."
She heard the words as in a dream, scarcely recognizing the voice in its harsh passion. "Stay, he shall not remain here; not here in your room." Then she felt his hands grip hers, and the voice rang with fierce resentment.
"Maud! Maud! that this should have come to you--to you of all people. By heaven, it is too much. I will not bear it."
She laughed suddenly and broke from him. "You mean that he has taken too much whiskey. Well! plenty of men do that, and you others think--think none--none the worse." Then she broke down, flinging her arms across the bed by which she had been standing. "Oh, my God! what shall I do? what shall I do?"
"Go into the other room, dear; I will call some one."
She turned on him as she knelt like a wild animal at bay.
"No! not the servants! no one shall know. I will not have it. Let me help. I am quite strong."
"Do you think I'd let you touch him?" he burst out. "Go! I'll manage."
She crept away, cowed by his vehemence, overcome by the desire to obey which subdues most women when the command is from one they love. Back to the fire she had left so short a time ago. It was dull now, but a touch sent the responsive flames leaping up the chimney. Would any amount of care restore that confidence in herself which but an hour ago had defied fate? Eustace and she--Eustace and me. What evil chance was this?