[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
like that.'
Helen stared at the sky. Her stomach was clenched on an agony she could no
longer stand. 'Yes,' she whispered dryly, 'I know.'
She felt the blue eyes burning on her. 'You'll leave him?'
She shifted restlessly. 'Give me time, Mark.'
'Time for what? You've had all the time in the world to find out what sort of
swine he is why do you even hesitate?'
'I've told you. Marriage is a rope that isn't easy to untie.'
'Don't linger over a high fence, Helen,' he said harshly. 'Just take it. It's the
only way '
'That depends on whether you think you can,' she said sadly.
Mark's breath was drawn sharply. 'Do you still love him?'
Helen shook her head.
'Are you sure?' Mark's voice had force and anger in it. 'You've let me make
love to you, but I didn't hear you admitting you felt a thing for me.'
She felt her dry lips tighten. 'I can't,' she said miserably.
'Because you don't?' He sat up and pulled down his yellow sweater, brushed
heather from his jacket, with the fixed absorption of someone doing
anything to take his mind off what was occupying it. After a moment he
asked brusquely, 'Were you using me to relieve frustration?'
'No,' she said unsteadily, hating the expression in his face.
'No?' He did not sound as if he believed that. 'What has he got? Do those
looks of his still pull you, Helen? Are you waiting for him to turn back to
you?'
'Do you think he doesn't?' Somehow the sneer in his voice made her angry
and the question broke out of her furiously.
Mark's head came up and the blue eyes had a fierce, hard rage in them. 'So
he does. You don't always sleep alone in that little nun's cell 1'
She started to do up her shirt, her hands trembling. Mark got to his feet after
a moment and walked away to get his horse. Helen stood up and turned
away, sick with passion and misery. She did not want Mark to be angry with
her. She did not want him to believe that she still let Paul make love to her.
But she was torn in two by contrary impulses, the old obstinate feeling that
she had to fight to keep her marriage intact warring with her passion for
Mark.
Mark caught up with her, riding his horse again now. He drew rein and
stared down at her bent head. Helen could not look at him, her toe pressing
down the springy heather.
'Don't ever use me like that again,' he bit out harshly. 'Take out your
frustrations on Eastwood. I've no doubt you can get him interested if you're
as responsive with him as you were with me!'
Her face burning, she didn't answer, and after a moment Mark rode away,
passing into a gallop which had fury in it, reminding her of the night she first
saw him, when he had risen out of the wind like a storm god, his face and
body stripped by the elements to the stark strength which she now saw as his
basic quality. Mark was as enduring as the rock beneath the heather. He
would age into the sort of beauty she had seen in his mother a beauty of
spirit which held courage and humanity. She felt sick after listening to his
angry dismissal of her. It hurt deeply to know that he thought her wild
response had been entirely fuelled by sexual frustration. She would have
given anything to be free to answer his declaration of love with a declaration
of her own. The words had burned on her tongue and she had bitten them
back.
As she walked in the clean, strong landscape with the timeless endurance of
the moors all round her, she ached to be able to go to Mark and tell him what
she felt.
Faced with the actual problem of divorcing Paul, she always stumbled like a
child in the dark, having no hand to guide her, no certainty to tell her she was
acting wisely. She needed time. It was a leap into the unknown and her
courage always failed her when she faced it. One part of her mind knew
precisely what she wanted, how she felt. But there was that other, darker
half of her mind which always put up a barrier, halting her. It was a mistake
to act with a divided mind; she felt that deeply. Until the whole of her mind,
conscious and subconscious, was ready to face the end of her marriage she
would not try to end it. If she did, she was somehow sure she would move
into the future with regret and pain like trailing filaments behind her.
It was so easy to judge from the outside. A situation always looks easy to
those who are not trapped inside it. Mark did not, could not know, the pain
of amputation. One had to be faced with the prospect of deciding to use the
knife on one's own body before one could judge the hardship of the decision.
When she got back to the house Paul was not there. She had left him still in
bed, sleeping thickly, heavily, after another late night. His room was empty
now; clothes trailing everywhere, the bed rumpled and untidy, drawers and
wardrobe gaping open. It was the usual scene of devastation Paul left behind
him. Helen sighed and began to tidy everything back into place. She could
guess where he had gone; there would be plenty of festive spirit in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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like that.'
Helen stared at the sky. Her stomach was clenched on an agony she could no
longer stand. 'Yes,' she whispered dryly, 'I know.'
She felt the blue eyes burning on her. 'You'll leave him?'
She shifted restlessly. 'Give me time, Mark.'
'Time for what? You've had all the time in the world to find out what sort of
swine he is why do you even hesitate?'
'I've told you. Marriage is a rope that isn't easy to untie.'
'Don't linger over a high fence, Helen,' he said harshly. 'Just take it. It's the
only way '
'That depends on whether you think you can,' she said sadly.
Mark's breath was drawn sharply. 'Do you still love him?'
Helen shook her head.
'Are you sure?' Mark's voice had force and anger in it. 'You've let me make
love to you, but I didn't hear you admitting you felt a thing for me.'
She felt her dry lips tighten. 'I can't,' she said miserably.
'Because you don't?' He sat up and pulled down his yellow sweater, brushed
heather from his jacket, with the fixed absorption of someone doing
anything to take his mind off what was occupying it. After a moment he
asked brusquely, 'Were you using me to relieve frustration?'
'No,' she said unsteadily, hating the expression in his face.
'No?' He did not sound as if he believed that. 'What has he got? Do those
looks of his still pull you, Helen? Are you waiting for him to turn back to
you?'
'Do you think he doesn't?' Somehow the sneer in his voice made her angry
and the question broke out of her furiously.
Mark's head came up and the blue eyes had a fierce, hard rage in them. 'So
he does. You don't always sleep alone in that little nun's cell 1'
She started to do up her shirt, her hands trembling. Mark got to his feet after
a moment and walked away to get his horse. Helen stood up and turned
away, sick with passion and misery. She did not want Mark to be angry with
her. She did not want him to believe that she still let Paul make love to her.
But she was torn in two by contrary impulses, the old obstinate feeling that
she had to fight to keep her marriage intact warring with her passion for
Mark.
Mark caught up with her, riding his horse again now. He drew rein and
stared down at her bent head. Helen could not look at him, her toe pressing
down the springy heather.
'Don't ever use me like that again,' he bit out harshly. 'Take out your
frustrations on Eastwood. I've no doubt you can get him interested if you're
as responsive with him as you were with me!'
Her face burning, she didn't answer, and after a moment Mark rode away,
passing into a gallop which had fury in it, reminding her of the night she first
saw him, when he had risen out of the wind like a storm god, his face and
body stripped by the elements to the stark strength which she now saw as his
basic quality. Mark was as enduring as the rock beneath the heather. He
would age into the sort of beauty she had seen in his mother a beauty of
spirit which held courage and humanity. She felt sick after listening to his
angry dismissal of her. It hurt deeply to know that he thought her wild
response had been entirely fuelled by sexual frustration. She would have
given anything to be free to answer his declaration of love with a declaration
of her own. The words had burned on her tongue and she had bitten them
back.
As she walked in the clean, strong landscape with the timeless endurance of
the moors all round her, she ached to be able to go to Mark and tell him what
she felt.
Faced with the actual problem of divorcing Paul, she always stumbled like a
child in the dark, having no hand to guide her, no certainty to tell her she was
acting wisely. She needed time. It was a leap into the unknown and her
courage always failed her when she faced it. One part of her mind knew
precisely what she wanted, how she felt. But there was that other, darker
half of her mind which always put up a barrier, halting her. It was a mistake
to act with a divided mind; she felt that deeply. Until the whole of her mind,
conscious and subconscious, was ready to face the end of her marriage she
would not try to end it. If she did, she was somehow sure she would move
into the future with regret and pain like trailing filaments behind her.
It was so easy to judge from the outside. A situation always looks easy to
those who are not trapped inside it. Mark did not, could not know, the pain
of amputation. One had to be faced with the prospect of deciding to use the
knife on one's own body before one could judge the hardship of the decision.
When she got back to the house Paul was not there. She had left him still in
bed, sleeping thickly, heavily, after another late night. His room was empty
now; clothes trailing everywhere, the bed rumpled and untidy, drawers and
wardrobe gaping open. It was the usual scene of devastation Paul left behind
him. Helen sighed and began to tidy everything back into place. She could
guess where he had gone; there would be plenty of festive spirit in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]