Read The Fire Within for Free Online Page A

that she was shaking all
over, and that the room was full of a thick white mist. She groped in
the mist and found a chair. She made a step forward, and sat down. Then
the mist grew thinner by degrees, and through it she saw that Mary had
come quite close to David again. She was looking up at him. Her hands
were against his breast, and she was saying:
    “David—David—David, you said the world was not enough to give me
once.”
    David's face was rigid.
    “You would n't take what I had to give,” he said very low. He had
forgotten Elizabeth Chantrey. He saw nothing but Mary's eyes.
    “You did n't want my love, Mary, and now you want my honour. And you
say it is only a little thing.”
    Mary lifted her head and met his eyes.
    “Give it me,” she said. “If it is a great thing, well, I shall value
it all the more. Oh, David, because I ask it. Because I shall love you
all my life, and bless you all my life. And if I 'm asking you a great
thing—oh, David, you said that nothing would be too great to give me.
Oh, David, won't you give me this now? Won't you give me this one
thing, because I ask it?”
    As Mary spoke the mist cleared from before Elizabeth's eyes and the
numbness that had been upon her changed slowly into feeling. She put
both hands to her heart, and held them there. Her heart beat against
her hands, and every beat hurt her. She felt again, and what she felt
was the sharpest pain that she had ever known, and she had known much
pain.
    She had suffered when David left Market Harford. She had suffered
when he ceased to write. She had suffered when he returned only to fall
headlong in love with Mary. And what she had suffered then had been a
personal pang, a thing to be struggled with, dominated, and overcome.
Now she must look on whilst David suffered too. Must watch whilst his
nerves tautened, his strength failed, his self-control gave way. And
she could not shut her eyes or look away. She could not raise her
thought above this level of pain. The black cloud overshadowed them and
hid the light of heaven.
    “Because I ask you, David—David, because I ask you.”
    Mary's voice trembled and fell to a quivering whisper.
    Suddenly David pushed her away. He turned and made a stumbling step
towards the fireplace. His hands gripped the narrow mantelshelf. His
eyes stared at the wall. And from the wall Mary's eyes looked back at
him from the miniature of Mary's mother. There was a long minute's
silence. Then David swung round. His face was flushed, his eyes looked
black.
    “If I do it can you hold your tongues?” he said in a rough, harsh
voice.
    Mary drew a deep soft breath of relief. She had won. Her hands
dropped to her side, her whole figure relaxed, her face became soft and
young again.
    “O David, God bless you!” she cried.
    David frowned. His brows made a dark line across his face. Every
feature was heavy and forbidding.
    “Can you hold your tongues?” he repeated. “Do you understand—do you
fully understand that if a word of this is ever to get out it 's just
sheer ruin to the lot of us? Do you grasp that?”
    Elizabeth Chantrey got up. She crossed the room, and stood at
David's side, nearly as tall as he.
    “Don't do it, David,” she said, with a sudden passion in her voice.
    Mary turned on her in a flash.
    “Liz,” she cried; but David stood between.
    “It 's none of your business, Elizabeth. You keep out of it.” The
tone was kinder than the words.
    Elizabeth was silent. She drew away, and did not speak again.
    “I 'll do it on one condition,” said David Blake. “You 'd better go
and tell Edward at once. I don't want to see him. I don't suppose he 's
been talking to any one—it 's not exactly likely—but if he has the
matter 's out of my hands. I 'll not touch it. If he has n't and you
'll all hold your tongues, I 'll do it.”
    He turned to the door and Mary cried: “Won't you write it now? Won't
you sign it before you go?”
    David laughed