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Love's Shadow

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<h2 id="id01992" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXXV</h2> 'That Woman' By the end of their drive Eugenia had quite come to the conclusion that Cecil was as foolish as ever, and that she would not be alone with him again. At first it had amused her to see him once more, but when she saw the infatuation revive, she was bored and sorry—and particularly sorry she had given him the opportunity of expressing it. She had told him, definitely, that she would not see him again except with Hyacinth. He had declared it was merely the excitement of having met her, and implored forgiveness, undertaking in future to regard her as a friend merely. This reconciliation—for they had had quite a quarrel in the cab coming back—and the solemn compact and promise on Cecil's part to ignore the old terms, had led to the invitation that Hyacinth regarded as an insult added to injury. Cecil's conscience, then, as he sat by the fire that night pricked him not at all, for had he not made the best of resolutions? Indeed, privately, he rather plumed himself on his honourable conduct, forgetting perhaps that it was inspired more by Eugenia's attitude than by his own inclination. Probably he hardly realised that, had Eugenia used her influence differently, there was hardly anything he would not have done. To him facts were everything—and he believed he had meant no harm. He was still, he knew, to a great extent under the charm of his old friend. Still, that did not seem to have anything to do with his love for Hyacinth. He did not believe her threat of leaving him, but the mere picture of such a thing gave him great pain. He thought that if he had not been exactly in love with her when they married he was now; and could not at all imagine himself living without her. What, then, did he really want? He did not formulate it. Au fond, he was more flattered than annoyed at the position Hyacinth took up. He was amused, positively impressed, at her spirit. Had she not been so excessively pretty, it would have made him more angry and more anxious to rebel at the idea of her dictation. Perhaps his happiness with Hyacinth had gone almost too smoothly. He had become quite spoilt by her exquisite responsiveness, too much accustomed to the delightful homage of her being so much in love with him, to her charm in every way. He didn't at all fancy the idea of the smallest amount of this tribute being diminished. Suppose he offered never to see Eugenia again? After all, he had avoided her until today. He could continue to do so. But he had just arranged with her that they should all be friends. It would seem ridiculous. Besides, he wanted to see her! Oh! what an infernal nuisance the whole thing was! It was such an awkward situation. As the thought developed, gradually, that he really would have to choose, there could be no sort of doubt that he would choose Hyacinth…. Yes, his fancy for Eugenia was the shadow, a will-o'-the-wisp; Hyacinth was the reality—a very lovely and loving reality. Hers was the insidious charm that grows rather than dazzles, the attraction that increases with time. He could not imagine, however long they might be married, her becoming ever a comrade merely. Mentally and physically, she held him far more since their marriage than before; he had found in her a thousand delightful qualities of which he had never dreamed. Then that mad, capricious creature, Eugenia, meeting him, must make him take her for a drive and spoil it all! He began to get rather angry with her. Certainly since this row about her, he felt he liked her less. Why couldn't she stick to Uncle Ted—as she thought him so marvellous—and leave him alone? With this unjust and inconsistent movement of irritation, he again attempted speaking to Hyacinth through the door, assuring her that if she would only open it, he would convince her. But as he received no answer, he was too proud to say any more, and retired sulkily to his own room. To his great surprise, he fell asleep almost immediately. The next morning he went out without seeing Hyacinth, but left a message that he would be in at one, and wished to speak to her. He thought this would give her time to recover, or even perhaps to speak to Anne. At heart he did not believe Anne would give her any but sensible advice, though he now began to feel a little jealous of her influence. When he came back he found Hyacinth in the boudoir. She looked pale, but particularly pretty, with a little air of tragic composure. 'May I ask if you still think seriously of leaving me?' he asked sarcastically. 'I haven't settled anything yet.' 'Why is that? Won't Anne go with you?' She avoided answering, but said, 'I've been thinking things over, Cecil, and assuming that what you told me yesterday was true—that you met that woman for the first time again yesterday—I will not—go away. We will remain outwardly as we have been. But as long as I believe, as I do, that you are in love with her, I intend to be merely a friend to you.' 'A friend? What utter nonsense! I refuse to consent to anything so absurd. I won't stand it!' 'I shall not,' continued Hyacinth, taking no notice, 'interfere with your freedom at all. I don't ask you not to see her. You can go there when you like. I couldn't bear the idea that I was putting a restraint on your liberty, so that even if you offered—which you haven't—to give up seeing her at all—I wouldn't accept such a sacrifice!' Cecil laughed impatiently. 'Considering I've avoided her till yesterday—' 'Ah, you admit it! That shows—that proves you care for her.' 'Don't you own yourself you were probably wrong—that you misunderstood about the drive?' he asked. 'I assume that I can believe your word—that is why I'm not leaving you. Do you accept my terms?' His eyes flashed; he walked towards her violently, overturning a little table. 'No, I don't,' he said, 'and I never shall! It's infernal, unjust, ridiculous. You are my wife!' She seemed not offended at his violence, but she said— 'Think it over till tomorrow. You understand that unless you agree to our each going our own way I shall not remain here.' He came a step nearer. At this moment the door opened and the servant announced lunch. Cecil, without saying another word, went out of the house. The door banged loudly. At the sound Hyacinth burst into tears. 'Oh, why am I so miserable?' she sobbed. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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