She
had been blinded while trying to save him. The debt, the overwhelming
debt, lay on him. He must provide for her, guard over her.
If she would accept such help....
In the cold grey of a mist-shrouded morning he woke with a new insistent
thought hammering into his brain. For the first time since he had taken
up the personality of John Riviere, doubt surged upon him in wave after
wave of icy, sullen surf. Had he had the right to cut loose from the
life of Clifford Matheson? Had one alone of a married couple the right
to decide on such a separation? Had he violated some unwritten law of
Fate, and was this the hand of Fate punishing him through the woman he
cared for more deeply than he had yet confessed to himself?
He knew now that from the first moment of their meeting by the arena of
Arles she had opened within him--against his volition--a whole realm of
inner feelings which up till then had lain dormant. He had wanted no
woman in this new life of his, and both at Arles and at Nimes he had
tried to shut and bolt the gate of the secret realm. Sincerely he had
wanted to give his whole thoughts and energies to his future work, but
here was something which persisted in his inner consciousness against
his will. It was like curtaining the windows and shutting one's eyes
against a storm--in spite of barriers the lightning slashes through to
the retina of the eye.
Was Fate to punish him through the woman he loved?
Riviere rose with determination and flung the thought aside.
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