The inevitable had come to pass. A silence, dense and throbbing, fell upon them. Outside the storm was lashing the wet leaves against the window.
"If ever you should want me to come to you, Iola, one word will bring me. I shall be waiting, waiting. Remember that, always waiting." He tightened his arms about her and without passion, but gravely, tenderly he lifted her face. "Good-bye, my love," he said, and kissed her lips. "My heart's love!" Once more he kissed her. "My life! My love!"
She let the full weight of her body lie in his arms, lifeless but for the eyes that held his fast and for the lips that gave him back his kisses. Gently he placed her on the couch.
"God keep you, darling," he whispered, bending over her and touching her dusky hair with his lips.
He found his hat, walked with unsteady feet as a man walks under a heavy load, her eyes following his every step, and reached the door. There he paused, his hand fumbling at the knob, opened the door, halted yet an instant, but without turning he passed out of her sight.
An hour later Margaret came in and found her sitting where Barney had left her, dazed and tearless.
"He is gone," she said dully.
Margaret turned upon her. "Gone? Yes. I have just seen him."
"And I love him," continued Iola, looking up at her with heavy eyes.
"Love him! You don't know what love means! Love him! And for your paltry, selfish ambition you send from you a man whose shoes you are not worthy to tie!"
"Oh, Margaret!" cried Iola piteously.
"Don't talk to me!" she replied, her lip quivering. "I can't bear to look at you!" and she passed into her room.
It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly the love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had sobbed herself to sleep in her arms Margaret lay wakeful for her own pain and for that of the man she loved better than her life.
But next day, as Iola was planning to go to the station, Margaret would not have it.
"Why should you go? You have nothing to say but what would give him pain. Do you want him to despise you and me to hate you?"
But Iola was resolved to have her way. It was Mrs. Duff Charrington who fortunately intervened and carried Iola off with her to spend the afternoon and evening.
"Just a few musical friends, my dear. So brush up and come away.
Bring your guitar with you."
Iola demurred.
"I don't feel like it."
"Tut! Nonsense! The lovelorn damsel reads well in erotic novels, but remember this, the men don't like stale beer."
This bit of worldly wisdom made Iola put on her smartest gown and lay aside the role she had unconsciously planned to adopt, so that even Mrs. Duff Charrington had no fault to find with the sparkling animation of her protegee.
But to the three who stood together waiting for the train to pull out that night there was only dreary, voiceless misery. There was no pretence at anything but misery. To the brothers the moment of parting would be the end of all that had been so delightful in their old life. The days of their long companionship were over, and to both the thought brought grief that made words impossible.
Only Margaret's presence forced them to self-control. As to Margaret, Dick alone knew the full measure of her grief, and her quiet, serene courage filled him with amazed admiration. At length came the call of the bustling, businesslike conductor, "All aboard!"
"Good-bye, Margaret," said Barney simply, holding out his hand.
But the girl quietly put back her veil and lifted up her face to him, her brave blue eyes looking all their love into his, but her lips only said, "Good-bye, Barney."
"Good-bye, dear Margaret," he said again, bending over her and kissing her.
"Me, too, Barney," said Dick, his tears openly streaming down his face. "I'm a confounded baby! But hanged if I care!"
At Dick's words all Barney's splendid self-mastery vanished. He threw his arms about his brother's neck, crying "Good-bye, Dick, old man. We've had a great time together; but oh, my boy, my boy, it's all come to an end!"
Already the train was moving.
"Go, old chap," cried Dick, pushing him away but still clinging to him. And then, as Barney swung on to the step he called back to them what had long been in his heart to say.
"Look after her, will you?"
"Yes, Barney, we will," they both cried together. And as they stood gazing through dimming tears after the train as it sped out through the network of tracks and the maze of green and red lights, they felt that a new bond drew them closer than before. And it was the tightening of that bond that brought them all the comfort that there was in that hour of misery unspeakable.
