The beauty of her exquisite purity and innocence had always captivated in him the finer man. It was a mirage. It was gone. Emptiness remained. She was simply a graceful, non-moral being--a spiritual anomaly.
Yvonne shivered, and rising, walked unsteadily to the wardrobe, whence she took a dressing-jacket. Putting it on, she returned to the couch. It was almost dark. The Canon watched her dim, slight figure as it passed him, with a strange feeling of remoteness. A hundred trivial instances of her want of moral sense crowded into his mind to support his view--her inability to see the wrong-doing of Stephen, her indefinite notions in religious matters, her mental attitude toward the girl that had gone astray, of whom she had been talking only the night before, her expressed intention of hiding this terrible discovery from him. He had been duped, not by her, but by his own romantic folly.
Yet what would his life be without her--or rather without his illusion? An icy hand gripped his heart. He turned to the glimmering window and stared at the blank wall.
Presently a moan struck upon his ear. He wheeled round sharply, and distinguished her lying with helpless outspread arms on the couch. Mere humanity brought him to her side.
“You must go to bed,” he replied in a gentler voice than hitherto. “We had better part now. To-morrow, if you are well enough to travel, we will leave for England.”
“Let me go alone,” she murmured, “and you go on to Switzerland. Why should your holiday be spoiled?”
“It is my life that is spoiled,” he said ungenerously. “The holiday matters very little. It is best to return to England as soon as possible. Between now and to-morrow morning I shall have time to reflect upon the situation.”
He struck a match and lit the candles and drew down the blind. The light revealed her to him so wan and exhausted that he was moved with compunction.
“Don’t think me hard, my child,” he said, bending over her. “It is the bitterest day of our lives. We must pray to God for strength to bear it. I shall leave you now. I shall see that you have all you want. Try to sleep. Good-night.”
And so, without touch of hand, they parted.
The hours of the evening wore on, and night came. At last she cried herself to sleep. It had been a day of tears.