“I want to see her first,” replied Eugene grimly and disbelievingly.
“I won’t say that I will forget everything,” went on Mrs. Dale, ignoring his interpolated remark. “I can’t—but I will pretend to. You can have the use of my country place at Lenox. I will buy out the lease at Morristown, or the New York House, and you can live in either place. I will set aside a sum of money for your wife, if you wish. That may help you obtain your release. Surely you do not want to take her under the illegal condition which you propose, when you can have her outright in this brilliant manner by waiting a little while. She says she does not want to get married, but that is silly talk, based on nothing except erratic reading. She does, or she will, the moment she comes to think about it seriously. Why not help her? Why not go back now and let me bring her to New York a little later and then we will talk this all over. I shall be very glad to have you in my family. You are a brilliant man. I have always liked you. Why not be reasonable? Come now and let’s drive over to Three Rivers and you take the train back to New York, will you?”
While Mrs. Dale had been talking, Eugene had been surveying her calmly. What a clever talker she was! How she could lie! He did not believe her. He did not believe one word that she said. She was fighting to keep him from Suzanne, why he could readily understand. Suzanne was somewhere, here, he fancied, though, as in the case of her recent trip to Albany, she might have been spirited away.
“Absurd!” said Eugene easily, defiantly, indifferently. “I’ll not do anything of the sort. In the first place, I don’t believe you. If you are so anxious to be nice to me, let me see her, and then you can say all this in front of her. I’ve come up here to see her, and I’m going to. She’s here. I know she is. You needn’t lie. You needn’t talk. I know she’s here. Now I’m going to see her, if I have to stay here a month and search.”
Mrs. Dale stirred nervously. She knew that Eugene was desperate. She knew that Suzanne had written to him. Talk might be useless. Strategy might not avail, but she could not help using it.
“Listen to me,” she said excitedly. “I tell you Suzanne is not here. She’s gone. There are guards up there—lots of them. They know who you are. They have your description. They have orders to kill you, if you try to break in. Kinroy is there. He is desperate. I have been having a struggle to prevent his killing you already. The place is watched. We are watched at this moment. Won’t you be reasonable? You can’t see her. She’s gone. Why make all this fuss? Why take your life in your hands?”
“Don’t talk,” said Eugene. “You’re lying. I can see it in your face. Besides, my life is nothing. I am not afraid. Why talk? She’s here. I’m going to see her.”
He stared before him and Mrs. Dale ruminated as to what she was to do. There were no guards or detectives, as she said. Kinroy was not there. Suzanne was not away. This was all palaver, as Eugene suspected, for she was too anxious to avoid publicity to give any grounds for it, before she was absolutely driven.
It was a rather halcyon evening after some days of exceeding chill. A bright moon was coming up in the east, already discernible in the twilight, but which later would shine brilliantly. It was not cold but really pleasantly warm, and the rough road along which they were driving was richly odorous. Eugene was not unconscious of its beauty, but depressed by the possibility of Suzanne’s absence.
“Oh, do be generous,” pleaded Mrs. Dale, who feared that once they saw each other, reason would disappear. Suzanne would demand, as she had been continually demanding, to be taken back to New York. Eugene with or without Suzanne’s consent or plea, would ignore her overtures of compromise and there would be immediate departure or defiant union here. She thought she would kill them if need be, but in the face of Eugene’s defiant persistence on one side, and Suzanne’s on the other, her courage was failing. She was frightened by the daring of this man. “I will keep my word,” she observed distractedly. “Honestly she isn’t here. She’s in Quebec, I tell you. Wait a month. I will bring her back then. We will arrange things together. Why can’t you be generous?”
“I could be,” said Eugene, who was considering all the brilliant prospects which her proposal involved and being moved by them, “but I can’t believe you. You’re not telling me the truth. You didn’t tell the truth to Suzanne when you took her from New York. That was a trick, and this is another. I know she isn’t away. She’s right up there in the lodge, wherever it is. You take me to her and then we will talk this thing out together. By the way, where are you going?”
Mrs. Dale had turned into a bypath or half-formed road closely lined with small trees and looking as though it might be a woodchoppers’ path.
“To the lodge.”
“I don’t believe it,” replied Eugene, who was intensely suspicious. “This isn’t a main road to any such place as that.”
“I tell you it is.”
Mrs. Dale was nearing the precincts of the lodge and wanted more time to talk and plead.
“Well,” said Eugene, “you can go this way if you want to. I’m going to get out and walk. You can’t throw me off by driving me around in some general way. I’m going to stay here a week, a month, two months, if necessary, but I’m not going back without seeing Suzanne. She’s here, and I know it. I’ll go up alone and find her. I’m not afraid of your guards.”
He jumped out and Mrs. Dale gave up in despair. “Wait,” she pleaded. “It’s over two miles yet. I’ll take you there. She isn’t home tonight, anyhow. She’s over at the cottage of the caretaker. Oh, why won’t you be reasonable? I’ll bring her to New York, I tell you. Are you going to throw aside all those fine prospects and wreck your life and hers and mine? Oh, if Mr. Dale were only alive! If I had a man on whom I could rely! Come, get in, and I’ll drive you up there, but promise me you won’t ask to see her tonight. She isn’t there, anyway. She’s over at the caretaker’s. Oh, dear, if only something would happen to solve this!”
“I thought you said she was in Quebec?”
“I only said that to gain time. I’m so unstrung. It wasn’t true, but she isn’t at the lodge, truly. She’s away tonight. I can’t let you stay there. Let me take you back to St. Jacques and you can stay with old Pierre Gaine. You can come up in the morning. The servants will think it so strange. I promise you you shall see Suzanne. I give you my word.”
“Your word. Why, Mrs. Dale, you’re going around in a ring! I can’t believe anything you say,” replied Eugene calmly. He was very much collected and elated now since he knew that Suzanne was here. He was going to see her—he felt it. He had Mrs. Dale badly worsted, and he proposed to drive her until, in the presence of Suzanne, he and his beloved dictated terms.
“I’m going there tonight and you are going to bring her to me. If she isn’t there, you know where to find her. She’s here, and I’m going to see her tonight. We’ll talk of all this you’re proposing in front of her. It’s silly to twist things around this way. The girl is with me, and you know it. She’s mine. You can’t control her. Now we two will talk to you together.”
He sat back in the light vehicle and began to hum a tune. The moon was getting clearer.
“Promise me just one thing,” urged Mrs. Dale despairingly. “Promise me that you will urge Suzanne to accept my proposition. A few months won’t hurt. You can see her in New York as usual. Go about getting a divorce. You are the only one who has any influence with her. I admit it. She won’t believe me. She won’t listen to me. You tell her. Your future is in it. Persuade her to wait. Persuade her to stay up here or at Lenox for a little while and then come down. She will obey you. She will believe anything you say. I have lied. I have lied terribly all through this, but you can’t blame me. Put yourself in my place. Think of my position. Please use your influence. I will do all that I say and more.”