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diff --git a/old/1314-h/1314-h.htm b/old/1314-h/1314-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4e9a21 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1314-h/1314-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13227 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Malefactor, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Malefactor, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Malefactor + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: August 24, 2008 [EBook #1314] +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MALEFACTOR *** + + + + +Produced by Theresa Armao, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MALEFACTOR + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by E. Phillips Oppenheim + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>BOOK I</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> A SOCIETY SCANDAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> OUTSIDE THE PALE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A STUDENT OF CHARACTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> A DELICATE MISSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE GOSPEL OF HATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> “HAST THOU FOUND ME, O MINE ENEMY?” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> LORD OF THE MANOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE HEART OF A CHILD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> A FORLORN HOPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> PROFESSOR SINCLAIR’S DANCING ACADEMY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MEPHISTOPHELES ON A STEAMER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> A COCKNEY CONSPIRATOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> THE MOTH AND THE CANDLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> “DEVIL TAKE THE HINDMOST” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> THE HIDDEN HAND </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> <b>BOOK II</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> “MR. WINGRAVE FROM AMERICA” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE SHADOW OF A FEAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> JULIET ASKS QUESTIONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> LADY RUTH’S LAST CARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> GUARDIAN AND WARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> GHOSTS OF DEAD THINGS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> SPREADING THE NETS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> IN THE TOILS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> THE INDISCRETION OF THE MARCHIONESS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> “I AM MISANTHROPOS, AND HATE MANKIND” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> JULIET GAINS EXPERIENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> NEMESIS AT WORK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> RICHARDSON TRIES AGAIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> AYNESWORTH PLANS A LOVE STORY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> A DEED OF GIFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> FOR PITY’S SAKE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> A DREAM OF PARADISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> THE AWAKENING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> REVENGE IS—BITTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> THE WAY OF PEACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> “LOVE SHALL MAKE ALL THINGS NEW” </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A SOCIETY SCANDAL + </h2> + <p> + Tall and burly, with features and skin hardened by exposure to the sun and + winds of many climates, he looked like a man ready to face all hardships, + equal to any emergency. Already one seemed to see the clothes and habits + of civilization falling away from him, the former to be replaced by the + stern, unlovely outfit of the war correspondent who plays the game. They + crowded round him in the club smoking room, for these were his last few + minutes. They had dined him, toasted him, and the club loving cup had been + drained to his success and his safe return. For Lovell was a popular + member of this very Bohemian gathering, and he was going to the Far East, + at a few hours’ notice, to represent one of the greatest of English + dailies. + </p> + <p> + A pale, slight young man, who stood at this right hand, was speaking. His + name was Walter Aynesworth, and he was a writer of short stories—a + novelist in embryo. + </p> + <p> + “What I envy you most, Lovell,” he declared, “is your escape from the + deadly routine of our day by day life. Here in London it seems to me that + we live the life of automatons. We lunch, we dine, we amuse or we bore + ourselves, and we sleep—and all the rest of the world does the same. + Passion we have outgrown, emotion we have destroyed by analysis. The + storms which shake humanity break over other countries. What is there left + to us of life? Civilization ministers too easily to our needs, existence + has become a habit. No wonder that we are a tired race.” + </p> + <p> + “Life is the same, the world over,” another man remarked. “With every + forward step in civilization, life must become more mechanical. London is + no worse than Paris, or Paris than Tokyo.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shook his head. “I don’t agree with you,” he replied. “It is + the same, more or less, with all European countries, but the Saxon + temperament, with its mixture of philosophy and philistinism, more than + any other, gravitates towards the life mechanical. Existence here has + become fossilized. We wear a mask upon our faces; we carry a gauge for our + emotions. Lovell is going where the one great force of primitive life + remains. He is going to see war. He is going to breathe an atmosphere hot + with naked passion; he is going to rub shoulders with men who walk hand in + hand with death. That’s the sort of tonic we all want, to remind us that + we are human beings with blood in our veins, and not sawdust-stuffed + dolls.” + </p> + <p> + Then Lovell broke silence. He took his pipe from his mouth, and he + addressed Aynesworth. + </p> + <p> + “Walter,” he said, “you are talking rot. There is nothing very complex or + stimulating about the passion of war, when men kill one another unseen; + where you feel the sting in your heart which comes from God knows where, + and you crumple up, with never a chance to have a go at the chap who has + potted you from the trenches, or behind a rock, a thousand yards off. Mine + is going to be, except from a spectacular point of view, a very barren + sort of year, compared with what yours might be if the fire once touched + your eyes. I go where life is cruder and fiercer, perhaps, but you remain + in the very city of tragedies.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth laughed, as he lit a fresh cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “City of tragedies!” he exclaimed. “It sounds all right, but it’s bunkum + all the same. Show me where they lie, Lovell, old chap. Tell me where to + stir the waters.” + </p> + <p> + Several of those who were watching him noticed a sudden change in Lovell’s + face. The good humor and bonhomie called up by this last evening amongst + his old friends had disappeared. His face had fallen into graver lines, + his eyes seemed fixed with a curious introspective steadiness on a huge + calendar which hung from the wall. When at last he turned towards + Aynesworth, his tone was almost solemn. + </p> + <p> + “Some of them don’t lie so very far from the surface, Walter,” he said. + “There is one”—he took out his watch—“there is one which, if + you like, I will tell you about. I have just ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, Lovell, old chap!” + </p> + <p> + “Have a drink first!” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand. They were all silent. He stood up amongst them, by + far the tallest man there, with his back to the chimney piece, and his + eyes still lingering about that calendar. + </p> + <p> + “Thirteen years ago,” he said, “two young men—call them by their + Christian names, Wingrave and Lumley—shared a somewhat extensive + hunting box in Leicestershire. They were both of good family, well off, + and fairly popular, Lumley the more so perhaps. He represented the + ordinary type of young Englishman, with a stronger dash than usual of + selfishness. Wingrave stood for other things. He was reticent and + impenetrable. People called him mysterious.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell paused for a moment to refill his pipe. The sudden light upon his + face, as he struck a match, seemed to bring into vivid prominence + something there, indescribable in words, yet which affected his hearers + equally with the low gravity of his speech. The man himself was feeling + the tragedy of the story he told. + </p> + <p> + “They seemed,” he continued, “always to get on well together, until they + fell in love with the same woman. Her name we will say was Ruth. She was + the wife of the Master of Hounds with whom they hunted. If I had the + story-writing gifts of Aynesworth here, I would try to describe her. As I + haven’t, I will simply give you a crude idea of what she seemed like to + me. + </p> + <p> + “She was neither dark nor fair, short nor tall; amongst a crowd of other + women, she seemed undistinguishable by any special gifts; yet when you had + realized her there was no other woman in the room. She had the eyes of an + angel, only they were generally veiled; she had the figure of a miniature + Venus, soft and with delicate curves, which seemed somehow to be always + subtly asserting themselves, although she affected in her dress an almost + puritanical simplicity. Her presence in a room was always felt at once. + There are some women, beautiful or plain, whose sex one scarcely + recognizes. She was not one of these! She seemed to carry with her the + concentrated essence of femininity. Her quiet movements, the almost + noiseless rustling of her clothes, the quaint, undistinguishable perfumes + which she used, her soft, even voice, were all things which seemed + individual to her. She was like a study in undernotes, and yet”—Lovell + paused a moment—“and yet no Spanish dancing woman, whose dark eyes + and voluptuous figure have won her the crown of the demi-monde, ever + possessed that innate and mystic gift of kindling passion like that woman. + I told you I couldn’t describe her! I can’t! I can only speak of effects. + If my story interests you, you must build up your own idea of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Becky Sharpe!” Aynesworth murmured. + </p> + <p> + Lovell nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he admitted, “only Ruth was a lady. To go on with my story. A + hunting coterie, as you fellows know, means lots of liberty, and a general + free-and-easiness amongst the sexes, which naturally leads to flirtations + more or less serious. Ruth’s little affairs were either too cleverly + arranged, or too harmless for gossip. Amongst the other women of the hunt, + she seemed outwardly almost demure. But one day—there was a row!” + </p> + <p> + Lovell paused, and took a drink from a glass by his side. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you fellows won’t think that I’m spinning this out,” he said. “It + is, after all, in itself only a commonplace story, but I’ve carried it + locked up in my memory for years, and now that I’ve let it loose, it + unwinds itself slowly. This is how the row came about. Lumley one + afternoon missed Wingrave and Ruth from the hunting field. Someone most + unfortunately happened to tell him that they had left the run together, + and had been seen riding together towards White Lodge, which was the name + of the house where these two young men lived. Lumley followed them. He + rode into the stable yard, and found there Ruth’s mare and Wingrave’s + covert hack, from which he had not changed when they had left the field. + Both animals had evidently been ridden hard, and there was something + ominous in the smile with which the head groom told him that Lady Ruth and + Wingrave were in the house. + </p> + <p> + “The two men had separate dens. Wingrave’s was much the better furnished, + as he was a young man of considerable taste, and he had also fitted it + with sporting trophies collected from many countries. This room was at the + back of the house, and Lumley deliberately crossed the lawn and looked in + at the window.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell paused for a moment or two to relight his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Remember,” he continued, “that I have to put this story together, partly + from facts which came to my knowledge afterwards, and partly from + reasonable deductions. I may say at once that I do not know what Lumley + saw when he played the spy. The housekeeper had just taken tea in, and it + is possible that Wingrave may have been holding his guest’s hand, or that + something in their faces or attitude convinced him that his jealousy was + well founded. Anyhow, it is certain that Lumley was half beside himself + with rage when he strode away from that window. Then in the avenue he must + have heard the soft patter of hounds coming along the lane, or perhaps + seen the pink coats of the huntsmen through the hedge. This much is + certain. He hurried down the drive, and returned with Ruth’s husband.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell took another drink. No one spoke. No one even made a remark. The + little circle of listeners had caught something of his own gravity. The + story was an ordinary one enough, but something in Lovell’s manner of + telling it seemed somehow to bring into their consciousness the + apprehension of the tangled web of passions which burned underneath its + sordid details. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth’s husband—Sir William I will call him—stood side by side + with Lumley before the window. What they saw I cannot tell you. They + entered the room. The true story of what happened there I doubt if anyone + will ever know. The evidence of servants spoke of raised voices and the + sound of a heavy fall. When they were summoned, Sir William lay on the + floor unconscious. Lady Ruth had fainted; Lumley and Wingrave were both + bending over the former. On the floor were fragments of paper, which were + afterwards put together, and found to be the remains of a check for a + large amount, payable to Lady Ruth, and signed by Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “The sequel is very soon told. Sir William died in a few days, and + Wingrave, on the evidence of Lumley and Ruth, was committed for + manslaughter, and sent to prison for fifteen years!” + </p> + <p> + Lovell paused. A murmur went round the little group of listeners. The + story, after all, except for Lovell’s manner of telling it, was an + ordinary one. Everyone felt that there was something else behind. + </p> + <p> + So they asked no questions whilst Lovell drank his whisky and soda, and + refilled his pipe. Again his eyes seemed to wander to the calendar. + </p> + <p> + “According to Lady Ruth’s evidence,” he said thoughtfully, “her husband + entered the room at the exact moment when she was rejecting Wingrave’s + advances, and indignantly refusing a check which he was endeavoring to + persuade her to accept. A struggle followed between the two men, with + fatal results for Sir William. That,” he added slowly, “is the story which + the whole world read, and which most of it believes. Here, however, are a + few corrections of my own, and a suggestion or two for you, Aynesworth, + and those of you who like to consider yourselves truth seekers. First, + then, Lady Ruth was a self-invited guest at White Lodge. She had asked + Wingrave to return with her, and as they sat together in his room, she + confessed that she was worried, and asked for his advice. She was in some + money trouble, ingeniously explained, no doubt. Wingrave, with the utmost + delicacy, offered his assistance, which was of course accepted. It was + exactly what she was there for. She was in the act of taking the check, + when she saw her husband and Lumley. Her reputation was at stake. Her + subsequent course of action and evidence becomes obvious. The check + unexplained was ruin. She explained it! + </p> + <p> + “Of the struggle, and of the exact means by which Sir William received his + injuries, I know nothing. There is the evidence! It may or may not be + true. The most serious part of the case, so far as Lady Ruth was + concerned, lay in the facts as to her husband’s removal from the White + Lodge. In an unconscious state he was driven almost twelve miles at a + walking pace. No stimulants were administered, and though they passed two + doctors’ houses no stop was made. A doctor was not sent for until half an + hour after they reached home, and even then they seemed to have chosen the + one who lived furthest away. The conclusion is obvious enough to anyone + who knows the facts of the case. Sir William was not meant to live! + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave’s trial was a famous one. He had no friends and few + sympathizers, and he insisted upon defending himself. His cross + examination of the man who had been his friend created something like a + sensation. Amongst other things, he elicited the fact that Lumley, after + first seeing the two together, had gone and fetched Sir William. It was a + terrible half hour for Lumley, and when he left the box, amongst the + averted faces of his friends, the sweat was pouring down his face. I can + seem him now, as though it were yesterday. Then Lady Ruth followed. She + was quietly dressed; the effect she produced was excellent. She told her + story. She hinted at the insult. She spoke of the check. She had imagined + no harm in accepting Wingrave’s invitation to tea. Men and women of the + hunt, who were on friendly terms, treated one another as comrades. She + spoke of the blow. She had seen it delivered, and so on. And all the time, + I sat within a few feet of Wingrave, and I knew that in the black box + before him were burning love letters from this woman, to the man whose + code of honor would ever have protected her husband from disgrace; and I + knew that I was listening to the thing which you, Aynesworth, and many of + your fellow story writers, have so wisely and so ignorantly dilated upon—the + vengeance of a woman denied. Only I heard the words themselves, cold, + earnest words, fall one by one from her lips like a sentence of doom—and + there was life in the thing, life and death! When she had finished, the + whole court was in a state of tension. Everyone was leaning forward. It + would be the most piquant, the most wonderful cross examination every + heard—the woman lying to save her honor and to achieve her + vengeance; the man on trial for his life. Wingrave stood up. Lady Ruth + raised her veil, and looked at him from the witness box. There was the + most intense silence I ever realized. Who could tell the things which + flashed from one to the other across the dark well of the court; who could + measure the fierce, silent scorn which seemed to blaze from his eyes, as + he held her there—his slave until he chose to give the signal for + release? At last he looked away towards the judge, and the woman fell + forward in the box gasping, a crumpled up, nerveless heap of humanity. + </p> + <p> + “‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I have no questions to ask this witness!’ + </p> + <p> + “Everyone staggered. Wingrave’s few friends were horrified. After that + there was, of course, no hope for him. He got fifteen years’ penal + servitude.” + </p> + <p> + Like an echo from that pent-up murmur of feeling which had rippled through + the crowded court many years ago, his little group of auditors almost + gasped as Lovell left his place and strolled down the room. Aynesworth + laid his hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “All the time,” he said, “you were looking at that calendar! Why?” + </p> + <p> + Lovell once more faced them. He was standing with his back to a round + table, strewn with papers and magazines. + </p> + <p> + “It was the date,” he said, “and the fact that I must leave England within + a few hours, which forced this story from me. Tomorrow Wingrave will be + free! Listen, Aynesworth,” he continued, turning towards him, “and the + rest of you who fancy that it is I who am leaving a humdrum city for the + world of tragedies! I leave you the legacy of a greater one than all Asia + will yield to me! Lady Ruth is married to Lumley, and they hold today in + London a very distinguished social position. Tomorrow Wingrave takes a + hand in the game. He was once my friend; I was in court when he was tried; + I was intimately acquainted with the lawyer’s clerk who had the + arrangement of his papers. I know what no one else breathing knows. He is + a man who never forgives; a man who was brutally deceived, and who for + years has had no other occupation than to brood upon his wrongs. He is + very wealthy indeed, still young, he has marvelous tenacity of purpose, + and he has brains. Tomorrow he will be free!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth drew a little breath. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he murmured, “if anything will happen.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Where I go,” he said, “the cruder passions may rage, and life and death + be reckoned things of little account. But you who remain—who can + tell?—you may look into the face of mightier things.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OUTSIDE THE PALE + </h2> + <p> + Three men were together in a large and handsomely furnished sitting room + of the Clarence Hotel, in Piccadilly. One, pale, quiet, and unobtrusive, + dressed in sober black, the typical lawyer’s clerk, was busy gathering up + a collection of papers and documents from the table, over which they had + been strewn. His employer, who had more the appearance of a country + gentleman than the junior partner in the well-known firm of Rocke and Son, + solicitors, had risen to his feet, and was drawing on his gloves. At the + head of the table was the client. + </p> + <p> + “I trust, Sir Wingrave, that you are satisfied with this account of our + stewardship,” the solicitor said, as his clerk left the room. “We have + felt it a great responsibility at times, but everything seems to have + turned out very well. The investments, of course, are all above + suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly satisfied, I thank you,” was the quiet reply. “You seem to have + studied my interests in a very satisfactory manner.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rocke had other things to say, but his client’s manner seemed designed + to create a barrier of formality between them. He hesitated, unwilling to + leave, yet finding it exceedingly difficult to say the things which were + in his mind. He temporized by referring back to matters already discussed, + solely for the purpose of prolonging the interview. + </p> + <p> + “You have quite made up your mind, then, to put the Tredowen property on + the market,” he remarked. “You will excuse my reminding you of the fact + that you have large accumulated funds in hand, and nearly a hundred + thousand pounds worth of easily realizable securities. Tredowen has been + in your mother’s family for a good many years, and I should doubt whether + it will be easily disposed of.” + </p> + <p> + The man at the head of the table raised his head. He looked steadily at + the lawyer, who began to wish that he had left the room with his clerk. + Decidedly, Sir Wingrave Seton was not an easy man to get on with. + </p> + <p> + “My mind is quite made up, thank you, on this and all other matters + concerning which I have given you instructions,” was the calm reply. “I + have had plenty of time for consideration,” he added drily. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer had his opening at last, and he plunged. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave,” he said, “we were at college together, and our connection + is an old one. You must forgive me if I say how glad I am to see you here, + and to know that your bad time is over. I can assure you that you have had + my deepest sympathy. Nothing ever upset me so much as that unfortunate + affair. I sincerely trust that you will do your best now to make up for + lost time. You are still young, and you are rich. Let us leave business + alone now, for the moment. What can I do for you as a friend, if you will + allow me to call you so?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave turned slightly in his chair. In his altered position, a ray of + sunshine fell for the first time upon his gaunt but striking face. Lined + and hardened, as though by exposure and want of personal care, there was + also a lack of sensibility, an almost animal callousness, on the coldly + lit eyes and unflinching mouth, which readily suggested some terrible and + recent experience—something potent enough to have dried up the human + nature out of the man and left him soulless. His clothes had the impress + of the ready-made, although he wore them with a distinction which was + obviously inherent; and notwithstanding the fact that he seemed to have + been writing, he wore gloves. + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged to you, Rocke,” he said. “Let me repeat your question. + What is there that you can do for me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rocke was apparently a little nonplussed. The absolute + imperturbability of the man who had once been his friend was + disconcerting. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “the governor sent me instead of coming himself, because + he thought that I might be more useful to you. London changes so quickly—you + would hardly know your way about now. I should like you to come and dine + with me tonight, and I’ll take you round anywhere you care to go; and then + if you don’t want to go back to your old tradespeople, I could take you to + my tailor and bookmaker.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” Wingrave asked calmly. + </p> + <p> + Rocke was again taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he answered. “There must be many ways in which I could be + useful to you, but I can’t think of them all at once. I am here to serve + you professionally or as a friend, to the best of my ability. Can you + suggest anything yourself? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the question,” Wingrave said, “which I have been asking myself. + Unfortunately, up to now, I have not been able to answer it. Regarding + myself, however, from the point of view of a third party, I should say + that the thing I was most in need of was the society of my fellow + creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” Rocke declared. “That is what I thought you would say! It won’t + take us long to arrange something of the sort for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you put me up,” Wingrave asked, “at your club, and introduce me to + your friends there?” + </p> + <p> + Rocke flinched before the steady gaze of those cold enquiring eyes, in + which he fancied, too, that a gleam of malice shone. The color mounted to + his cheeks. It was a most embarrassing situation. + </p> + <p> + “I can introduce you to some decent fellows, of course, and to some very + charming ladies,” he said hesitatingly, “but as to the club—I—well, + don’t you think yourself that it would scarcely be wise to—” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” Wingrave interrupted. “And these ladies that you spoke of—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! There’s no difficulty about that,” Rocke declared with an air of + relief. “I can make up a little dinner party for tonight, if you like. + There’s an awfully smart American woman over here, with the Fanciful Fan + Company—I’m sure you’d like her, and she’d come like a shot. Then + I’d get Daisy Vane—she’s all right. They don’t know anything, and + wouldn’t care if they did. Besides, you could call yourself what you + liked.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” Wingrave said. “I am afraid I did not make myself quite + clear. I was not thinking of play fellows. I was thinking of the men and + women of my own order. Shall I put the matter quite clearly? Can I take my + place in society under my own name, renew my old friendships and build up + new ones? Can I do this even at the risk of a few difficulties at first? I + am not a sensitive man. I am prepared for the usual number of disagreeable + incidents. But can I win my way through?” + </p> + <p> + With his back against the wall, Rocke displayed more courage. Besides, + what was the use of mincing matters with a man who had all the appearance + of a human automaton, who never flinched or changed color, and whose + passions seemed dried up and withered things? + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not, Sir Wingrave,” he said. “I should not recommend you to + try, at any rate for the present.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me your reasons,” was the cool response. + </p> + <p> + “I will do so with pleasure,” Rocke answered. “About the time of the trial + and immediately afterwards, there was a certain amount of sympathy for + you. People felt that you must have received a good deal of provocation, + and there were several unexplained incidents which told in your favor. + Today, I should think that the feeling amongst those who remember the + affair at all is rather the other way. You heard, I believe, that Lady + Ruth married Lumley Barrington?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Barrington has been very successful at the Bar, and they say that he is + certain of a judgeship before long. His wife has backed him up well, they + have entertained lavishly, and today I should think that she is one of the + most popular hostesses in London. In her earlier days, I used to hear that + she was one of the very fast hunting set—that was the time when you + knew her. I can assure you that if ever that was true, she is a completely + altered woman today. She is patroness of half a dozen great charitable + schemes, she writes very clever articles in the Reviews on the Betterment + of the Poor Question, and royalty itself visits at her house.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Wingrave said drily. “I was not aware of these changes.” + </p> + <p> + “If ever,” Mr. Rocke continued, “people were inclined to look a little + askance at her, that has all gone by. Today she is one of the last women + in the world of whom people would be likely to believe ill.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I am very much obliged to you,” he said, “for this information. You seem + to have come here today, Mr. Rocke, with good intentions towards me. Let + me ask you to put yourself in my place. I am barely forty years old, and I + am rich. I want to make the most of my life—under the somewhat + peculiar circumstances. How and where should you live?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends a little upon your tastes, of course,” Rocke answered. “You + are a sportsman, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of sport,” Wingrave answered. “At least I was. At present I am + not conscious of having any positive tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” Rocke continued, “that I should first of all change my name. + Then, without making any effort to come into touch with your old friends, + I should seek acquaintance amongst the Bohemian world of London and Paris. + There I might myself, perhaps, be able to help you. For sport, you might + fish in Norway or Iceland, or shoot in Hungary; you could run to a yacht + if you cared about it, and if you fancy big game, why, there’s all Africa + before you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave listened, without changing a muscle of his face. + </p> + <p> + “Your programme,” he remarked, “presupposes that I have no ambitions + beyond the pursuit of pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + Rocke shrugged his shoulders. He was becoming more at his ease. He felt + that his advice was sound, that he was showing a most comprehensive grasp + of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that none of what we call the careers are open to + you. You could not enter Parliament, and you are too old for the + professions. The services, of course, are impossible. You might write, if + your tastes ran that way. Nowadays, it seems to be the fashion to record + one’s experiences in print, if—if they should happen to be in any + way exceptional. I can think of nothing else!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very much obliged to you,” Wingrave said. “Your suggestions are + eminently practical. I will think them over. Don’t let me keep you any + longer!” + </p> + <p> + “About this evening,” Rocke remarked. “Shall I fix up that little dinner + party? You have only to say the word!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very much obliged to you, but I think not,” answered Wingrave. “I + will dine with you alone some evening, with pleasure! Not just as + present!” + </p> + <p> + Rocke looked, as he felt, puzzled. He honestly wished to be of service to + this man, but he was at a loss to know what further suggestion he could + make. There was something impenetrable about his client, something which + he could not arrive at, behind the hard, grim face and measured words. He + could not even guess as to what the man’s hopes or intentions were. + Eventually, although with some reluctance, he took up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir Wingrave,” he said, “if there is really nothing I can do for + you, I will go. If you should change your mind, you have only to + telephone. You can command me at any time. I am only anxious to be of + service to you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have already been of service to me,” Wingrave answered quietly. “You + have spoken the truth! You have helped me to realize my position more + exactly. Will you give your father my compliments and thanks, and say that + I am entirely satisfied with the firm’s conduct of affairs during my—absence?” + </p> + <p> + Rocke nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he said. “That will please the governor! I must be off now. I + hope you’ll soon be feeling quite yourself again, Sir Wingrave! It must + seem a bit odd at first, I suppose, but it will wear off all right. What + you want, after all, is society. Much better let me arrange that little + dinner for tonight!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Later on, perhaps,” he answered. “Good morning!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A STUDENT OF CHARACTER + </h2> + <p> + Left alone, Wingrave walked for several minutes up and down the room, his + hands behind him, his head bent. He walked, not restlessly, but with + measured footsteps. His mind was fixed steadfastly upon the one immediate + problem of his own future. His interview with Rocke had unsettled—to + a certain extent unnerved—him. Was this freedom for which he had + longed so passionately, this return into civilized life, to mean simply + the exchange of an iron-barred cell for a palace whose outer gates were as + hopelessly locked, even though the key was of gold! Freedom! Was it after + all an illusion? Was his to be the hog’s paradise of empty delights; were + the other worlds indeed forbidden? He moved abruptly to the window and + threw it open. Below was Piccadilly, brilliant with May sunshine, surging + with life. Motors and carriages, omnibuses and hansoms, were all jostled + together in a block; the pavements were thronged with a motley and + ever-hurrying crowd. It seemed to him, accustomed to the callous and + hopeless appearance of a less happy tribe, that the faces of these people + were all aflame with the joy of the springtime. The perfume from the great + clusters of yellow daffodils and violets floated up from the flower + sellers’ baskets below; the fresh, warm air seemed to bring him poignant + memories of crocus-starred lawns, of trim beds of hyacinths, of the song + of birds, of the perfume of drooping lilac. Grim and motionless, as a + figure of fate, Wingrave looked down from his window, with cold, yet + discerning eyes. He was still an alien, a denizen in another world from + that which flowed so smoothly and pleasantly below. It was something to + which he did not belong, which he doubted, indeed, if ever again he could + enter. He had no part in it, no share in that vigorous life, whose + throbbings he could dimly feel, though his own heart was beating to a + slower and a very different tune. They were his fellows in name only. + Between him and them stood the judgment of—Rocke! + </p> + <p> + The evil chances of the world are many! It was whilst his thoughts + traveled in this fashion that the electric landaulette of Lady Ruth + Barrington glided round the corner from St. James’ Street, and joined in + the throng of vehicles slowly making their way down Piccadilly. His + attention was attracted first by the white and spotless liveries of the + servants—the form of locomotion itself was almost new to him. Then + he saw the woman who leaned back amongst the cushions. She was elegantly + dressed; she wore no veil; she did not look a day more than thirty. She + was attractive, from the tips of her patent shoes, to the white bow which + floated on the top of her lace parasol; a perfectly dressed, perfectly + turned out woman. She had, too, the lazy confident air of a woman sure of + herself and her friends. She knew nothing of the look which flashed down + upon her from the window overhead. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave turned away with a little gasp; a half-stifled exclamation had + crept out from between his teeth. His cheeks seemed paler than ever, and + his eyes unnaturally bright. Nevertheless, he was completely master of + himself. On the table was a large deed box of papers, which Rocke had left + for his inspection. From its recesses he drew out a smaller box, unlocked + it with a key from his chain, and emptied its sole contents—a small + packet of letters—upon the table. He counted them one by one. They + were all there—and on top a photograph. A breath of half-forgotten + perfume stole out into the room. He opened one of the letters, and its few + passionate words came back to his memory, linked with a hundred other + recollections, the desire of her eyes, of her lips raised for his, the + caressing touch of her fingers. He found himself wondering, in an + impersonal sort of way, that these things should so little affect him. His + blood ran no less coldly, nor did his pulses beat the faster, for this + backward glance into things finished. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. He raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + A slim, fair young man obeyed the summons, and advanced into the room. + Wingrave eyed him with immovable face. Nevertheless, his manner somehow + suggested a displeased surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave Seton, I believe?” the intruder said cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “That is my name,” Wingrave admitted; “but my orders below have evidently + been disobeyed. I am not disposed to receive visitors today.” + </p> + <p> + The intruder was not in the least abashed. He laid his hat upon the table, + and felt in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” he said. “They did try to keep me out, but I told them + that my business was urgent. I have been a journalist, you see, and am + used to these little maneuvers.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked at him steadily, with close-drawn eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand,” he said “that you are in here in your journalistic + capacity?” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not think,” he said, “that I should be guilty of such an + impertinence. My name is Aynesworth. Walter Aynesworth. I have a letter + for you from Lovell. You remember him, I daresay. Here it is!” + </p> + <p> + He produced it from his breast coat pocket, and handed it over. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Lovell?” Wingrave asked. + </p> + <p> + “He left for the East early this morning,” Aynesworth answered. “He had to + go almost at an hour’s notice.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave broke the seal, and read the letter through. Afterwards he tore + it into small pieces and threw them into the grate. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with me, Mr. Aynesworth?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I want to be your secretary,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “My secretary,” Wingrave repeated. “I am much obliged to you, but I am not + requiring anyone in that capacity.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” Aynesworth answered, “but I think you are. You may not have + realized it yet, but if you will consider the matter carefully, I think + you will agree with me that a secretary, or companion of some sort, is + exactly what you do need.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of curiosity,” Wingrave remarked, “I should be glad to know why you + think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” Aynesworth answered. “In the first place, I know the story of + your life, and the unfortunate incident which has kept you out of society + for the last ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “From Lovell, I presume,” Wingrave interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Aynesworth admitted. “Ten years’ absence from English life + today means that you return to it an absolute and complete stranger. You + would be like a Cook’s tourist abroad, without a guide or a Baedeker, if + you attempted to rely upon yourself. Now I am rather a Bohemian sort of + person, but I have just the sort of all-round knowledge which would be + most useful to you. I have gone a little way into society, and I know + something about politics. I can bring you up-to-date on both these + matters. I know where to dine well in town, and where to be amused. I can + tell you where to get your clothes, and the best place for all the + etceteras. If you want to travel, I can speak French and German; and I + consider myself a bit of a sportsman.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” Wingrave answered, “I congratulate you upon your versatility. + I am quite convinced! I shall advertise at once for a secretary!” + </p> + <p> + “Why advertise?” Aynesworth asked. “I am here!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You would not suit me at all,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Aynesworth asked. “I forget whether I mentioned all my + accomplishments. I am an Oxford man with a degree, and I can write + tolerable English. I’ve a fair head for figures, and I don’t require too + large a salary.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” Wingrave answered drily. “You are altogether too desirable? I + should not require an Admirable Crichton for my purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth remained unruffled. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said. “You know best, of course! Suppose you tell me what + sort of a man would satisfy you!” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” Wingrave asked coldly. + </p> + <p> + “It would amuse me,” Aynesworth answered, “and I’ve come a mile or so out + of my way, and given up a whole morning to come and see you. Go on! It + won’t take long!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I will not remind you,” he said, “that you came on your own initiative. I + owe you the idea, however, so I will tell you the sort of person I shall + look out for. In the first place, I do not require him to be a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I can be a shocking bounder at times,” Aynesworth murmured. + </p> + <p> + “He must be more a sort of an upper servant,” Wingrave continued. “I + should require him to obey me implicitly, whatever I told him to do. You + have a conscience, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little,” Aynesworth answered. “I have been a journalist.” + </p> + <p> + “You have the remnants of one, at all events,” Wingrave said, “quite + sufficient, no doubt, to interfere with your possible usefulness to me. I + must have someone who is poor—too poor to question my will, or to + dispute my orders, whatever they might be.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never,” Aynesworth declared, “possessed a superfluous half-crown + in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “You probably possess what is called a sense of honor,” Wingrave + continued. “You would certainly disapprove of some of my proceedings, and + you would probably disobey my orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Sense of honor!” Aynesworth repeated. “You have too flattering an opinion + of me. I don’t know what it is. I always cheat at cards if I get the + chance.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave turned away. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool,” he said, “and you won’t suit me.” + </p> + <p> + “When can I come?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “You can stay now,” Wingrave answered. “Your salary will be four hundred a + year. You will live at my expense. The day you disobey an order of mine, + you go! No notice, mind!” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed,” Aynesworth answered. “What should I do first? Send you a tailor, + I should think.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I will give the afternoon to that sort of people,” he said. “Here is a + list of the tradesmen I used to deal with. Kindly avoid them.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth glanced at the slip of paper, and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All out-of-date now,” he remarked. “I’ll be back to lunch.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DELICATE MISSION + </h2> + <p> + Aynesworth was back in less than an hour. He carried under his arm a brown + paper parcel, the strings of which he commenced at once to untie. + Wingrave, who had been engrossed in the contents of his deed box, watched + him with immovable face. + </p> + <p> + “The tailor will be here at two-thirty,” he announced, “and the other + fellows will follow on at half an hour’s interval. The manicurist and the + barber are coming at six o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What have you there?” he asked, pointing to the parcel. + </p> + <p> + “Cigars and cigarettes, and jolly good ones, too,” Aynesworth answered, + opening a flat tin box, and smelling the contents appreciatively. “Try one + of these! The finest Turkish tobacco grown!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t smoke,” Wingrave answered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You’ve got out of it, but you must pick it up again,” Aynesworth + declared. “Best thing out for the nerves—sort of humanizes one, you + know!” + </p> + <p> + “Humanizes one, does it?” Wingrave remarked softly. “Well, I’ll try!” + </p> + <p> + He took a cigarette from the box, curtly inviting Aynesworth to do the + same. + </p> + <p> + “What about lunch?” the latter asked. “Would you care to come round with + me to the Cannibal Club? Rather a Bohemian set, but there are always some + good fellows there.” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged,” Wingrave answered. “If you will ask me again in a few + days’ time, I shall be very pleased. I do not wish to leave the hotel just + at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not until five o’clock,” Wingrave answered. “I should be glad if you + would leave me now, and return at that hour. In the meantime, I have a + commission for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” Aynesworth declared. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You will go,” Wingrave directed, “to No. 13, Cadogan Street, and you will + enquire for Lady Ruth Barrington. If she should be out, ascertain the time + of her return, and wait for her.” + </p> + <p> + “If she is out of town?” + </p> + <p> + “She is in London,” Wingrave answered. “I have seen her from the window + this morning. You will give her a message. Say that you come from me, and + that I desire to see her tomorrow. The time and place she can fix, but I + should prefer not to go to her house.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth stooped down to relight his cigarette. He felt that Wingrave + was watching him, and he wished to keep his face hidden. + </p> + <p> + “I am unknown to Lady Ruth,” he remarked. “Supposing she should refuse to + see me?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked at him coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I have told you what I wish done,” he said. “The task does not seem to be + a difficult one. Please see to it that I have an answer by five o’clock——-” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth lunched with a few of his particular friends at the club. They + heard of his new adventure with somewhat doubtful approbation. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll never stand the routine, old chap!” + </p> + <p> + “And what about your own work!” + </p> + <p> + “What will the Daily Scribbler people say?” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t imagine it will last very long,” he answered, “and I shall get a + fair amount of time to myself. The work I do on the Daily Scribbler + doesn’t amount to anything. It was a chance I simply couldn’t refuse.” + </p> + <p> + The editor of a well-known London paper leaned back in his chair, and + pinched a cigar carefully. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll probably find the whole thing a sell,” he remarked. “The story, as + Lovell told it, sounded dramatic enough, and if the man were to come back + to life again, fresh and vigorous, things might happen, provided, of + course, that Lovell was right in his suppositions. But ten or twelve + years’ solitary confinement, although it mayn’t sound much on paper, is + enough to crush all the life and energy out of a man.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t seen him,” he said. “I have!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s he like, Walter?” another man asked. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t describe him,” Aynesworth answered. “I shouldn’t like to try. + I’ll bring him here some day. You fellows shall see him for yourselves. I + find him interesting enough.” + </p> + <p> + “The whole thing,” the editor declared, “will fizzle out. You see if it + doesn’t? A man who’s just spent ten or twelve years in prison isn’t likely + to run any risk of going there again. There will be no tragedy; more + likely reconciliation.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” Aynesworth said imperturbably. “But it wasn’t only the + possibility of anything of that sort happening, you know, which attracted + me. It was the tragedy of the man himself, with his numbed, helpless life, + set down here in the midst of us, with a great, blank chasm between him + and his past. What is there left to drive the wheels? The events of one + day are simple and monotonous enough to us, because they lean up against + the events of yesterday, and the yesterdays before! How do they seem, I + wonder, to a man whose yesterday was more than a decade of years ago!” + </p> + <p> + The editor nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It must be a grim sensation,” he admitted, “but I am afraid with you, my + dear Walter, it is an affair of shop. You wish to cull from your + interesting employer the material for that every-becoming novel of yours. + Let’s go upstairs! I’ve time for one pool.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t,” Aynesworth answered. “I’ve a commission to do.” + </p> + <p> + He left the club and walked westwards, humming softly to himself, but + thinking all the time intently. His errand disturbed him. He was to be the + means of bringing together again these two people who had played the + principal parts in Lovell’s drama—his new employer and the woman who + had ruined his life. What was the object of it? What manner of vengeance + did he mean to deal out to her? Lovell’s words of premonition returned to + him just then with curious insistence—he was so certain that + Wingrave’s reappearance would lead to tragical happenings. Aynesworth + himself never doubted it. His brief interview with the man into whose + service he had almost forced himself had impressed him wonderfully. Yet, + what weapon was there, save the crude one of physical force, with which + Wingrave could strike? + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell at No. 13, Cadogan Street, and sent in his card by the + footman. The man accepted it doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship has only just got up from luncheon, sir, and she is not + receiving this afternoon,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth took back his card, and scribbled upon it the name of the + newspaper for which he still occasionally worked. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship will perhaps see me,” he said, handing the card back to the + man. “It is a matter of business. I will not detain her for more than a + few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + The man returned presently, and ushered him into a small sitting room. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship will be quite half an hour before she can see you, sir,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “I will wait,” Aynesworth answered, taking up a paper. + </p> + <p> + The time passed slowly. At last, the door was opened. A woman, in a plain + but exquisitely fitting black gown, entered. From Lovell’s description, + Aynesworth recognized her at once, and yet, for a moment, he hesitated to + believe that this was the woman whom he had come to see. The years had + indeed left her untouched. Her figure was slight, almost girlish; her + complexion as smooth, and her coloring, faint though it was, as delicate + and natural as a child’s. Her eyes were unusually large, and the lashes + which shielded them heavy. It was when she looked at him that Aynesworth + began to understand. + </p> + <p> + She carried his card in her hand, and glanced at it as he bowed. + </p> + <p> + “You are the Daily Scribbler,” she said. “You want me to tell you about my + bazaar, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I am attached to the Daily Scribbler, Lady Ruth Barrington,” Aynesworth + answered; “but my business this afternoon has nothing to do with the + paper. I have called with a message from—an old friend of yours.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. The graciousness of her manner + was perceptibly abated. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! I scarcely understand you, Mr.—Aynesworth.” + </p> + <p> + “My message,” Aynesworth said, “is from Sir Wingrave Seton.” + </p> + <p> + The look of enquiry, half impatient, half interrogative, faded slowly from + her face. She stood quite still; her impassive features seemed like a + plaster cast, from which all life and feeling were drawn out. Her eyes + began slowly to dilate, and she shivered as though with cold. Then the man + who was watching her and wondering, knew that this was fear—fear + undiluted and naked. + </p> + <p> + He stepped forward, and placed a chair for her. She felt for the back of + it with trembling fingers and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Is—Sir Wingrave Seton—out of prison?” she asked in a strange, + dry tone. One would have thought that she had been choking. + </p> + <p> + “Since yesterday,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “But his time—is not up yet?” + </p> + <p> + “There is always a reduction,” Aynesworth reminded her, “for what is + called good conduct.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for several moments. Then she raised her head. She was a + brave woman, and she was rapidly recovering her self-possession. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she asked, “what does he want?” + </p> + <p> + “To see you,” Aynesworth answered, “tomorrow afternoon, either here or at + his apartments in the Clarence Hotel. He would prefer not to come here!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you his friend?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am his secretary,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “You are in his confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “I only entered his service this morning,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you know,” she persisted, “of the unfortunate affair which + led—to his imprisonment?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been told the whole story,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes rested thoughtfully upon his. It seemed as though she were trying + to read in his face exactly what he meant by “the whole story.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, “do you think that anything but pain and unpleasantness + can come of a meeting between us?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth,” Aynesworth answered, “it is not for me to form an opinion. I + am Sir Wingrave Seton’s secretary.” + </p> + <p> + “What is he going to do?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Is he going abroad?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of his plans,” Aynesworth declared. “What answer shall I + take back to him?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him earnestly. Gradually her face was softening. The frozen + look was passing away. The expression was coming back to her eyes. She + leaned a little towards him. Her voice, although it was raised above a + whisper, was full of feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth,” she murmured, “I am afraid of Sir Wingrave Seton!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I was always a little afraid of him,” she continued, “even in the days + when we were friendly. He was so hard and unforgiving. I know he thinks + that he has a grievance against me. He will have been brooding about it + all these years. I dare not see him! I—I am terrified!” + </p> + <p> + “If that is your answer,” Aynesworth said, “I will convey it to him!” + </p> + <p> + Her beautiful eyes were full of reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth,” she said, in a low tone, “for a young man you are very + unsympathetic.” + </p> + <p> + “My position,” Aynesworth answered, “does not allow me the luxury of + considering my personal feelings.” + </p> + <p> + She looked hurt. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” she said, looking for a moment upon the floor; “you have + probably been prejudiced against me. You have heard only one story. + Listen”—she raised her eyes suddenly, and leaned a little forward in + her chair—“some day, if you will come and see me when I am alone and + we have time to spare, I will tell you the whole truth. I will tell you + exactly what happened! You shall judge for yourself!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth bowed. + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes filled slowly with tears. Aynesworth looked away. He was + miserably uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot be quite so hard-hearted as you try to seem, Mr. Aynesworth,” + she said quietly. “I want to ask you a question. You must answer it? You + don’t know how much it means to me. You are Sir Wingrave Seton’s + secretary; you have access to all his papers. Have you seen any letters of + mine? Do you know if he still has any in his possession?” + </p> + <p> + “My answer to both questions is ‘No!’” Aynesworth said a little stiffly. + “I only entered the service of Sir Wingrave Seton this morning, and I know + nothing at all, as yet, of his private affairs. And, Lady Ruth, you must + forgive my reminding you that, in any case, I could not discuss such + matters with you,” he added. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a faint, strange smile. Afterwards, when he tried + to do so, Aynesworth found it impossible to describe the expression which + flitted across her face. He only knew that it left him with the impression + of having received a challenge. + </p> + <p> + “Incorruptible!” she murmured. “Sir Wingrave Seton is indeed a fortunate + man.” + </p> + <p> + There was a lingering sweetness in her tone which still had a note of + mockery in it. Her silence left Aynesworth conscious of a vague sense of + uneasiness. He felt that her eyes were raised to his, and for some reason, + which he could not translate even into a definite thought, he wished to + avoid them. The silence was prolonged. For long afterwards he remembered + those few minutes. There was a sort of volcanic intensity in the + atmosphere. He was acutely conscious of small extraneous things, of the + perfume of a great bowl of hyacinths, the ticking of a tiny French clock, + the restless drumming of her finger tips upon the arm of her chair. All + the time he seemed actually to feel her eyes, commanding, impelling, + beseeching him to turn round. He did so at last, and looked her full in + the face. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth,” he said, “will you favor me with an answer to my message?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” she answered, smiling quite naturally. “I will come and see + Sir Wingrave Seton at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon. You can tell him + that I think it rather an extraordinary request, but under the + circumstances I will do as he suggests. He is staying at the Clarence, I + presume, under his own name? I shall have no difficulty in finding him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is staying there under his own name,” Aynesworth answered, “and I will + see that you have no difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “So kind of you,” she murmured, holding out her hand. And again there was + something mysterious in her eyes as she raised them to him, as though + there existed between them already some understanding which mocked the + conventionality of her words. Aynesworth left the house, and lit a + cigarette upon the pavement outside with a little sigh of relief. He felt + somehow humiliated. Did she fancy, he wondered, that he was a callow boy + to dance to any tune of her piping—that he had never before seen a + beautiful woman who wanted her own way? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE GOSPEL OF HATE + </h2> + <p> + “And what,” Wingrave asked his secretary as they sat at dinner that night, + “did you think of Lady Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “In plain words, I should not like to tell you,” Aynesworth answered. “I + only hope that you will not send me to see her again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth,” Aynesworth answered deliberately, “is a very beautiful woman, + with all the most dangerous gifts of Eve when she wanted her own way. She + did me the scanty honor of appraising me as an easy victim, and she asked + questions.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance?” + </p> + <p> + “She wanted me to tell her if you still had in your possession certain + letters of hers,” Aynesworth said. + </p> + <p> + “Good! What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I told her, of course,” Aynesworth continued, “that having been in your + service for a few hours only, I was scarcely in a position to know. I + ventured further to remind her that such questions, addressed from her to + me, were, to say the least of it, improper.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave’s lips parted in what should have been a smile, but the spirit of + mirth was lacking. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing else,” Aynesworth answered. “She simply dismissed me.” + </p> + <p> + “I can see,” Wingrave remarked, “your grievance. You are annoyed because + she regarded you as too easy a victim.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” Aynesworth admitted. + </p> + <p> + “There was some excuse for her, after all,” Wingrave continued coolly. + “She possesses powers which you yourself have already admitted, and you, I + should say, are a fairly impressionable person, so far as her sex is + concerned. Confess now, that she did not leave you altogether + indifferent.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” Aynesworth admitted reluctantly. He did not care to say + more. + </p> + <p> + “In case you should feel any curiosity on the subject,” Wingrave remarked, + “I may tell you that I have those letters which she was so anxious to know + about, and I shall keep them safe—even from you! You can amuse + yourself with her if you like. You will never be able to tell her more + than I care for her to know.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth continued his dinner in silence. After all, he was beginning to + fear that he had made a mistake. Lovell had somehow contrived to impart a + subtly tragic note to his story, but the outcome of it all seemed to + assume a more sordid aspect. These two would meet, there would be + recriminations, a tragic appeal for forgiveness, possibly some + melodramatic attempt at vengeance. The glamour of the affair seemed to him + to be fading away, now that he had come into actual contact with it. It + was not until he began to study his companion during a somewhat prolonged + silence that he felt the reaction. It was then that he began to see new + things, that he felt the enthusiasm kindled by Lovell’s strangely told + story begin to revive. It was not the watching for events more or less + commonplace which would repay him for the step he had taken; it was the + study of this man, placed in so strange a position,—a man come back + to life, after years of absolute isolation. He had broken away from the + chain which links together men of similar tastes and occupations, and + which goes to the creation of type. He was in a unique position! He was in + the world, but not of it. He was groping about amongst familiar scenes, + over which time had thrown the pall of unfamiliarity. What manner of place + would he find—what manner of place did he desire to find? It was + here that the real interest of the situation culminated. At least, so + Aynesworth thought then. + </p> + <p> + They were dining at a restaurant in the Strand, which Aynesworth had + selected as representing one, the more wealthy, type of Bohemian life. The + dinner and wine had been of his choosing. Wingrave had stipulated only for + the best. Wingrave himself had eaten very little, the bottle of wine stood + half empty between them. The atmosphere of the place, the effect of the + wine, the delicate food, and the music, were visible to a greater or less + degree, according to temperament, amongst all the other little groups of + men and women by whom they were surrounded. Wingrave alone remained + unaffected. He was carefully and correctly dressed in clothes borrowed + from his new tailor, and he showed not the slightest signs of strangeness + or gaucherie amongst his unfamiliar surroundings. He looked about him + always, with the cold, easy nonchalance of the man of the world. Of being + recognized he had not the slightest fear. His frame and bearing, and the + brightness of his deep, strong eyes, still belonged to early middle age, + but his face itself, worn and hardened, was the face of an elderly man. + The more Aynesworth watched him, the more puzzled he felt. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he remarked, “that you are disappointed in this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Wingrave answered. “It is typical of a class, I suppose. It + is the sort of place I wished to visit.” + </p> + <p> + In a corner of the room Aynesworth had recognized a friend and fellow + clubman, who was acting at a neighboring theater. He was dining with some + young ladies of his company, and beckoned to Aynesworth to come over and + join them. He pointed them out to Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “Would you care to be introduced?” he asked. “Holiwell is a very good + fellow, and the girls might interest you. Two of them are Americans, and + they are very popular.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no!” he said. “I should be glad to meet your friend some time + when he is alone.” + </p> + <p> + It was the first intimation which Aynesworth had received of his + companion’s sentiments as regards the other sex. Years afterwards, when + his attitude towards them was often quoted as being one of the + extraordinary features of an extraordinary personality, he remembered his + perseverance on this occasion. + </p> + <p> + “You have not spoken to a woman for so many years,” he persisted. “Why not + renew the experience? Nothing so humanizing, you know—not even + cigarettes.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave’s face fell, if possible into sterner lines. His tone was cold + and hard. + </p> + <p> + “My scheme of life,” he said, “may be reconstructed more than once before + I am satisfied. But I can assure you of this! There will be no serious + place in it for women!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. He never doubted but that in a month of + two his vis-a-vis would talk differently. + </p> + <p> + “Your scheme of life,” he repeated thoughtfully. “That sounds interesting! + Have you any objection, I wonder, to telling me what manner of life you + propose to lead?” + </p> + <p> + It was several moments before Wingrave answered him. He was smoking a + cigar in a mechanical sort of way, but he obviously derived no pleasure + from it. Yet Aynesworth noticed that some instinct had led him to choose + the finest brand. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he said, letting his eyes rest coldly upon his questioner, “if + I told you all that was in my mind you would waive your month’s salary and + get back to your journalism!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you suppose that?” he asked. “I am not a moralist myself, nor + am I the keeper of your conscience. I don’t think that you could frighten + me off just yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” Wingrave admitted, “there are times when I fear that we + shall not get on together. I begin to suspect that you have a conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the first,” Aynesworth assured him, “who has ever flattered me to + that extent.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be elastic, of course,” Wingrave continued, “but I suspect its + existence. I warn you that association with me will try it hard.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept the challenge,” Aynesworth answered lightly. + </p> + <p> + “You are rasher than you imagine,” Wingrave declared. “For instance, I + have admitted to you, have I not, that I am interested in my fellow + creatures, that I want to mix with them and watch them at their daily + lives. Let me assure you that that interest is not a benevolent one.” + </p> + <p> + “I never fancied that you were a budding philanthropist,” Aynesworth + remarked, lighting a fresh cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “I find myself,” Wingrave continued thoughtfully, “in a somewhat unique + position. I am one of the ordinary human beings with whom the world is + peopled, but I am not conscious of any of the usual weaknesses of + sentiment or morality. For instance, if that gentleman with the red face, + who has obviously eaten and drunk too much, were to have an apoplectic fit + at the moment, and die in his chair, it would not shock or distress me in + the least. On the contrary, I should be disposed to welcome his removal + from a world which he obviously does nothing to adorn.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth glanced at the person in question. He was a theatrical agent + and financier of stock companies, whom he knew very well by sight. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” Wingrave continued, “that I was born with the usual moral + sentiments, and the usual feelings of kinship towards my fellow creatures. + Circumstances, however, have wholly destroyed them. To me, men have become + the puppets and women the dancing dolls of life. My interest in them, if + it exists at all, is malevolent. I should like to see them all suffer + exactly as I have suffered. It would interest me exceedingly.” + </p> + <p> + Still Aynesworth remained silent. He was anxious to hear all that was in + the other’s mind, and he feared lest any interruption might divert him. + </p> + <p> + “There are men in the world,” Wingrave continued, “called philanthropists, + amiable, obese creatures as a rule, whose professed aim in life it is to + do as much good as possible. I take my stand upon the other pole. It is my + desire to encourage and to work as much evil as possible. I wish to bring + all the suffering I can upon those who come within the sphere of my + influence.” + </p> + <p> + “You are likely,” Aynesworth remarked, “to achieve popularity.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave regarded him steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “Your speech,” he said, “is flippant, but you yourself do not realize how + near it comes to the truth. Human beings are like dogs—they are + always ready to lick the hand that flogs them. I mean to use the scourge + whenever I can seize the opportunity, but you will find the jackals at my + heels, nevertheless, whenever I choose to whistle.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth helped himself to a liqueur. He felt that he needed it. + </p> + <p> + “One weakness alone distresses me,” Wingrave continued. “In all ordinary + matters of sentiment I am simply a negation. There is one antipathy, + however, which I find it hard to overcome. The very sight of a woman, or + the sound of her voice, distresses me. This is the more unfortunate,” he + continued, “because it is upon the shoulders of her sex that the greater + portion of my debt to my fellow creatures rests. However, time may help + me!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth leaned back in his chair, and contemplated his companion for + the next few moments in thoughtful silence. It was hard, he felt, to take + a man who talked like this seriously. His manner was convincing, his + speech deliberate and assured. There was not the slightest doubt but that + he meant what he said, yet it seemed to Aynesworth equally certain that + the time would come, and come quickly, when the unnatural hardness of the + man would yield to the genial influence of friendship, of pleasure, of the + subtle joys of freedom. Those past days of hideous monotony, of + profitless, debasing toil, the long, sleepless nights, the very nightmare + of life to a man of Wingrave’s culture and habits, might well have + poisoned his soul, have filled him with ideas such as these. But + everything was different now! The history of the world could show no epoch + when pleasures so many and various were there for the man who carries the + golden key. Today he was a looker-on, and the ice of his years of + bitterness had not melted. Tomorrow, at any moment, he might catch a whiff + of the fragrance of life, and the blood in his veins would move to a + different tune. This was how it seemed to Aynesworth, as he studied his + companion through the faint blue mist of tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + “This expression of your sentiments,” he remarked at last, “is interesting + so far as it goes. I am, however, a practical person, and my connection + with you is of a practical order. You don’t propose, I presume, to + promenade the streets with a cat-o-nine-tails?” + </p> + <p> + “Your curiosity,” Wingrave remarked, “is reasonable. Tomorrow I may + gratify some portion of it after my interview with Lady Ruth. In the + meantime, I might remark that to the observant person who has wits and + money, the opportunities for doing evil present themselves, I think, with + reasonable frequency. I do not propose, however, to leave things + altogether to chance.” + </p> + <p> + “A definite scheme of ill-doing,” Aynesworth ventured to suggest, “would + be more satisfactory?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + He called for the bill, and his eyes wandered once more around the room as + the waiter counted out the change. The band were playing the “Valse + Amoureuse”; the air was grown heavy with the odor of tobacco and the + mingled perfumes of flowers and scents. A refrain of soft laughter + followed the music. An after-dinner air pervaded the place. Wingrave’s lip + curled. + </p> + <p> + “My lack of kinship with my fellows,” he remarked, “is exceedingly well + defined just now. I agree with the one philosopher who declared that + ‘eating and drinking are functions which are better performed in + private.’” + </p> + <p> + The two men went on to a theater. The play was a society trifle—a + thing of the moment. Wingrave listened gravely, without a smile or any + particular sign of interest. At the end of the second act, he turned + towards his companion. + </p> + <p> + “The lady in the box opposite,” he remarked, “desires to attract your + attention.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth looked up and recognized Lady Ruth. She was fanning herself + languidly, but her eyes were fixed upon the two men. She leaned a little + forward, and her gesture was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth rose to his feet a little doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “You had better go,” Wingrave said. “Present my compliments and excuses. I + feel that a meeting now would amount to an anti-climax.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth made his way upstairs. Lady Ruth was alone, and he noticed that + she had withdrawn to a chair where she was invisible to the house. Even + Aynesworth himself could not see her face clearly at first, for she had + chosen the darkest corner of the box. He gathered an impression of a + gleaming white neck and bosom rising and falling rather more quickly than + was natural, eyes which shone softly through the gloom, and the perfume of + white roses, a great cluster of which lay upon the box ledge. Her voice + was scarcely raised above a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “That is—Sir Wingrave with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Aynesworth answered. “It was he who saw you first!” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to catch her breath. Her voice was still tremulous. + </p> + <p> + “He is changed,” she said. “I should not have recognized him.” + </p> + <p> + “They were the best ten years of his life,” Aynesworth answered. “Think of + how and in what surroundings he has been compelled to live. No wonder that + he has had the humanity hammered out of him.” + </p> + <p> + She shivered a little. + </p> + <p> + “Is he always like this?” she asked. “I have watched him. He never smiles. + He looks as hard as fate itself.” + </p> + <p> + “I have known him only a few hours,” Aynesworth reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not come tomorrow,” she whispered; “I am afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish me to tell him so?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she answered. “You are very unfeeling, Mr. Aynesworth.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” he answered, and looked away towards the orchestra. He did + not wish to meet her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are!” she murmured. “I have no one to whom I dare speak—of + this. I dare not mention his name to my husband. It was my evidence which + convicted him, and I can see, I know, that he is vindictive. And he has + those letters! Oh! If I could only get them back?” + </p> + <p> + Her voice trembled with an appeal whispered but passionate. It was + wonderful how musical and yet how softly spoken her words were. They were + like live things, and the few feet of darkened space through which they + had passed seemed charged with magnetic influence. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth!” + </p> + <p> + He turned and faced her. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t you help me?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot, Lady Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + The electric bell rang softly from outside, and the orchestra commenced to + play. Lady Ruth rose and looked at herself in the mirror. Then she turned + and smiled at her visitor. The pallor of her face was no longer unnatural. + She was a wonderful woman. + </p> + <p> + “I shall come tomorrow,” she said. “Shall I see you?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” he answered, “depends upon Sir Wingrave.” + </p> + <p> + She made a little grimace as she dismissed him. Wingrave did not speak to + his companion for some time after he had resumed his seat. Then he + inclined his head towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you come to terms with her ladyship?” he asked drily. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “You can name your own price,” he continued. “She will pay! Don’t be + afraid of making her bid up. She has a good deal at stake!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth made no reply. He was thinking how easy it would be to hate + this man! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “HAST THOU FOUND ME, O MINE ENEMY?” + </h2> + <p> + Aynesworth was waiting in the hall on the following afternoon when Lady + Ruth arrived. He had half expected that she would drive up to the side + door in a hansom, would wear a thick veil, and adopt the other + appurtenances of a clandestine meeting. But Lady Ruth was much too clever + a woman for anything of the sort. She descended at the great front + entrance from her own electric coupe, and swept into the hotel followed by + her maid. She stopped to speak to the manager of the hotel, who knew her + from her visits to the world-famous restaurant, and she asked at once for + Sir Wingrave Seton. Then she saw Aynesworth, and crossed the hall with + outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “How nice of you to be here,” she murmured. “Can you take me to Sir + Wingrave at once? I have such a busy afternoon that I was afraid at the + last moment that I should be unable to come!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth led her towards the lift. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave is in his sitting room,” he remarked. “It is only on the + first floor.” + </p> + <p> + She directed her maid where to wait, and followed him. On the way down the + corridor, he stole a glance at her. She was a little pale, and he could + see that she had nerved herself to this interview with a great effort. As + he knocked at the door, her great eyes were raised for a moment to his, + and they were like the eyes of a frightened child. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + There was no time for more. They were in the room, and Wingrave had risen + to meet them. Lady Ruth did not hesitate for a moment. She crossed the + room towards him with outstretched hands. Aynesworth, who was standing a + little on one side, watched their meeting with intense, though covert + interest. She had pushed back her veil, her head was a little upraised in + a mute gesture of appeal. + </p> + <p> + She was pale to the lips, but her eyes were soft with hidden tears. + Wingrave stood stonily silent, like a figure of fate. His hands remained + by his sides. Her welcome found no response from him. She came to a + standstill, and, swaying a little, stretched out her hand and steadied + herself by grasping the back of a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” she murmured, and her voice was full of musical reproach. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth turned to leave the room, but Wingrave, looking over her head, + addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “You will remain here, Aynesworth,” he said. “There are some papers at + that desk which require sorting.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth hesitated. He had caught the look on Lady Ruth’s face. + </p> + <p> + “If you could excuse me for half an hour, Sir Wingrave,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot spare you at present,” Wingrave interrupted. “Kindly remain!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth had no alternative but to obey. Wingrave handed a chair to Lady + Ruth. He was looking at her steadfastly. There were no signs of any sort + of emotion in his face. Whatever their relations in the past might have + been, it was hard to believe, from his present demeanor, that he felt any. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” she said softly, “are you going to be unkind to me—you, + whom I have always thought of in my dreams as the most generous of men! I + have looked forward so much to seeing you again—to knowing that you + were free! Don’t disappoint me!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave laughed shortly, and Aynesworth bent closer over his work, with a + gathering frown upon his forehead. A mirthless laugh is never a pleasant + sound. + </p> + <p> + “Disappoint you!” he repeated calmly. “No! I must try and avoid that! You + have been looking forward with so much joy to this meeting then? I am + flattered.” + </p> + <p> + She shivered a little. + </p> + <p> + “I have looked forward to it,” she answered, and her voice was dull and + lifeless with pain. “But you are not glad to see me,” she continued. + “There is no welcome in your face! You are changed—altogether! Why + did you send for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. Wingrave was standing upon the hearthrug, + cold, passionless, Sphinx-like. Lady Ruth was seated a few feet away, but + her face was hidden. + </p> + <p> + “You owe me something!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Owe—you something?” she repeated vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “Do you deny it?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no!” she declared with emotion. “Not for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I want,” he said, “to give you an opportunity of repaying some portion of + that debt!” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes to his. Her whispered words came so softly that they + were almost inaudible. + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting,” she said. “Tell me what I can do!” + </p> + <p> + He commenced to speak at some length, very impassively, very deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “You will doubtless appreciate the fact,” he said, “that my position, + today, is a somewhat peculiar one. I have had enough of solitude. I am + rich! I desire to mix once more on equal terms amongst my fellows. And + against that, I have the misfortune to be a convicted felon, who has spent + the last ten or a dozen years amongst the scum of the earth, engaged in + degrading tasks, and with no identity save a number. The position, as you + will doubtless observe, is a difficult one.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes fell from his. Once more she shivered, as though with physical + pain. Something that was like a smile, only that it was cold and lifeless, + flitted across his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I have no desire,” he continued, “to live in foreign countries. On the + contrary, I have plans which necessitate my living in England. The + difficulties by this time are, without doubt, fully apparent to you.” + </p> + <p> + She said nothing. Her eyes were once more watching his face. + </p> + <p> + “My looking glass,” he continued, “shows me that I am changed beyond any + reasonable chance of recognition. I do not believe that the Wingrave Seton + of today would readily be recognized as the Wingrave Seton of twelve years + ago. But I propose to make assurance doubly sure. I am leaving this + country for several years, at once. I shall go to America, and I shall + return as Mr. Wingrave, millionaire—and I propose, by the way, to + make money there. I desire, under that identity, to take my place once + more amongst my fellows. I shall bring letters of introduction—to + you.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long and somewhat ominous silence! Lady Ruth’s eyes were fixed + upon the floor. She was thinking, and thinking rapidly, but there were no + signs of it in her pale drawn face. At last she looked up. + </p> + <p> + “There is my husband,” she said. “He would recognize you, if no one else + did.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a clever woman,” he answered. “I leave it to you to deal with + your husband as seems best to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Other people,” she faltered, “would recognize you!” + </p> + <p> + “Do me the favor,” he begged her, “to look at me carefully for several + moments. You doubtless have some imperfect recollection of what I was. + Compare it with my present appearance! I venture to think that you will + agree with me. Recognition is barely possible.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was silence. Lady Ruth seemed to have no words, but there was + the look of a frightened child upon her face. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he continued, “that the idea does not appeal to you! I can + understand that my presence may serve to recall a period which you and + your husband would doubtless prefer to forget—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + A little staccato cry of pain; a cry which seemed to spring into life from + a tortured heart, broke from her lips. Aynesworth heard it, and, at that + moment, he hated his employer. Wingrave paused for a moment politely, and + then continued. + </p> + <p> + “But after all,” he said, “I can assure you that you will find very little + in the Mr. Wingrave of New York to remind you of the past. I shall do my + utmost to win for myself a place in your esteem, which will help you to + forget the other relationship, which, if my memory serves me, used once to + exist between us!” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head. Either she realized that, for the present, the man + was immune against all sentiment, or his calm brutality had had a + correspondingly hardening effect upon her. + </p> + <p> + “If I agree,” she said, “will you give me back my letters?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with them?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends,” he said, “upon you. I enter into no engagement. I make no + promises. I simply remind you that it would be equally possible for me to + take my place in the world as a rehabilitated Wingrave Seton. Ten years + ago I yielded to sentiment. Today I have outlived it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten years ago,” she murmured, “you were a hero. God knows what you are + now!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” he answered smoothly. “I am free to admit that I am a puzzle to + myself. I find myself, in fact, a most interesting study.” + </p> + <p> + “I consent,” she said, with a little shudder. “I am going now.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a sensible woman,” he answered. “Aynesworth, show Lady Ruth to + her carriage.” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet. Hung from her neck by a chain of fine gold, was a + large Chinchilla muff. She stood before him, and her hands had sought its + shelter. Timidly she withdrew one. + </p> + <p> + “Will you shake hands with me, Wingrave?” she asked timidly. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” he said; “I may better my manners in America, but a present + I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + She passed out of the room. Aynesworth followed, closing the door behind + them. In the corridor she stumbled, and caught at his arm for support. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak to me,” she gasped. “Take me where I can sit down.” + </p> + <p> + He found her a quiet corner in the drawing room. She sat perfectly still + for nearly five minutes, with her eyes closed. Then she opened them, and + looked at her companion. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth,” she said, “are you so poor that you must serve a man + like that?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It is not poverty,” he answered. “I knew his history, and I am interested + in him!” + </p> + <p> + “You write novels, don’t you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I try,” he answered. “His story fascinated me. He stands today in a + unique position to life. I want to see how he will come out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew his story—the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” he answered. “I heard it from a journalist who was in court, + his only friend, the only man who knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “On his way to Japan.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a little breath between her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “There were rumors,” she said. “It was hard for me at first, but I lived + them down. I was very young then. I ought not to have accepted his + sacrifice. I wish to heaven I had not. I wish that I had faced the scandal + then. It is worse to be in the power of a man like this today! Mr. + Aynesworth!” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that he has the right to keep those letters?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot answer that question.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “So far as I can—in accordance with my obligations to my employer!” + </p> + <p> + She tried him no further then, but rose and walked slowly out of the room. + He found her maid, and saw them to their carriage. Then he returned to the + sitting room. Wingrave was smoking a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying the humanizing influence,” he remarked. “Got rid of her + ladyship?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth has just gone,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “Have you promised to steal the letters yet?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Her dainty ladyship has not bid high enough, I suppose,” he continued. + “Don’t be afraid to open your mouth. There’s another woman there besides + the Lady Ruth Barrington, who opens bazaars, and patronizes charity, and + entertains Royalty. Ask what you want and she’ll pay!” + </p> + <p> + “What a brute you are!” Aynesworth exclaimed involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am,” he admitted. “I know that. But whose fault is it? It + isn’t mine. I’ve lived the life of a brute creature for ten years. You + don’t abuse a one-legged man, poor devil. I’ve had other things amputated. + I was like you once. It seemed all right to me to go under to save a + woman’s honor. You never have. Therefore, I say you’ve no right to call me + a brute. Personally, I don’t object. It is simply a matter of equity.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit it,” Aynesworth declared. “You are acting like a brute.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. I didn’t make myself what I am. Prison did it. Go and try ten + years yourself, and you’ll find you will have to grope about for your fine + emotions. Are you coming to America with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” Aynesworth answered. “When do we start?” + </p> + <p> + “Saturday week.” + </p> + <p> + “Sport west, or civilization east?” + </p> + <p> + “Both,” Wingrave answered. “Here is a list of the kit which we shall + require. Add yourself the things which I have forgotten. I pay for both!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good of you,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I don’t suppose you’d come without. Can you shoot?” + </p> + <p> + “A bit,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Be particular about the rifles. I can take you to a little corner in + Canada where the bears don’t stand on ceremony. Put everything in hand, + and be ready to come down to Cornwall with me on Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “Cornwall!” Aynesworth exclaimed. “What on earth are we going to do in + Cornwall?” + </p> + <p> + “I have an estate there, the home of my ancestors, which I am going to + sell. I am the last of the Setons, fortunately, and I am going to smash + the family tree, sell the heirlooms, and burn the family records!” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t if I were you,” Aynesworth said quietly. “You are a young man + yet. You may come back to your own!” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “You may smoke enough cigarettes to become actually humanized! One can + never tell! I have known men proclaim themselves cynics for life, who have + been making idiots of themselves with their own children in five years.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded gravely. + </p> + <p> + “True enough,” he answered. “But the one thing which no man can mistake is + death. Listen, and I will quote some poetry to you. I think—it is + something like this:— + </p> + <p> + “‘The rivers of ice may melt, and the mountains crumble into dust, but the + heart of a dead man is like the seed plot unsown. Green grass shall not + sprout there, nor flowers blossom, nor shall all the ages of eternity show + there any sign of life.’” + </p> + <p> + He spoke as though he had been reading from a child’s Primer. When he had + finished, he replaced his cigarette between his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I am a dead man,” he said calmly. “Dead as the wildest seed plot in God’s + most forgotten acre!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LORD OF THE MANOR + </h2> + <p> + She came slowly towards the two men through the overgrown rose garden, a + thin, pale, wild-eyed child, dressed in most uncompromising black. It was + a matter of doubt whether she was the more surprised to see them, or they + to find anyone else, in this wilderness of desolation. They stood face to + face with her upon the narrow path. + </p> + <p> + “Have you lost your way?” she inquired politely. + </p> + <p> + “We were told,” Aynesworth answered, “that there was a gate in the wall + there, through which we could get on to the cliffs.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you so?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “The housekeeper,” Aynesworth answered. “I will not attempt to pronounce + her name.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tresfarwin,” the child said. “It is not really difficult. But she + had no right to send you through here! It is all private, you know!” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” Aynesworth asked with a smile, “you have permission, I + suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. “I have lived here all my life. I go where I please. + Have you seen the pictures?” + </p> + <p> + “We have just been looking at them,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t they beautiful?” she exclaimed. “I—oh!” + </p> + <p> + She sat suddenly down on a rough wooden seat and commenced to cry. For the + first time Wingrave looked at her with some apparent interest. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter with you, child?” Aynesworth exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I have loved them so all my life,” she sobbed; “the pictures, and the + house, and the gardens, and now I have to go away! I don’t know where! + Nobody seems to know!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth looked down at her black frock. + </p> + <p> + “You have lost someone, perhaps?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “My father,” she answered quietly. “He was organist here, and he died last + week.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have no other relatives?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “None at all. No one—seems—quite to know—what is going + to become of me!” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you staying now?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “With an old woman who used to look after our cottage,” she answered. “But + she is very poor, and she cannot keep me any longer. Mrs. Colson says that + I must go and work, and I am afraid. I don’t know anyone except at + Tredowen! And I don’t know how to work! And I don’t want to go away from + the pictures, and the garden, and the sea! It is all so beautiful, isn’t + it? Don’t you love Tredowen?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I haven’t been here very long, you see,” Aynesworth explained. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave spoke for the first time. His eyes were fixed upon the child, and + Aynesworth could see that she shrank from his cold, unsympathetic + scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Juliet Lundy,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “How long was your father organist at the church?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she answered. “Ever since I was born, and before.” + </p> + <p> + “And how old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Fourteen next birthday.” + </p> + <p> + “And all that time,” he asked, “has there been no one living at Tredowen?” + </p> + <p> + “No one except Mrs. Tresfarwin,” she answered. “It belongs to a very rich + man who is in prison.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave’s face was immovable. He stood on one side, however, and turned + towards his companion. + </p> + <p> + “We are keeping this young lady,” he remarked, “from what seems to be her + daily pilgrimage. I wonder whether it is really the pictures, or Mrs. + Tresfarwin’s cakes?” + </p> + <p> + She turned her shoulder upon him in silent scorn, and looked at Aynesworth + a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Goodbye!” she said. + </p> + <p> + He waved his hand as he strolled after Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “There you are, Mr. Lord of the Manor,” he said. “You can’t refuse to do + something for the child. Her father was organist at your own church, and a + hard struggle he must have had of it, with an absentee landlord, and a + congregation of seagulls, I should think.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you joking?” Wingrave asked coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I was never more in earnest in my life,” Aynesworth answered. “The girl + is come from gentlefolks. Did you see what a delicate face she had, and + how nicely she spoke? You wouldn’t have her sent out as a servant, would + you?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked at his companion ominously. + </p> + <p> + “You have a strange idea of the duties of a landlord,” he remarked. “Do + you seriously suppose that I am responsible for the future of every brat + who grows up on this estate?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not!” Aynesworth answered. “You must own for yourself that this + case is exceptional. Let us go down to the Vicarage and inquire about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do nothing of the sort,” Wingrave answered. “Nor will you! Do you + see the spray coming over the cliffs there? The sea must be worth + watching.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth walked by his side in silence. He dared not trust himself to + speak. Wingrave climbed with long, rapid strides to the summit of the + headland, and stood there with his face turned seawards. The long breakers + were sweeping in from the Atlantic with a low, insistent roar; as far as + the eye could reach the waves were crusted with white foam. Every now and + then the spray fell around the two men in a little dazzling shower; the + very atmosphere was salt. About their heads the seagulls whirled and + shrieked. From the pebbled beach to the horizon there was nothing to break + the monotony of that empty waste of waters. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave stood perfectly motionless, with his eyes fixed upon the horizon. + Minute after minute passed, and he showed no signs of moving. Aynesworth + found himself presently engaged in watching him. Thoughts must be passing + through his brain. He wondered what they were. It was here that he had + spent his boyhood; barely an hour ago the two men had stood before the + picture of his father. It was here, if anywhere, that he might regain some + part of his older and more natural self. Was it a struggle, he wondered, + that was going on within the man? There were no signs of it in his face. + Simply he stood and looked, and looked, as though, by infinite + perseverance, the very horizon itself might recede, and the thing for + which he sought become revealed.... + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth turned away at last, and there, not many yards behind, + apparently watching them, stood the child. He waved his hand and advanced + towards her. Her eyes were fixed upon Wingrave half fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid of the other gentleman,” she whispered, as he reached her + side. “Will you come a little way with me? I will show you a seagull’s + nest.” + </p> + <p> + They left Wingrave where he was, and went hand in hand, along the cliff + side. She was a curious mixture or shyness and courage. She talked very + little, but she gripped her companion’s fingers tightly. + </p> + <p> + “I can show you,” she said, “where the seagulls build, and I can tell you + the very spot in the sea where the sun goes down night after night. + </p> + <p> + “There are some baby seagulls in one of the nests, but I daren’t go very + near for the mother bird is so strong. Father used to say that when they + have their baby birds to look after, they are as fierce as eagles.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father used to walk with you here, Juliet?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “Always till the last few months when he got weaker and weaker,” she + answered. “Since then I come every day alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you find it lonely?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “At first,” she answered, “not now. It makes me unhappy. Would you like to + go down on the beach and look for shells? I can find you some very pretty + ones.” + </p> + <p> + They clambered down and wandered hand in hand by the seashore. She told + him quaint little stories of the smugglers, of wrecks, and the legends of + the fisher people. Coming back along the sands, she clung to his arm and + grew more silent. Her eyes sought his every now and then, wistfully. + Presently she pointed out a tiny whitewashed cottage standing by itself on + a piece of waste ground. + </p> + <p> + “That is where I live now, at least for a day or two,” she said. “They + cannot keep me any longer. When are you going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Very soon, I am afraid, little girl,” he answered. “I will come and see + you, though, before I go.” + </p> + <p> + “You promise,” she said solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” Aynesworth repeated. + </p> + <p> + Then she held up her face, a little timidly, and he kissed her. + Afterwards, he watched her turn with slow, reluctant footsteps to the + unpromising abode which she had pointed out. Aynesworth made his way to + the inn, cursing his impecuniosity and Wingrave’s brutal indifference. + </p> + <p> + He found the latter busy writing letters. + </p> + <p> + “Doing your work, Aynesworth?” he remarked coldly. “Be so good as to write + to Christie’s for me, and ask them to send down a valuer to go through the + pictures.” + </p> + <p> + “You are really going to sell!” Aynesworth exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly,” Wingrave answered. “Heirlooms and family pictures are + only so much rubbish to me. I am the last of my line, and I doubt whether + even my lawyer could discover a next of kin for my personal property. + Sell! Of course I’m going to sell! What use is all this hoarded rubbish to + me? I am going to turn it into gold!” + </p> + <p> + “And what use is gold?” Aynesworth asked curiously. “You have plenty!” + </p> + <p> + “Not enough for my purpose,” Wingrave declared. “We are going to America + to make more.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s vandalism!” Aynesworth said, “rank vandalism! The place as it is is + a picture! The furniture and the house have grown old together. Why, you + might marry!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave scowled at the younger man across the room. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool, Aynesworth,” he said shortly. “Take down these letters.” + </p> + <p> + After dinner, Wingrave went out alone. Aynesworth followed him about an + hour later, when his work was done, and made his way towards the Vicarage. + It was barely nine o’clock, but the little house seemed already to be in + darkness. He rang twice before anybody answered him. Then he heard slow, + shuffling footsteps within, and a tall, gaunt man, in clerical attire, and + carrying a small lamp, opened the door. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth made the usual apologies and was ushered into a bare, + gloomy-looking apartment which, from the fact of its containing a writing + table and a few books, he imagined must be the study. His host never asked + him to sit down. He was a long, unkempt-looking man with a cold, + forbidding face, and his manner was the reverse of cordial. + </p> + <p> + “I have called to see you,” Aynesworth explained, “with reference to one + of your parishioners—the daughter of your late organist.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” the clergyman remarked solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “I saw her today for the first time and have only just heard her story,” + Aynesworth continued. “It seems to be a very sad one.” + </p> + <p> + His listener inclined his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am, unfortunately, a poor man,” Aynesworth continued, “but I have some + friends who are well off, and I could lay my hands upon a little ready + money. I should like to discuss the matter with you and see if we cannot + arrange something to give her a start in life.” + </p> + <p> + The clergyman cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite unnecessary,” he answered. “A connection of her father’s has + come forward at the last moment, who is able to do all that is required + for her. Her future is provided for.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth was a little taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to hear it,” he declared. “I understood that she had + neither friends nor relations.” + </p> + <p> + “You were misinformed,” the other answered. “She has both.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask who it is who has turned up so unexpectedly?” Aynesworth + inquired. “I have taken a great fancy to the child.” + </p> + <p> + The clergyman edged a little towards the door, and the coldness of his + manner was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to seem discourteous,” he said, “but I cannot recognize + that you have any right to ask me these questions. You may accept my word + that the child is to be fittingly provided for.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth felt the color rising in his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” he said, “that you do not find my interest in her + unwarrantable. My visit to you is simply a matter of charity. If my aid is + unneeded, so much the better. All the same, I should like to know where + she is going and who her friends are.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not find myself at liberty to afford you any information,” was the + curt reply. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon there was nothing left for Aynesworth to do but to put on his + hat and walk out, which he did. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave met him in the hall on his return. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” he asked a little sharply. + </p> + <p> + “On a private errand,” Aynesworth answered, irritated by his words and + look. + </p> + <p> + “You are my secretary,” Wingrave said coldly. “I do not pay you to go + about executing private errands.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth looked at him in surprise. Did he really wish to quarrel? + </p> + <p> + “I imagine, sir,” he said, “that my time is my own when I have no work of + yours on hand. If you think otherwise—” + </p> + <p> + He paused and looked at his employer significantly. Wingrave turned on his + heel. + </p> + <p> + “Be so kind,” he said, “as to settle the bill here tonight. We leave by + the seven o’clock train in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Tomorrow!” Aynesworth exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind,” he asked, “if I follow by a later train?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” Wingrave answered. “I need you in London directly we arrive.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” Aynesworth said, after a moment’s reflection, “that it is + impossible for me to leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “You will think it a small thing,” he said, “but I have given my promise. + I must see that child again before I go!” + </p> + <p> + “You are referring,” he asked, “to the black-frocked little creature we + saw about the place yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave regarded his secretary as one might look at a person who has + suddenly taken leave of his senses. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “to interfere with your engagements, but it is + necessary that we should both leave by the seven o’clock train tomorrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth reflected for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “If I can see the child first,” he said, “I will come. If not, I will + follow you at midday.” + </p> + <p> + “In the latter case,” Wingrave remarked, “pray do not trouble to follow me + unless your own affairs take you to London. Our connection will have + ended.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean this?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is my custom,” Wingrave answered, “to mean what I say.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth set his alarm that night for half-past five. It seemed to him + that his future would largely depend upon how soundly the child slept. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HEART OF A CHILD + </h2> + <p> + The cottage, as Aynesworth neared it, showed no sign of life. The + curtainless windows were blank and empty, no smoke ascended from the + chimney. Its plastered front was innocent of any form of creeper, but in + the few feet of garden in front a great, overgrown wild rose bush, starred + with deep red blossoms, perfumed the air. As he drew near, the door + suddenly opened, and with a little cry of welcome the child rushed out to + him. + </p> + <p> + “How lovely of you!” she cried. “I saw you coming from my window!” + </p> + <p> + “You are up early,” he said, smiling down at her. + </p> + <p> + “The sun woke me,” she answered. “It always does. I was going down to the + sands. Shall we go together? Or would you like to go into the gardens at + Tredowen? The flowers are beautiful there while the dew is on them!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” Aynesworth answered, “that I cannot do either. I have come + to say goodbye.” + </p> + <p> + The light died out of her face all of a sudden. The delicate beauty of her + gleaming eyes and quivering mouth had vanished. She was once more the + pale, wan little child he had seen coming slowly up the garden path at + Tredowen. + </p> + <p> + “You are going—so soon!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand and led her away over the short green turf of the common. + </p> + <p> + “We only came for a few hours,” he told her. “But I have good news for + you, Juliet, unless you know already. Mr. Saunders has found out some of + your friends. They are going to look after you properly, and you will not + be alone any more.” + </p> + <p> + “What time are you going?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Silly child,” he answered, giving her hand a shake. “Listen to what I am + telling you. You are going to have friends to look after you always. + Aren’t you glad?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not glad,” she answered passionately. “I don’t want to go away. + I am—lonely.” + </p> + <p> + Her arms suddenly sought his neck, and her face was buried on his + shoulder. He soothed her as well as he could. + </p> + <p> + “I must go, little girl,” he said, “for I am off to America almost at + once. As soon as I can after I come back, I will come and see you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have only been here one day,” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “I would stay if I could, dear,” Aynesworth answered. “Come, dry those + eyes and be a brave girl. Think how nice it will be to go and live with + people who will take care of you properly, and be fond of you. Why, you + may have a pony, and all sorts of nice things.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want a pony,” she answered, hanging on his arm. “I don’t want to + go away. I want to stay here—and wait till you come back.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, when I come back, little woman,” he answered, “you will be almost + grown up. Come, dry your eyes now, and I tell you what we will do. You + shall come back with me to breakfast, and then drive up to the station and + see us off.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to come,” she whispered, “but I am afraid of the other + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely we sha’n’t see him,” Aynesworth answered. “If we do, he won’t + hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like his face!” she persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we won’t look at it,” Aynesworth answered. “But breakfast we must + have!” + </p> + <p> + They were half way through the meal, and Juliet had quite recovered her + spirits when Wingrave entered. He looked at the two with impassive face, + and took his place at the table. He wished the child “Good morning” + carelessly, but made no remark as to her presence there. + </p> + <p> + “I have just been telling Juliet some good news,” Aynesworth remarked. “I + went to see Mr. Saunders, the Vicar here, last night, and he has found out + some of her father’s friends. They are going to look after her.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave showed no interest in the information. But a moment later he + addressed Juliet for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “Are you glad that you are going away from Tredowen?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am very, very sorry,” she answered, the tears gathering once more in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “But you want to go to school, don’t you, and see other girls?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “It will break my heart,” she said quietly, “to leave Tredowen. I think + that if I have to go away from the pictures and the garden, and the sea, I + shall never be happy any more.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a child,” he remarked contemptuously; “you do not understand. If + you go away, you can learn to paint pictures yourself like those at + Tredowen. You will find that the world is full of other beautiful places!” + </p> + <p> + The sympathetic aspect of his words was altogether destroyed by the thin + note of careless irony, which even the child understood. She felt that he + was mocking her. + </p> + <p> + “I could never be happy,” she said simply, “away from Tredowen. You + understand, don’t you?” she added, turning confidentially to Aynesworth. + </p> + <p> + “You think so now, dear,” he said, “but remember that you are very young. + There are many things for you to learn before you grow up.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a dunce,” she replied. “I can talk French and German, and do + arithmetic, and play the organ. Father used to teach me these things. I + can learn at Tredowen very well. I hope that my friends will let me stay + here.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave took no more notice of her. She and Aynesworth walked together to + the station. As they passed the little whitewashed cottage, she suddenly + let go his hand, and darted inside. + </p> + <p> + “Wait one moment,” she cried breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + She reappeared almost at once, holding something tightly clenched in her + right hand. She showed it to him shyly. + </p> + <p> + “It is for you, please,” she said. + </p> + <p> + It was a silver locket, and inside was a little picture of herself. + Aynesworth stooped down and kissed her. He had had as many presents in his + life as most men, but never an offering which came to him quite like that! + They stood still for a moment, and he held out her hands. Already the + morning was astir. The seagulls were wheeling, white-winged and noiseless, + above their heads; the air was fragrant with the scent of cottage flowers. + Like a low, sweet undernote, the sea came rolling in upon the firm sands—out + to the west it stretched like a sheet of softly swaying inland water. For + those few moments there seemed no note of discord—and then the harsh + whistle of an approaching train! They took hold of hands and ran. + </p> + <p> + It was, perhaps, as well that their farewells were cut short. There was + scarcely time for more than a few hurried words before the train moved out + from the queer little station, and with his head out of the window, + Aynesworth waved his hand to the black-frocked child with her pale, eager + face already stained with tears—a lone, strange little figure, full + of a sort of plaintive grace as she stood there, against a background of + milk cans, waving a crumpled handkerchief! + </p> + <p> + Wingrave, who had been buried in a morning paper, looked up presently. + </p> + <p> + “If our journeyings,” he remarked drily, “are to contain everywhere + incidents such as these, they will become a sort of sentimental + pilgrimage.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “that my interest in the child has annoyed you. At + any rate, it is over now. The parson was mysterious, but he assured me + that she was provided for.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked across the carriage with cold, reflective curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Your point of view,” he remarked, “is a mystery to me! I cannot see how + the future of an unfledged brat like that can possibly concern you!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” Aynesworth answered, “but you must remember that you are a + little out of touch with your fellows just now. I daresay when you were my + age, you would have felt as I feel. I daresay that as the years go on, you + will feel like it again.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave was thoughtful for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “So you think,” he remarked, “that I may yet have in me the making of a + sentimentalist.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth returned his gaze as steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “One can never tell,” he answered. “You may change, of course. I hope that + you will.” + </p> + <p> + “You are candid, at any rate!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think,” Aynesworth answered, “that there is any happiness in + life for the man who lives entirely apart from his fellow creatures. Not + to feel is not to live. I think that the first real act of kindness which + you feel prompted to perform will mark the opening of a different life for + you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave spread out the newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, with a faint sneer, “that it is quite time you took + this sea voyage.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Lumley Barrington, K.C. and M.P., was in the act of stepping into his + carriage to drive down to the House, when he was intercepted by a message. + It was his wife’s maid, who came hurrying out after him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, “but her ladyship particularly wished + to see you as soon as you came in.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your mistress in?” Barrington asked in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” the maid answered. “Her ladyship is resting, before she goes + to the ball at Caleram House. She is in her room now.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come up at once,” Barrington said. + </p> + <p> + He kept the carriage waiting while he ascended to his wife’s room. There + was no answer to his knock. He opened the door softly. She was asleep on a + couch drawn up before the fire. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room noiselessly, and stood looking down upon her. Her + lithe, soft figure had fallen into a posture of graceful, almost + voluptuous ease; the ribbons and laces of her muslin dressing gown + quivered gently with her deep regular breathing. She had thrown off her + slippers, and one long, slender foot was exposed; the other was doubled up + underneath her body. Her face was almost like the face of a child, smooth + and unwrinkled, save for one line by the eyes where she laughed. He looked + at her steadfastly. Could the closing of the eyes, indeed, make all the + difference? Life and the knowledge of life seemed things far from her + consciousness. Could one look like that—even in sleep—and + underneath—! Barrington broke away from his train of thought, and + woke her quickly. + </p> + <p> + She sat up and yawned. + </p> + <p> + “Parsons managed to catch you, then,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he answered. “I was just off. I got away from Wills’ dinner party + early, and called here for some notes. I must be at the House”—he + glanced at the clock—“in three-quarters of an hour!” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “I won’t keep you as long as that.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes met his, a little furtively, full of inquiry. “I have done what + you wished,” he said quietly. “I called at the Clarence Hotel!” + </p> + <p> + “You saw him!” + </p> + <p> + “No! He sent back my card. He declined to see me.” + </p> + <p> + She showed no sign of disappointment. She sat up and looked into the fire, + smoothing her hair mechanically with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Personally,” Barrington continued, “I could see no object whatever in my + visit. I have nothing to say to him, nor, I should think, he to me. I am + sorry for him, of course, but he’d never believe me if I told him so. What + happened to him was partly my fault, and unless he’s changed, he’s not + likely to forget it.” + </p> + <p> + She swayed a little towards him. + </p> + <p> + “It was partly—also—mine,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see that at all,” he objected. “You at any rate were blameless!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him, and he was astonished to find how pale she was. + </p> + <p> + “I was not!” she said calmly. + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. Barrington had the air of a man who has + received a shock. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth!” he exclaimed, glancing towards the door, and speaking almost in a + whisper. “Do you mean—that there are things which I have never + known?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she answered. “I mean that he might, if he chose, do us now—both + of us—an immense amount of harm.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington sat down at the end of the sofa. He knew his wife well enough + to understand that this was serious. + </p> + <p> + “Let us understand one another, Ruth,” he said quietly. “I always thought + that you were a little severe on Wingrave at the trial! He may bear you a + grudge for that; it is very possible that he does. But what can he do now? + He had his chance to cross examine you, and he let it go by.” + </p> + <p> + “He has some letters of mine,” Lady Ruth said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Letters! Written before the trial?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he not make use of them there?” + </p> + <p> + “If he had,” Lady Ruth said, with her eyes fixed upon the carpet, “the + sympathy would have been the other way. He would have got off with a much + lighter sentence, and you—would not have married me!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” Barrington muttered. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” Lady Ruth continued, resting her hand upon her husband’s coat + sleeve, “the thing happened all in a second. I had the check in my hand + when you and Sir William came crashing through that window, and Sir + William’s eyes were upon me. The only way to save myself was to repudiate + it, and let Wingrave get out of the affair as well as he could. Of course, + I never guessed what was going to happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was Wingrave,” Barrington muttered, “who played the game?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Lady Ruth answered quietly. “But I am not so sure about him now. + You and I, Lumley, know one another a little better today than we did + twelve years ago. We have had a few of the corners knocked off, I suppose. + I can tell you things now I didn’t care to then. Wingrave had lent me + money before! He has letters from me today, thanking him for it.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington was a large, florid man, well built and well set up. In court + he presented rather a formidable appearance with his truculent chin, his + straight, firm mouth, and his commanding presence. Yet there was nothing + about him now which would have inspired fear in the most nervous of + witnesses. He looked like a man all broken up by some unexpected shock. + </p> + <p> + “If he had produced those letters—at the trial—” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I risked it, anyhow,” she said. “I had to. My story was the only one + which gave me a dog’s chance, and I didn’t mean to go under—then. + Wingrave never gave me away, but I fancy he’s feeling differently about it + now!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him! He sent for me!” she answered. “Lumley, don’t look at me + like that! We’re not in the nursery, you and I. I went because I had to. + He’s going to America for a time, and then he’s coming back here. I think + that when he comes back—he means mischief!” + </p> + <p> + “He is not the sort of man to forget,” Barrington said, half to himself. + </p> + <p> + She shuddered ever so slightly. Then she stretched out a long white arm, + and drawing his head suddenly down to her, kissed him on the lips. + </p> + <p> + “If only,” she murmured, “he would give up the letters! Without them, he + might say—anything. No one would believe!” + </p> + <p> + Barrington raised his eyes to hers. There was something almost pathetic in + the worshiping light which shone there. He was, as he had always been, her + abject slave. + </p> + <p> + “Can you think of any way?” he asked. “Shall I go to him again?” + </p> + <p> + “Useless!” she answered. “You have nothing to offer in exchange. He would + not give them to me. He surely would not give them to you. Shall I tell + you what is in his mind? Listen, then! He is rich now; he means to make + more money there. Then he will return, calling himself Mr. Wingrave—an + American—with imaginary letters of introduction to us. He has + ambitions—I don’t know what they are, but they seem to entail his + holding some sort of a place in society. We are to be his sponsors.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it practicable?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” she answered. “He is absolutely unrecognizable now. He has + changed cruelly. Can’t you imagine the horror of it? He will be always in + evidence; always with those letters in the background. He means to make + life a sort of torture chamber for us!” + </p> + <p> + “Better defy him at once, and get over,” Barrington said. “After all, + don’t you think that the harm he could do is a little imaginary?” + </p> + <p> + She brushed the suggestion aside with a little shiver. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you what he would do, Lumley?” she said, leaning towards + him. “He would have my letters, and a copy of my evidence, printed in an + elegant little volume and distributed amongst my friends. It would come + one day like a bomb, and nothing that you or I could do would alter it in + the least. Your career and my social position would be ruined. Success + brings enemies, you know, Lumley, and I have rather more than my share.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we are helpless,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Unless we can get the letters—or unless he should never return from + America,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Barrington moved uneasily in his seat. He knew very well that some scheme + was already forming in his wife’s brain. + </p> + <p> + “If there is anything that I can do,” he said in a low tone, “don’t be + afraid to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one chance,” she answered, “a sort of forlorn hope, but you + might try it. He has a secretary, a young man named Aynesworth. If he were + on our side—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think,” Barrington interrupted, “that you would have more + chance with him than I?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “You foolish man,” she said, touching his fingers lightly. “I believe you + think that I am irresistible!” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen a good many lions tamed,” he reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Anyhow, there is one here who seems quite insensible. I have + talked already with Mr. Aynesworth. He would not listen to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” she continued softy, “of one thing I am very sure. Every + man is like every woman; he is vulnerable if you can discover the right + spot and the right weapons. Mr. Aynesworth is not a woman’s man, but I + fancy that he is ambitious. I thought that you might go and see him. He + has rooms somewhere in Dorset Street.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet. A glance at the clock reminded him of the hour. + </p> + <p> + “I will go,” he said. “I will do what I can. I think, dear,” he added, + bending over her to say farewell, “that you should have been the man!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Am I such a failure as a woman, then?” she asked with a swift upward + glance. “Don’t be foolish, Lumley. My woman will be here to dress me + directly. You must really go away.” + </p> + <p> + He strode down the stairs with tingling pulses, and drove to the House, + where his speech, a little florid in its rhetoric, and verbose as became + the man, was nevertheless a great success. + </p> + <p> + “Quite a clever fellow, Barrington,” one of his acquaintances remarked, + “when you get him away from his wife.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A FORLORN HOPE + </h2> + <p> + Aynesworth ceased tugging at the strap of his portmanteau, and rose slowly + to his feet. A visitor had entered his rooms—apparently unannounced. + </p> + <p> + “I must apologize,” the newcomer said, “for my intrusion. Your + housekeeper, I presume it was, whom I saw below, told me to come up.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth pushed forward a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you sit down?” he said. “I believe that I am addressing Mr. Lumley + Barrington.” + </p> + <p> + Not altogether without embarrassment, Barrington seated himself. Something + of his ordinary confidence of bearing and demeanor had certainly deserted + him. His manner, too, was nervous. He had the air of being altogether ill + at ease. + </p> + <p> + “I must apologize further, Mr. Aynesworth,” he continued, “for an + apparently ill-timed visit. You are, I see, on the eve of a journey.” + </p> + <p> + “I am leaving for America tomorrow,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “With Sir Wingrave Seton, I presume?” Barrington remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + Barrington hesitated for a moment. Aynesworth was civil, but inquiring. He + felt himself very awkwardly placed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth,” he said, “I must throw myself upon your consideration. + You can possibly surmise the reason of my visit.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that I must plead guilty to denseness—in + this particular instance, at any rate. I am altogether at a loss to + account for it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have had some conversation with my wife, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Before you proceed, Mr. Aynesworth,” Barrington interrupted, “one word. + You are aware that Sir Wingrave Seton is in possession of certain + documents in which my wife is interested, which he refuses to give up?” + </p> + <p> + “I have understood that such is the case,” Aynesworth admitted. “Will you + pardon me if I add that it is a matter which I can scarcely discuss?” + </p> + <p> + Barrington shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Let it go, for the moment,” he said. “There is something else which I + want to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth nodded a little curtly. He was not very favorably impressed + with his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + Barrington leaned forward in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth,” he said, “you have made for yourself some reputation as + a writer. Your name has been familiar to me for some time. I was at + college, I believe, with your uncle, Stanley Aynesworth.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Aynesworth said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know,” Barrington continued impressively, “what has induced you + to accept a position with such a man as Seton?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” Aynesworth declared, “is easily answered. I was not looking for a + secretaryship at all, or anything of the sort, but I chanced to hear his + history one night, and I was curious to analyze, so far as possible, his + attitude towards life and his fellows, on his reappearance in it. That is + the whole secret.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington leaned back in his chair, and glanced thoughtfully at his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “You know the story of his misadventures, then?” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I know all about his imprisonment, and the cause of it,” Aynesworth said + quietly. + </p> + <p> + Barrington was silent for several moments. He felt that he was receiving + but scanty encouragement. + </p> + <p> + “Is it worth while, Mr. Aynesworth?” he asked at length. “There is better + work for you in the world than this.” + </p> + <p> + Again Aynesworth preferred to reply by a gesture only. Barrington was + watching him steadily. + </p> + <p> + “A political secretaryship, Mr. Aynesworth,” he said, “might lead you + anywhere. If you are ambitious, it is the surest of all stepping stones + into the House. After that, your career is in your own hands. I offer you + such a post.” + </p> + <p> + “I am exceedingly obliged to you,” Aynesworth replied, “but I scarcely + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I have influence,” Barrington said, “which I have never cared to use on + my own account. I am willing to use it on yours. You have only to say the + word, and the matter is arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only repeat,” Aynesworth said, “that I am exceedingly obliged to + you, Mr. Barrington, but I cannot understand why you should interest + yourself so much on my behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish me to speak in plain words,” Barrington said, “I will do so. + I ask you to aid me as a man of honor in the restoration of those letters + to my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot do it,” Aynesworth said firmly. “I am sorry that you should have + come to me with such an offer. It is quite out of the question!” + </p> + <p> + Barrington held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Do not decide too hastily,” he said. “Remember this. Sir Wingrave Seton + had once an opportunity of putting those letters to any use he may have + thought fit. He ignored it. At that time, their tenor and contents might + easily have been explained. After all these years, that task would be far + more difficult. I say that no man has a right to keep a woman’s letters + back from her years after any friendship there may have been between them + is over. It is not the action of an honorable man. Sir Wingrave Seton has + placed himself outside the pale of honorable men.” + </p> + <p> + “Your judgment,” Aynesworth answered quietly, “seems to me severe. Sir + Wingrave Seton has been the victim of peculiar circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington looked at his companion thoughtfully. He was wondering exactly + how much he knew. + </p> + <p> + “You defend him,” he remarked. “That is because you have not yet found out + what manner of man he is.” + </p> + <p> + “In any case,” Aynesworth answered, “I am not his judge. Mr. Barrington,” + he added, “You must forgive me if I remind you that this is a somewhat + unprofitable discussion.” + </p> + <p> + A short silence followed. With Barrington it did not appear to be a + silence of irresolution. He was leaning a little forward in his chair, and + his head was resting upon his hand. Of his companion he seemed for the + moment to have become oblivious. Aynesworth watched him curiously. Was he + looking back through the years, he wondered, to that one brief but lurid + chapter of history; or was it his own future of which he was thinking,—a + future which, to the world, must seem so full of brilliant possibilities, + and yet which he himself must feel to be so fatally and miserably + insecure? + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth,” he said at last, “I suppose from a crude point of view I + am here to bribe you.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Is it worth while?” he asked a little wearily. “I have tried to be civil—but + I have also tried to make you understand. Your task is absolutely + hopeless!” + </p> + <p> + “It should not be,” Barrington persisted. “This is one of those rare + cases, in which anything is justifiable. Seton had his chance at the + trial. He chose to keep silence. I do not praise him or blame him for + that. It was the only course open to a man of honor. I maintain that his + silence then binds him to silence for ever. He has no right to ruin my + life and the happiness of my wife by subtle threats, to hold those foolish + letters over our heads, like a thunderbolt held ever in suspense. You are + ambitious, I believe, Mr. Aynesworth! Get me those letters, and I will + make you my secretary, find you a seat in Parliament, and anything else in + reason that you will!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth rose to his feet. He wished to intimate that, so far as he was + concerned, the interview was at an end. + </p> + <p> + “Your proposition, Mr. Barrington,” he said, “is absolutely impossible. In + the first place, I have no idea where the letters in question are, and Sir + Wingrave is never likely to suffer them to pass into my charge.” + </p> + <p> + “You have opportunities of finding out,” Barrington suggested. + </p> + <p> + “And secondly,” Aynesworth continued, ignoring the interruption, “whatever + the right or the wrong of this matter may be, I am in receipt of a salary + from Sir Wingrave Seton, and I cannot betray his confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington also rose to his feet. He was beginning to recognize the + hopelessness of his task. + </p> + <p> + “This is final, Mr. Aynesworth?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely!” was the firm reply. + </p> + <p> + Barrington bowed stiffly, and moved towards the door. On the threshold he + paused. + </p> + <p> + “I trust, Mr. Aynesworth,” he said hesitatingly, “that you will not regard + this as an ordinary attempt at bribery and corruption. I have simply asked + you to aid me in setting right a great injustice.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a subtle distinction, Mr. Barrington,” Aynesworth answered, “but I + will endeavor to keep in mind your point of view.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington drove straight home, and made his way directly to his study. + Now that he was free from his wife’s influence, and looked back upon his + recent interview, he realized for the first time the folly and indignity + of the whole proceedings. He was angry that, a man of common sense, keen + witted and farseeing in the ordinary affairs of life, should have placed + himself so completely in a false, not to say a humiliating position. And + then, just as suddenly, he forgot all about himself, and remembered only + her. With a breath of violets, and the delicate rustling of half-lifted + skirts, she had come softly into the room, and stood looking at him + inquiringly. Her manner seemed to indicate more a good-natured curiosity + than real anxiety. She made a little grimace as he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I have failed,” he said shortly. “That young man is a prig!” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid,” she said, “that he would be obstinate. Men with eyes of + that color always are!” + </p> + <p> + “What are we to do, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “What can we?” she answered calmly. “Nothing but wait. He is going to + America. It is a terrible country for accidents. Something may happen to + him there! Do go and change your things, there’s a dear, and look in at + the Westinghams’ for me for an hour. We’ll just get some supper and come + away.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be ready in ten minutes,” Barrington answered. He understood that + he was to ask no questions, nor did he. But all the time his man was + hurrying him into his clothes, his brain was busy weaving fancies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROFESSOR SINCLAIR’S DANCING ACADEMY + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Sinclair, or as he preferred to be called, Professor Sinclair, waved a + white kid glove in the direction of the dancing hall. + </p> + <p> + “This way, ladies and gentlemen!” he announced. “A beautiful valse just + about to commence. Tickets, if you please! Ah! Glad to see you, Miss + Cullingham! You’ll find—a friend of yours inside!” + </p> + <p> + There was a good deal of giggling as the girls came out from the little + dressing room and joined their waiting escorts, who stood in a line + against the wall, mostly struggling with refractory gloves. Mr. Sinclair, + proprietor of the West Islington Dancing Academy, and host of these little + gatherings—for a consideration of eighteenpence—did his best, + by a running fire of conversation, to set everyone at their ease. He wore + a somewhat rusty frock coat, black trousers, a white dress waistcoat, and + a red tie. Evening dress was not DE RIGUEUR! The money at the door, and + that everyone should behave as ladies and gentlemen, were the only things + insisted upon. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sinclair’s best smile and most correct bow was suddenly in evidence. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Violet!” he exclaimed to a lady who came in alone, “we are + enchanted. We feared that you had deserted us. There is a young gentleman + inside who is going to be made very happy. One shilling change, thank you. + Won’t you step into the cloak room?” + </p> + <p> + The lady shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t mind, Mr. Sinclair,” she said, “I would rather keep my hat + and veil on. I can only stay for a few minutes. Is Mr. Richardson here, do + you know? Ah! I can see him.” + </p> + <p> + She stepped past the Professor into the little dancing hall. A young lady + was pounding upon a piano, a boy at her side was playing the violin. A few + couples were dancing, but most of the company was looking on. The evening + was young, and Mr. Sinclair, who later on officiated as M.C., had not yet + made his attack upon the general shyness. The lady known as Mademoiselle + Violet paused and looked around her. Suddenly she caught sight of a pale, + anemic-looking youth, who was standing apart from the others, lounging + against the wall. She moved rapidly towards him. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mr. Richardson?” she said, holding out her hand. + </p> + <p> + He started, and a sudden rush of color streamed into his cheeks. He took + her hand awkwardly, and he was almost speechless with nervousness. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe you’re at all glad to see me!” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Miss Violet!” he exclaimed. He would have said more, but the words + stuck in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Can we sit down somewhere?” she said. “I want to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + There were one or two chairs placed behind a red drugget curtain, where + adventurous spirits led their partners later in the evening. They found a + place there, and the young man recovered his power of speech. + </p> + <p> + “Not glad to see you!” he exclaimed almost vehemently. “Why, what else do + you suppose I come here for every Thursday evening? I never dance; they + all make game of me because they know I come here on the chance of seeing + you again. I’m a fool! I know that! You just amuse yourself here with me, + and then you go away, back to your friends—and forget! And I hang + about round here, like the silly ass that I am!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear—George!” + </p> + <p> + The young man blushed at the sound of his Christian name. He was mollified + despite himself. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it’s got to be the same thing all over again,” he declared + resignedly. “You’ll talk to me and let me be near you—and make a + fool of me all round; and then you’ll go away, and heaven knows when I’ll + see you again. You won’t let me take you home, and won’t tell me where you + live, or who your friends are. You do treat me precious badly, Miss + Violet.” + </p> + <p> + “This time,” she said quietly, “it will not be the same. I have something + quite serious to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Something serious—you? Go on!” he exclaimed in excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Have you found another place yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I haven’t really tried. I have a little money saved, and I could get + one tomorrow if—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped him with a smiling gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mean that—yet,” she said. “I wanted to know whether it + would be possible for you to go away for a little time, if someone paid + all your expenses.” + </p> + <p> + “To go away!” he repeated blankly. “What for?” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Violet leaned a little nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “My mistress asked me yesterday,” she said, “if I knew anyone who could be + trusted who would go away, at a moment’s notice, on an errand for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mistress,” he repeated. “You really are a lady’s maid, then, are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” she answered impatiently. “Haven’t I told you so before? Now + what do you say? Will you go?” + </p> + <p> + “I dunno,” he answered thoughtfully. “If it had been for you, I don’t know + that I’d have minded. I ain’t fond of traveling.” + </p> + <p> + “It is for me,” she interrupted hastily. “If I can find her anyone who + will do what she wants, she will make my fortune. She has promised. And + then—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and then?” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Violet looked at him thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I should not make any promises,” she said demurely, “but things would + certainly be different.” + </p> + <p> + The young man’s blood was stirred. Mademoiselle Violet stood to him for + the whole wonderful world of romance, into which he had peered dimly from + behind the counter of an Islington emporium. Her low voice—so + strange to his ears after the shrill chatter of the young ladies of his + acquaintance—the mystery of her coming and going, all went to give + color to the single dream of his unimaginative life. Apart from her, he + was a somewhat vulgar, entirely commonplace young man, of saving habits, + and with some aptitude for business, in a small way. He had been well on + his way to becoming a small but successful shopkeeper, thereby realizing + the only ideals which had yet presented themselves to him, when Madame + Violet had unconsciously intervened. Of what might become of him now he + had no clear conception of himself. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go!” he declared. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Violet’s eyes flashed behind her veil. Her fingers touched + his for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long way,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care,” he answered valiantly. + </p> + <p> + “To—America!” + </p> + <p> + “America!” he gasped. “But—is this a joke, Miss Violet?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not! America is not a great journey.” + </p> + <p> + “But it will cost—” + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “My mistress is very rich,” she said. “The cost does not matter at all. + You will have all the money you can spend—and more.” + </p> + <p> + He felt himself short of breath, and bereft of words. + </p> + <p> + “Gee whiz!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + They sat there in silence for a few moments. A promenading couple put + their heads behind the screen, and withdrew with the sound of feminine + giggling. Outside, the piano was being thumped to the tune of a popular + polka. + </p> + <p> + “But what have I go to do?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To watch a man who will go out by the same steamer as you,” she answered. + “Write to London, tell me what he does, how he spends his time, whether he + is ill or well. You must stay at the same hotel in New York, and try and + find out what his business is there. Remember, we want to know, my + mistress and I, everything that he does.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” he asked. “A friend of your mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she answered shortly, “an enemy. A cruel enemy—the cruelest + enemy a woman could have!” + </p> + <p> + The subdued passion of her tone thrilled him. He felt himself bewildered—in + touch with strange things. She leaned a little closer towards him, and + that mysterious perfume, which was one of her many fascinations, dazed him + with its sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “If you could send home word,” she whispered, “that he was ill, that + anything had happened to him, that he was not likely to return—our + fortunes would be made—yours and mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” he muttered. “You—phew! It’s hot here!” + </p> + <p> + He wiped the perspiration recklessly from his forehead with a red silk + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “What made you come to me?” he asked. “I don’t even know the name of your + mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “And you must not ask it,” she declared quietly. “It is better for you not + to know. I came to you because you were a man, and I knew that I could + trust you.” + </p> + <p> + Her flattery sank into his soul. No one else had ever called him a man. He + felt himself capable of great things. To think that, but for the coming of + this wonderful Mademoiselle Violet, he might even now have been furnishing + a small shop on the outskirts of Islington, with collars and ties and + gloves designed to attract the youth of that populous neighborhood! + </p> + <p> + “When do I start?” he asked with a coolness which surprised himself. + </p> + <p> + She drew a heavy packet from the recesses of the muff she carried. + </p> + <p> + “All the particulars are here,” she said. “The name of the steamer, the + name of the man, and money. You will be told where to get more in New + York, if you need it.” + </p> + <p> + He took it from her mechanically. She rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “You will remember,” she said, looking into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I ain’t likely to forget anything you’ve said tonight,” he answered + honestly. “But look here! Let me take you home—just this once! Give + me something to think about.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I will give you something to hope for,” she whispered. “You must not come + a yard with me. When you come back it will, perhaps—be different.” + </p> + <p> + He remained behind the partition, gripping the packet tightly. + Mademoiselle Violet took a hasty adieu of Mr. Sinclair, and descended to + the street. She walked for a few yards, and then turned sharply to the + left. A hansom, into which she stepped at once, was waiting there. She + wrapped herself hastily in a long fur coat which lay upon the seat, and + thrust her hand through the trap door. + </p> + <p> + “St. Martin’s Schoolroom!” she told the cabman. + </p> + <p> + Apparently Mademoiselle Violet combined a taste for philanthropy with her + penchant for Islington dancing halls. She entered the little schoolroom + and made her way to the platform, dispensing many smiles and nods amongst + the audience of the concert, which was momentarily interrupted for her + benefit. She was escorted on to the platform by a young and + earnest-looking clergyman, and given a chair in the center of the little + group who were gathered there. And after the conclusion of the song, the + clergyman expressed his gratification to the audience that a lady with so + many calls upon her time, such high social duties, should yet find time to + show her deep interest in their welfare by this most kind visit. After + which, he ventured to call upon Lady Barrington to say a few words. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEPHISTOPHELES ON A STEAMER + </h2> + <p> + In some respects, the voyage across the Atlantic was a surprise to + Aynesworth. His companion seemed to have abandoned, for the time at any + rate, his habit of taciturnity. He conversed readily, if a little stiffly, + with his fellow passengers. He divided his time between the smoke room and + the deck, and very seldom sought the seclusion of his state room. + Aynesworth remarked upon this change one night as the two men paced the + deck after dinner. + </p> + <p> + “You are beginning to find more pleasure,” he said, “in talking to + people.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” he answered coldly. “It is extremely distasteful to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you do it?” Aynesworth asked bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave never objected to being asked questions by his secretary. He + seemed to recognize the fact that Aynesworth’s retention of his post was + due to a desire to make a deliberate study of himself, and while his own + attitude remained purely negative, he at no time exhibited any resentment + or impatience. + </p> + <p> + “I do it for several reasons,” he answered. “First, because misanthropy is + a luxury in which I cannot afford to indulge. Secondly, because I am + really curious to know whether the time will ever return when I shall feel + the slightest shadow of interest in any human being. I can only discover + this by affecting a toleration for these people’s society, which I can + assure you, if you are curious about the matter, is wholly assumed.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” he said, “you find Mrs. Travers entertaining?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave reflected for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the lady with a stock of epigrams, and a green veil?” he + remarked. “No! I do not find her entertaining.” + </p> + <p> + “Your neighbor at table then, Miss Packe?” + </p> + <p> + “If my affections have perished,” Wingrave answered grimly, “my taste, I + hope, is unimpaired. The young person who travels to improve her mind, and + fills up the gaps by reading Baedeker on the places she hasn’t been to, + fails altogether to interest me!” + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you a little severe?” Aynesworth remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” Wingrave answered, “that it depends upon the point of view, + to use a hackneyed phrase. You study people with a discerning eye for good + qualities. Nature—and circumstances have ordered it otherwise with + me. I see them through darkened glasses.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not the way to happiness,” Aynesworth said. + </p> + <p> + “There is no highroad to what you term happiness,” Wingrave answered. “One + holds the string and follows into the maze. But one does not choose one’s + way. You are perhaps more fortunate than I that you can appreciate Mrs. + Travers’ wit, and find my neighbor, who has done Europe, attractive. That + is a matter of disposition.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like,” Aynesworth remarked, “to have known you fifteen years + ago.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy,” he said, “that I was a fairly average person—I mean that + I was possessed of an average share of the humanities. I have only my + memory to go by. I am one of those fortunate persons, you see, who have + realized an actual reincarnation. I have the advantage of having looked + out upon life from two different sets of windows.—By the bye, + Aynesworth, have you noticed that unwholesome-looking youth in a serge + suit there?” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What about him?” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy that he must know—my history. He sits all day long smoking + bad cigarettes and watching me. He makes clumsy attempts to enter into + conversation with me. He is interested in us for some reason or other.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Shocking young bounder,” he remarked. “I’ve noticed him myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk to him some time, and find out what he means by it,” Wingrave said. + “I don’t want to find my biography in the American newspapers. It might + interfere with my operations there. Here’s this woman coming to worry us! + You take her off, Aynesworth! I shall go into the smoking room.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Travers was not so easily to be disposed of. For some reason or + other, she had shown a disposition to attach herself to Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “Please put me in my chair,” she said to him, holding out her rug and + cushion. “No! Not you, Mr. Aynesworth. Mr. Wingrave understands so much + better how to wrap me up. Thanks! Won’t you sit down yourself? It’s much + better for you out here than in the smoking room—and we might go on + with our argument.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” Wingrave remarked, accepting her invitation after a moment’s + hesitation, “that we were to abandon it.” + </p> + <p> + “That was before dinner,” she answered, glancing sideways at him. “I feel + braver now.” + </p> + <p> + “You are prepared,” he remarked, “for unconditional surrender?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him again. She had rather nice eyes, quite dark and very + soft, and she was a great believer in their efficacy. + </p> + <p> + “Of my argument?” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer her for a moment. He had turned his head slightly + towards her, and though his face was, as usual, expressionless, and his + eyes cold and hard, she found nevertheless something of meaning in his + steady regard. There was a flush in her cheek when she looked away. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” she remarked, “that you are rather a terrible person.” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me,” he murmured. “I am really quite harmless!” + </p> + <p> + “Not from conviction then, I am sure,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “Let us call it from lack of enterprise! The + virtues are all very admirable things, but it is the men and women with + vices who have ruled the world. The good die young because there is no + useful work for them to do. No really satisfactory person, from a moral + point of view, ever achieved greatness!” + </p> + <p> + She half closed her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My head is going round,” she murmured. “What an upheaval! Fancy + Mephistopheles on a steamer!” + </p> + <p> + “He was, at any rate, the most interesting of that little trio,” Wingrave + remarked, “but even he was a trifle heavy.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you go about the world preaching your new doctrines?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” he answered. “Nothing would every make a missionary of me, for + good or for evil, for the simple reason that no one else’s welfare except + my own has the slightest concern for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What hideous selfishness!” she said softly. “But I don’t think—you + quite mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you I do,” he answered drily. “My world consists of myself + for the central figure, and the half a dozen or so of people who are + useful or amusing to me! Except that the rest are needed to keep moving + the machinery of the world, they might all perish, so far as I was + concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think,” Mrs. Travers said softly, “that I should like to be in + your world.” + </p> + <p> + “I can very easily believe you,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Unless,” she remarked tentatively, “I came to convert!” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “There is something in that,” he admitted. “It would be a great work, a + little difficult, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more interesting!” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he continued, “I am not only bad, but I admire badness. My wish + is to remain bad—in fact, I should like to be worse if I knew how. + You would find it hard to make a start. I couldn’t even admit that a state + of goodness was desirable!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him curiously. The night air was perhaps getting colder, for + she shivered, and drew the rug a little closer around her. + </p> + <p> + “You speak like a prophet,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “A prophet of evil then!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him steadfastly. The lightness had gone out of her tone. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” she said, “I am almost sorry that I ever knew you?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t mean it,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I have done you the greatest service one human being can render another! + I have saved you from being bored!” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That may be true,” she admitted. “But can you conceive no worse state in + the world than being bored?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no worse state,” he answered drily. “I was bored once,” he + added, “for ten years or so; I ought to know!” + </p> + <p> + “Were you married?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite so bad as that,” he answered. “I was in prison!” + </p> + <p> + She turned a startled face towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly true,” he said coolly. “Are you horrified?” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do?” she asked in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “I killed a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Purposely?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “He attacked me! I had to defend myself.” + </p> + <p> + She said nothing for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No! Sit still,” she answered. “I am frightened of you, but I don’t want + you to go away. I want to think.... Yes! I can understand you better now! + Your life was spoilt!” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” he answered. “I am still young! I am going to make up for + those ten years.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot,” she answered. “The years can carry no more than their + ordinary burden of sensations. If you try to fill them too full, you lose + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall try what I can do!” he remarked calmly. + </p> + <p> + She rose abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid of you tonight,” she said. “I am going downstairs. Will you + give my rug and cushion to the deck steward? And—good night.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him her hand, but she did not look at him, and she hurried away a + little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave yawned, and lighting a cigar, strolled up and down the deck. A + figure loomed out of the darkness and almost ran into him. It was the + young man in the serge suit. He muttered a clumsy apology and hurried on. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A COCKNEY CONSPIRATOR + </h2> + <p> + “The bar closes in ten minutes, sir!” the smoking room steward announced. + </p> + <p> + The young man who had been the subject of Wingrave’s remarks hastily + ordered another drink, although he had an only half-emptied tumbler in + front of him. Presently he stumbled out on to the deck. It was a dark + night, and a strong head wind was blowing. He groped his way to the + railing and leaned over, with his head half buried in his hands. Below, + the black tossing sea was churned into phosphorescent spray, as the + steamer drove onwards into the night. + </p> + <p> + Was it he indeed—George Richardson? He doubted it. The world of tape + measures and calico counters seemed so far away; the interior of his + quondam lodgings in a by-street of Islington, so unfamiliar and + impossible. He felt himself swallowed up in this new and bewildering + existence, of which he was so insignificant an atom, the existence where + tragedy reared her gloomy head, and the shadows of great things loomed + around him. Down there in the cold restless waste of black waters—what + was it that he saw? The sweat broke out upon his forehead, the blood + seemed turned to ice in his veins. He knew very well that his fancy mocked + him, that it was not indeed a man’s white face gleaming on the crest of + the waves. But none the less he was terrified. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richardson was certainly nervous. Not all the brandy he had drunk—and + he had never drunk half as much before in his life—afforded him the + least protection from these ghastly fancies. The step of a sailor on the + deck made him shiver; the thought of his empty state room was a horror. He + tried to think of the woman at whose bidding he had left behind him + Islington and the things that belonged to Islington! He tried to recall + her soft suggestive whispers, the glances which promised more even than + her spoken words, all the perfume and mystery of her wonderful presence. + Her very name was an allurement. Mademoiselle Violet! How softly it fell + from the lips!... God in heaven, what was that? He started round, + trembling in every limb. It was nothing more than the closing of the + smoking room door behind him. Sailors with buckets and mops were already + beginning their nightly tasks. He must go to his state room! Somehow or + other, he must get through the night... + </p> + <p> + He did it, but he was not a very prepossessing looking object when he + staggered out on deck twelve hours later, into the noon sunshine. The + chair towards which he looked so eagerly was occupied. He scarcely knew + himself whether that little gulp of acute feeling, which shot through his + veins, was of relief or disappointment. While he hesitated, Wingrave + raised his head. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave did not, as a rule, speak to his fellow passengers. Of + Richardson, he had not hitherto taken the slightest notice. Yet this + morning, of all others, he addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” he said, holding it out towards him, “that this envelope is + yours. I found it under your chair.” + </p> + <p> + Richardson muttered something inarticulate, and almost snatched it away. + It was the envelope of the fatal letter which Mademoiselle Violet had + written him to Queenstown. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Richardson, if you are not in a hurry,” Wingrave continued + calmly. “I was hoping that I might see you this morning. Can you spare me + a few minutes?” + </p> + <p> + Richardson subsided into his chair. His heart was thumping against his + ribs. Wingrave’s voice sounded to him like a far-off thing. + </p> + <p> + “The handwriting upon that envelope which I have just restored to you, Mr. + Richardson, is well known to me,” Wingrave continued, gazing steadfastly + at the young man whom he was addressing. + </p> + <p> + “The envelope! The handwriting!” Richardson faltered. “I—it was from—” + </p> + <p> + An instant’s pause. Wingrave raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said. “We need not mention the lady’s name. That she should be a + correspondent of yours, however, helps me to understand better several + matters which have somewhat puzzled me lately. No! Don’t go, my dear sir. + We must really have this affair straightened out.” + </p> + <p> + “What affair?” Richardson demanded, with a very weak attempt at bluster. + “I don’t understand you—don’t understand you at all.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave leaned a little forward in his chair. His eyebrows were drawn + close together; his gaze was entirely merciless. + </p> + <p> + “You are not well this morning,” he remarked. “A little headache perhaps! + Won’t you try one of these phenacetine lozenges—excellent things for + a headache, I believe? Warranted, in fact, to cure all bodily ailments for + ever! What! You don’t like the look of them?” + </p> + <p> + The young man cowered back in his chair. He was gripping the sides tightly + with both hands, and the pallor of a ghastly fear had spread over his + face. + </p> + <p> + “I—don’t know what you mean,” he faltered. “I haven’t a headache!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked thoughtfully at the box between his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “If you took one of these, Mr. Richardson,” he said, “you would never have + another, at any rate. Now, tell me, sir, how you came by them!” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about—” the young man began. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t lie to me, sir,” Wingrave said sharply. “I have been wondering what + the —— you meant by hanging around after me, giving the deck + steward five shillings to put your chair next mine, and pretending to + read, while all the time you were trying to overhear any scraps of + conversation between my secretary and myself. I thought you were simply + guilty of impertinent curiosity. This, however, rather alters the look of + affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “What does?” Richardson asked faintly. “That box ain’t mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” Wingrave answered, “but you found it in my state room and + filled it up with its present contents. My servant saw you coming out, and + immediately went in to see what you had stolen, and report you. He found + nothing missing, but he found this box full of lozenges, which he knows + quite well was half full before you went in. Now, what was your object, + Mr. Richardson, in tampering with that box upon my shelf?” + </p> + <p> + “I have—I have never seen it before,” Richardson declared. “I have + never been in your state room!” + </p> + <p> + The deck steward was passing. Wingrave summoned him. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would ask my servant to step this way,” he said. “You will + find him in my state room.” + </p> + <p> + The man disappeared through the companion way. Richardson rose to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not going to stay here to be bullied and cross examined,” he + declared. “I’m off!” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” Wingrave said. “If you leave me now, I shall ask the captain + to place you under arrest.” + </p> + <p> + Richardson looked half fearfully around. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Attempted murder! Very clumsily attempted, but attempted murder none the + less.” + </p> + <p> + The young man collapsed. Wingrave’s servant came down the deck. + </p> + <p> + “You sent for me, sir?” he inquired respectfully. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave pointed towards his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Was that the person whom you saw coming out of my state room?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes sir,” the man replied at once. + </p> + <p> + “You could swear to him, if necessary?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Morrison.” + </p> + <p> + The man withdrew. Wingrave turned to his victim. “A few weeks ago,” he + remarked, “I had a visit from the lady whose handwriting is upon that + envelope. I had on the table before me a box of phenacetine lozenges. She + naturally concluded that I was in the habit of using them. That lady has + unfortunately cause to consider me, if not an enemy, something very much + like it. You are in correspondence with her. Only last night you placed in + my box of these lozenges some others, closely resembling them, but + fortunately a little different in shape. Mine were harmless—as a + matter of fact, a single one of yours would kill a man in ten minutes. + Now, Mr. Richardson, what have you to say about all this? Why should I not + send for the captain, and have you locked up till we arrive at New York?” + </p> + <p> + Richardson drew his handkerchief across his damp forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t prove nothing,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that I must differ from you,” Wingrave answered. “We will see + what the captain has to say.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward in his chair, to attract the attention of a seaman. + </p> + <p> + Richardson interposed. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said thickly. “Suppose I own up! What then?” + </p> + <p> + “A few questions—nothing terrifying. I am not very frightened of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “How did you become acquainted with the writer of that letter?” + </p> + <p> + Richardson hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “She came to a dancing class at Islington,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave’s face was expressionless, but his tone betrayed his incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “A dancing class at Islington! Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Mind,” the young man asserted, “it was her mistress who put her up to + this! It was nothing to do with her. It was for her mistress’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the mistress?” Wingrave asked. + </p> + <p> + “No; I don’t know her name even. Never heard it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your letter, then, was from the maid?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, it was,” Richardson answered. “If you recognize the writing, + you must know that yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked reflectively seaward. The matter was not entirely clear to + him. Yet he was sure that this young man was telling the truth, so far as + he could divine it. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “you have made your attempt and failed. If fortune had + favored you, you might at this moment have been a murderer. I might have + warned you, by the bye, that I am an exceedingly hard man to kill.” + </p> + <p> + Richardson looked uneasily around. + </p> + <p> + “I ain’t admitting anything, you know,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely! Well, what are you going to do now? Are you satisfied with + your first reverse, or are you going to renew the experiment?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve had enough,” was the dogged answer. “I’ve been made a fool of. I can + see that. I shall return home by the next steamer. I never ought to have + got mixed up in this.” + </p> + <p> + “I am inclined to agree with you,” Wingrave remarked calmly. “Do I + understand that if I choose to forget this little episode, you will return + to England by the next steamer?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear it,” Richardson declared. + </p> + <p> + “And in the meantime, that you make no further attempt of a similar + nature?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” he answered with emphasis. “I’ve had enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” Wingrave said, “we need not prolong this conversation. Forgive my + suggesting, Mr. Richardson, that whilst I am on deck, the other side of + the ship should prove more convenient for you!” + </p> + <p> + The young man rose, and without a word staggered off. Wingrave watched him + through half-closed eyes, until he disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “It was worth trying,” he said softly to himself. “A very clever woman + that! She looks forward through the years, and she sees the clouds + gathering. It was a little risky, and the means were very crude. But it + was worth trying!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MOTH AND THE CANDLE + </h2> + <h3> + “Tomorrow morning,” Aynesworth remarked, “we shall land.” + </h3> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be sorry,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth fidgeted about. He had something to say, and he found it + difficult. Wingrave gave him no encouragement. He was leaning back in his + steamer chair, with his eyes fixed upon the sky line. Notwithstanding the + incessant companionship of the last six days, Aynesworth felt that he had + not progressed a single step towards establishing any more intimate + relations between his employer and himself. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers is not on deck this afternoon,” he remarked a trifle + awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” Wingrave answered. “I hadn’t noticed.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth sat down. There was nothing to be gained by fencing. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to talk about her, sir, if I might,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave withdrew his eyes from the sea, and looked at his companion in + cold surprise. + </p> + <p> + “To me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I thought, the first few days, that Mrs. Travers was simply a vain + little woman of the world, perfectly capable of taking care of herself, + and heartless enough to flirt all day long, if she chose, without any + risk, so far as she was concerned. I believe I made a mistake!” + </p> + <p> + “This is most interesting,” Wingrave said calmly, “but why talk to me + about the lady? I fancy that I know as much about her as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely; but you may not have realized the same things. Mrs. Travers + is a married woman, with a husband in Boston, and two little children, of + whom, I believe, she is really very fond. She is a foolish, good-natured + little woman, who thinks herself clever because her husband has permitted + her to travel a good deal, and has evidently been rather fascinated by the + latitudinarianism of continental society. She is a little afraid of being + terribly bored when she gets back to Boston, and she is very sentimental.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea,” Wingrave remarked, “that you had been submitting the lady + and her affairs to the ordeal of your marvelous gift of analysis. I rather + fancied that you took no interest in her at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not,” Aynesworth answered, “until last night.” + </p> + <p> + “And last night?” he repeated questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “I found her on deck—crying. She had been tearing up some + photographs, and she talked a little wildly. I talked to her then for a + little time.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t you be more explicit?” Wingrave asked. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth looked him in the face. + </p> + <p> + “She gave me the impression,” he said, “that she did not intend to return + to her husband.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And what have you to say to me about this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to say anything, of course,” Aynesworth answered. “You + might very properly tell me that it is no concern of mine. Mrs. Travers + has already compromised herself, to some extent, with the people on board + who know her and her family. She never leaves your side for a moment if + she can help it, and for the last two or three days she has almost + followed you about. You may possibly derive some amusement from her + society for a short time, but—afterwards!” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself exactly,” Wingrave said. + </p> + <p> + “Is it necessary?” Aynesworth declared brusquely. “Talk sensibly to her! + Don’t encourage her if she should really be contemplating anything + foolish!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hang it all!” Aynesworth declared. “I’m not a moralist, but she’s a + decent little woman. Don’t ruin her life for the sake of a little + diversion!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave, who had been holding a cigar case in his hand for the last few + minutes, opened it, and calmly selected a cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you a little melodramatic, Aynesworth?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sounds like it, no doubt,” his companion answered, “but after all, hang + it, she’s not a bad little sort, and you wouldn’t care to meet her in + Piccadilly in a couple of years’ time.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave turned a little in his chair. There was a slight hardening of the + mouth, a cold gleam in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he remarked, “is precisely where you are wrong. I am afraid you + have forgotten our previous conversations on this or a similar subject. + Disconnect me in your mind at once from all philanthropic notions! I + desire to make no one happy, to assist at no one’s happiness. My own life + has been ruined by a woman. Her sex shall pay me where it can. If I can + obtain from the lady in question a single second’s amusement, her future + is a matter of entire indifference to me. She can play the repentant wife, + or resort to the primeval profession of her sex. I should not even have + the curiosity to inquire which.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” Aynesworth said slowly, “I presume that I need say no + more.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless it amuses you,” Wingrave answered, “it really is not worth while.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” Aynesworth remarked, “it is as well that I should tell you + this. I shall put the situation before Mrs. Travers exactly as I see it. I + shall do my best to dissuade her from any further or more intimate + intercourse with you.” + </p> + <p> + “At the risk, of course,” Wingrave said, “of my offering you—this?” + </p> + <p> + He drew a paper from his pocket book, and held it out. It was the return + half of a steamer ticket. + </p> + <p> + “Even at that risk,” Aynesworth answered without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave carefully folded the document, and returned it to his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” he said, “to find that you are so consistent. There is Mrs. + Travers scolding the deck steward. Go and talk to her! You will scarcely + find a better opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth rose at once. Wingrave in a few moments also left his seat, but + proceeded in the opposite direction. He made his way into the purser’s + room, and carefully closed the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers greeted Aynesworth without enthusiasm. Her eyes were resting + upon the empty place which Wingrave had just vacated. + </p> + <p> + “Can I get your chair for you, Mrs. Travers,” Aynesworth asked, “or shall + we walk for a few minutes?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers hesitated. She looked around, but there was obviously no + escape for her. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to sit down,” she said. “I am very tired this morning. My + chair is next Mr. Wingrave’s there.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth found her rug and wrapped it around her. She leaned back and + closed her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I shall try to sleep,” she said. “I had such a shocking night.” + </p> + <p> + He understood at once that she was on her guard, and he changed his + tactics. + </p> + <p> + “First,” he said, “may I ask you a question?” + </p> + <p> + She opened her eyes wide, and looked at him. She was afraid. + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” she said hurriedly. “This afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon I may not have the opportunity,” he answered. “Is your + husband going to meet you at New York, Mrs. Travers?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going direct to Boston?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him steadily. There was a slight flush of color in her + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I find your questions impertinent, Mr. Aynesworth,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. Aynesworth hated his task and hated himself. + But most of all, he pitied the woman who sat by his side. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said, “they are not impertinent. I am the looker-on, you know, + and I have seen—a good deal. If Wingrave were an ordinary sort of + man, I should never have dared to interfere. If you had been an ordinary + sort of woman, I might not have cared to.” + </p> + <p> + She half rose in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not stay here,” she began, struggling with her rug. + </p> + <p> + “Do!” he begged. “I am—I want to be your friend, really!” + </p> + <p> + “You are supposed to be his,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am his secretary. There is no question of friendship between us. For + the rest, I told him that I should speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no right to discuss me at all,” she declared vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “None whatever,” he admitted. “I have to rely entirely upon your mercy. + This is the truth. People are thrown together a good deal on a voyage like + this. You and Mr. Wingrave have seen a good deal of one another. You are a + very impressionable woman; he is a singularly cold, unimpressionable man. + You have found his personality attractive. You fancy—other things. + Wingrave is not the man you think he is. He is selfish and entirely + without affectionate impulses. The world has treated him badly, and he has + no hesitation in saying that he means to get some part of his own back + again. He does not care for you, he does not care for anyone. If you + should be contemplating anything ridiculous from a mistaken judgment of + his character, it is better that you should know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + The anger had gone. She was pale again, and her lips were trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Men seldom know one another,” she said softly. “You judge from the + surface only.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine is the critical judgment of one who has studied him intimately,” + Aynesworth said. “Yours is the sentimental hope of one fascinated by what + she does not understand. Wingrave is utterly heartless!” + </p> + <p> + “That,” she answered steadfastly, “I do not believe.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not because you will not,” he declared. “I have spoken because I + wish to save you from doing what you would repent of for the rest of your + days. You have the one vanity which is common to all women. You believe + that you can change what, believe me, is unchangeable. To Wingrave, women + are less than playthings. He owes the unhappiness of his life to one, and + he would see the whole of her sex suffer without emotion. He is + impregnable to sentiment. Ask him and I believe that he would admit it!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and regarded him with the mild pity of superior knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand Mr. Wingrave,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth sighed. He realized that every word he had spoken had been + wasted upon this pale, pretty woman, who sat with her eyes now turned + seawards, and the smile still lingering upon her lips. Studying her for a + moment, he realized the danger more acutely than ever before. The + fretfulness seemed to have gone from her face, the weary lines from her + mouth. She had the look of a woman who has come into the knowledge of + better things. And it was Wingrave who had done this! Aynesworth for the + first time frankly hated the man. Once, as a boy, he had seen a keeper + take a rabbit from a trap and dash its brains out against a tree. The + incident flashed then into his mind, only the face of the keeper was the + face of Wingrave! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “DEVIL TAKE THE HINDMOST” + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave and Aynesworth were alone in a private room of the Waldorf + Astoria Hotel. The table at which the former was seated was covered with + letters and papers. A New York directory and an atlas were at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “I propose,” Wingrave said, leaning back in his chair, “to give you some + idea of the nature of my business in this country. You will be able then, + I trust, to carry out my instructions more intelligibly.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” he said, “that you came here simply to remain in seclusion + for a time.” + </p> + <p> + “That is one of my reasons,” Wingrave admitted, “but I had a special + purpose in coming to America. During my—enforced seclusion—I + made the acquaintance of a man called Hardwell. He was an Englishman, but + he had lived in America for some years, and had got into trouble over some + company business. We had some conversation, and it is upon his information + that I am now going to act.” + </p> + <p> + “He is trustworthy?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “I take the risk,” Wingrave answered coolly. “There is a small copper mine + in Utah called the Royal Hardwell Copper Mine. The shares are hundred + dollar ones, and there are ten thousand of them. They are scarcely quoted + now, as the mine has become utterly discredited. Hardwell managed this + himself with a false report. He meant to have the company go into + liquidation, and then buy it for a very small amount. As a matter of fact, + the mine is good, and could be worked at a large profit.” + </p> + <p> + “You have Hardwell’s word for that,” Aynesworth remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” Wingrave remarked. “I am proceeding on the assumption that he + told me the truth. I wish to buy, if possible, the whole of the shares, + and as many more as I can get brokers to sell. The price of the shares + today is two dollars!” + </p> + <p> + “I presume you will send out an expert to the mine first?” Aynesworth + said. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do nothing of the sort,” Wingrave answered. “The fact that I was + buying upon information would send the shares up at once. I mean to buy + first, and then go out to the mine. If I have made a mistake, I shall not + be ruined. If Hardwell’s story is true, there will be millions in it.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth said nothing, but his face expressed a good deal. + </p> + <p> + “Here are the names of seven respectable brokers,” Wingrave continued, + passing a sheet of paper towards him. “I want you to buy five hundred + shares from each of them. The price may vary a few points. Whatever it is, + pay it. Here are seven signed checks. I shall buy myself as many as I can + without spoiling the market. You had better start out in about a quarter + of an hour and see to this. You have my private ledger?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Open an account to Hardwell in it; a quarter of all the shares I buy are + to be in his name, and a quarter of all the profits I make in dealing in + the shares is to be credited to him.” + </p> + <p> + “A fairly generous arrangement for Mr. Hardwell,” Aynesworth remarked. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing generous about it,” Wingrave answered coldly. “It is the + arrangement I made with him, and to which I propose to adhere. You + understand what I want you to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” Aynesworth answered; “I still think, however, that much the + wiser course would be to send an expert to the mine first.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” Wingrave remarked politely. “That is all, I think. I shall + expect to see you at luncheon time. If you are asked questions as to why + you are dealing in these shares to such an extent, you can say that the + friend for whom you are acting desires to boom copper, and is going on the + low price of the metal at the moment. They will think you a fool, and + perhaps may not trouble to conceal their opinion after they have finished + the business. You must endeavor to support the character. I have no doubt + but that you will be successful.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth moved towards the door. + </p> + <p> + Once more Wingrave called him back. He was leaning a little forward across + the table. His face was very set and cold. + </p> + <p> + “There is a question which I wish to ask you, Aynesworth,” he said. “It + concerns another matter altogether. Do you know who sent the Marconigram + to Dr. Travers, which brought him to New York to meet his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + “It was sent by someone on board the ship,” Wingrave continued. “You have + no suspicion as to whom it could have been?” + </p> + <p> + “None!” Aynesworth answered firmly. “At the same time, I do not mind + telling you this. If I had thought of it, I would have sent it myself.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It is perhaps fortunate for the continuation of our mutual relations that + you did not think of it,” he remarked quietly. “I accept your denial. I + shall expect you back at one o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + At a few minutes after that hour the two men sat down to luncheon. + Wingrave at that time was the possessor of six thousand shares in the + Royal Hardwell Copper Mine, which had cost him, on an average, two dollars + twenty-five. The news of the dealing, however, had got about, and although + derision was the chief sentiment amongst the brokers, the price steadily + mounted. A dozen telegrams were sent out to the mine, and on receipt of + the replies, the dealing became the joke of the day. The mine was still + deserted, and no fresh inspection had been made. The price dropped a + little. Then Wingrave bought a thousand more by telephone, and it rose + again to four. A few minutes before closing time, he threw every share of + which he was possessed upon the market, and the next morning Royal + Hardwells stood at one dollar seventy-five. + </p> + <p> + For a week Wingrave pursued the same tactics, and at the end of that time + he had made twenty thousand dollars. The brokers, however, now understood, + or thought they understood, the situation. No one bought for the rise; + they were all sellers. Wingrave at once changed his tactics. He bought + five thousand shares in one block, and sold none. Even then, the market + was only mildly amused. In a fortnight he was the nominal owner of sixteen + thousand shares in a company of which only ten thousand actually existed. + Then he sat still, and the panic began. The shares in a company which + everyone believed to be worthless stood at thirty dollars, and not a share + was offered. + </p> + <p> + A small pandemonium reigned in Wingrave’s sitting room. The telephone rang + all the time; the place was besieged with brokers. Then Wingrave showed + his hand. He had bought these shares to hold; he did not intend to sell + one. As to the six thousand owed to him beyond the number issued, he was + prepared to consider offers. One broker left him a check for twenty + thousand dollars, another for nearly forty thousand. Wingrave had no pity. + He had gambled and won. He would accept nothing less than par price. The + air in his sitting room grew thick with curses and tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth began by hating the whole business, but insensibly the + fascination of it crept over him. He grew used to hearing the various + forms of protest, of argument and abuse, which one and all left Wingrave + so unmoved. Sphinx-like he lounged in his chair, and listened to all. He + never condescended to justify his position, he never met argument by + argument. He had the air of being thoroughly bored by the whole + proceedings. But he exacted always his pound of flesh. + </p> + <p> + On the third afternoon, Aynesworth met on the stairs a young broker, whom + he had come across once or twice during his earlier dealings in the + shares. They had had lunch together, and Aynesworth had taken a fancy to + the boy—he was little more—fresh from Harvard and full of + enthusiasm. He scarcely recognized him for a moment. The fresh color had + gone from his cheeks, his eyes were set in a fixed, wild stare; he seemed + suddenly aged. Aynesworth stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Nesbitt!” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong?” + </p> + <p> + The young man would have passed on with a muttered greeting, but + Aynesworth turned round with him, and led the way into one of the smaller + smoking rooms. He called for drinks and repeated his question. + </p> + <p> + “Your governor has me six hundred Hardwells short,” Nesbitt answered + curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Six hundred! What does it mean?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sixty thousand dollars, or thereabouts,” the young man answered + despairingly. “His brokers won’t listen to me, and your governor—well, + I’ve just been to see him. I won’t call him names! And we thought that + some fool of an Englishman was burning his fingers with those shares. I’m + not the only one caught, but the others can stand it. I can’t, worse + luck!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m beastly sorry,” Aynesworth said truthfully. “I wish I could help + you.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt raised his head. A sudden light flashed in his eyes; he spoke + quickly, almost feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Aynesworth,” he exclaimed, “do you think you could do anything with + your governor for me? You see—it’s ruin if I have to pay up. I + wouldn’t mind—for myself, but I was married four months ago, and I + can’t bear the thought of going home—and telling her. All the money + we have between us is in my business, and we’ve got no rich friends or + anything of that sort. I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to be hammered. + I’ve been so careful, too! I didn’t want to take this on, but it seemed + such a soft thing! If I could get off with twenty thousand, I’d keep my + head up. I hate to talk like this. I’d go down like a man if I were alone, + but—but—oh! Confound it all—!” he exclaimed with an + ominous break in his tone. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth laid his hand upon the boy’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “I’ll try what I can do with Mr. Wingrave. Wait + here!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth found his employer alone with his broker, who was just + hastening off to keep an appointment. He plunged at once into his appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wingrave,” he said, “you have just had a young broker named Nesbitt + on.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave glanced at a paper by his side. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “Six hundred short! I wish they wouldn’t come to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been talking to him downstairs,” Aynesworth said. “This will break + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I ought not to have done business with him at all,” Wingrave said + coolly. “If he cannot find sixty thousand dollars, he has no right to be + in Wall street. I daresay he’ll pay, though! They all plead poverty—curs!” + </p> + <p> + “I think Nesbitt’s case is a little different from the others,” Aynesworth + continued. “He is quite young, little more than a boy, and he has only + just started in business. To be hammered would be absolute ruin for him. + He seems such a decent young fellow, and he’s only just married. He’s in + an awful state downstairs. I wish you’d have another talk with him. I + think you’d feel inclined to let him down easy.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave smiled coldly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Aynesworth,” he said, “you astonish me. I am not interested in + this young man’s future or in his matrimonial arrangements. He has gambled + with me and lost. I presume that he would have taken my money if I had + been the fool they all thought me. As it is, I mean to have his—down + to the last cent!” + </p> + <p> + “He isn’t like the others,” Aynesworth protested doggedly. “He’s only a + boy—and it seems such jolly hard luck, doesn’t it, only four months + married! New York hasn’t much pity for paupers. He looks mad enough to + blow his brains out. Have him up, sir, and see if you can’t compromise!” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch him,” Wingrave said curtly. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth hurried downstairs. The boy was walking restlessly up and down + the room. The look he turned upon Aynesworth was almost pitiful. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll see you again,” Aynesworth said hurriedly. “Come along.” + </p> + <p> + The boy wrung his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a brick!” he declared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HIDDEN HAND + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave glanced up as they entered. He motioned Nesbitt to a chair by his + side, but the young man remained standing. + </p> + <p> + “My secretary tells me,” Wingrave said curtly, “that you cannot pay me + what you owe.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s more than I possess in the world, sir,” Nesbitt answered. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a large amount,” Wingrave said. “I do not see how you can carry + on business unless you can command such a sum as this.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt moistened his dry lips with his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “I have only been doing a very small business, sir,” he answered, “but + quite enough to make a living. I don’t speculate as a rule. Hardwells + seemed perfectly safe, or I wouldn’t have touched them. I sold at four. + They are not worth one. I could have bought thousands last week for two + dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “That is beside the question,” Wingrave answered. “If you do not pay this, + you have cheated me out of my profits for I should have placed the + commission with brokers who could. Why did you wish to see me again?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you might give me time,” Nesbitt answered, raising his + head and looking Wingrave straight in the face. “It seems rather a low + down thing to come begging. I’d rather cut my right hand off than do it + for myself, but I’ve—someone else to think about, and if I’m + hammered, I’m done for. Give me a chance, Mr. Wingrave! I’ll pay you in + time.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you ask for?” Wingrave said. + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you might give me time,” Nesbitt said, “and I’ll pay you + the rest off with the whole of my profits every year.” + </p> + <p> + “A most absurd proposal,” Wingrave said coolly. “I will instruct my + brokers to take twenty thousand dollars down, and wait one week for the + balance. That is the best offer I can make you. Good day!” + </p> + <p> + The young man stood as though he were stunned. + </p> + <p> + “I—I can’t find it,” he faltered. “I can’t indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Your resources are not my affair,” Wingrave said. “I shall instruct my + broker to do as I have said. If the money is not forthcoming, you know the + alternative.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to ruin me, then?” Nesbitt said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I mean to exact the payment of what is due to me,” Wingrave said curtly. + “If you cannot pay, it seems to me that I am the person to be pitied—not + you. Show Mr. Nesbitt out, Aynesworth.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt turned towards the door. He was very pale, but he walked steadily. + He did not speak another word to Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “I’m beastly sorry,” Aynesworth said to him on the stairs. “I wish I could + help you!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” Nesbitt answered. “No one can help me. I’m through.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth returned to the sitting room. Wingrave had lit a cigarette and + watched him as he arranged some papers. + </p> + <p> + “Quite a comedy, isn’t it?” he remarked grimly. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t present itself in that light to me,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave blew the smoke away from in front of his face. “Ah!” he said, “I + forgot that you were a sentimentalist. I look upon these things from my + own point of view. From yours, I suppose I must seem a very disagreeable + person. I admit frankly that the sufferings of other people do not affect + me in the slightest.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for you,” Aynesworth said shortly. “If there is going to be + much of this sort of thing, though, I must ask you to relieve me of my + post. I can’t stand it.” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you like, my dear fellow,” Wingrave answered. “I think that you + would be very foolish to leave me, though. I must be a most interesting + study.” + </p> + <p> + “You are—what the devil made you!” Aynesworth muttered. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave laid down his cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “I am what my fellows have made me,” he said slowly. “I tasted hell for a + good many years. It has left me, I suppose, with a depraved taste. Ring up + my brokers, Aynesworth! I want to speak to Malcolmson. He had better come + round here.” + </p> + <p> + The day dragged on. Aynesworth hated it all, and was weary long before it + was half over. Everyone who came was angry, and a good many came whom + Wingrave refused to see. Just before five o’clock, young Nesbitt entered + the room unannounced. Aynesworth started towards him with a little + exclamation. The young man’s evident excitement terrified him, and he + feared a tragedy. Malcolmson, too, half rose to his feet. Wingrave alone + remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt walked straight up to the table at which Malcolmson and Wingrave + were sitting. He halted in front of the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wingrave,” he said, “you will give me my receipt for those shares for + fifty-seven thousand six hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave turned to a paper by his side, and ran his forefinger down the + list of names. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Nesbitt,” he said. “Yes! sixty thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + The young man laid a slip of paper upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “That is a certified check for the amount,” he said. “Mr. Malcolmson, + please give me my receipt.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Mr. Wingrave remarked. “I thought that you would find the money.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt bit his lip, but he said nothing till he had the receipt and had + fastened it up in his pocket. Then he turned suddenly round upon Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” he said. “You’ve got your money. I don’t owe you a cent. Now + I’m going to tell you what I think of you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave rose slowly to his feet. He was as tall as the boy, long, lean, + and hard. His face expressed neither anger nor excitement, but there was a + slight, dangerous glitter in his deep-set eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean,” he said, “that you are going to be impertinent, I would + recommend you to change your mind.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt for a moment hesitated. There was something ominous in the cool + courage of the older man. And before he could collect himself, Wingrave + continued:— + </p> + <p> + “I presume,” he said, “that you chose your own profession. You knew quite + well there was no place in it for men with a sense of the higher morality. + It is a profession of gamblers and thieves. If you’d won, you’d have + thought yourself a smart fellow and pocketed your winnings fast enough. + Now that you’ve lost—don’t whine. You sat down willingly enough to + play the game with me. Don’t call me names because you lost. This is no + place for children. Pocket your defeat, and be more careful next time.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt was silent for a moment. Wingrave, cool and immovable, dominated + him. He gave a little laugh, and turned towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Guess you’re right,” he declared; “we’ll let it go at that.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth followed him from the room. + </p> + <p> + “I’m awfully glad you’re out of the scrape,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt caught him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come right along,” he said. “I haven’t had a drink in the daytime for a + year, but we’re going to have a big one now. I say, do you know how I got + that money?” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “On easy terms, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down in the American Bar, and a colored waiter in a white linen + suit brought them whisky and Apollinaris in tall tumblers. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” Nesbitt said. “My brain is on the reel still. I went back to my + office, and if it hadn’t been for the little girl, I should have brought a + revolver by the way. Old Johnny there waiting to see me, no end of a + swell, Phillson, the uptown lawyer. He went straight for me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Been dealing in Hardwells?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “‘Short, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Six hundred shares,’ I answered. There was no harm in telling him for + the Street knew well enough. + </p> + <p> + “‘Bad job,’ he said. ‘How much does Wingrave want?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Shares at par,’ I answered. ‘It comes to close on fifty-seven thousand + six hundred dollars.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I’m going to find you the money,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then I can tell you the things in my office began to swim. I’d an idea + somehow that he was there as a friend, but nothing like this. I couldn’t + answer him. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s a delicate piece of business,’ he went on. ‘In fact, the fewer + questions you ask the better. All I can say is there’s a chap in Wall + Street got his eye on you. Your old dad once helped him over a much worse + place than this. Anyhow, I’ve a check here for sixty thousand dollars, and + no conditions, only that you don’t talk.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But when am I to pay it back?’ I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “‘If my client ever needs it, and you can afford it, he will ask for it.’ + Phillson answered. ‘That’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + “And before I could say another darned word, he was gone, and the check + was there on my desk.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth sipped his whisky and Apollinaris, and lit a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “And they say,” he murmured, “that romance does not exist in Wall Street. + You’re a lucky chap, Nesbitt.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucky! Do you think I don’t realize it? Of course, I know the old + governor had lots of friends on the Street, but he was never in a big way, + and he got hit awfully hard himself before he died. I can’t understand it + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t try,” Aynesworth remarked, laughing. “By the bye, your friend, + whoever he was, must have got to know pretty quickly.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I thought of that,” he said. “Of course, Phillsons are lawyers for + Malcolmson, Wingrave’s broker, so I daresay it came from him. Say, + Aynesworth, you don’t mind if I ask you something?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Aynesworth answered. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why the devil do you stop with a man like Wingrave? He doesn’t seem your + sort at all.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave interests me,” he answered. “He has had a curious life, and he + is a man with very strange ideas.” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt finished his drink, and rose up. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “he’s not a man I should care to be associated with. Not + but what I daresay he was right upstairs. He’s strong, too, and he must + have a nerve. But he’s a brute for all that!” + </p> + <p> + Nesbitt went his way, and Aynesworth returned upstairs. Wingrave was + alone. + </p> + <p> + “Have we finished this miserable business?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “For the present,” Wingrave answered. “Mr. Malcolmson will supply you with + a copy of the accounts. See that Hardwell is credited with a quarter share + of the profits. Our dealings are over for the present. Be prepared to + start on Saturday for the West. We are going to look for those bears.” + </p> + <p> + “But the mine?” Aynesworth exclaimed. “It belongs to you now. Aren’t you + going out to examine it?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I know nothing about mines. My visit could not teach me + anything one way or the other. I have sent a commission of experts. I am + tired of cities and money-making. I want a change.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth looked at him suddenly. The weariness was there indeed—was + it his fancy, or was it something more than weariness which shone out of + the dark, tired eyes? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “MR. WINGRAVE FROM AMERICA” + </h2> + <p> + “Four years ago tonight,” Aynesworth said, looking round the club smoking + room thoughtfully, “we bade you farewell in this same room!” + </p> + <p> + Lovell, wan and hollow-eyed, his arm in a sling, his once burly frame + gaunt and attenuated with disease, nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And I told you the story,” he remarked, “of—the man who had been my + friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let us talk of Wingrave tonight!” Aynesworth exclaimed with sudden + emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Lovell knocked the ashes from his pipe, and commenced leisurely + to refill it. “Why not, indeed? I mean to go and see him as soon as I can + get about a little better.” + </p> + <p> + “If your description of him,” Aynesworth said, “was a faithful one, you + will find him changed.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell laughed a little bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “The years leave their mark,” he said, “upon us all—upon all of us, + that is, who step out into the open where the winds of life are blowing. + Look at me! I weighed eighteen stone when I left England. I had the + muscles of a prize fighter and nerves of steel. Today I turn the scale at + ten stone and am afraid to be alone in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be yourself again in no time,” Aynesworth declared cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be better than I am now, I hope,” Lovell answered, “but I shall + never be the man I was. I have seen—God grant that I may some day + forget what I have seen! No wonder that my nerves have gone! I saw a + Russian correspondent, a strong brutal-looking man, go off into hysterics; + I saw another run amuck through the camp, shooting right and left, and, + finally, blow his own brains out. Many a night I sobbed myself to sleep. + The men who live through tragedies, Aynesworth, age fast. I expect that I + shall find Wingrave changed.” + </p> + <p> + “I would give a good deal,” Aynesworth declared, “to have known him when + you did.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You should be able to judge of the past,” he said, “by the present. Four + years of—intimate companionship with any man should be enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps!” Aynesworth declared. “And yet I can assure you that I know no + more of Wingrave today than when I was first attracted to him by your + story and became his secretary. It is a humiliating confession, but it is + the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “That is why you remain with him,” Lovell remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so! I have often meant to leave, but somehow, when the time + comes, I stay on. His life seems to be made up of brutalities, small and + large. He ruins a man with as little compunction as one could fancy him, + in his younger days, pulling the legs from a fly. I have never seen him do + a kindly action. And yet, all the time I find myself watching for it. A + situation arises, and I say to myself: ‘Now I am going to see something + different.’ I never do, and yet I always expect it. Am I boring you, + Lovell?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least! Go on! Anything concerning Wingrave interests me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is four years ago, you know, since I went to him. My first glimpse of + his character was the cold brutality with which he treated Lady Ruth when + she went to see him. Then we went down to his country place in Cornwall. + There was a small child there, whose father had been the organist of the + village, and who had died penniless. There was no one to look after her, + no one to save her from the charity schools and domestic service + afterwards. The church was on Wingrave’s estate, it should have been his + duty to augment the ridiculous salary the dead man had received. Would you + believe it, Wingrave refused to do a single thing for that child! He went + down there like a vandal to sell the heirlooms and pictures which had + belonged to his family for generations. He had no time, he told me coldly, + for sentiment.” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds brutal enough,” Lovell admitted. “What became of the child?” + </p> + <p> + “One of her father’s relations turned up after all and took care of her,” + Aynesworth said. “Wingrave knew nothing about that, though. Then on the + voyage across the Atlantic, there was a silly, pretty little woman on + board who was piqued by Wingrave’s indifference and tried to flirt with + him. In a few days she was his slave. She was going home to her husband, + and you would have thought that any decent fellow would have told her that + she was a little fool, and let her go. But not Wingrave! She was landing + with him at New York, but someone amongst the passengers, who guessed what + was up, sent a Marconigram to her husband, and he met us at the landing + stage.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing came of that, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but it wasn’t Wingrave’s fault. Then he began dealing with some + shares in a mine—THE mine, you know. They were supposed to be + worthless, and one boy, who was a little young to the game, sold him too + many. Wingrave was bleeding these brokers for hundreds of thousands of + dollars, and the boy came and asked to be let off by paying his whole + fortune to escape being hammered. Wingrave refused. I believe if the boy + hadn’t just been married, he’d have blown his brains out!” + </p> + <p> + Lovell laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t envy you your job,” he remarked. “Is there nothing to set down on + the credit side of the ledger?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” Aynesworth answered. “He is a fine sportsman, and he saved my + life in the Rockies, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable sometimes. He + has a sense of justice, for he heard of this mine from a man in prison, + and he has kept accounts showing the fellow’s share down to the last + halfpenny. But I have never yet known him to speak a kindly word or do a + kindly deed. He seems intent upon carrying out to the letter his own + principles—to make as many people as possible suffer for his own + broken life. Now he is back here, a millionaire, with immense power for + good or for evil, I am almost afraid of him. I wouldn’t be Lady Ruth or + her husband for something.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell smoked thoughtfully for a time. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave was always a little odd,” he remarked, “but I never thought that + he was a bad chap.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and see him now!” Aynesworth said. “Tell me if you think he wears a + mask or whether he is indeed what he seems.” + </p> + <p> + The hall porter entered the room and addressed Aynesworth. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman called for you, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “It is Wingrave,” Aynesworth declared. “Come and speak to him!” + </p> + <p> + They descended the stairs together. Outside, Wingrave was leaning back in + the corner of an electric brougham, reading the paper. Aynesworth put his + head in at the window. + </p> + <p> + “You remember Lovell, Mr. Wingrave?” he said. “We were just talking when + your message came up. I’ve brought him down to shake hands with you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave folded his paper down at the precise place where he had been + reading and extended a very limp hand. His manner betrayed not the + slightest interest or pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Lovell?” he asked. “Some time since we met!” + </p> + <p> + “A good many years,” Lovell answered. + </p> + <p> + “Finished your campaigning?” Wingrave inquired. “Knocked you about a bit, + haven’t they?” + </p> + <p> + “They very nearly finished me,” Lovell admitted. “I shall pick up all + right over here, though.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. Lovell’s thoughts had flashed backwards + through the years, back to the time when he had sat within a few feet of + this man in the crowded court of justice and listened through the painful + stillness of that heavy atmosphere, charged with tragedy, to the slow + unfolding of the drama of his life. There had been passion enough then in + his voice and blazing in his eyes, emotion enough in his twitching + features and restless gestures to speak of the fire below. And now, pale + and cold, the man who had gripped his fingers then and held on to them + like a vise, seemed to find nothing except a slight boredom in this + unexpected meeting. + </p> + <p> + “I shall see you again, I hope,” Wingrave remarked at last. “By the bye, + if we do meet, I should be glad if you would forget our past acquaintance. + Sir Wingrave Seton does not exist any longer. I prefer to be known only as + Mr. Wingrave from America.” + </p> + <p> + Lovell nodded. + </p> + <p> + “As you wish, of course,” he answered. “I do not think,” he added, “that + you need fear recognition. I myself should have passed you in the street.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave leaned back in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Aynesworth,” he said, “if you are ready, will you get in and tell the man + to drive to Cadogan Square? Good night, Mr. Lovell!” + </p> + <p> + Lovell re-entered the club with a queer little smile at his lips. The + brougham glided up into the Strand, and turned westwards. + </p> + <p> + “We are going straight to the Barringtons’?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Wingrave answered. “While I think of it, Aynesworth, I wish you to + remember this. Both Lady Ruth and her husband seem to think it part of the + game to try and make a cat’s paw of you. I am not suggesting that they are + likely to succeed, but I do think it possible that one of them may ask you + questions concerning certain investments in which I am interested. I rely + upon you to give them no information.” + </p> + <p> + “I know very little about your investments—outside the mine,” + Aynesworth answered. “They couldn’t very well approach a more ignorant + person. Are you going to help Barrington to make a fortune?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave turned his head. There was a slight contraction of the forehead, + an ominous glitter in his steel grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “you know that I am not likely to do that.” + </p> + <p> + The two men did not meet again till late in the evening. Lady Ruth’s rooms + were crowded for it was the beginning of the political season, and her + parties were always popular. Nevertheless, she found time to beckon + Wingrave to her before they had been in the room many minutes. + </p> + <p> + “I want to talk to you,” she said a little abruptly. “You might have come + this afternoon as you promised.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth was a wonderful woman. A well-known statesman had just asked a + friend her age. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” was the answer, “but whatever it is, she doesn’t look it.” + </p> + <p> + Tonight she was almost girlish. Her complexion was delicate and perfectly + natural, the graceful lines of her figure suggested more the immaturity of + youth than any undue slimness. She wore a wonderful collar of pearls + around her long, shapely neck, but very little other jewelry. The touch of + her fingers upon Wingrave’s coat sleeve was a carefully calculated thing. + If he had thought of it, he could have felt the slight appealing pressure + with which she led him towards one of the smaller rooms. + </p> + <p> + “There are two chairs there,” she said. “Come and sit down. I have + something to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SHADOW OF A FEAR + </h2> + <p> + For several minutes Lady Ruth said nothing. She was leaning back in the + farthest corner of her chair, her head resting slightly upon her fingers, + her eyes studying with a curious intentness the outline of Wingrave’s + pale, hard face. He himself, either unconscious of, or indifferent to her + close scrutiny, had simply the air of a man possessed of an inexhaustible + fund of patience. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” she said quietly, “I think that the time has gone by when I + was afraid of you.” + </p> + <p> + He turned slightly towards her, but he did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “I am possessed,” she continued, “at present, of a more womanly sentiment. + I am curious.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he murmured, “you were always a little inclined that way.” + </p> + <p> + “I am curious about you,” she continued. “You are, comparatively speaking, + young, well-looking enough, and strong. Your hand is firmly planted upon + the lever which moves the world. What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “depends upon many things.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be ambitious,” she remarked. “If so, you conceal it admirably. + You may be devoting your powers to the consummation of vengeance against + those who have treated you ill. There are no signs of that, either, at + present.” + </p> + <p> + “We have excellent authority,” he remarked, “for the statement that a + considerable amount of satisfaction is derivable from the exercise of that + sentiment.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she answered, “but the pursuit of vengeance for wrongs of the + past is the task of a fool. Now, you are not a fool. You carry your life + locked up within you as a strong man should. But there are always some who + may look in through the windows. I should like to be one.” + </p> + <p> + “An empty cupboard,” he declared. “A cupboard swept bare by time and + necessity.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Your life,” she said, “is molded towards a purpose. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I must ask myself the question,” he declared, “before I can tell you the + answer!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “the necessity does not exist. Your reckless pursuit of + wealth, your return here, the use you are making of my husband and me, are + all means towards some end. Why not tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Your imagination,” he declared, “is running away with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you our enemy?” she asked. “Is this seeming friendship of yours a + cloak to hide some scheme of yours to make us suffer? Or—” She drew + a little closer to him, and her eyes drooped. + </p> + <p> + “Or what?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a little left,” she whispered, “of the old folly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he answered quietly. “I was very much in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is dead,” she murmured. “I believe that you hate me now!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was almost a caress. She was leaning a little towards him; her + eyes were seeking to draw his. + </p> + <p> + “Hate you! How impossible!” he said calmly. “You are still a beautiful + woman, you know, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and studied her critically. Lady Ruth raised her eyes once, but + dropped them at once. She felt herself growing paler. A spasm of the old + fear was upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he continued, “age has not touched you. You can still pour, if you + will, the magic drug into the wine of fools. By the bye, I must not be + selfish. Aren’t you rather neglecting your guests?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind my guests,” she answered. “I have been wanting to talk to you + alone for days. Why have you done this? Why are you here? What is it that + you are seeking for in life?” + </p> + <p> + “A little amusement only,” he declared. “I cannot find it except amongst + my own kind.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not the appearance of a pleasure seeker,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Mine is a passive search,” he said. “I have some years to live—and + of solitude, well, I have tasted at once the joys and the depths.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not in love with me any longer, are you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am not bold enough to deny it,” he answered, “but do not be afraid that + I shall embarrass you with a declaration. To tell you the truth, I have + not much feeling left of any sort.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to keep your own counsel, then?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is so little to keep,” he murmured, “and I have parted with so much!” + </p> + <p> + She measured the emotion of his tone, the curious yet perfectly natural + indifference of his manner, and she shivered a little. Always she feared + what she could not understand. + </p> + <p> + “I had hoped,” she said sadly, “that we might at least have been friends.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I have no fancy,” he declared, “for the cemeteries of affection. You must + remember that I am beginning life anew. I do not know myself yet, or you! + Let us drift into the knowledge of one another, and perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Well! Perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “There may be no question of friendship!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth went back to her guests, and with the effortless ease of long + training, she became once more the gracious and tactful hostess. But in + her heart, the fear had grown a little stronger, and a specter walked by + her side. Once during the evening, her husband looked at her + questioningly, and she breathed a few words to him. He laughed + reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Wingrave’s all right, I believe,” he said, “it’s only his manner that + puts you off a bit. He’s just the same with everyone! I don’t think he + means anything by it!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth shivered, but she said nothing. Just then Aynesworth came up, + and with a motion of her fan she called him to her. + </p> + <p> + “Please take me into the other room,” she said “I want a glass of + champagne, and on the way you can tell me all about America.” + </p> + <p> + “One is always making epigrams about America,” he protested, smiling. + “Won’t you spare me?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then, how you progress with your great character study!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he remarked quietly, “you come now to a more interesting subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Frankly, I do not progress at all.” + </p> + <p> + “So far as you have gone?” + </p> + <p> + “If,” he said, “I were to take pen and paper and write down, at this + moment, my conclusions so far as I have been able to form any, I fancy + that they would make evil reading. Permit me!” + </p> + <p> + They stood for a few minutes before the long sideboard. A footman had + poured champagne into their glasses, and Lady Ruth talked easily enough + the jargon of the moment. But when they turned away, she moved slowly, and + her voice was almost a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this,” she said, “is he really as hard and cold as he seems? You + have lived with him now for four years. You should know that, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that he is,” Aynesworth answered. “I can tell you that much, at + least, without breach of faith. So far as one who watches him can tell, he + lives for his own gratification—and his indulgence in it does not, + as a rule, make for the happiness of other people.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what does he want with us?” she asked almost sharply. “I ask myself + that question until—I am terrified.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “It is very possible,” he said, “that he is simply making use of you to + re-enter the world. Curiously enough, he has never seemed to care for + solitude. He makes numberless acquaintances. What pleasure he finds in it + I do not know, but he seldom avoids people. He may be simply making use of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell,” Aynesworth answered. “Indeed I cannot tell.” + </p> + <p> + She left him a little impatiently, and Aynesworth joined the outside of + the circle of men who had gathered round Wingrave. He was answering their + questions readily enough, if a little laconically. He was quite aware that + he occupied in society the one unique place to which princes might not + even aspire—there was something of divinity about his millions, + something of awe in the tone of the men with whom he talked. Women + pretended to be interested in him because of the romance of his suddenly + acquired wealth—the men did not trouble to deceive themselves or + anyone else. A break up of the group came when a certain great and + much-talked-about lady sent across an imperative message by her cavalier + for the moment. She desired that Mr. Wingrave should be presented to her. + </p> + <p> + They passed down the room together a few moments later, the Marchioness + wonderfully dressed in a gown of strange turquoise blue, looking up at her + companion, and talking with somewhat unusual animation. Everyone made + remarks, of course—exchanged significant glances and unlovely + smiles. It was so like the Marchioness to claim, as a matter of course, + the best of everything that was going. Lady Ruth watched them with a + curious sense of irritation for which she could not altogether account. It + was impossible that she should be jealous, and yet it was equally certain + that she was annoyed. If Wingrave resisted his present fair captor, he + would enjoy a notability equal to that which his wealth already conferred + upon him. No man as yet had done it. Was it likely that Wingrave would + wear two crowns? Lady Ruth beckoned Aynesworth to her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she said, “what is Mr. Wingrave’s general attitude towards my + sex?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolute indifference,” he declared promptly, “unless—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “You must go on,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + “Unless he is possessed of the ability to make them suffer,” he answered + after a moment’s hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Then Emily will never attract him,” she declared almost triumphantly, + “for she has no more heart that he has.” + </p> + <p> + “He has yet to discover it,” Aynesworth remarked. “When he does, I think + you will find that he will shrug his shoulders—and say farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” Lady Ruth murmured to herself, “Emily is a cat.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth spoke to one more man that night of Wingrave—and that man + was her husband. Their guests had departed, and Lady Ruth, in a marvelous + white dressing gown, was lying upon the sofa in her room. + </p> + <p> + “How do you get on with Wingrave?” she asked. “What do you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + Barrington shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “What can one think of a man,” he answered, “who goes about like an + animated mummy? I have done my best; I talked to him for nearly half an + hour at a stretch today when I took him to the club for lunch. He is the + incarnation of indifference. He won’t listen to politics; women, or tales + about them, at any rate, seem to bore him to extinction; he drinks only as + a matter of form, and he won’t talk finance. By the bye, Ruth, I wish you + could get him to give you a tip. I scarcely see how we are going to get + through the season unless something turns up.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it as bad as that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Worse!” her husband answered gloomily. “We’ve been living on our capital + for years. Every acre of Queen’s Norton is mortgaged, and I’m shot if I + can see how we’re going to pay the interest.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed a little wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that it would be wise?” she asked. “Let me tell you + something, Lumley. I have only known what fear was once in my life. I am + afraid now. I am afraid of Wingrave. I have a fancy that he does not mean + any good to us.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington frowned and threw his cigarette into the fire with a little + jerk. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “The man’s not quite so bad as that. We’ve been + useful to him. We’ve done exactly what he asked. The other matter’s dead + and buried. We don’t want his money, but it is perfectly easy for him to + help us make a little.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I think, Lumley, that it is dangerous!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then you’re not the clever woman I take you for,” he answered, turning to + leave the room. “Just as you please. Only it will be that or the + bankruptcy court before long!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth lay quite still, looking into the fire. When her maid came, she + moved on tiptoe for it seemed to her that her mistress slept. But Lady + Ruth was wide awake though the thoughts which were flitting through her + brain had, perhaps, some kinship to the land of dreams. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JULIET ASKS QUESTIONS + </h2> + <p> + “Any place,” the girl exclaimed as she entered, “more unlike a solicitor’s + office, I never saw! Flowers outside and flowers on your desk, Mr. + Pengarth! Don’t you have to apologize to your clients for your + surroundings? There’s absolutely nothing, except the brass plate outside, + to show that this isn’t an old-fashioned farmhouse, stuck down in the + middle of a village. Fuchsias in the window sill, too!” + </p> + <p> + He placed a chair for her, and laid down the deed which he had been + examining, with a little sigh of relief. It really was very hard work + pretending to be busy. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Miss Juliet,” he explained with twinkling eyes, “my clients are + all country folk, and it makes them feel more at home to find a lawyer’s + office not very different from their own parlor.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What would the great man say?” she inquired, pointing to the rows of + black tin boxes which lined the walls. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave Seton is never likely to come here again, I am afraid,” he + answered. “If he did, I don’t think he’d mind. To tell you the truth, I’m + rather proud of my office, young lady!” + </p> + <p> + She looked around. + </p> + <p> + “They are nice,” she said decidedly, “but unbusinesslike.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re going to put up the pony and stay to lunch, of course?” he said. + “I’ll ring for the boy.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t!” she exclaimed. “I have come to see you—on business!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth, after his first gasp of astonishment, was a different man. + He fumbled about on the desk, and produced a pair of gold spectacles, + which he adjusted with great nicety on the edge of his very short nose. + </p> + <p> + “On business, my dear!” he repeated. “Well, well! To be sure! Is it Miss + Harrison who has sent you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth’s visitor looked positively annoyed. She leaned across the + table towards him so that the roses in her large hat almost brushed his + forehead. Her wonderful brown eyes were filled with reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pengarth,” she said, “do you know how old I am?” + </p> + <p> + “How old, my dear? Why, let me see!” he exclaimed. “Fourteen and—why, + God bless my soul, you must be eighteen!” + </p> + <p> + “I am nineteen years old, Mr. Pengarth,” the young lady announced with + dignity. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to treat me now—er—with + a little more respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Nineteen!” he repeated vaguely. “God bless my—nineteen years old?” + </p> + <p> + “I consider myself,” she repeated, “of age. I have come to see you about + my affairs!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” he said. “Quite natural.” + </p> + <p> + “For four years,” she continued, “I seem to have been supported by some + relative of my father, who has never vouchsafed to send me a single line + or message except through you. I have written letters which I have given + to you to forward. There has been no reply. Have you sent on those + letters, Mr. Pengarth?” + </p> + <p> + “Why certainly, my dear, certainly!” + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me how it is that I have had no answer?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth coughed. He was not at all comfortable. + </p> + <p> + “Your guardian, Miss Juliet, is somewhat eccentric,” he answered, “and he + is a very busy man.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me, Mr. Pengarth, exactly what relation he is to me?” + </p> + <p> + There was a dead silence. Mr. Pengarth found the room suddenly warm, and + mopped his forehead with a large silk handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “I have no authority,” he declared, “to answer any questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Then can you tell me of your own accord,” she said, “why there is all + this mystery? Why may I not know who he is, why may I not write to him? Am + I anything to be ashamed of, that he will not trust me even with his name? + I am tired of accepting so much and not being able to offer even my thanks + in return. It is too much like charity! I have made up my mind that if + this is to go on, I will go away and earn my own living! There, Mr. + Pengarth!” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” he exclaimed briskly. “What at?” + </p> + <p> + “Painting!” she declared triumphantly. “I have had this in my mind for + some time, and I have been trying to see what I can do best. I have quite + decided, now, to be an artist.” + </p> + <p> + “Pictures,” he declared sententiously, “don’t sell!” + </p> + <p> + “Mine do,” she answered, smiling. “I have had a check for three guineas + from a shop in London for a little sea piece I did in two afternoons!” + </p> + <p> + He regarded her admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “You are a wonderful child!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a child at all,” she interrupted warmly, “and you can just sit + down and write to your silly client and tell him so.” + </p> + <p> + “I will certainly write to him,” he affirmed. “I will do so today. You + will not do anything rash until I have had time to get a reply?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she answered graciously. “I will wait for a week. After that—well, + I might do anything!” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn’t leave Tredowen, Miss Juliet!” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “It would break my heart, of course,” she declared, “but I would do it and + trust to time to heal it up again. Tredowen seems like home to me, but it + isn’t really, you know. Some day, Sir Wingrave Seton may want to come back + and live there himself. Are you quite certain, Mr. Pengarth, that he won’t + be angry to hear that we have been living at the house all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Certain,” Mr. Pengarth declared firmly. “He left everything entirely in + my hands. He did not wish me to let it, but he did not care about its + being altogether uninhabited. The arrangement I was able to make with your + guardian was a most satisfactory one.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely he will come back himself some time?” she asked, + </p> + <p> + The lawyer shook his head sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that Sir Wingrave has no affection for the place + whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “No affection for Tredowen,” she repeated wonderingly. “Do you know what I + think, Mr. Pengarth? I think that it is the most beautiful house in the + world!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you talk of leaving it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to go,” she answered, “but I don’t want to be accepting + things all my life from someone whose name even I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said, “you must wait until I have written my letter. Time + enough to talk about that later on. Now, if you won’t stay to lunch, you + must come and see Rachael and have some cake and a glass of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “How sweet of you,” she exclaimed. “I’m frightfully hungry. Can I do + anything to stop growing, Mr. Pengarth? I’m getting taller and taller!” + </p> + <p> + She stood up. She was head and shoulders taller than the little lawyer, + slim as a lath, and yet wonderfully graceful. She laughed down at him and + made a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a giraffe, am I not?” she declared; “and I’m still growing. Do show + me your garden, Mr. Pengarth. I want to see your hollyhocks. Everyone is + talking about them.” + </p> + <p> + They were joined in a few minutes by a prim, dignified little lady, + ridiculously like Mr. Pengarth, whom he called sister, and she Miss + Rachael. Juliet walked down the garden between them. + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” Mr. Pengarth said, “Juliet has come today to see me on business. + In effect, she has come to remind me that she is grown up.” + </p> + <p> + “Grown up,” Miss Rachael protested vigorously, “rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + “I am nineteen years old,” Juliet declared. + </p> + <p> + “And what if you are,” Miss Rachael replied briskly. “In my young days we + were in the nursery at nineteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” Mr. Pengarth assented with relief. “You took me by storm just + now, Miss Juliet. After all, you are only a child.” + </p> + <p> + “I am old enough to feel and to mean all that I said to you, Mr. + Pengarth,” she answered gravely. “And that reminds me, too—there was + something else I meant to ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” Mr. Pengarth said, “have you ordered the wine and the cake?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, no!” Miss Rachael declared. “It shall be ready in five + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + She entered the house. Mr. Pengarth stooped to pick some lavender. + </p> + <p> + “The only time I ever saw Sir Wingrave Seton,” she said, “was on the day + before I was told that a relation of my father had been found, who was + willing to take charge of me. There was a younger man with him, someone + very, very different from Sir Wingrave. Do you know who he was?” + </p> + <p> + “A sort of secretary of Sir Wingrave, I believe, dear. I never met him. I + was, unfortunately, away at the time they came.” + </p> + <p> + “He was very nice and kind to me,” the girl continued, “just as nice as + Sir Wingrave was horrid. I suppose it was because they came on that day, + but I have always connected him somehow with this mysterious relation of + mine. Mr. Aynesworth didn’t help to find him, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” the lawyer answered. “The instructions I had came first + from Mr. Saunders, the vicar of the parish. It was he who appeared to have + made the necessary inquiries.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrid old man!” she declared. “He used to make me feel that I wanted to + cry every time that I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rachael is calling us,” the lawyer declared with obvious relief. + </p> + <p> + “New cake!” Juliet declared, “I can smell it! Delicious!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LADY RUTH’S LAST CARD + </h2> + <p> + “There are two letters,” Aynesworth announced, “which I have not opened. + One, I think, is from the Marchioness of Westhampton, the other from some + solicitors at Truro. They were both marked private.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave was at breakfast in his flat; Aynesworth had been in an adjoining + room sorting his correspondence. He accepted the two letters, and glanced + them through without remark. But whereas he bestowed scarcely a second’s + consideration upon the broad sheet of white paper with the small coronet + and the faint perfume of violets, the second letter apparently caused him + some annoyance. He read it through for a second time with a slight frown + upon his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You must cancel my engagements for two days, Aynesworth,” he said. “I + have to go out of town.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth nodded. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing very special on,” he remarked. “Do you want me to go with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary,” Wingrave answered. “I am going,” he added, after a + moment’s pause, “to Cornwall.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth was immediately silent. The one time when Wingrave had spoken + to him as an employer, was in answer to some question of his as to what + had eventually become of the treasures of Tredowen. He had always since + scrupulously avoided the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Be so good as to look out the trains for me,” Wingrave continued. “I + cannot go until the afternoon,” he added after a momentary pause. “I have + an engagement for luncheon. Perhaps, if you are not too busy, you will see + that Morrison packs some things for me.” + </p> + <p> + He moved to the writing table, and wrote a few lines to the Marchioness, + regretting that his absence from town would prevent his dining with her on + the following day. Then he studied the money column in several newspapers + for half an hour, and telephoned to his broker. At eleven o’clock, he rode + for an hour in the quietest part of the park, avoiding, so far as + possible, anyone he knew, and galloping whenever he could. It was the only + form of exercise in which he was known to indulge although the knowledge + of English games, which he sometimes displayed, was a little puzzling to + some of his acquaintances. On his return, he made a simple but correct + toilet, and at half-past one he met Lady Ruth at Prince’s Restaurant. + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth’s gown of dove color, with faint touches of blue, was effective, + and she knew it. Nevertheless, she was a little pale, and her manner + lacked that note of quiet languor which generally characterized it. She + talked rather more than usual, chattering idly about the acquaintances to + whom she was continually nodding and bowing. Her face hardened a little as + the Marchioness, on her way through the room with a party of friends, + stopped at their table. + </p> + <p> + The two women exchanged the necessary number of inanities, then the + Marchioness turned to Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t forget that you are dining with me tomorrow?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shook his head regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “but I have to go out of town. I have just written + you.” + </p> + <p> + “What a bore,” she remarked. “Business, of course!” + </p> + <p> + She nodded and passed on. Her farewell to Lady Ruth was distinctly curt. + Wingrave resumed his seat and his luncheon without remark. + </p> + <p> + “Hateful woman,” Lady Ruth murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were friends,” Wingrave remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we are,” Lady Ruth assented, “the sort of friendship you men don’t + know much about. You see a good deal of her, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave raised his head and looked at Lady Ruth contemplatively. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask me that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Curiosity!” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” he remarked; “you should be grateful to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “It may save you a similar infliction.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth was silent for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she said at last, “I do not choose to be relieved.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave bowed, his glass in his hand. His lips were curled into the + semblance of a smile, but he did not say a word. Lady Ruth leaned a little + across the table so that the feathers of her hat nearly brushed his + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” she asked, “do you know what fear is? Perhaps not! You are a + man, you see. No one has ever called me a coward. You wouldn’t, would + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said deliberately, “you are not a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “There is only one sort of fear which I know,” she continued, “and that is + the fear of what I do not understand. And that is why, Wingrave, I am + afraid of you.” + </p> + <p> + He set down his glass, and his fingers trifled for a moment with its stem. + His expression was inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” he said, “you are not serious!” + </p> + <p> + “I am serious,” she declared, “and you know that I am.” + </p> + <p> + “You are afraid of me,” he repeated softly. “I wonder why.” + </p> + <p> + She looked him straight in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she said, “I did you once a very grievous wrong. Because I know + that you have not forgiven me. Because I am very sure that all the good + that was in you lies slain.” + </p> + <p> + “By whose hand?” he asked quietly. “No! You need not answer. You know. So + do I. Yes, I can understand your fear. But I do not understand why you + confess it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” she answered. “Nor do I understand why I am here—at your + bidding, nor why I keep you always by my side whenever you choose to take + your place there. Are you a vain man, Wingrave? Do you wish to pose as the + friend of a woman whom the world has thought too ambitious to waste time + upon such follies? There is the Marchioness! She would do you more credit + still.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he answered. “I like to choose the path myself when I pass + into the maze of follies!” + </p> + <p> + “You have not yet explained yourself,” she reminded him. “Of all people in + world, you have chosen us for your presumptive friends. Why? You hate us + both. You know that you do. Is it part of a scheme? Lumley is investing + money on your advice, I am allowing myself to be seen about with you more + than is prudent—considering all things. Do you want to rake out the + ashes of our domestic hearth—to play the part of—melodramatic + villain? You are ingenious enough, and powerful enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You put strange ideas into my head,” he told her lightly. “Why should I + not play the part that you suggest? It might be amusing, and you certainly + deserve all the evil which I could bring upon you.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned a little across the table towards him. Her eyes were soft and + bright, and they looked full into his. The color in her cheeks was + natural. The air around him was faintly fragrant with the perfume of her + clothes and hair. + </p> + <p> + “We couldn’t leave off playing at the game—and act it, could we?” + she murmured. “We couldn’t really—be friends?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth had played her trump card. She had touched his fingers with + hers, her eyes shone with the promise of unutterable things. But if + Wingrave was moved, he did not show it. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” he said, “that I could accept your offer in the spirit with + which you tender it. Unfortunately, I am a maimed person. My sensibilities + have gone. Friendship, in the more intimate sense of the word, I may never + hope to feel again. Enmity—well, that is more comprehensible; even + enmity,” he continued slowly, “which might prompt a woman to disguise + herself as her own lady’s maid, to seek out a tool to get rid of the man + she feared. Pardon me, Lady Ruth, you are eating nothing.” + </p> + <p> + She pulled down her veil. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I have finished,” she said in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + He called for the bill. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, don’t let my little remark distress you,” he said. “I had almost + forgotten the circumstance until something you said brought it into my + mind. It is you yourself, you must remember, who set the example of + candor.” + </p> + <p> + “I deserve everything you can say,” she murmured, “everything you can do. + There is nothing left, I suppose, but suffering. Will you take me out to + my carriage? You can come back and have your coffee with the Marchioness! + She keeps looking across at you, and it will please her to think that you + got rid of me.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, rising, “that I must deny myself the pleasure of + seeking the Marchioness again today. I have a train to catch in half an + hour. You are ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite!” + </p> + <p> + They made their way through the maze of tables towards the door, Lady Ruth + exchanging greetings right and left with her friends, although the tall, + grave-looking man who followed her was by far the greater object of + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Just like Ruth to keep him in her pocket,” remarked her dearest friend, + looking after them; “they say that he has millions.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed a little enviously. + </p> + <p> + “The Barrington menage needs a little backing up,” her companion remarked. + “I should say that he had come just in time. The Marchioness has her eye + upon him too. There may be some fun presently.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth’s dearest friend smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I will back Ruth,” she said drily. “Emily is beautiful, but she is too + obvious, and too eager! Ruth’s little ways are more subtle. Besides, look + at the start she has. She isn’t the sort of woman men tire of.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth held out her hand through the window of her electric coupe. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for my luncheon,” she said. “When shall we see you again?” + </p> + <p> + “In a few days,” he answered, standing bareheaded upon the pavement. “I + shall call directly I return.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth nodded and leaned back. Wingrave smiled faintly as he turned + away. He had seen the little shudder which she had done her best to hide! + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth found her husband at home, writing letters in his study. She + sank wearily into a chair by his side. + </p> + <p> + “Been lunching out?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “At Prince’s, with Wingrave.” + </p> + <p> + He made no remark, but he seemed far from displeased. + </p> + <p> + “If I’d only had the pluck,” he remarked a little disconsolately, “I might + have made thousands by following his advice this week. It was you who put + me off, too!” + </p> + <p> + “It turned out all right?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly as he said. I made five hundred! I might just as well have made + five thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you let me have a couple of hundred?” she asked. “The people are all + bothering so.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that I can’t,” he answered irritably. “I had to send the lot to + Lewis, and then it wasn’t a quarter of what he is pressing for. We shall + never get through the season, Ruth, unless—” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Unless what?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless something turns up!” + </p> + <p> + There was a short, uncomfortable silence. Lady Ruth rose to her feet and + stood facing the fireplace with her back to him. + </p> + <p> + “Lumley,” she said, “let’s face it!” + </p> + <p> + He gave a little start. + </p> + <p> + “Face what?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Ruin, the Bankruptcy Court, and all the rest of it!” she declared, a note + of defiance creeping into her tone. + </p> + <p> + Her husband’s face was white with astonishment. He stared across at her + blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, Ruth?” he exclaimed. “Do you know what you are saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite well,” she answered. “I’m a little sick of the whole show. The + tradespeople are getting impertinent. I don’t even know where to get + flowers for dinner tonight or where to go for my Ascot gowns. It must come + sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re talking like a fool,” he declared harshly. “Do you know that I + should have to give up my seat and my clubs?” + </p> + <p> + “We could live quietly in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Country be—hanged!” he exclaimed savagely. “What use is the country + to you and me? I’d sooner put a bullet through my brain. Ruth, old lady,” + he added more gently, “what’s gone wrong? You’re generally such a well + plucked’un! Have you—had a row with Wingrave?” he asked, looking at + her anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! I’ve lost my nerve, I suppose!” + </p> + <p> + “You want a change! It isn’t so very long to Cowes now and, thank heavens, + that’ll cost us nothing. We’re going on Wingrave’s yacht, aren’t we?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! We did accept.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington fidgeted for a moment with a paper knife. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” he asked, “what’s wrong between you and Wingrave?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she answered; “I’m afraid of him, that’s all!” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid of him! Afraid of Wingrave!” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I do not think that he has forgotten. I think that he means to make + us suffer.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington was almost dignified. + </p> + <p> + “I never heard such nonsense in my life, Ruth!” he exclaimed. “I have + watched Wingrave closely, and I have seen no trace of anything of the + sort. Nonsense! It is worse than nonsense! You must be getting hysterical. + You must get all this rubbish out of your head. To tell you the truth—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking that you might ask Wingrave to help us a bit. I don’t + believe he’d hesitate for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth looked her husband in the face. There was a curious expression in her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that it would be wise of me to ask him?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he answered. “You can take care of yourself. I can trust you.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you that I was afraid of Wingrave,” she reminded him. “I can take + care of myself as a rule—and I do—as you know. I have elected + to be one of the unfashionables in that respect. But to ask Wingrave for + money is more than I dare do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall ask him myself,” Barrington declared. + </p> + <p> + She picked up her gloves and turned to leave the room. + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer even that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GUARDIAN AND WARD + </h2> + <p> + “Up to the present, then,” Wingrave remarked, “the child has no idea as to + who has been responsible for the charge of her?” + </p> + <p> + “No idea at all, Sir Wingrave,” the lawyer declared. “Your wishes have + been strictly carried out, most strictly. She imagines that it is some + unknown connection of her father. But, as I explained to you in my letter, + she has recently exhibited a good deal of curiosity in the matter. She is—er—a + young lady of considerable force of character for her years, and her + present attitude—as I explained in my letter—is a trifle + difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave was sitting in the lawyer’s own chair. Mr. Pengarth, who was a + trifle nervous, preferred to stand. + </p> + <p> + “She shows, I think, a certain amount of ingratitude in forcing this + journey and explanation upon me,” Wingrave declared coldly. “It should + have been sufficient for her that her benefactor preferred to remain + anonymous.” + </p> + <p> + “I regret, Sir Wingrave, that I must disagree with you,” Mr. Pengarth + answered boldly. “Miss Juliet, Miss Lundy I should say, is a young lady of + character—and—er—some originality of disposition. She is + a great favorite with everyone around here.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave remained silent. He had the air of one not troubling to reply to + what he considered folly. Through the wide open window floated in the + various sounds of the little country town, the rumbling of heavy carts + passing along the cobbled streets, the shrill greetings of neighbors and + acquaintances meeting upon the sidewalk. And then the tinkling bell of a + rubber-tired cart pulling up outside, and a clear girlish voice speaking + to some one of the passers-by. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave betrayed as much surprise as it was possible for him to show when + at last she stood with outstretched hand before him. He had only an + imperfect recollection of an ill-clad, untidy-looking child, with pale + tear-stained cheeks, and dark unhappy eyes. The march of the years had + been a thing whose effects he had altogether underestimated. The girl who + stood now facing him was slight, and there was something of the child left + in her bright eager face, but she carried herself with all the graceful + assurance of an older woman. Her soft, dark eyes were lit with pleasure + and excitement, her delicately traced eyebrows and delightful smile were + somehow suggestive of her foreign descent. Her clothes were country-made, + but perfect as regarded fit and trimness, her beflowered hat was worn with + a touch of coquettish grace, a trifle un-English, but very delightful. She + had not an atom of shyness or embarrassment. Only there was a great + surprise in her face as she held out her hands to Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “I know who you are,” she exclaimed. “You are Sir Wingrave Seton. To think + that I never guessed.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember seeing me, then?” he remarked, and his tone sounded all the + colder after the full richness of her young voice. + </p> + <p> + “I just remember it—only just,” she answered. “You see you did not + take much notice of me that time, did you? But I have lived amongst your + ancestors too long to make any mistake. Why have you stayed away from + Tredowen so long?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been abroad,” Wingrave answered. “I am not fond of England.” + </p> + <p> + “You had trouble here, I know,” she said frankly. “But that is all past + and over. I think that you must forget how beautiful your home is or you + would never bear to live away from it. Now, please, may I ask you a + question?” + </p> + <p> + “Any that you think necessary,” Wingrave answered. “Spare me as much as + possible; I am not fond of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I leave you two together for a little time?” Mr. Pengarth + suggested, gathering up some papers. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” Wingrave said shortly. “There is not the slightest + necessity for it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Just as you please,” he answered. “But you must sit down, Juliet. There, + you shall have my clients’ chair.” + </p> + <p> + The girl accepted it with a little laugh. There was no shadow of + embarrassment about her manner, notwithstanding the cold stiffness of + Wingrave’s deportment. He sat where the sunlight fell across his chair, + and the lines in his pale face seemed deeper than usual, the grey hairs + more plentiful, the weariness in his eyes more apparent. Yet she was not + in the least afraid of him. + </p> + <p> + “First of all, then, Sir Wingrave, may I ask you why you have been so + extraordinarily kind to me?” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing extraordinary about it at all,” he answered. “Your + father died and left you friendless in a parish of which I am Lord of the + Manor. He received a starvation pittance for his labors, which it was my + duty to augment, a duty which, with many others, I neglected. I simply + gave orders that you should be looked after.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Looked after! Why, I have lived at Tredowen. I have had a governess, a + pony to drive. Heaven knows how many luxuries!” + </p> + <p> + “That,” he interrupted hastily, “is nothing. The house is better occupied. + What I have done for you is less in proportion than the sixpence you may + sometimes have given to a beggar for I am a rich, a ridiculously rich man, + with no possible chance of spending one-quarter of my income. You had a + distinct and obvious claim upon me, and, at no cost or inconvenience to + myself, I have endeavored, through others, to recognize it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will accept your view of the situation,” the girl said, still smiling, + but with a faint note of disappointment in her tone. “I do not wish to + force upon you expressions of gratitude which you would only find + wearisome. But I must thank you! It is in my heart, and I must speak of + it. There, it is over, you see! I shall say no more.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a sensible young lady,” Wingrave said, making a motion as though + to rise. “I have only one request to make to you, and that is that you + keep to yourself the knowledge which Mr. Pengarth informs me that you + insisted upon acquiring. You are nearly enough of age now, and I will make + you your own mistress. That is all, I think.” + </p> + <p> + The smile died away from her lips. Her tone became very earnest. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave,” she said, “for all that you have done for me, I am, as you + know grateful. I would try to tell you how grateful, only I know that it + would weary you. So we will speak only of the future. I cannot continue to + accept—even such magnificent alms as yours.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, child?” he asked, frowning across at her. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” she said, “that now I am old enough to work, I cannot accept + everything from one upon whom I have no claim. If you will help me a + little still, I shall be more than grateful. But it must be in my own + way.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk about work,” he said. “What can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I can paint,” she answered, “fairly well. I should like to go to London + and have a few lessons. If I cannot make a living at that, I shall try + something else.” + </p> + <p> + “You disappoint me,” Wingrave said. “There is no place for you in London. + There are thousands starving there already because they can paint a + little, or sing a little, or fancy they can. Do you find it dull down + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Dull!” she exclaimed wonderingly. “I think that there can be no place on + earth so beautiful as Tredowen.” + </p> + <p> + “You are happy here?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, for heaven’s sake, forget all this folly,” Wingrave said hardly. + “London is no place for children. Miss Harrison can take you up for a + month when you choose. You can go abroad if you want to. But for the rest—” + </p> + <p> + She rose suddenly, and sweeping across the office with one graceful + movement, she leaned over Wingrave’s chair. Her hands rested upon his + shoulders, her eyes, soft with gathering tears, pleaded with his. Wingrave + sat with all the outward immobility of a Sphinx. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir Wingrave,” she said, “you have been so generous, so kind, and I + may not even speak of my gratitude. Don’t please think me unreasonable or + ungracious. I can’t tell you how I feel, but I must, I must, I must go + away. I could not live here any longer now that I know. Fancy for a moment + that I am your sister, or your daughter! Don’t you believe, really, that + she would feel the same? And I think you would wish her to. Don’t be angry + with me, please.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave’s face never changed; but his fingers gripped the arms of his + chair so that a signet ring he wore cut deep into his flesh. When he + spoke, his tone sounded almost harsh. The girl turned away to dash the + tears from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of this—folly, Pengarth?” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer looked his best client squarely in the face. “I do not call it + folly, Sir Wingrave. I think that Miss Lundy is right.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. Her eyes were still pleading with him. + </p> + <p> + “Against the two of you,” Wingrave remarked, “I am, of course, powerless. + After all, it is no concern of mine. I shall leave you, Pengarth, to make + such arrangements as Miss Lundy desires!” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet. Juliet now was pale. She dashed the tears from her + eyes and looked at him in amazement mingled with something which was + almost like despair. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean,” she exclaimed, “you are going away without coming to + Tredowen?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. “I never had any intention of going there!” + </p> + <p> + “You are very angry with me,” she cried in despair. “I—I—” + </p> + <p> + Her lip quivered. Wingrave interposed. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be happy to go and have a look at the place,” he said carelessly, + “if you will drive me back. I fancy I have almost forgotten what it is + like.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him as at one who had spoken irreverently. Her eyes were + full of wonder. + </p> + <p> + “I think that you must have indeed forgotten,” she said, “how very + beautiful it is. It is your home too! There is no one else,” she added + softly, “who can live there, amongst all those wonderful things, and call + it really—home!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “you will find that I have outlived all sentiment; + but I will certainly come to Tredowen with you!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GHOSTS OF DEAD THINGS + </h2> + <p> + “It was here,” she said, as they passed through the walled garden + seawards, “that I saw you first—you and the other gentleman who was + so kind to me.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I believe that I remember it,” he said; “you were a mournful-looking + object in a very soiled pinafore and most untidy hair.” + </p> + <p> + “I had been out on the cliffs,” she reminded him, “where I am taking you + now. If you are going to make unkind remarks about my hair, I think that I + had better fetch a hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray don’t leave me,” he answered. “I should certainly lose my way. Your + hair in those days was, I fancy, a little more—unkempt!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It used to be cut short,” she said. “Hideous! There! Isn’t that + glorious?” + </p> + <p> + She had opened the postern gate in the wall, and through the narrow + opening was framed a wonderful picture of the Cornish sea, rolling into + the rock-studded bay. Its soft thunder was in their ears; salt and + fragrant, the west wind swept into their faces. She closed the gate behind + her, and stepped blithely forward. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” she cried. “We will climb the cliffs where we left you alone once + before.” + </p> + <p> + Side by side they stood looking over the ocean. Her head was thrown back, + her lips a little parted. He watched her curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You must have sea blood in your veins,” he remarked. “You listen as + though you heard music all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “And what about you?” she asked him, smiling. “You are the grandson of + Admiral Sir Wingrave Seton who commanded a frigate at Trafalgar, and an + ancestor of yours fought in the Armada.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said quietly, “that there is a hiatus in my life + somewhere. There are no voices which call to me any more, and my family + records are so much dead parchment.” + </p> + <p> + Trouble passed into her glowing face and clouded her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, “I do not like to hear you talk so. Do you know that when + you do, you make me afraid that something I have always hoped for will + never come to pass?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have always hoped,” she said, “that some day you would come once more + to Tredowen. I suppose I am rather a fanciful person. This is a country of + superstitions and fancies, you know; but sometimes when I have been alone + in the picture gallery with all that long line of dark faces looking down + upon me from the walls, I have felt like an interloper. Always they seem + to be waiting! Tonight, after dinner, I will take you there. I will try + and show you what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never come back,” he said, “and there are no more of my name.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. When at last she spoke, the color was coming and going in + her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave,” she said, “I am only an ignorant girl, and I have no right + to talk to you like this. Please be angry with me if you want to. I + deserve it. I know all about—that ten years! Couldn’t you forget it, + and come back? None of the country people round here, your own people, + believe anything evil about you. You were struck, and you struck back + again. A man would do that. You could be as lonely as you liked here, or + you could have friends if you wished for them. But this is the place where + you ought to live. You would be happier here, I believe, than in exile. + The love of it all would come back, you would never be lonely. It is the + same sea which sang to you when you were a child, and to your fathers + before you. It would bring you forgetfulness when you wanted it, or—” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave interrupted her. His tone was cold, but not unkind. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” he said, “it is very good of you to be so + sympathetic, but I am afraid I am not at all the sort of person you + imagine me to be. What I was before those ten years—well, I have + forgotten. What I am now, I unfortunately know. I am a soured, malevolent + being whose only pleasure lies in the dealing out to others some portion + of the unhappiness which was dealt out to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe it,” she declared briskly. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, it is true,” he declared coolly. “Listen! More or less you + interest me. I will tell you something which I have never yet told to a + single human being. I need not go into particulars. You will probably + believe a broad statement. My ten years’ imprisonment was more or less an + injustice!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave!” + </p> + <p> + He checked her. There was not a tremor in his tone. The gesture with which + he had repelled her was stiff and emotionless. + </p> + <p> + “I went into prison one man, I came out another. While I live, I shall + never be able to think kindly again of a single one of my fellow + creatures. It was not my fault. So far as our affections are concerned, we + are machines, all of us. Well, my mainspring has broken.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “It is, nevertheless, true,” he affirmed calmly. “I am living in exile + because I have no friends, because friends have become an impossibility to + me. I shall not tell you any more of my life because you are young and you + would not believe me if I did. Some day,” he added grimly, “you will + probably hear for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never believe anything,” she declared, “which I do not choose to + believe. I shall never believe, for instance, that you are quite what you + think yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “We will talk of other things,” he said. “Five years ago, you showed + Aynesworth where the seagulls built.” + </p> + <p> + “And now I will show you,” she exclaimed, “if you are sure that your head + is steady enough. Come along!”... + </p> + <p> + It was after dinner that she took him into the picture gallery. Miss + Harrison, very much disturbed by the presence of the master of Tredowen, + and still more so by the hint which she had already received as to coming + changes, followed them at a little distance. + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry,” Juliet said, “that we have no cigars or cigarettes.” + </p> + <p> + “I seldom smoke,” Wingrave answered. + </p> + <p> + “If only we had had the slightest idea of your coming,” Miss Harrison said + for the tenth time, “we would have made more adequate preparations. The + wine cellar, at least, could have been opened. I allowed Mr. and Mrs. + Tresfarwin to go for their holiday only yesterday, and the cellars, of + course, are never touched.” + </p> + <p> + “Your claret was excellent,” Wingrave assured her. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite sure,” Miss Harrison said, “that claret from the local grocer + is not what you are accustomed to—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear madam,” Wingrave protested, “I seldom touch wine. Show me which + picture it is, Juliet, that you—ah!” + </p> + <p> + She had led him to the end of the gallery and stopped before what seemed + to be a plain oak cupboard surrounded by a massive frame. She looked at + him half fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “You want to see that picture?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “If I might.” + </p> + <p> + He drew a bunch of keys from his pocket and calmly selected one. It was a + little rusty, but the cupboard turned at once on its hinges. A woman’s + face smiled down upon them, dark and splendid, from the glowing touch of a + great painter. Juliet studied it eagerly, and then stole a sidelong glance + at the man by her side. He was surveying it critically and without any + apparent emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Herkomer’s, I think,” he remarked. “Quite one of his best.” + </p> + <p> + “It is your mother?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not great at genealogy,” he said, “but I can go as far back as that. + She was by way of being a great lady, the daughter of the Duke of + Warminster.” + </p> + <p> + “You were an only son,” she said softly. “She must have been very fond of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Customary thing, I suppose,” he remarked. “Lucky for her, under the + circumstances, that she died young.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the oaken door in front of the picture, and locked it. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see the armory,” he said; “but I really forget—let + me see, it is at the end of the long gallery, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + She led him there without a word. She was getting a little afraid of him. + They inspected the library and wandered back into the picture gallery. It + was she, now, who was silent. She had shown him all her favorite treasures + without being able to evoke a single spark of enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Once,” she remarked, “we all had a terrible fright. We were told that + everything was going to be sold.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I did think of it,” he admitted; “but there seemed to be no hurry. All + these things are growing into money year by year. Some day I shall send + everything to Christie’s.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in horror. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot—oh, you cannot mean it?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? They are no use to me.” + </p> + <p> + “No use?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit. I don’t suppose I shall see them again for many years. And the + money—well, one can use that.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought—that you were rich?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “So I am,” he answered, “and yet I go on making more and more, and I shall + go on. Money is the whip with which its possessor can scourge humanity. It + is with money that I deal out my—forgive me, I forgot that I was + talking aloud, and to a child,” he wound up suddenly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, dry-eyed, but with a strained look of sorrow strangely + altering her girlish face. + </p> + <p> + “You must be very unhappy,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” he assured her. “I am one of those fortunate persons who + have outlived happiness and unhappiness. I have nothing to do but live—and + pay off a few little debts.” + </p> + <p> + He rose directly afterwards, and she walked with him out to the gardens + whence a short cut led to the village. + </p> + <p> + “I have not tried again to make you change your mind,” he said as they + stood for a moment on the terrace. “If my wishes have any weight with you, + I trust that you will do nothing without consulting Mr. Pengarth.” + </p> + <p> + “And you—” she faltered, “are you—never in London? Sha’n’t I + see you again any time?” + </p> + <p> + “If you care to, by all means,” he answered. “Tell Mr. Pengarth to let me + have your address. Goodbye! Thank you for taking care of my treasures so + well.” + </p> + <p> + She held his cold hand in hers and suddenly raised it to her lips. Then + she turned away and hurried indoors. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave stood still for a moment and gazed at his hand through the + darkness as though the ghosts of dead things had flitted out from the dark + laurel shrubs. Then he laughed quietly to himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SPREADING THE NETS + </h2> + <h3> + “By the bye,” the Marchioness asked him, “have you a Christian name?” + </h3> + <p> + “Sorry,” Wingrave answered, “if I ever had, I’ve forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must call you Wingrave,” she remarked. “I hate calling anyone I + know decently well Mr. anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Charmed,” Wingrave answered; “it isn’t a bad name.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t,” she admitted. “By the bye,” she continued, looking at him + critically, “you are rather a surprising person, aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Glad you’ve found it out,” Wingrave answered. “I always thought so.” + </p> + <p> + “One associates all sorts of terrible things with millionaires—especially + African and American ones,” she remarked. “Now you could pass anywhere for + the ordinary sort of decent person.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I was told the other day,” he remarked reflectively, “that if I would + only cultivate two things, I might almost pass as a member of the English + aristocracy.” + </p> + <p> + “What were they?” she asked rashly. + </p> + <p> + “Ignorance and impertinence,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness was silent for a moment. There was a little more color + than usual in her beautiful cheeks and a dangerous glitter in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You can go home, Mr. Wingrave,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet imperturbably. The Marchioness stretched out a long + white hand and gently forced him back again. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t talk like that to me,” she said quietly. “I am sensitive.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed. + </p> + <p> + “A privilege, I believe, of your order,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if you want to quarrel—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” he assured her. + </p> + <p> + “Then be sensible! I want to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sensible, alone with you!” he murmured. “I should establish a new + record.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly aren’t in the least like a millionaire,” she declared, + smiling at him, “you are more like a—” + </p> + <p> + “Please go on,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “I daren’t,” she answered, shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + “Then you aren’t in the least like a marchioness,” he declared. “At least, + not like our American ideas of one.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + “Bring your chair quite close to mine,” she ordered, “I really want to + talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed, and affected to be absorbed in the contemplation of the rings + on the hand which a great artist had called the most beautiful in England. + She withdrew it a little peevishly, after a moment’s pause. + </p> + <p> + “I want to talk about the Barringtons,” she said. “Do you know that they + are practically ruined?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard that Barrington had been gambling on the Stock Exchange the last + few days,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “He has lost a great deal of money,” she answered, “and they were almost + on their last legs before. Are you going to set them straight again?” + </p> + <p> + “No idea,” he answered. “I haven’t been asked, for one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth will ask you, of course,” the Marchioness said impatiently. “I + expect that she is waiting at your flat by now. I want to know whether you + are going to do it.” + </p> + <p> + The hand was again very close to his. Again Wingrave contemplated the + rings. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot that you were her friend, and are naturally anxious,” he + remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I am not her friend,” the Marchioness answered, “and—I do not wish + you to help them.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave was silent. The hand was insistent, and he held it for a moment + lightly, and then let it go. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “The Barringtons have been very + hospitable to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” the Marchioness answered. “You have done quite enough for them + already. Of course, you are a man—and you must choose. I am sure + that you understand me.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I must think this out,” he said. “The Barringtons have a sort of claim on + me. I will let you know which way I decide.” + </p> + <p> + She stood close to him, and her hand fell upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going!” she exclaimed. “I have told them that I am at home to + no one, and I thought that you would stay and entertain me. Sit down + again, Wingrave!” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry,” he answered, “I have a lot to do this afternoon. I came directly + I had your note; but I have had to keep some other people waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to see Lady Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of,” he declared. “I have heard nothing from her. By the + bye, I lost some money to you at bridge the other evening. How much was + it? Do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a second, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really want to know?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “If you please. Put the amount down on a piece of paper, and then I + sha’n’t forget it.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed the room to her desk, and returned with a folded envelope. He + stuffed it into his waistcoat pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be at the opera tonight,” she said. “Will you come there and tell + me what—which you decide?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” he answered, “if I can get away from a stupid dinner in + time.” + </p> + <p> + She let him go reluctantly. Afterwards she passed into her own room, and + stood looking at herself in the pier glass. Artists and the society papers + called her the most beautiful woman in England; fashion had placed her + upon such a pinnacle that men counted it a distinction to be seen speaking + to her. She dealt out her smiles and favors like Royalty itself; she had + never once known a rebuff. This afternoon she felt that she had received + one. Had she been too cold or too forward? Perhaps she had underestimated + the man himself. She rang for her maid. + </p> + <p> + “Celeste,” she said, “I shall wear my new Paquin gown tonight at the + opera, and my pearls.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, your ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am going to lie down for an hour or two now. Don’t let me be + disturbed. I want to look my best tonight. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, your ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness rested, but she did not sleep. She was thinking of + Wingrave! + </p> + <p> + It was not Lady Ruth, but her husband, who was waiting to see Wingrave on + his return. Aynesworth was talking to him, but at once withdrew. Wingrave + nodded with slightly upraised eyebrows. He never shook hands with + Barrington. + </p> + <p> + “You wanted to see me?” he inquired, carelessly turning over a little pile + of letters. + </p> + <p> + Barrington was ill at ease. He hated himself and he hated his errand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for a moment or two—if you’re not busy,” he said. “May I + smoke? I’m nervous this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself,” Wingrave said shortly. “Cigarettes and cigars on the + sideboard. Touch the bell if you’ll take anything to drink.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks—Aynesworth gave me a brandy and soda. Capital fellow, + Aynesworth!” + </p> + <p> + “Have another,” Wingrave said shortly. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room to the sideboard. Wingrave glanced up from his + letters, and smiled coldly as he saw the shaking fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t often indulge like this,” Barrington said, turning away from the + sideboard with a tumbler already empty in his hands. “The fact is, I’ve + had rather a rude knock, and Ruth thought I’d better come and see you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave remained a study of impassivity. His guest’s whole demeanor, his + uneasy words and nervous glances were an unspoken appeal to be helped out + in what he had come to say. And Wingrave knew very well what it was. + Nevertheless, he remained silent—politely questioning. Barrington + sat down a little heavily. He was not so carefully dressed as usual; he + looked older, his appearance lacked altogether that air of buoyant + prosperity which was wont to inspire his friends and creditors with + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been a fool, Wingrave,” he said. “You showed me how to make a little + money a few weeks ago, and it seemed so easy that I couldn’t resist having + a try by myself, only on rather a larger scale. I lost! Then I went in + again to pull myself round, and I lost again. I lost—more than I can + easily raise before settlement.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” Wingrave said politely. “It is very unwise to meddle in + things you know so little about.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the worm turned. Barrington rose to his feet, and with a deep + flush upon his cheeks moved towards the door. But his spark of genuine + feeling died out almost as soon as it had been kindled. Outside that door + was ruin; within, as he very well knew, lay his only chance of salvation. + He set down his hat, and turned round. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” he said, “will you lend me some money?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked at him with upraised eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “I,” he remarked, “lend you money? Why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows,” Barrington answered. “It is you who have chosen to seek us + out. You have forced upon us something which has at least the semblance of + friendship. There is no one else whom I could ask. It isn’t only this + damned Stock Exchange transaction. Everything has gone wrong with me for + years. If I could have kept going till next July, I should have been all + right. I have made a little success in the House, and I am promised a + place in the next government. I know it seems queer that I should be + asking you, but it is that—or ruin. Now you know how things are with + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are making,” Wingrave said quietly, “a mistake. I have not pretended + or given the slightest evidence of any friendship for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington looked at him with slowly mounting color. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Wingrave interrupted. “I do not know what I might or might + not do for Lady Ruth. I have not considered the subject. It has not, in + fact, been presented to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the same thing,” Barrington declared hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me—it is not,” Wingrave answered. + </p> + <p> + “What I ask you to do,” Barrington said, “I ask on behalf of my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “As an ambassador,” Wingrave said coldly, “you are not acceptable to me. + It is a matter which I could only discuss with Lady Ruth herself. If Lady + Ruth has anything to say to me, I will hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington stood quite still for several moments. The veins on his + forehead stood out like tightly drawn cords, his breath came with + difficulty. The light in his eyes, as he looked at Wingrave, was almost + murderous. + </p> + <p> + “If Lady Ruth desires to see me,” Wingrave remarked slowly, “I shall be + here at nine o’clock this evening. Tomorrow my movements are uncertain. + You will excuse me if I hurry you away now. I have an engagement which is + already overdue.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington took up his hat and left the room without a word. Wingrave + remained in his chair. His eyes followed the departing figure of his + visitor. When he was absolutely sure that he was alone, he covered his + face with one hand. His engagement seemed to have been with his thoughts + for he did not stir for nearly an hour later. Then he rang the bell for + Aynesworth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN THE TOILS + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave did not speak for several moments after Aynesworth had entered + the room. He had an engagement book before him and seemed to be deep in + its contents. When at last he looked up, his forehead was furrowed with + thought, and he had the weary air of a man who has been indulging in + unprofitable memories. + </p> + <p> + “Aynesworth,” he said, “be so good as to ring up Walters and excuse me + from dining with him tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Any particular form of excuse?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No! Say that I have an unavoidable engagement. I will see him tomorrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything else?” Aynesworth asked, preparing to leave the room. + </p> + <p> + “No! You might see that I have no visitors this evening. Lady Ruth is + coming here at nine o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth is coming here,” Aynesworth repeated in a colorless tone. + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders, but made no remark. He turned towards + the door, but Wingrave called him back. + </p> + <p> + “Your expression, Aynesworth,” he said, “interests me. Am I or the lady in + question responsible for it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for Lady Ruth,” Aynesworth said. “I think that I am sorry, + too, for her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? She is coming of her own free will.” + </p> + <p> + “There are different methods of compulsion,” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave regarded him thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “is true. But I still do not understand why you are sorry + for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” Aynesworth said, “I know the history of a certain event, and I + know you. It is, I suppose, for this end that you made use of them.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” he declared. “I think that the time is not far off when + that dear lady and I can cry quits. This time, too, I see nothing to + impair my satisfaction at the probable finale. In various other cases, as + you might remember, I have not been entirely successful.” + </p> + <p> + “It depends,” Aynesworth remarked drily, “upon what you term success.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said coldly, “that you are aware of what my feelings and + desired course of action have been with regard to those of my fellow + creatures with whom I have happened to come into contact. It seems to me + that I have been a trifle unfortunate in several instances.” + </p> + <p> + “As for instance?” Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to take a few cases only,” Wingrave continued, “there was the child + down at Tredowen whom you were so anxious for me to befriend. Of course, I + declined to do anything of the sort, and she ought, by rights, to have + gone to some charitable institution, founded and supported by fools, and + eventually become, perhaps, a domestic servant. Instead of which, some + relation of her father turns up and provides for her lavishly. You must + admit that that was unfortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon the point of view,” Aynesworth remarked drily. + “Personally, I considered it a most fortunate occurrence.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Wingrave agreed. “But then you are a sentimentalist. You like + to see people happy, and you would even help to make them so if you could + without any personal inconvenience. I am at the other pole. If I could + collect humanity into one sentient force, I would set my heel upon it + without hesitation. I try to do what I can with the atoms, but I have not + the best of fortune. There was Mrs. Travers, now! There I should have been + successful beyond a doubt if some busybody hadn’t sent that cable to her + husband. I wonder if you were idiot enough to do that, Aynesworth?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had thought of the Marconigram,” Aynesworth said, “I am sure I + should have done it. But as a matter of fact, I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as well, so far as our relations are concerned,” Wingrave said + coldly. “I did manage to make poor men of a few brokers in New York, but + my best coup went wrong. That boy would have blown his brains out, I + believe, if some meddling idiot hadn’t found him all that money at the + last moment. I have had a few smaller successes, of course, and there is + this affair of Lady Ruth and her estimable husband. You know that he came + to borrow money of me, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed it,” Aynesworth answered. “You should be modern in your revenge + and lend it to him.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave smiled coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy,” he said, “that Lumley Barrington will find my revenge modern + enough. I may lend the money they need—but it will be to Lady Ruth! + I told her husband so a few minutes ago. I told him to send his wife to + me. He has gone to tell her now!” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” Aynesworth remarked, “that he did not thrash you—or try + to.” + </p> + <p> + Again Wingrave’s lips parted. + </p> + <p> + “Moral deterioration has set in already,” he remarked. “When he pays his + bills with my money, he will lose the little he has left of his + self-respect.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth turned abruptly away. He was strongly tempted to say things + which would have ended his connection with Wingrave, and as yet he was not + ready to leave. For the sake of a digression, he took up a check book from + the table. + </p> + <p> + “There are three checks,” he remarked, “which I cannot trace. One for ten + thousand pounds, another for five, and a third for a thousand pounds. What + account shall I put them to?” + </p> + <p> + “Private drawing account,” Wingrave answered. “They represent a small + speculation. By the bye, you’d better go and ring up Walters.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish the particulars entered in your sundry investment book?” + Aynesworth asked. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” he answered. “You can put them to drawing account. If you + want me again this evening, I shall dine at the Cafe Royal at eight + o’clock, and shall return here at five minutes to nine.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Lady Ruth was punctual. At a few minutes past nine, Morrison announced + that a lady had called to see Mr. Wingrave by appointment. + </p> + <p> + “You can show her in,” Wingrave said. “See that we are not disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth was scarcely herself. She was dressed in a high-necked muslin + gown, and she wore a hat and veil, which somewhat obscured her features. + The latter she raised, however, as she accepted the chair which Wingrave + had placed for her. He saw then that she was pale, and her manner betrayed + an altogether unfamiliar nervousness. She avoided his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Did you expect me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he answered, “I thought that you would come.” + </p> + <p> + Her foot, long and slender, beat impatiently upon the ground. She looked + up at him once, but immediately withdrew her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you bring me here?” she asked in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lady Ruth!” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to play at being friends,” she said, “for heaven’s sake call + me Ruth. You found it easy enough once.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” he answered. “Ruth, by all means.” + </p> + <p> + “Now will you answer my question?” she said. “Do you mean—to help + us?” + </p> + <p> + “Us—no!” he answered; “you—perhaps yes!” he added. + </p> + <p> + Then she looked at him, and found herself puzzled by the perfect + impassivity of his features. Surely he would drop the mask now. He had + insisted upon her coming! + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps?” she repeated. “What then—are the conditions?” + </p> + <p> + He bent over towards her. Curiously enough, there was, mingled with many + other sensations, a certain sense of triumph in the thought, it was almost + a hope, that at last he was going to betray himself, that he was going to + admit tacitly, or by imputation, that her power over him was not wholly + dead. It was a terrible situation—in her heart she felt so, but it + had its compensations. Wingrave had been her constant attendant for + months. He had seen her surrounded by men, all anxious to secure a smile + from her; he had seen her play the great lady in her own house, and she + played it very well. She knew that she was a past mistress in the arts + which fascinate his sex, she understood the quiet speeches, the moods, + every trick of the gamester in emotions, from the fluttering of eyelids to + the unchaining of the passions. And he had loved her. Underneath it all, + he must love her now. She was determined that he should tell her so. It + was genuine excitement which throbbed in her pulses, a genuine color which + burned in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “The conditions?” he repeated. “You believe, then, that I mean to make + conditions?” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes to his, eloquent eyes she knew, and looked at him. The + mask was still there—but he had moved a little nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” she said softly. “You must tell me.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. She had scarcely given herself credit for + such capacity for emotion. He was on his feet. Surely the mask must go + now! And then—she felt that it must be a nightmare. It was + incredible! He had struck a match and was calmly lighting a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “One,” he said coolly, “is that Mademoiselle Violet employs no more + amateur assassins to make clumsy attempts upon my life.” + </p> + <p> + She sat in her place rigid—half frozen with a cold, numbing fear. He + had sent for her, then, only to mock her. She had failed! They were not + even to have the money! Speech was quite impossible. Then he continued. + </p> + <p> + “I will take your assent for granted,” he said. “Do you know how much you + require to free yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “About eight thousand pounds!” she answered mechanically. + </p> + <p> + He sat down and wrote a check, which he laid before her. + </p> + <p> + “You will have to endorse that,” he remarked in a matter-of-fact tone. + “Your name at the back will do instead of a receipt.” + </p> + <p> + She sprang to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your money,” she cried. “I will not touch it. Please open the door + for me! I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means—if you wish it,” he answered undisturbed. “At the same + time, I am curious to know why you came here at all if you did not intend + to accept it.” + </p> + <p> + She faced him, hot and angry. + </p> + <p> + “I did intend to accept it,” she declared. “It is that or ruin. But you + are too cruel! You make it—impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “You surprise me,” he answered. “I suppose you know best.” + </p> + <p> + “For heaven’s sake tell me,” she cried passionately, “what has come to + you, what manner of a man are you? You loved me once! Now, even, after all + these years, you cannot deny it. You have gone out of your way to be with + me, to be my companion wherever we are. People are beginning to smile when + they see us together. I don’t mind. I—for God’s sake tell me, + Wingrave! Why do you do it? Why do you lend me this money? What can I do + for you? What do you want me to be? Are you as cold as a stone? Have you + no heart—no heart even for friendship!” + </p> + <p> + “I would not seek,” he answered, “to buy—your friendship with a + check!” + </p> + <p> + “But it is yours already,” she cried, holding out her hands. “Give me a + little kindness, Wingrave! You make me feel and seem a perfect idiot. Why, + I’d rather you asked me anything that treated me like this.” + </p> + <p> + “I was under the impression,” Wingrave remarked, “that I was behaving + rather well. I wonder what would really satisfy you!” + </p> + <p> + “To have you behave as you are doing, and want to behave differently,” she + cried. “You are magnificent—but it is because you are indifferent. + Will you kiss me, Wingrave?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure!” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She drew away from him quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Is it—another woman?” she asked. “The Marchioness?” + </p> + <p> + Her eagerness was almost painful. He did not answer her at once. She + caught hold of his wrist and drew him towards her. Her eyes searched his + face. + </p> + <p> + “The Marchioness,” he said, “is a very beautiful woman. She does not, + however, affect the situation as between you and me.” + </p> + <p> + “If she dared!” Lady Ruth murmured. “Wingrave, won’t you try and be + friends with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try—certainly,” he answered. “You would be surprised, + however, if you could realize the effect of a long period of enforced + seclusion upon a man of my—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” she shrieked; “stop!” + </p> + <p> + “My temperament, I was about to say,” he concluded. “There was a time when + I am afraid I might have been tempted, under such circumstances as these, + to forget that you were no longer free, to forget everything that except + we were alone, and that you—are as beautiful as ever you were!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she murmured, moving imperceptibly a little nearer towards him. + </p> + <p> + He picked up the check and gave it to her. + </p> + <p> + “I am no actor,” he said, looking at her steadily. “At present, I make no + conditions. But—” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him. He took her face between his hands and kissed her + on the lips. + </p> + <p> + “I may make them later,” he said. “I reserve my right.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment, and dropped her veil. + </p> + <p> + “Please take me down to my carriage,” she asked. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INDISCRETION OF THE MARCHIONESS + </h2> + <p> + “I am perfectly certain,” Juliet declared, “that we ought not to be here.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” Aynesworth remarked, fanning himself lightly with his pocket + handkerchief, “may account for the extraordinary sense of pleasure which I + am now experiencing. At the same time, I can’t see why not.” + </p> + <p> + “I only met you this afternoon—a few hours ago. And here we are, + absolutely wedged together on these seats—and my chaperon is dozing + half the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” Aynesworth objected, “I knew you when you were a child.” + </p> + <p> + “For one day!” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” Aynesworth persisted, “the fact remains. If you date our + acquaintance from this afternoon, I do not. I have never forgotten the + little girl in short frocks and long black hair, who showed me where the + seagulls built, and told me Cornish fairy stories.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a very long time ago,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Four years,” he answered; “for you, perhaps, a long time, because you + have changed from a child—into a woman. But for a man approaching + middle age—as I am—nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “That is all very well,” she answered, “but I am not sure that we ought to + be in the gallery at Covent Garden together, with a chaperon who will + sleep!” + </p> + <p> + “She will wake up,” he declared, “with the music.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” she murmured, “will dream. Isn’t it lovely?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how it really seems to you,” he remarked. “We are breathing an + atmosphere hot with gas, and fragrant with orange peel. We are squashed in + amongst a crowd of people of a class whom I fancy that neither you nor I + know much about. And I saw you last in a wilderness! We saw only the + yellow sands, and the rocks, and the Atlantic. We heard only the thunder + of the sea and the screaming of seagulls. This is very different.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderfully, wonderfully different,” she answered. “I miss it all! Of + course I do, and yet one is so much nearer to life here, the real life of + men and women. Oh, one cannot compare it. Why should one try? Ah, listen!” + </p> + <p> + The curtain went up. The music of the orchestra subsided, and the music of + the human voice floated through the Opera House—the human voice, + vibrant with joy and passion and the knowledge which lies behind the veil. + Juliet found no time to talk then, no time to think even of her companion. + Her young cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright with excitement. She + leaned a little forward in her place, she passed with all the effortless + facility of her ingenuous youth, into the dim world of golden fancies + which the story of the opera was slowly unfolding. Beside her, Mrs. + Tresfarwin dozed and blinked and dozed again—and on her left + Aynesworth himself, a little affected by the music, still found time to + glance continually at his companion, so radiant with life and so fervently + intent upon realizing to the full this, the first of its unknown joys. So + with crashing of chords and thunder of melody the act went on. And when it + was over, Juliet thought no more of the Cornish sea and the lullaby of the + waves. A new music was stirring in her young blood. + </p> + <p> + They were in the front row of the gallery, and presently she leaned over + to gaze down at the panorama below, the women in the boxes and stalls, + whose bare shoulders and skillfully coiffured hair flashed with jewels. + Suddenly her hand fell upon Aynesworth’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” she cried in some excitement, “do you see who that is in the box + there—the one almost next to the stage?” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth, too, uttered a little exclamation. The lights from beneath + were falling full upon the still, cold face of the man who had just taken + a vacant chair in one of the boxes. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave!” he exclaimed, and glanced at once at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave Seton,” she murmured. “Isn’t it strange that I should see + him here tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “He comes often,” Aynesworth answered. “Music is one of his few + weaknesses.” + </p> + <p> + There was a movement in the box, and a woman’s head and shoulders appeared + from behind the curtain. Juliet gave a little gasp. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Aynesworth,” she exclaimed, “did you ever see such a beautiful woman? + Do tell me who she is!” + </p> + <p> + “A very great lady in London society,” Aynesworth answered. “That is + Emily, Marchioness of Westchester.” + </p> + <p> + Juliet’s eyes never moved from her until the beautiful neck and shoulders + were turned away. She leaned over towards her companion, and she did not + again, for some few minutes, face the house. + </p> + <p> + “She is the loveliest woman I ever saw in my life,” Juliet said with a + little sigh. “Is she a great friend of Sir Wingrave Seton, Mr. + Aynesworth?” + </p> + <p> + “He has no friends,” Aynesworth answered. “I believe that they are very + well acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Sir Wingrave!” Juliet murmured softly. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth looked at her in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “It is odd that you should have recognized him from up here,” he remarked + thoughtfully. “He has changed so much during the last few years.” + </p> + <p> + Juliet smiled, but she did not explain. She felt that she was obeying + Wingrave’s wishes. + </p> + <p> + “I should have recognized him anywhere,” she answered simply. “I wonder + what they are talking about. She seems so interested, and he looks so + bored.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth looked at his watch. It was barely ten o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to see him here this evening,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I should like so much,” she said, still gazing at them earnestly, “to + know that they are talking about.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + “So you will not tell me,” the Marchioness murmured, ceasing for a moment + the graceful movements of her fan, and looking at him steadily. “You + refuse me this—almost the first thing I have ever asked you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is scarcely,” Wingrave objected, “a reasonable question.” + </p> + <p> + “Between you and me,” she murmured, “such punctiliousness is scarcely + necessary—is it?” + </p> + <p> + He withstood the attack of those wonderful eyes lifted swiftly to his, and + answered her gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You are Lady Ruth’s friend,” he remarked. “Probably, therefore, she will + tell you all about it.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness laughed softly, yet with something less than mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Friends,” she exclaimed, “Lady Ruth and I? There was never a woman in + this world who was less my friend—especially now!” + </p> + <p> + He asked for no explanation of her last words, but in a moment or two she + vouchsafed it. She leaned a little forward, her eyes flashed softly + through the semi-darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth is afraid,” she said quietly, “that I might take you away from + her.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady,” he protested, “the slight friendship between Lady Ruth and + myself is not of the nature to engender such a fear.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. Her hands were toying with the rope + of pearls which hung from her neck. She bent over them, as though + examining the color of the stones. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you known Ruth?” she asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadfastly. He could not be sure whether it was his + fancy, or whether indeed there was some hidden meaning in her question. + </p> + <p> + “Since I came to live in England,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. Then with a little wave of her hands and a + brilliant smile, she figuratively dismissed the subject. + </p> + <p> + “We waste time,” she remarked lightly, “and we may have callers at any + moment. I will ask you no more questions save those which the conventions + may permit you to answer truthfully. We can’t depart from our code, can + we, even for the sake of an inquisitive woman?” + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “But I will have no assurances,” she interrupted smilingly. “I am going to + talk of other things. I am going to ask you a ridiculous question. Are you + fond of music?—seriously!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so,” he answered. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she answered, “I sometimes wonder what there is in the world + that interests you! Certainly, none of the ordinary things seem to. + Tonight, almost for the first time, I saw you look a little drawn out of + yourself. I was wondering whether it was the music or the people. I + suppose, until one gets used to it,” she added, looking a little wearily + around the house, “an audience like this is worth looking at.” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is not the people,” he said. “Do you make as close a study + of all your acquaintances?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally not,” she answered, “and I do not class you amongst my + acquaintances at all. You interest me, my friend—very much indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “I am flattered,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You are not—I wish that you were,” she answered simply. “I can + understand why you have succeeded where so many others have failed. You + are strong. You have nerves of steel—and very little heart. But now—what + are you going to do with your life, now that wealth must even have lost + its meaning to you? I should like to know that. Will you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “What is there to do?” he asked. “Eat and drink, and juggle a little with + the ball of fate.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not ambitious?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasure, for itself, does not attract you. No! I know that it does not. + What are you going to do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” he answered. “Won’t you direct me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will,” she answered, “if you will pay my price.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her more intently. He himself had been attaching no + particular importance to this conversation, but he was suddenly conscious + that it was not so with the woman at his side. Her eyes were shining at + him, soft and full and sweet; her beautiful bosom was rising and falling + quickly; there had come to her something which even he was forced to + recognize, that curious and voluptuous abandonment which a woman rarely + permits herself, and can never assume. He was a little bewildered. His + speech lost for a moment its cold precision. + </p> + <p> + “Your price?” he repeated. “I—I am stupid. I’m afraid I don’t + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Marry me,” she whispered in his ear, “and I will take you a little + further into life than you could ever go alone You don’t care for me, of + course—but you shall. You don’t understand this world, Wingrave, or + how to make the best of it. I do! Let me be your guide!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked at her in grave astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “You are not by any chance—in earnest?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You know very well that I am,” she answered swiftly. “And yet you + hesitate! What is it that you are afraid of? Don’t you like to give up + your liberty? We need not marry unless you choose. That is only a matter + of form nowadays at any rate. I have a hundred chaperons to choose from. + Society expects strange things from me. It is your companionship I want. + Your money is fascinating, of course. I should like to see you spend it, + to spend it with both hands. Don’t be afraid that we should be talked + about. I am not Lady Ruth! I am Emily, Marchioness of Westchester, and I + live and choose my friends as I please; will you be chief amongst them? + Hush!” + </p> + <p> + For Wingrave it was providential. The loud chorus which had heralded the + upraising of the curtain died away. Melba’s first few notes were floating + through the house. Silence was a necessity. The low passion of the music + rippled from the stage, through the senses and into the hearts of many of + the listeners. But Wingrave listened silent and unmoved. He was even + unconscious that the woman by his side was watching him half anxiously + every now and then. + </p> + <p> + The curtain descended amidst a thunder of applause. Wingrave turned slowly + towards his companion. And then there came a respite—a knock at the + door. + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness frowned, but Wingrave was already holding it open. Lady + Ruth, followed by an immaculate young guardsman, a relative of her + husband, was standing there. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wingrave!” she exclaimed softly, with upraised eyebrows, “why have + you contrived to render yourself invisible? We thought you were alone, + Emily,” she continued, “and took pity on you. And all the time you had a + prize.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness looked at Lady Ruth, and Lady Ruth looked at the + Marchioness. The young guardsman was a little sorry that he had come, but + Lady Ruth never turned a hair. + </p> + <p> + “You must really have your eyes seen to, dear,” the Marchioness remarked + in a tone of tender concern. “When you can’t see such an old friend as Mr. + Wingrave from a few yards away, they must be very bad indeed. How are you, + Captain Kendrick? Come and tell me about the polo this afternoon. Sorry I + can’t offer you all chairs. This is an absurd box—it was only meant + for two!” + </p> + <p> + “Come into ours,” Lady Ruth said; “we have chairs for six, I think.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had a millionaire in the family,” she murmured. “All the same, I + hate large parties. I am old-fashioned enough to think that two is a + delightful number.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth laid her hand upon Wingrave’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “A decided hint, Mr. Wingrave,” she declared. “Come and let me introduce + you to my sister. Our box is only a few yards off.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “I AM MISANTHROPOS, AND HATE MANKIND” + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave had just come in from an early gallop. His pale cheeks were + slightly flushed, and his eyes were bright. He had been riding hard to + escape from disconcerting thoughts. He looked in at the study, and found + Aynesworth with a mass of correspondence before him. + </p> + <p> + “Anything important?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” Aynesworth answered. “The letters marked private I have sent up + to your room. By the bye, there was something I wanted to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I was up in the gallery of the Opera House last night,” Aynesworth said, + “with a—person who saw you only once, soon after I first came to you—before + America. You were some distance away, and yet—my friend recognized + you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That, of course, is possible,” he answered. “It really does not matter so + very much unless they knew me—as Wingrave Seton!” + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” Aynesworth said, “recognized you as Sir Wingrave Seton.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave frowned thoughtfully for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A most unlikely person,” Aynesworth remarked smiling. “Do you remember, + when we went down to Tredowen just before we left for America, a little, + long-legged, black-frocked child, whom we met in the gardens—the + organist’s daughter, you know?” + </p> + <p> + “What of her?” Wingrave asked. + </p> + <p> + “It was she who was with me,” Aynesworth remarked. “It was she who saw you + in the box with the Marchioness of Westchester.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth was puzzled by the intentness with which Wingrave was regarding + him. Impenetrable though the man was, Aynesworth, who had not yet lost his + early trick of studying him closely, knew that, for some reason or other, + his intelligence had proved disturbing. + </p> + <p> + “Have you then—kept up your acquaintance with this child?” he + demanded. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “She is not a child any longer, but a very beautiful young woman,” he + said. “I met her again quite by accident. She is up in London, studying + art at the studio of an old friend of mine who has a class of girls. I + called to see him the other afternoon, and recognized her.” + </p> + <p> + “Your acquaintance,” Wingrave remarked, “has progressed rapidly if she + accepts your escort—to the gallery of the Opera!” + </p> + <p> + “It was scarcely like that,” Aynesworth explained. “I met her and Mrs. + Tresfarwin on the way there, and asked to be allowed to accompany them. + Mrs. Tresfarwin was once your housekeeper, I think, at Tredowen.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you solve the mystery of this relation of her father who turned + up so opportunely?” Wingrave asked. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “She told me nothing about him,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave passed on to his own room. His breakfast was on the table + awaiting him, and a little pile of letters and newspapers stood by his + plate. His servant, his head groom, and his chauffeur were there to + receive their orders for the morning. About him were all the evidences of + his well-ordered life. He sent both the men away and locked the door. It + was half an hour before he touched either his breakfast or his letters.... + </p> + <p> + He lunched at Westchester House in obedience to a somewhat imperative + summons. There were other guests there, whom, however, he outstayed. As + soon as they were alone, his hostess touched him on the arm and led him to + her own room. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” she exclaimed, with an air of real relief. “There, sit down + opposite to me, please—I want to watch your face.” + </p> + <p> + She was a little paler than usual, and he noticed that she had avoided + talking much to him at luncheon time. And yet he thought that he had never + seen her more beautiful. Something in her face had altered. He could not + tell what it was for he was not a man of much experience as regarded her + sex. Yet, in a vague sort of way, he understood the change. A certain part + of the almost insolent quietness, the complete self-assurance of her + manner, had gone. She was a little more like an ordinary woman! + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth proved herself an excellent tactician last night,” she + remarked. “She has given me an exceedingly uncomfortable few hours. For + you, well for you it was a respite, wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that I should call it exactly that,” he answered + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him steadfastly, almost wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “I am not going to make excuses for myself. But the + things which one says naturally enough when the emotions provoke them + sound crude enough in cold blood and colder daylight. We women are + creatures of mood, you know. I was feeling a little lonely and a little + tired last night, and the music stole away my common sense.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he murmured. “All that you said shall be forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not understand,” she answered, smiling at him. “What I said I + do not wish to be forgotten. Only—just at that moment, it sounded + natural enough—and today—I think that I am a little ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + He rose from his seat. Her eyes leaped up to his expectantly, and the + color streamed into her cheeks. But he only stood by her side. He did + nothing to meet the half-proffered embrace. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Emily,” he said, “all the kind things that you said were spoken + to a stranger. You did not know me. I did not mean anyone to know me. It + is you who have commanded the truth. You must have it. I am not the person + I seem to be. I am not the person to whom words such as yours should have + been spoken. Even my name is an assumed one. I should prefer to leave it + at that—if you are content.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not content,” she answered quietly; “I must hear more.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I am a man,” he said, “who spent ten years in prison, the ten best years + of my life. A woman sent me there—a woman swore my liberty away to + save her reputation. I was never of a forgiving disposition, I was never + an amiably disposed person. I want you to understand this. Any of the + ordinary good qualities with which the average man may be endowed, and + which I may have possessed, are as dead in me as hell fire could burn + them. You have spoken of me as of a man who failed to find a sufficient + object in life. You were wrong. I have an object, and I do my best to live + up to it. I hate the whole world of men and women who laughed their way + through life whilst I suffered—tortures. I hate the woman who sent + me there. I have no heart, nor any sense of pity. Now perhaps you can + understand my life and the manner of it.” + </p> + <p> + Her hands were clasped to the side of her head. Something of horror had + stolen into the steadfast gaze with which she was still regarding him. Yet + there were other things there which puzzled him. + </p> + <p> + “This—is terrible!” she murmured. “Then you are not—Mr. + Wingrave at all?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. After all, it was scarcely worth while concealing anything + now. + </p> + <p> + “I am Sir Wingrave Seton,” he said. “You may remember my little affair!” + </p> + <p> + She caught hold of his hands. + </p> + <p> + “You poor, poor dear!” she cried. “How you must have suffered!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave had a terrible moment. What he felt he would never have admitted, + even to himself. Her eyes were shining with sympathy, and it was so + unexpected. He had expected something in the nature of a cold withdrawal; + her silence was the only thing he had counted upon. It was a fierce, but + short battle. His sudden grasp of her hands was relaxed. He stood away + from her. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” he said. “As you can doubtless imagine, it is a + little too late for sympathy. The years have gone, and the better part of + me, if ever there was a better part, with them.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure of that!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “If you were absolutely heartless,” she said, “if you were perfectly + consistent, why did you not make me suffer? You had a great chance! A + little feigned affection, and then a few truths. You could have dragged me + down a little way into the pit of broken hearts! Why didn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + He frowned. + </p> + <p> + “One is forced to neglect a few opportunities!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him—delightfully. + </p> + <p> + “You foolish man!” she murmured. “Some day or other, you will turn out to + be a terrible impostor. Do you know, I think I am going to ask you again—what + I asked you last night?” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely think that you will be so ill-advised,” he declared coldly. + “Whether you believe it or not, I can assure you that I am incapable of + affection.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure about that,” she said with protesting eyebrows, “but you + are terribly hard-hearted?” + </p> + <p> + He was entirely dissatisfied with the impression he had produced. He + considered the attitude of the Marchioness unjustifiably frivolous. He had + an uneasy conviction that she was not in the least inclined to take him + seriously. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think,” he said, glancing at the clock, “that I need detain you + any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “You are really going away, then?” she asked him softly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “To call on Lady Ruth, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “As it happens, no,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly her face changed—she had remembered something. + </p> + <p> + “It was Lady Ruth!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “What a triumph of inconsistency!” she declared scornfully. “You are + lending them money!” + </p> + <p> + “I am lending money to Lady Ruth,” he answered slowly. + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met. She understood, at any rate, what he intended to convey. + Certainly his expression was hard and merciless enough now! + </p> + <p> + “Poor Ruth,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Some day,” he answered, “you will probably say that in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JULIET GAINS EXPERIENCE + </h2> + <p> + “Of course,” Juliet said, “after Tredowen it seems very small, almost + poky, but it isn’t, really, and Tredowen was not for me all my days. It + was quite time I got used to something else.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave looked around him with expressionless face. It was a tiny room, + high up on the fifth floor of a block of flats, prettily but inexpensively + furnished. Juliet herself, tall and slim, with all the fire of youth and + perfect health on her young face, was obviously contented. + </p> + <p> + “And your work?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She made a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “I have a good deal to unlearn,” she said, “but Mr. Pleydell is very kind + and encouraging.” + </p> + <p> + “You will go down to Cornwall for the hot weather, I hope?” he said. + “London is unbearable in August.” + </p> + <p> + “The class are going for a sketching tour to Normandy,” she said, “and Mr. + Pleydell thought that I might like to join them. It is very inexpensive, + and I should be able to go on with my work all the time.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I hear,” he said, “that you have met Mr. Aynesworth again.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t it delightful?” she exclaimed. “He is quite an old friend of Mr. + Pleydell. I was so glad to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he remarked, “you are a little lonely sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I sha’n’t be when I get to know the girls + in the class a little better.” + </p> + <p> + “I have some friends,” he said thoughtfully, “women, of course, who would + come and see you with pleasure. And yet,” he added, “I am not sure that + you would not be better off without knowing them.” + </p> + <p> + “They are fashionable ladies, perhaps?” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “They belong to the Juggernaut here which is called society. They would + probably try to draw you a little way into its meshes. I think, yes, I am + sure,” he added, looking at her, “that you are better off outside.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am quite sure of it,” she answered laughing. “I haven’t the clothes + or the time or the inclination for that sort of thing. Besides, I am going + to be much too happy ever to be lonely.” + </p> + <p> + “I myself,” he said, “am not an impressionable person. But they tell me + that most people, especially of your age, find London a terribly lonely + place.” + </p> + <p> + “I can understand that,” she answered, “unless they really had something + definite to do. I have felt a little of that myself. I think London + frightens me a little. It is so different from the country, and there is a + great deal that is difficult to understand.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance?” + </p> + <p> + “The great number of poor people who find it so hard to live,” she + answered. “Some of the small houses round here are awful, and Mr. Malcolm—he + is the vicar of the church here, and he called yesterday—tells me + that they are nothing like so bad as in some other parts of London. And + then you take a bus, it is such a short distance—and the shops are + full of wonderful things at such fabulous prices, and the carriages and + houses are so lovely, and people seem to be showering money right and left + everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the same in all large cities,” he answered, “more or less. There + must always be rich and poor, when a great community are herded together. + As a rule, the extreme poor are a worthless lot.” + </p> + <p> + “There must be some of them, though,” she answered, “who deserve to have a + better time. Of course, I have never been outside Tredowen, where everyone + was contented and happy in their way, and it seems terrible to me just at + first. I can’t bear to think that everyone hasn’t at least a chance of + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too young,” he said, “to bother your head about these things yet. + Wait until you have gathered in a little philosophy with the years. Then + you will understand how helpless you are to alter by ever so little the + existing state of things, and it will trouble you less.” + </p> + <p> + “I,” she answered, “may, of course, be helpless, but what about those + people who have huge fortunes, and still do nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should they?” he answered coldly. “This is a world for individual + effort. No man is strong enough to carry even a single one of his fellows + upon his shoulders. Charity is the most illogical and pernicious of all + weaknesses.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you are laughing at me,” she declared. “I mean men like that Mr. + Wingrave, the American who has come to England to spend all his millions. + I have just been reading about him,” she added, pointing to an illustrated + paper on the table. “They say that his income is too vast to be put into + figures which would sound reasonable; that he has estates and shooting + properties, and a yacht which he has never yet even seen. And yet he will + not give one penny away. He gives nothing to the hospitals, nothing to the + poor. He spends his money on himself, and himself alone!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “I am not prepared to defend my namesake,” he said; “but every man has a + right to do what he likes with his own, hasn’t he? And as for hospitals, + Mr. Wingrave probably thinks, like a good many more, that they should be + state endowed. People could make use of them, then, without loss of self + respect.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head a little doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t argue about it yet,” she said, “because I haven’t thought about + it long enough. But I know if I had all the money this man has, I couldn’t + be happy to spend thousands and thousands upon myself while there were + people almost starving in the same city.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a sentimentalist, you see,” he remarked, “and you have not + studied the laws on which society is based. Tell me, how does Mrs. + Tresfarwin like London?” + </p> + <p> + Juliet laughed merrily. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it amusing?” she declared. “She loves it! She grumbles at the milk, + and we have the butter from Tredowen. Everything else she finds + perfection. She doesn’t even mind the five flights of stone steps.” + </p> + <p> + “Social problems,” Wingrave remarked, “do not trouble her.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” Juliet declared. “She spends all her pennies on + beggars and omnibus rides, and she is perfectly happy.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave rose to go in a few minutes. Juliet walked with him to the door. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to be really hospitable,” she declared. “I am going to walk + with you to the street.” + </p> + <p> + “All down those five flights?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Every one of them!” + </p> + <p> + They commenced the descent. + </p> + <p> + “There is something about a flat,” she declared, “which makes one horribly + curious about one’s neighbors—especially if one has never had any. + All these closed doors may hide no end of interesting people, and I have + never seen a soul go in or out. How did you like all this climbing?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I didn’t appreciate it,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you won’t come to see me again, then?” she asked. “I hope you + will.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come,” he said a little stiffly, “with pleasure!” + </p> + <p> + They were on the ground floor, and Juliet opened the door. Wingrave’s + motor was outside, and the man touched his hat. She gave a little + breathless cry. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t yours?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he answered. “Do you want to come and look at it?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” she exclaimed. “I have never seen one close to in my life.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take you a little way, if you like,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks were pink with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “If I like! And I’ve never been in one before! I’ll fly up for my hat. I + sha’n’t be a moment.” + </p> + <p> + She was already halfway up the first flight of stairs, with a whirl of + skirts and flying feet. Wingrave lit a cigarette and stood for a moment + thoughtfully upon the pavement. Then he shrugged his shoulders. His face + had grown a little harder. + </p> + <p> + “She must take her chances,” he muttered. “No one knows her. Nobody is + likely to find out who she is.” + </p> + <p> + She was down again in less time than seemed possible. Her cheeks were + flushed and her eyes bright with excitement. Wingrave took the wheel + himself, and she sat up by his side. They glided off almost noiselessly. + </p> + <p> + “We will go up to the Park,” he said. “It is just the time to see the + people.” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere!” she exclaimed. “This is too lovely!” + </p> + <p> + They passed from Battersea northwards into Piccadilly, and down into the + Park. Juliet was too excited to talk; Wingrave had enough to do to drive + the car. They passed plenty of people who bowed, and many who glanced with + wondering admiration at the beautiful girl who sat by Wingrave’s side. + Lady Ruth, who drive by quickly in a barouche, almost rose from her seat; + the Marchioness, whose victoria they passed, had time to wave her hand and + flash a quick, searching glance at Juliet, who returned it with her dark + eyes filled with admiration. The Marchioness smiled to herself a little + sadly as the car shot away ahead. + </p> + <p> + “If one asked,” she murmured to herself, “he would try to persuade one + that it was another victim.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NEMESIS AT WORK + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave was present that evening at a reception given by the Prime + Minister to some distinguished foreign guests. He had scarcely exchanged + the usual courtesies with his host and hostess before Lady Ruth, leaning + over from a little group, whispered in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Please take me away. I am bored. I want to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + He paused at once. Lady Ruth nodded to her friends. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wingrave is going to take me to hear Melba sing,” she said. “See you + all again, I suppose, at Hereford House!” + </p> + <p> + They made slow progress through the crowded rooms. Once or twice Wingrave + fancied that his companion hung a little heavily upon his arm. She showed + no desire to talk. She even answered a remark of his in a monosyllable. + Only when they passed the Marchioness, on the arm of one of the foreign + guests in whose honor the reception was given, she seemed to shiver a + little, and her grasp upon his arm was tightened. Once, in a block, she + was forced to speak to some acquaintances, and during those few seconds, + Wingrave studied her curiously. She was absolutely colorless, and her + strange brilliant eyes seemed to have lost all their fire. Her gown was + black, and the decorations of her hair were black except for a single + diamond. There was something almost spectral about her appearance. She + walked stiffly—for the moment she had lost the sinuous grace of + movement which had been one of her many fascinations. Her neck and + shoulders alone remained, as ever, dazzlingly beautiful. + </p> + <p> + They reached a quiet corner at last. Lady Ruth sank with a little gesture + of relief into an easy chair. Wingrave stood before her. + </p> + <p> + “You are tired tonight,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I am always tired,” she answered wearily. “I begin to think that I always + shall be.” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing. Lady Ruth closed her eyes for a moment as though from + sheer fatigue. Suddenly she opened them again and looked him full in the + face. + </p> + <p> + “Who was she?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “The child you were with—the ingenue, you know—with the pink + cheeks and the wonderful eyes! Is she from one of the theaters, or a + genuine article?” + </p> + <p> + “The young lady to whom you refer,” he answered, “is the daughter of an + old friend of mine. I am practically her guardian. She is in London + studying painting.” + </p> + <p> + “You are her guardian?” Lady Ruth repeated. “I am sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not be,” he answered. “I trust that I shall be able to fulfill + my duties in a perfectly satisfactory manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I have no doubt of it,” she answered. “Yet I am sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly,” he remarked, “not in an amiable mood.” + </p> + <p> + “I am in rather a desperate one if that is anything,” she said, looking at + him with something of the old light in her tired eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You made a little error, perhaps, in those calculations?” he suggested. + “It can be amended.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be a brute,” she answered fiercely. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That sounds a little severe,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t take any notice of anything I say tonight,” she murmured softly. “I + am a little mad. I think that everything is going against me! I know that + you haven’t a grain of sympathy for me—that you would rather see me + suffer than not, and yet you see I give myself away entirely. Why + shouldn’t I? Part of it is through you in a way.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather fancied,” he remarked, “that up to now—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Of course!” she interrupted, “you saved me from ruin, staved it off + at any rate. And you held over the reckoning! I—I almost wish—” + </p> + <p> + She paused. Again her eyes were searching his. + </p> + <p> + “I am a little tired of it all, you see,” she continued. “I don’t suppose + Lumley and I can ever be the same again since I brought him—that + check. He avoids being alone with me—I do the same with him. One + would think—to watch the people, that the whole transaction was in + the Morning Post. They smile when they see us together, they grin when + they see you with anybody else. It’s getting hateful, Wingrave!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said quietly, “that you are in a nervous, hypersensitive + state. No one else can possibly know of the little transaction between us, + and, so far as I am concerned, there has been nothing to interfere with + your relations with your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” she answered, “I am losing my nerve. I am only afraid + that I am losing something else. I haven’t an ounce of battle left in me. + I feel that I should like to close my eyes and wake up in a new world, and + start all over again.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing but a mood,” he assured her. “Those new worlds don’t exist + any longer. They generally consist of foreign watering places where the + sheep and the goats house together now and then. I think I should play the + game out, Lady Ruth, until—” + </p> + <p> + “Until what?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps to the end,” he answered. “Who can tell? Not I! By this time + tomorrow, it might be I who would be reminding you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “That there are other worlds, and other lives to live!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like,” she whispered very softly, “to hear of them. But I fancy + somehow that you will never be my instructor. What of your ward?” + </p> + <p> + “Well! What of her?” he answered calmly. + </p> + <p> + She shivered a little. + </p> + <p> + “You were very frank with me once, Wingrave,” she said. “You are a man + whose life fate has wrecked, fate and I! You have no heart left, no + feeling. You can create suffering and find it amusing. I am beginning to + realize that.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “There is some truth,” he declared, “In what you say.” + </p> + <p> + “What of that child? Is she, too, to be a victim?” + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” he answered, “that you are not going to be melodramatic.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t call it that. I really want to know. I should like to warn her.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at war with children,” he answered. “Her life and mine are as + far apart as the poles.” + </p> + <p> + “I had an odd fancy when I saw you with her,” Lady Ruth said slowly. “She + is very good-looking—and not so absurdly young.” + </p> + <p> + “The fancy was one,” he remarked coldly, “which I think you had better get + rid of.” + </p> + <p> + “In a way,” she continued thoughtfully, “I should like to get rid of it, + and yet—how old are you, Wingrave? Well, I know. You are very little + over forty. You are barely in the prime of life, you are strong, you have + the one thing which society today counts almost divine—great, + immeasurable wealth! Can’t you find someone to thaw the snows?” + </p> + <p> + “I loved a woman once,” he answered. “It was a long time ago, and it seems + strange to me now.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth lifted her eyes to his, and their lambent fires were suddenly + rekindled. + </p> + <p> + “Love her again,” she murmured. “What is past is past, but there are the + days to come! Perhaps the woman, too, is a little lonely.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” he answered calmly. “The woman is married, she has lived + with her husband more or less happily for a dozen years or so! She is a + little ambitious, a little fond of pleasure, but a leader of society, and, + I am sure, a very reputable member of it. To love her again would be as + embarrassing to her—as it would be difficult for me. You, my dear + Lady Ruth, I am convinced, would be the last to approve of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You mock me,” she murmured, bending her head. “Is forgiveness also an + impossibility?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that any sentiment whatever between those two would + be singularly misplaced. You spoke of Melba, I think! She is singing in + the further room.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth rose up, still and pale. There was fear in her eyes when she + looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Is it to be always like this, then?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he answered, “I am no prophet. Who can tell what the days may bring? + In the meantime...” + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness was very much in request that evening, and she found time + for only a few words with Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing to poor Ruth?” she asked. “I never saw her look + so ill!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” he answered, “I had not noticed it.” + </p> + <p> + “If I didn’t know her better,” she remarked, “I might begin to suspect her + of a conscience. Whose baby were you driving about this afternoon? I + didn’t know that your taste ran to ingenues to such an extent. She’s + sweetly pretty, but I don’t think it’s nice of you to flaunt her before us + middle-aged people. It’s enough to drive us to the rouge box. Come to + lunch tomorrow!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be delighted,” he answered, and passed on. + </p> + <p> + An hour or so later, on his way out, he came upon Lady Ruth sitting a + little forlornly in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether I dare ask you to drop me in Cadogan Square?” she asked. + “Is it much out of your way? I am leaving a little earlier than I + expected.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be delighted,” he answered, offering his arm. + </p> + <p> + They passed out of the door and down the covered way into the street. A + few stragglers were loitering on the pavement, and one, a tall, thin young + man in a long ulster, bent forwards as they came down the steps. Wingrave + felt his companion’s grasp tighten upon his arm; a flash of light upon the + pale features and staring eyes of the young man a few feet off, showed him + to be in the act of intercepting them. Then, at a sharp word from + Wingrave, a policeman stretched out his arm. The young man was pushed + unceremoniously away. Wingrave’s tall footman and the policeman formed an + impassable barrier—in a moment the electric brougham was gliding + down the street. Lady Ruth was leaning back amongst the cushions, and the + hand which fell suddenly upon Wingrave’s was cold as ice! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RICHARDSON TRIES AGAIN + </h2> + <h3> + “You saw—who that was?” + </h3> + <p> + Lady Ruth’s voice seemed to come from a greater distance. Wingrave turned + and looked at her with calm curiosity. She was leaning back in the corner + of the carriage, and she seemed somehow to have shrunk into an unusual + insignificance. Her eyes alone were clearly visible through the + semi-darkness—and the light which shone from their depths was the + light of fear. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered slowly, “I believe that I recognized him. It was the + young man who persists in some strange hallucination as to a certain + Mademoiselle Violet.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no hallucination,” she answered. “You know that! I was + Mademoiselle Violet!” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It amazes me,” he said thoughtfully, “that you should have stooped to + such folly. That my demise would have been a relief to you I can, of + course, easily believe, but the means—they surely were not worthy of + your ingenuity.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” she cried sharply. “I must have been utterly, miserably mad!” + </p> + <p> + “Even the greatest of schemers have their wild moments,” he remarked + consolingly. “This was one of yours. You paid me a very poor compliment, + by the bye, to imagine that an insignificant creature like that—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you—leave off?” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay,” he continued after a moment’s pause, “that you find him now + quite an inconvenient person to deal with.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am paying for my folly, if that is what you mean,” she declared. + “He knows—who I am—that he was deceived. He follows me about—everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave glanced out of the carriage window. + </p> + <p> + “Unless I am very much surprised,” he answered, “he is following us now!” + </p> + <p> + She came a little closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t leave me? Promise!” + </p> + <p> + “I will see you home,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You are coming on to Hereford House.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” he answered; “I have had enough of society for one + evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Emily will be there later,” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Even Lady Emily,” he answered, “will not tempt me. I will see you safely + inside. Afterwards, if your persistent follower is hanging about, I will + endeavor to talk him into a more reasonable frame of mind.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment. Then she turned to him abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “You are more kind to me sometimes than I deserve, Wingrave,” she + remarked. + </p> + <p> + “It is not kindness,” he answered. “I dislike absurd situations. Here we + are! Permit me!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave kept his word. He saw Lady Ruth to her front door, and then + turned back towards his carriage. Standing by the side of the footman, a + little breathless, haggard and disheveled-looking, was the young man who + had attempted to check their progress a few minutes ago. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave took hold of his arm firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Get in there,” he ordered, pointing to the carriage. + </p> + <p> + The young man tried to escape, but he was held as though in a vise. Before + he well knew where he was, he was in the carriage, and Wingrave was seated + by his side. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with me?” he asked hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know what you mean by following that lady about?” Wingrave + asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man leaned forward. His hand was upon the door. + </p> + <p> + “Let me get out,” he said sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure—presently,” Wingrave answered. “I can assure you that + I am not anxious to detain you longer than necessary. Only you must first + answer my question.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to her! I shall follow her about until I can!” the young + man declared. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave glanced at him with a faint derisive smile. His clothes were worn + and shabby, he was badly in need of a shave and a wash. He sat hunched up + in a corner of the carriage, the picture of mute discomfort and misery. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who she is?” Wingrave asked. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Violet!” the young man answered. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” Wingrave answered. “She is Lady Ruth Barrington, wife + of Lumley Barrington and daughter of the Earl of Haselton.” + </p> + <p> + The young man was unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “She is Mademoiselle Violet,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + The coupe drew up before the great block of buildings in which was + Wingrave’s flat. The footman threw open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in with me,” Wingrave said. “I have something more to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather not,” the young man muttered, and would have slouched off, + but Wingrave caught him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he said firmly, and the youth obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave led the way into his sitting room and dismissed his servant who + was setting out a tray upon the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” he ordered, and his strange guest again obeyed. Wingrave + looked at him critically. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” he said deliberately, “that you are another of those + poor fools who chuck away their life and happiness and go to the dogs + because a woman had chosen to make a little use of them. You’re out of + work, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave brought a plate of sandwiches from the sideboard, and mixed a + whisky and soda. He set them down in front of his guest, and turned away + with the evening paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am going into the next room for some cigarettes,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + He was gone scarcely two minutes. When he returned, the room was in + darkness. He moved suddenly towards the electric lights, but was pushed + back by an unseen hand. A man’s hot breath fell upon his cheek, a hoarse, + rasping voice spoke to him out of the black shadows. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t touch the lights! Don’t touch the lights, I say!” + </p> + <p> + “What folly is this?” Wingrave asked angrily. “Are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” came the quick answer. “I have been. It has come to me here, in + the darkness. I know why she is angry, I know why she will not speak to + me. It is—because I failed.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave laughed, and moved towards the lights. + </p> + <p> + “We have had enough of this tomfoolery,” he said scornfully. “If you won’t + listen to reason—” + </p> + <p> + He never finished his sentence. He had stumbled suddenly against a soft + body, he had a momentary impression of a white, vicious face, of eyes + blazing with insane fury. Quick to act, he struck—but before his + hand descended, he had felt the tearing of his shirt, the sharp, keen pain + in his chest, the swimming of his senses. Yet even then he struck again + with passionate anger, and his assailant went down amongst the chairs with + a dull, sickening crash! + </p> + <p> + Then there was silence in the room. Wingrave made an effort to drag + himself a yard or two towards the bell, but collapsed hopelessly. + Richardson, in a few moments, staggered to his feet. + </p> + <p> + He groped his way to the side of the wall, and found the knobs of the + electric lights. He turned two on and looked around him. Wingrave was + lying a few yards off, with a small red stain upon his shirt front. His + face was ghastly pale, and he was breathing thickly. The young man looked + at him for several moments, and then made his way to the side table where + the sandwiches were. One by one he took them from the dish, and ate + deliberately. When he had finished, he made his way once more towards + where Wingrave lay. But before he reached the spot, he stopped short. + Something on the wall had attracted his attention. He put his hand to his + head and thought for a moment. It was an idea—a glorious idea. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Lady Ruth’s maid stepped back and surveyed her mistress ecstatically. + </p> + <p> + “Milady,” she declared, “has never, no never, appeared more charming. The + gown, it is divine—and the coiffure! Milady will have no rivals.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth looked at herself long and earnestly in the glass. Her face + reflected none of the pleased interest with which her maid was still + regarding her. The latter grew a little anxious. + </p> + <p> + “Milady thinks herself a trifle pale, perhaps—a little more color?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth set down the glass. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, Annette,” she answered. “I shall do very well, I suppose. + Certainly, I won’t have any rouge.” + </p> + <p> + “Milady knows very well what becomes her,” the woman answered discreetly. + “The pallor, it is the more distinguished. Milady cannot fail to have all + the success she desires!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth smiled a little wearily. And at that moment, there came a knock + at the door. A servant entered. + </p> + <p> + “Someone wishes to speak to your ladyship on the telephone,” the girl + announced. + </p> + <p> + “On the telephone, at this time of night?” Lady Ruth exclaimed. + “Ridiculous! They must send a message, whoever they are!” + </p> + <p> + “Parkins told them so, your ladyship,” the girl answered; “but they + insisted that the matter was important. They would give no name, but said + that they were speaking from Mr. Wingrave’s rooms.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth raised her eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “It is very extraordinary,” she said coldly, “but I will come to the + telephone.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT” + </h2> + <p> + Lady Ruth took up the receiver. Some instinct seemed to have prompted her + to close the door of the study. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” she asked. “Who is it that wants me?” + </p> + <p> + A thin, unfamiliar voice answered her. + </p> + <p> + “Is that Lady Ruth Barrington?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it—Mademoiselle Violet?” + </p> + <p> + The receiver nearly dropped from her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand you,” she answered, “I am Lady Ruth Barrington! Who + are you?” + </p> + <p> + “You are Mademoiselle Violet,” was the answer, “and you know who I am! + Listen, I am in Mr. Wingrave’s rooms.” + </p> + <p> + She would have liked to have rung off and gone away, but it seemed a sheer + impossibility for her to move! And all the time her knees were shaking, + and the fear of evil things was in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing there?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He brought me in himself,” the thin voice answered. “Can you hear me? I + don’t want to speak any louder for fear anyone else should be listening.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can hear,” she answered. “But how dared you ring me up? Say what + you desire to quickly! I am going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, please,” the voice answered. “I know why you have been angry with + me. I know why you have kept away from me, why you have been so cruel! It + was because I failed. Was it not, dear Mademoiselle Violet?” + </p> + <p> + She had not the breath or the courage to answer him. In a moment or two he + continued, and there was a note of suppressed exultation in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Listen! This time—I have not failed!” + </p> + <p> + She nearly screamed. The receiver in her hand burned like a live thing. + Her eyes were set in a fixed and awful stare as though she were trying to + see for herself outside the walls of the little room where she stood into + the larger chamber from which the voice—that awful voice—came! + Her own words were hysterical and uncertain, but she managed to falter + them out at last. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Where is Mr. Wingrave? Tell me at once!” + </p> + <p> + The voice, without being raised, seemed to take to itself a note of + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “He is dying—on the floor—just here! Listen hard! Perhaps you + can hear him groan! Now will you believe that I am not a coward?” + </p> + <p> + Her shriek drowned his words. She flung the receiver from her with a crash + and rushed from the room into the hall. She brushed past her maid with a + wild gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind my wraps. Open the door, Parkins! Is the carriage waiting?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Milady! Shall—” + </p> + <p> + But she was past him and down the steps. + </p> + <p> + “No. 18, Grosvenor Mansions,” she cried to the man. “Drive fast.” + </p> + <p> + The man obeyed. The servants, who had come to the door, stood there a + little frightened group. She ignored them and everything else completely. + The carriage had scarcely stopped when she sprang out and crossed the + pavement in a few hasty steps. The tall commissionaire looked in amazement + at her. She wore an opera cloak—she was a bewildering vision of + white satin and diamonds, and her eyes were terrible with the fear which + was in her heart. + </p> + <p> + She clutched him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come up with me to Mr. Wingrave’s rooms,” she exclaimed. “Something + terrible has happened. I heard through the telephone.” + </p> + <p> + The man dashed up the stairs by her side. Wingrave’s suite was on the + first floor, and they did not wait for the lift. The commissionaire put + his finger on the bell of the outside door. She leaned forward, listening + breathlessly. Inside all was silence except for the shrill clamor of the + bell. + </p> + <p> + “Go on ringing,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t leave off!” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at her curiously. “Mr. Wingrave came in about an hour ago + with a young man, madam,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” she cried. “Listen! There’s someone coming.” + </p> + <p> + They heard a hesitating step inside. The door was cautiously opened. It + was Richardson, pale, disheveled, but triumphant, who peered out. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle—Mademoiselle Violet,” he cried. “You have come to see + for yourself. This way!” + </p> + <p> + She raised her arm and struck him across the face so that, with a little + moan, he staggered back against the wall. Then she hastened forward into + the room towards which he had pointed and the door of which stood open. + The commissionaire followed her. The servants were beginning to appear. + </p> + <p> + The room was in darkness save for one electric light. A groan, however, + directed them. She fell on her knees by Wingrave’s prostrate figure and + raised his head slightly. His servant, too, was hurrying forward. She + looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Get me some brandy,” she ordered. “Send someone for a doctor. Don’t let + that young man escape. The brandy, quick!” + </p> + <p> + She forced some between his lips. There was already a spot of blood upon + the gown which, a few minutes ago, had seemed so immaculate. One of the + ornaments fell from her hair. It lay unnoticed by her side. Suddenly + Wingrave opened his eyes. She saw at once that he was conscious and that + he recognized her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t move, please,” she begged. “It will be better for you not to speak. + The doctor will be here directly.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think that I am much hurt,” he said slowly. “Your young friend + was a born bungler!” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “How on earth,” he asked, “did you get here?” + </p> + <p> + She whispered in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “The brute—telephoned. Please don’t talk.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor arrived. His examination was over in a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing serious,” he declared. “The knife was pretty blunt fortunately. + How did it happen? It seems like a case for the police.” + </p> + <p> + “It was an accident,” Wingrave declared coolly. + </p> + <p> + The doctor shrugged his shoulders. He was busy making bandages. Lady Ruth + rose to her feet. She was white and giddy. The commissionaire and Morrison + were talking together at the door. The latter turned to Lady Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that we had better send for the police, your ladyship?” he + asked. “It was the young man who came in with Mr. Wingrave who must have + done this! I thought he was a very wild-looking sort of person.” + </p> + <p> + “You heard what Mr. Wingrave said,” she answered. “I don’t think that I + should disobey him, if I were you. The doctor says that, after all, it is + not very serious.” + </p> + <p> + “He can’t have got far,” the hall porter remarked. “He only slipped out as + we came in.” + </p> + <p> + “I should let him go for the present,” Lady Ruth said. “If Mr. Wingrave + wishes to prosecute afterwards, it will be easy for him to do so.” + </p> + <p> + She stepped back to where Wingrave lay. He was in a recumbent position now + and, although a little pale, he was obviously not seriously hurt. + </p> + <p> + “If there is nothing else that I can do,” she said, “I will go now!” + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” Wingrave answered. “I am exceedingly obliged to you for + your kindness,” he added a little stiffly. “Morrison, show Lady Barrington + to her carriage!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke a few conventional words of farewell and departed. Outside on + the pavement she stood for a moment, looking carefully around. There was + no sign of Richardson anywhere! She stepped into the carriage and leaned + back in the corner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AYNESWORTH PLANS A LOVE STORY + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave disappeared suddenly from London. Aynesworth alone knew where he + was gone, and he was pledged to secrecy. Two people received letters from + him. Lady Ruth was one of them. + </p> + <p> + “This,” she remarked quietly, handing it over to her husband, “may + interest you.” + </p> + <p> + He adjusted his eye glasses and read it aloud:— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Ruth,—I am leaving London today for several weeks. With + the usual inconsistency of the person to whom life is by no means a + valuable asset, I am obeying the orders of my physician. I regret, + therefore, that I cannot have the pleasure of entertaining your husband + and yourself during Cowes week. The yacht, however, is entirely at your + disposal, and I have written Captain Masterton to that effect. Pray extend + your cruise, if you feel inclined to.—I remain, yours sincerely, W.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrington looked at his wife inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “That seems to me entirely satisfactory, Ruth,” he said. “I think that he + might have added a word or two of acknowledgment for what you did for him. + There is no doubt that, but for your promptness, things might have gone + much worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Lady Ruth said slowly, “I think that he might have added a few + words.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband regarded her critically. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, dear,” he said, “that all this anxiety has knocked you up a + little. You are not looking well.” + </p> + <p> + “I am tired,” she answered calmly. “It has been a long season. I should + like to do what Wingrave has done—go away somewhere and rest.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington laid his hand upon hers affectionately. It seemed to him that + the rings hung a little loosely upon the thin, white fingers. She was + pale, too, and her eyes were weary. He did not notice that, as soon as she + could, she drew her hand away. + </p> + <p> + “Pon my word,” he said, “I wish we could go off somewhere by ourselves. + But with Wingrave’s yacht to entertain on, we must do something for a few + of the people. I don’t suppose he minds whom we ask, or how many.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she answered, “I do not suppose he cares.” + </p> + <p> + “It is most opportune,” Barrington declared. “I wanted particularly to do + something for the Hendersons. He seems very well disposed, and his + influence means everything just now. Really, Ruth, I believe we are going + to pull through after all.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled a little wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so, Lumley?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it, Ruth,” he answered. “I only wish I could see you a + little more cheerful. Surely you can’t still—be afraid of Wingrave,” + he added, glancing uneasily across the table. + </p> + <p> + She looked him in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly what I am,” she answered. “I am afraid of him. I have + always been afraid. Nothing has happened to change him. He came back to + have his revenge. He will have it.” + </p> + <p> + Lumley Barrington, for once, felt himself superior to his clever wife. He + smiled upon her reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ruth,” he said, “if only you would reflect for a few moments, I + feel sure you would realize the absurdity of such fancies. We did Wingrave + a service in introducing him to society here, and I am sure that he + appreciated it. If he wished for our ruin, why did he lend us eight + thousand pounds on no security? Why does he lend us his yacht to entertain + our friends? Why did he give me that information which enabled me to make + the only money I ever did make on the Stock Exchange?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand a man like Wingrave,” she declared. “Nothing that + he has done is inconsistent with my point of view. He gave you a safe tip, + knowing very well that when you had won a little, you would try again on + your own account and lose—which you did. He lent us the money to + become our creditor; and he lends us the yacht to give another handle to + the people who are saying already that he occupies the position in our + family which is more fully recognized on the other side of the Channel!” + </p> + <p> + “You are talking rubbish,” he declared vehemently. “No one would dare to + say such a thing of you—of my wife!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed unmercifully. + </p> + <p> + “If you were not my husband,” she said cruelly, “you would have heard it + before now. I have been careful all my life—more careful than most + women, but I can hear the whisperings already. There are more ways to ruin + than one, Lumley.” + </p> + <p> + “We will refuse the yacht,” Barrington said sullenly, “and I will go to + the Jews for that eight thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “We will do nothing of the sort,” Lady Ruth answered. “I am not going to + be a laughing stock for Emily and her friends if I can help it. We’ll play + the game through now! Only—it is best for you to know the risks...” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave’s second letter was to Juliet. She found it on her table one + afternoon when she came back from her painting class. She tore it open + eagerly enough, but her face clouded over as she read. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Juliet,—I am sorry that I am unable to carry out my promise to + come and see you, but I have been slightly indisposed for some days, and + am leaving London, for the present, almost at once. I trust that you are + still interested in your work, and will enjoy your trip to Normandy. + </p> + <p> + “I received your letter, asking for my help towards re-establishing in + life a poor family in whom you are interested. I regret that I cannot + accede to your request. It is wholly against my principles to give money + away to people of this class. I look upon all charity as a mischievous + attempt to tamper with natural laws, and I am convinced that if everyone + shared my views, society would long ago have been re-established on a + sounder and more logical basis. To be quite frank with you, also, I might + add that the gift of sympathy has been denied to me. I am quite + indifferent whether the family you allude to starve or prosper. + </p> + <p> + “So far as you yourself are concerned, however, the matter is entirely + different. If it gives you pleasure to assist in pauperizing any number of + your fellow creatures, pray do so. I enclose a check for L100. It is a + present to you. Use it entirely as you please—only, if you use it + for the purpose suggested in your letter to me, remember that the + responsibility is yours, and yours alone.—I remain, sincerely yours, + Wingrave Seton.” + </p> + <p> + Juliet walked straight to her writing table. Her cheeks were flushed, and + her eyes were wet with tears. She drew out a sheet of note paper and wrote + rapidly:— + </p> + <p> + “My dear guardian,—I return you the check. I cannot accept such + presents after all your goodness to me. I am sorry that you feel as you do + about giving money away. You are so much older and wiser than I am that I + dare not attempt to argue with you. Only it seems to me that life would be + a cruelly selfish thing if we who are so much more fortunate than many of + our fellow creatures did not sometimes try to help them a little through + their misery. Perhaps I feel this a little more keenly because I wonder + sometimes what might not have become of me but for your goodness. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry that you are going away without coming to see me again. You + are not displeased with me, I hope, for asking you this, or for any other + reason? I am foolish enough to feel a little lonely sometimes. Will you + take me out again when you come back?—Your affectionate ward, + Juliet.” + </p> + <p> + Juliet went out and posted her letter. On the way back she met Aynesworth. + </p> + <p> + “Come and sit in the Park for a few minutes,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + She turned and walked by his side willingly enough. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been in to see me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he answered. “I have some tickets for the Haymarket for tonight. Do + you think we could persuade Mrs. Tresfarwin to come?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure we could,” she answered, laughing. “Hannah never wants any + persuading. How nice of you to think of us!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he answered, “that I think of you a good deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I think that that also is very nice of you!” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “You like to be thought of?” + </p> + <p> + “Who doesn’t? What is the play tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you about it afterwards,” he said. “There is something else I + want to say to you first.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. She scarcely showed so much interest as he would have liked. + </p> + <p> + “It is about Berneval,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed upon her face. “I + saw Mr. Pleydell today, and he told me that you were all going there. He + suggested that I should come too!” + </p> + <p> + “How delightful!” she exclaimed. “Can you really get off?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Sir Wingrave is going away, and doesn’t want me. I must go + somewhere, and I thought that I might go over and take rooms near you all. + Would you care to have me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I would,” she answered frankly. “Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, + her face clouding over—“I forgot!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” she said, “that I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “Not going?” he repeated incredulously. “Mr. Pleydell told me that it was + all arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “It was—until today,” she said. “I am a little uncertain now.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “May I know why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyebrows slightly. + </p> + <p> + “You are rather an inquisitive person,” she remarked. “The fact is, I may + need the money I have saved for Berneval for somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said slowly, “if you don’t go—I don’t. But you can’t + stay in London all through the hot weather!” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Pengarth has asked me to go down there,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He laid his hand suddenly upon hers. + </p> + <p> + “Juliet,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lundy, please!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Lundy then! May I talk to you seriously?” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer you frivolous,” she murmured. “I like to be amused.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be frivolous enough later on this evening. I’ve been wondering if + you’d think it impertinent if I asked you to tell me about your guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to know?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just who he is, and why he is content to let you live with only an old + woman to look after you. It isn’t the best thing in the world for you, is + it? I should like to know him, Juliet.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” she said, “I cannot tell you anything.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. Aynesworth was disappointed, and showed it. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t exactly ordinary curiosity,” he continued. “Don’t think that! + Only I feel that you need someone who has the right to advise you and look + after you. I should like to be your guardian, Juliet!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed merrily. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” she declared. “I like you so much better frivolous. Well, you + shall have your wish. You shall be my guardian for the evening. I have one + cutlet for dinner, and I am sure it will be spoilt. Will you come and + share it?” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet and stood looking down upon him. He was struck, for + the first time, by something different in her appearance. The smooth, + delicate girlishness of her young face was, as yet, untroubled. Her eyes + laughed frankly into his, and all the grace of natural childhood seemed + still to linger about her. And yet—there was a change! Understanding + was there; understanding, with sorrow in its wake. Aynesworth was suddenly + anxious. Had anything happened of which he was ignorant? He rose up + slowly. He was sure of himself now! Was he sure of her? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DEED OF GIFT + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave threw the paper aside with an impatient exclamation. A small + notice in an obscure corner had attracted his attention; the young man, + Richardson, had been fished out of the river half drowned, and in view of + his tearful and abject penitence, had been allowed to go his way by a + lenient magistrate. He had been ill, he pleaded, and disappointed. His + former employer, in an Islington emporium, gave him a good character, and + offered to take him back. So that was an end of Mr. Richardson, and the + romance of his days! + </p> + <p> + A worm like that to have brought him—the strong man, low! Wingrave + thought with sullen anger as he leaned back in his chair with half-closed + eyes. Here was an undignified hiatus, if not a finale, to all his schemes, + to the even tenor of his self-restrained, purposeful life! The west wind + was rippling through the orchards which bordered the garden. The muffled + roar of the Atlantic was in his ears, a strange everlasting background to + all the slighter summer sounds, the murmuring of insects, the calling of + birds, the melodious swish of the whirling knives in the distant hayfield. + Wingrave was alone with his thoughts, and he hated them! + </p> + <p> + Even Mr. Pengarth was welcome, Mr. Pengarth very warm from his ride, + carrying his hat and a small black bag in his hand. As he drew nearer, he + became hotter and was obliged to rest his bag upon the path and mop his + forehead. He was more afraid of his client than of anything else in the + world. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon, Sir Wingrave,” he said. “I trust that you are feeling + better today.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave eyed him coldly. He did not reply to the inquiry as to his + health. + </p> + <p> + “You have brought the deed?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Sir Wingrave.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer produced a roll of parchment from his bag. In response to + Wingrave’s gesture, he seated himself on the extreme edge of an adjacent + seat. + </p> + <p> + “I do not propose to read all that stuff through,” Wingrave remarked. “I + take it for granted that the deed is made out according to my + instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Sir Wingrave!” + </p> + <p> + “Then we will go into the house, and I will sign it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth mopped his forehead once more. It was a terrible thing to + have a conscience. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave,” he said, “I apologize most humbly for what I am about to + say, but as the agent of your estates in this county and your—er—legal + adviser with regard to them, I am forced to ask you whether you are quite + determined upon this—most unexampled piece of generosity. Tredowen + has been in your mother’s family for a great many years, and although I + must say that I have a great affection for this young lady, I have also an + old fashioned dislike to seeing—er—family property pass into + the hands of strangers. You might, forgive me—marry!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave smiled very faintly, otherwise his face was inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + “I might,” he admitted calmly, “but I shall not. Do you consider me, Mr. + Pengarth, to be a person in possession of his usual faculties?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, most certainly—most certainly,” the lawyer declared + emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “Then please do not question my instructions any further. So far as + regards the pecuniary part of it, I am a richer man than you have any idea + of, Mr. Pengarth, and for the rest—sentiment unfortunately does not + appeal to me. I choose to give the Tredowen estates away, to disappoint my + next of kin. That is how you may regard the transaction. We will go into + the house and complete this deed.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave rose slowly and walked with some difficulty up the gravel path. + He ignored, however, his companion’s timid offer of help, and led the way + to the library. In a few minutes the document was signed and witnessed. + </p> + <p> + “I have ordered tea in the garden,” Wingrave said, as the two servants + left the room; “that is, unless you prefer any other sort of refreshment. + I don’t know much about the cellars, but there is some cabinet hock, I + believe—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth interposed. + </p> + <p> + “I am very much obliged,” he said, “but I will not intrude upon you + further. If you will allow me, I will ring the bell for my trap.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do nothing of the sort,” Wingrave answered testily. “You will + stay here and talk to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will stay with pleasure if you desire it,” the lawyer answered. “I had + an idea that you preferred solitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you were wrong,” Wingrave answered. “I hate being alone.” + </p> + <p> + They moved out together towards the garden. Tea was set out in a shady + corner of the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “If you will forgive my remarking it,” Mr. Pengarth said, “this seems + rather an extraordinary place for you to come to if you really dislike + solitude.” + </p> + <p> + “I come to escape from an intolerable situation, and because I was ill,” + Wingrave said. + </p> + <p> + “You might have brought friends,” the lawyer suggested. + </p> + <p> + “I have no friends,” Wingrave answered. + </p> + <p> + “Some of the people in the neighborhood would be very glad—” Mr. + Pengarth began. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to see them,” Wingrave answered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth took a peach, and held his tongue. Wingrave broke the silence + which followed a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Mr. Pengarth,” he said, “do I look like a man likely to fail in + anything he sets out to accomplish?” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer shook his head vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “You do not,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I feel like one,” Wingrave said, “and yet my record since I + commenced, shall I call it my second life, is one of complete failure! + Nothing that I planned have I been able to accomplish. I look back through + the months and through the years, and I see not a single purpose carried + out, not a single scheme successful. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite so bad as that, I trust, Sir Wingrave,” the lawyer protested. + </p> + <p> + “It is the precise truth,” Wingrave affirmed drily. “I am losing + confidence in myself.” + </p> + <p> + “At least,” the lawyer declared, “you have been the salvation of our dear + Miss Juliet, if I may call her so. But for you, her life would have been + ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Wingrave agreed. “But I forgot! You don’t understand! I have + saved her from heaven knows what! I am going to give her the home she + loves! Benevolence, isn’t it? And yet, if I had only the pluck, I might + succeed even now—so far as she is concerned.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer took off his spectacles and rubbed them with his handkerchief. + He was thoroughly bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “I might succeed,” Wingrave repeated, leaning back in his chair, “if only—” + </p> + <p> + His face darkened. It seemed to Mr. Pengarth as he sipped his tea under + the cool cedars, drawing in all their wonderful perfume with every puff of + breeze, that he saw two men in the low invalid’s chair before him. He saw + the breath and desire of evil things struggling with some wonderful dream + vainly seeking to realize itself. + </p> + <p> + “Some of us,” the lawyer said timidly, “build our ideals too high up in + the clouds, so that to reach them is very difficult. Nevertheless, the + effort counts.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave laughed mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “It is not like that with me,” he declared. “My plans were made down in + hell.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul!” the lawyer murmured. “But you are not serious, Sir + Wingrave?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! I’m serious enough,” Wingrave answered. “Do you suppose a man, with + the best pages of his life rooted out, is likely to look out upon his + fellows from the point of view of a philanthropist? Do you suppose that + the man, into whose soul the irons of bitterness have gnawed and eaten + their way, is likely to come out with a smirk and look around him for the + opportunity of doing good? Rubbish! My aim is to encourage suffering + wherever I see it, to create it where I can, to make sinners and thieves + of honest people.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul!” the lawyer gasped again. “I don’t think you can be—as + bad as you think you are. What about Juliet Lundy?” + </p> + <p> + Fire flashed in Wingrave’s eyes. Again, at the mention of her name, he + seemed almost to lose control of himself. It was several moments before he + spoke. He looked Mr. Pengarth in the face, and his tone was unusually + deliberate. + </p> + <p> + “Gifts,” he said, “are not always given in friendship. Life may easily + become a more complicated affair for that child with the Tredowen estates + hanging round her neck. And anyhow, I disappoint my next of kin.” + </p> + <p> + Morrison, smooth-footed and silent, appeared upon the lawn. He addressed + Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “A lady has arrived in a cab from Truro, sir,” he announced. “She wishes + to see you as soon as convenient.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden light flashed across Wingrave’s face, dying out again almost + immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Who is she, Morrison?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The man glanced at Mr. Pengarth. + </p> + <p> + “She did not give her name, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth and Wingrave both rose. The former at once made his adieux + and took a short cut to the stables. Wingrave, who leaned heavily upon his + stick, clutched Morrison by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it, Morrison?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “It is Lady Ruth Barrington, sir,” the man answered. + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite alone, sir.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOR PITY’S SAKE + </h2> + <p> + The library at Tredowen was a room of irregular shape, full of angles and + recesses lined with bookcases. It was in one of these, standing motionless + before a small marble statue of some forgotten Greek poet, that Wingrave + found his visitor. She wore a plain serge traveling dress, and the pallor + of her face, from which she had just lifted a voluminous veil, matched + almost in color the gleaming white marble upon which she was gazing. But + when she saw Wingrave, leaning upon his stick, and regarding her with + stern surprise, strange lights seemed to flash in her eyes. There was no + longer any resemblance between the pallor of her cheeks and the pallor of + the statue. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth,” Wingrave said quietly, “I do not understand what has procured + for me the pleasure of this unexpected visit.” + </p> + <p> + She swayed a little towards him. Her head was thrown back, all the silent + passion of the inexpressible, the hidden secondary forces of nature, was + blazing out of her eyes, pleading with him in the broken music of her + tone. + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand,” she repeated. “Ah, no! But can I make you + understand? Will you listen to me for once as a human being? Will you + remember that you are a man, and I a woman pleading for a little mercy—a + little kindness?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave moved a step further back. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me,” he said, “to offer you a chair.” + </p> + <p> + She sank into it—speechless for a moment. Wingrave stood over her, + leaning slightly against the corner of the bookcase. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” he said, “that you will explain what all this means. If it is + my help which you require—” + </p> + <p> + Her hands flashed out towards him—a gesture almost of horror. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t,” she begged, “you know that it is not that! You know very well + that it is not. Why do you torture me?” + </p> + <p> + “I can only ask you,” he said, “to explain.” + </p> + <p> + She commenced talking quickly. Her sentences came in little gasps. + </p> + <p> + “You wanted revenge—not in the ordinary way. You had brooded over it + too long. You understood too well. Once it was I who sought to revenge + myself on you because you would not listen to me! You hurt my pride. + Everything that was evil in me rebelled—” + </p> + <p> + “Is this necessary?” he interrupted coldly. “I have never reproached you. + You chose the path of safety for yourself. Many another woman in your + place would doubtless have done the same thing! What I desire to know is + why you are here in Cornwall. What has happened to make this journey seem + necessary to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she continued. “I want you to know how thoroughly you have + succeeded. Before you came, Lumley and I were living together decently + enough, and, as hundreds of others live, with outside interests for our + chief distraction. You came, a friend! You were very subtle, very + skillful! You never spoke a word of affection to me, but you managed + things so that—people talked. You encouraged Lumley to speculate—not + in actual words, perhaps, but by suggestion. Then you lent me money. + Lumley, my husband, let me borrow from you. Everyone knew that we were + ruined; everyone knew where the money came from that set us right. So + misery has been piled upon misery. Lumley has lost his self respect, he is + losing his ambition, he is deteriorating every day. I—how can I do + anything else but despise him? He let me, his wife, come to your rooms to + borrow money from you. Do you think I can ever forget that? Do you think + that he can? Don’t you know that the memory of it is dragging us apart, + must keep us apart always—always?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave leaned a little forward. His hands were clasped upon the handle + of his stick. + </p> + <p> + “All that you tell me,” he remarked coldly, “might equally well have been + said in London! I do not wish to seem inhospitable, but I am still waiting + to know why you have taken an eight hours’ journey to recite a few fairly + obvious truths. Your relations with your husband, frankly, do not interest + me. The deductions which society may have drawn concerning our friendship + need scarcely trouble you, under the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Then again the light was blazing in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Under the circumstances!” she repeated. “I know what you mean. It is true + that you have asked for nothing. It is true that all this time you have + never spoken a single word which all the world might not hear, you have + never even touched my fingers, except as a matter of formality. Once I was + the woman you loved—and I—well you know! Is this part of your + scheme of torture, to play with me as though we were marionettes, you and + I, with sawdust in our veins, dull, lifeless puppets! Well, it is finished—your + vengeance! You may reap the harvest when you will! Publish my letters, + prove yourself an injured man. Take a whip in your hand if you like, and I + will never flinch. But, for heaven’s sake, remember that I am a woman! I + am willing to be your slave, nurse you, wait upon you, follow you about! + What more can your vengeance need? You have made me despise my husband, + you have made me hate my life with him! You have forced me into a + remembrance of what I have never really forgotten—and oh! Wingrave,” + she added, opening her arms to him with a little sob, “if you send me + away, I think that I shall kill myself. Wingrave!” + </p> + <p> + There was a note of despair in her last cry. Her arms fell to her side. + Wingrave was on his way to the further end of the room. He rang the bell + and turned towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said calmly, “you will return to London tonight. If ever I + require you, I shall send for you—and you will come. At present I do + not. You will return to your husband. Understand!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she gasped, “but—” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand. Morrison was at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Morrison,” he said, “you will order the motor to be round in half an hour + to take Lady Ruth to Truro, She has to catch the London express. You will + go with her yourself, and see that she has a reserved carriage. If, by any + chance, you should miss the train, order a special.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And tell the cook to send in tea and wine, and some sandwiches, in ten + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Once more they were alone. Lady Ruth rose slowly to her feet and, + trembling in every limb, she walked down the room and fell on her knees + before Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” she said, “I will go away. I will do all that you tell me; I + will wear my chains bravely, and hold my peace. But before I go, for + heaven’s sake, say a kind word, look at me kindly, kiss me, hold my hands; + anything, anything, anything to prove to me that you are not a dead man. I + could bear unkindness, reproaches, abuse. I can bear anything but this + deadly coldness. It is becoming a horror to me! Do, Wingrave—do!” + </p> + <p> + She clasped his hand—he drew it calmly away. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Ruth,” he said, “you have spoken the truth. I am a dead man. I have + no affections; I care neither for you nor for any living being. All that + goes to the glory and joy of life perished in that uncountable roll of + days, when the sun went out, and inch by inch the wall rose which will + divide me forever from you and all the world. Frankly, it was not I who + once loved you. It was the man who died in prison. His flesh and bones may + have survived—nothing else!” + </p> + <p> + She rose slowly to her feet. Her eyes seemed to be dilating. + </p> + <p> + “There is another woman!” she exclaimed softly. Her voice was like velvet, + but the agony in her face was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “There is no other woman,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She stood quite still. + </p> + <p> + “She is here with you now,” she cried. “Who is it, Wingrave? Tell me the + truth!” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is already told,” he answered. “Except my cook and her + assistants, there is not a woman in the house!” + </p> + <p> + Again she listened. She gave a little hoarse cry, and Wingrave started. + Out in the hall a girl’s clear laugh rang like a note of music to their + ears. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” she cried fiercely. “You lie! I will know who she is.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door was thrown open! Juliet stood there, her hands full of + roses, her face flushed and brilliant with smiles. + </p> + <p> + “How delightful to find you here!” she exclaimed, coming swiftly across to + Wingrave. “I do hope you won’t mind my coming. Normandy is off, and I have + nowhere else to go.” + </p> + <p> + She saw Lady Ruth and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed. “I did not know.” + </p> + <p> + “This is Lady Ruth Barrington,” Wingrave said; “my ward, Miss Juliet + Lundy.” + </p> + <p> + “Your—ward?” Lady Ruth said, gazing at her intently. + </p> + <p> + Juliet nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave has been very kind to me since I was a child,” she said + softly. “He has let me live here with Mrs. Tresfarwin, and I am afraid I + sometimes forget that it is not really my home. Am I in the way?” she + asked, looking wistfully towards Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “By no means!” he exclaimed. “Lady Ruth is just going. Will you see that + she has some tea or something?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth laughed quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said, “that it is I who am in the way! I should love some + tea, if there is time, but whatever happens, I must not miss that train.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DREAM OF PARADISE + </h2> + <p> + It seemed to Wingrave that the days which followed formed a sort of hiatus + in his life—an interlude during which some other man in his place, + and in his image, played the game of life to a long-forgotten tune. He + moved through the hours as a man in a maze, unrecognizable to himself, + half unconscious, half heedless of the fact that the garments of his + carefully cultivated antagonism to the world and to his fellows had + slipped very easily from his unresisting shoulders. The glory of a perfect + English midsummer lay like a golden spell upon the land. The moors were + purple with heather, touched here and there with the fire of the flaming + gorse, the wind blew always from the west, the gardens were ablaze with + slowly bursting rhododendrons. Every gleam of coloring, every breath of + perfume, seemed to carry him unresistingly back to the days of his + boyhood. He fished once more in the trout streams; he threw away his + stick, and tramped or rode with Juliet across the moors. At night time she + sang or played with the windows open, Wingrave himself out of sight under + the cedar trees, whose perfume filled with aromatic sweetness the still + night air. Piles of letters came every day, which he left unopened upon + his study table. Telegrams followed, which he threw into the wastepaper + basket. Juliet watched the accumulating heap with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever do people write to you so much for?” she asked one morning, + watching the stream of letters flow out of the post bag. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave was silent for a moment. Her question brought a sudden and sharp + sting of remembrance. Juliet knew him only as Sir Wingrave Seton. She knew + nothing of Mr. Wingrave, millionaire. + </p> + <p> + “Advertisements, a good many of them,” he said. “I must send for + Aynesworth some day to go through them all.” + </p> + <p> + “What fun!” she exclaimed. “Do send for him! He thinks that I am staying + with Miss Pengarth, and I haven’t written once since I got here!” + </p> + <p> + To Wingrave, it seemed that a chill had somehow stolen into the hot summer + morning. His feet were very nearly upon the earth again. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” he said, “that Aynesworth was—a friend of yours. He came + and saw you often in London?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “He has been very, very kind,” she answered. “He was always that, from the + first time I saw you both. Do you remember? It was down in the lower + gardens.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he answered, “I remember quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “He was very kind to me then,” she continued, “and you—well, I was + frightened of you.” She stopped for a moment and laughed. Her eyes were + full of amazed reminiscence. “You were so cold and severe! I never could + have dreamed that, after all, it was you who were going to be the dearest, + most generous friend I could ever have had! Do you know, Walter—I + mean Mr. Aynesworth—isn’t very pleased with me just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “He cannot understand why I will not tell him my guardian’s name. I think + it worries him.” + </p> + <p> + “You would like to tell him?” Wingrave asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave said no more, but after breakfast he went to his study alone. + Juliet found him there an hour later, sitting idly in front of his table. + His great pile of correspondence was still untouched. She came and sat on + the edge of the table. + </p> + <p> + “What are we going to do this morning, please?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave glanced towards his letters. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that I must spend the day here!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Not really!” she exclaimed. “I thought that we were going to walk to + Hanging Tor?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave took up a handful of letters and let them fall through his + fingers. He had all the sensations of a man who is awakened from a dream + of Paradise to face the dull tortures of a dreary and eventless life. His + eyes were set in a fixed state. An undernote of despair was in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “You know we arranged it yesterday,” she continued eagerly, “and if you + are going to send for Mr. Aynesworth, you needn’t bother about these + letters yourself, need you?” + </p> + <p> + He turned and regarded her deliberately. Her forehead was wrinkled a + little with disappointment, her brown eyes were filled with the soft light + of confident appeal. Tall and elegantly slim, there was yet something in + the graceful lines of her figure which reminded him forcibly that the days + of her womanhood had indeed arrived. + </p> + <p> + She wore a plain white cambric dress and a simple, but much beflowered + hat; the smaller details of her toilet all indicated the correct taste and + instinctive coquetry of her French descent. And she was beautiful! + Wingrave regarded her critically and realized, perhaps for the first time, + how beautiful. Her eyes were large and clear, and her eyebrows delicately + defined. Her mouth, with its slightly humorous curl, was a little large, + but wholly delightful. The sun of the last few weeks had given to her skin + a faint, but most becoming, duskiness. Under his close scrutiny, a flush + of color stole into her cheeks. She laughed not altogether naturally. + </p> + <p> + “You look at me,” she said, “as though I were someone strange!” + </p> + <p> + “I was looking,” he answered, “for the child, the little black-frocked + child, you know, with the hair down her back, and the tearful eyes. I + don’t think I realized that she had vanished so completely.” + </p> + <p> + “Not more completely,” she declared gaily, “than the gloomy gentleman who + frowned upon my existence and resented even my gratitude. Although,” she + added, leaning a little towards him, “I am very much afraid that I see + some signs of a relapse today. Don’t bother about those horrid letters. + Let me tell Mrs. Tresfarwin to pack us up some lunch, and take me to + Hanging Tor, please!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave laughed a little unsteadily as he rose to his feet. One day more, + then! Why not? The end would be soon enough!... + </p> + <p> + Sooner, perhaps, than even he imagined, for that night Aynesworth came, + pale and travel-stained, with all the volcanic evidences of a great + passion blazing in his eyes, quivering in his tone. The day had passed to + Wingrave as a dream, more beautiful even than any in the roll of its + predecessors. They sat together on low chairs upon the moonlit lawn, in + their ears the murmur of the sea; upon their faces, gathering strength + with the darkness, the night wind, salt and fragrant with all the + sweetness of dying flowers. Wingrave had never realized more completely + what still seemed to him this wonderful gap in his life. Behind it all, he + had a subconsciousness that he was but taking a part in some mystical + play; yet with an abandon which, when he stopped to think of it, + astonished him, he gave himself up without effort or scruple to this most + amazing interlude. All day he had talked more than ever before; the flush + on his cheeks was like the flush of wine or the sun which had fired his + blood. As he had talked the more, so had she grown the more silent. She + was sitting now with her hands clasped and her head thrown back, looking + up at the stars with unseeing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You do not regret Normandy, then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she murmured. “I have been happy here. I have been happier than I + could ever have been in Normandy.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked at her with curious intentness. + </p> + <p> + “My experience,” he said thoughtfully, “of young ladies of your age is + somewhat limited. But I should have thought that you would have found it—lonely.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I am different, then,” she murmured. “I have never been lonely + here—all my life!” + </p> + <p> + “Except,” he reminded her, “when I knew you first.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! But that was different,” she protested. “I had no home in those days, + and I was afraid of being sent away.” + </p> + <p> + It was in his mind then to tell her of the envelope with her name upon it + in his study, but a sudden rush of confusing thoughts kept him silent. It + was while he was laboring in the web of this tangled dream of wild but + beautiful emotions that Aynesworth came. A pale, tragic figure in his + travel-stained clothes, and face furrowed with anxiety, he stood over them + almost before they were aware of his presence. + </p> + <p> + “Walter!” she cried, and sprang to her feet with extended hands. + Wingrave’s face darkened, and the shadow of evil crept into his suddenly + altered expression. It was an abrupt awakening this, and he hated the man + who had brought it about. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth held the girl’s hands for a moment, but his manner was + sufficient evidence of the spirit in which he had come. He drew a little + breath, and he looked from one to the other anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Is this—your mysterious guardian, Juliet?” he asked hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at Wingrave questioningly. His expression was ominous, and the + light faded from her own face. While she hesitated, Wingrave spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I imagine,” he said, “that the fact is fairly obvious. What have you to + say about it?” + </p> + <p> + “A good deal,” Aynesworth answered passionately. “Juliet, please go away. + I must speak to your guardian—alone!” + </p> + <p> + Again she looked at Wingrave. He pointed to the house. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that you had better go.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. Something of the impending storm was already manifest. + Aynesworth turned suddenly towards her. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not enter that house again, Juliet,” he declared. “Stay in the + gardens there, and presently you shall know why.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AWAKENING + </h2> + <p> + Wingrave had risen to his feet. He was perfectly calm, but there was a + look on his face which Juliet had never seen there before. Instinctively + she drew a little away, and Aynesworth took his place between them. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, Aynesworth?” Wingrave asked coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” Aynesworth answered. “I have been mad to stay with you for four + years, to look on, however passively, at all the evil you have done. I’ve + had enough of it now, and of you! I came here to tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + “A letter,” Wingrave answered, “would have been equally efficacious. + However, since you have told me—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go when I’m ready,” Aynesworth answered, “and I’ve more to say. When + I first entered your service and you told me what your outlook upon life + was, I never dreamed but that the years would make a man of you again, I + never believed that you could be such a brute as to carry out your + threats. I saw you do your best to corrupt a poor, silly little woman, who + only escaped ruin by a miracle; I saw you deal out what might have been + irretrievable disaster to a young man just starting in life. Since your + return to London, you have done as little good, and as much harm, with + your millions as any man could.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave was beginning to look bored. + </p> + <p> + “This is getting,” he remarked, “a little like melodrama. I have no + objection to being abused, even in my own garden, but there are limits to + my patience. Come to the point, if you have one.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly,” Aynesworth answered. “I want you to understand this. I have + never tried to interfere in any of your malicious schemes, although I am + ashamed to think I have watched them without protest. But this one is + different. If you have harmed, if you should ever dare to harm this child, + as sure as there is a God above us, I will kill you!” + </p> + <p> + “What is she to you?” Wingrave asked calmly. + </p> + <p> + “She—I love her,” Aynesworth answered. “I mean her to be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “And she?” + </p> + <p> + “She looks upon me as her greatest friend, her natural protector, and + protect her I will—even against you.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” he said, “that the young lady is very well off as she + is. She has lived in my house, and been taken care of by my servants. She + has been relieved of all the material cares of life, and she has been her + own mistress. I scarcely see how you, my young friend, could do better for + her.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth moved a step nearer to him. The veins on his forehead were + swollen. His voice was hoarse with passion. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you done this for her?” he demanded, “secretly, too, you a man + to whom a good action is a matter for a sneer, who have deliberately + proclaimed yourself an evil-doer by choice and destiny? Why have you + constituted yourself her guardian? Not from kindness for you don’t know + what it is; not from good nature for you haven’t any. Why, then?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I admit,” he remarked coolly, “that it does seem rather a problem; we all + do unaccountable things at times, though.” + </p> + <p> + “For your own sake,” Aynesworth said fiercely, “I trust that this is one + of the unaccountable things. For the rest, you shall have no other chance. + I shall take her to Truro tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that she will go?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell her the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “And if she does not believe you?” + </p> + <p> + “She will! If you interfere, I shall take her by force.” + </p> + <p> + “I interfere!” Wingrave remarked. “You need not be afraid of that. The + affair as it stands is far too interesting. Call her, and make your + appeal.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell her the truth,” Aynesworth declared. + </p> + <p> + “By all means! I shall remain and listen to my indictment. Quite a novel + sensation! Call the young lady, by all means, and don’t spare me.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth moved a few steps up the path. He called to her softly, and she + came through the little iron gates from the rose gardens. She was very + pale, and there was a gleam in her eyes which was like fear. Aynesworth + took her by the hand and led her forward. + </p> + <p> + “You must be brave, dear,” he whispered. “I am compelled to say some + disagreeable things. It is for your good. It is because I care for you so + much.” + </p> + <p> + She looked towards Wingrave. He was sitting upon the garden seat, and his + face was absolutely expressionless. He spoke to her, and his cold, precise + tone betrayed not the slightest sign of any emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Aynesworth,” he remarked, “is going to tell you some interesting facts + about myself. Please listen attentively as afterwards you will be called + upon to make a somewhat important decision.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a little wistfully and sighed. There was no trace any + longer of her companion of the last few weeks. It was the stern and gloomy + stranger of her earlier recollections who sat there with folded arms. + </p> + <p> + “Is it really necessary?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely,” Aynesworth answered hurriedly. “It won’t take long, but + there are things which you must know.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she answered, “I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth inclined his head towards the place where Wingrave sat. + </p> + <p> + “I will admit,” he said, “that the man there, whom I have served for the + last four years and more, never deceived me as to his real character and + intentions. He had been badly treated by a woman, and he told me plainly + that he entered into life again at war with his fellows. Where he could + see an opportunity of doing evil, he meant to do it; where he could bring + misery and suffering upon anyone with whom he came into contact, he meant + to grasp the opportunity. I listened to him, but I never believed. I told + myself that it would be interesting to watch his life, and to see the + gradual, inevitable humanizing of the man. So I entered his service, and + have remained in it until today.” + </p> + <p> + He turned more directly towards Juliet. She was listening breathlessly to + every word. + </p> + <p> + “Juliet,” he said, “he has kept his word. I have been by his side, and I + speak of the things I know. He has sought no one’s friendship who has not + suffered for it, there is not a man or woman living who owes him the + acknowledgment of a single act of kindness. I have seen him deliberately + scheme to bring about the ruin of a harmless little woman. I have seen him + exact his pound of flesh, even at the cost of ruin, from a boy. I tell + you, Juliet, of my own knowledge, that he has neither heart nor + conscience, and that he glories in the evil that his hand finds to do. + Even you must know something of his reputation—have heard something + of his doings, under the name he is best known by in London—Mr. + Wingrave, millionaire.” + </p> + <p> + She started back as though in terror. Then she turned to Wingrave, who sat + stonily silent. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t true,” she cried. “You are not—that man?” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes and looked at her. It seemed to her that there was + something almost satanic in the smile which alone disturbed the serenity + of his face. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I am,” he answered; “when I returned from America, it suited me + to change my identity. You must not doubt anything that Mr. Aynesworth + says. I can assure you that he is a most truthful and conscientious young + man. I shall be able to give him a testimonial with a perfectly clear + conscience.” + </p> + <p> + Juliet shuddered as she turned away. All the joy of life seemed to have + gone from her face. + </p> + <p> + “You are Mr. Wingrave—the Mr. Wingrave. Oh! I can’t believe it,” she + broke off suddenly. “No one could have been so kind, so generous, as you + have been to me.” + </p> + <p> + She looked from one to the other of the two men. Both were silent, but + whereas Aynesworth had turned his head away, Wingrave’s position and + attitude were unchanged. She moved suddenly over towards him. One hand + fell almost caressingly upon his shoulder. She looked eagerly into his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—that it isn’t all true,” she begged. “Tell me that your + kindness to me, at least, was real—that you did not mean it to be + for my unhappiness afterwards. Please tell me that. I think if you asked + me, if you cared to ask me, that I could forgive everything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Every vice, save one,” Wingrave murmured, “Nature has lavished upon me. I + am a poor liar. It is perfectly true that my object in life has been + exactly as Aynesworth has stated it. I may have been more or less + successful—Aynesworth can tell you that, too. As regards yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you upon your escape,” Wingrave said. “Aynesworth is + right. Association of any sort with me is for your evil!” + </p> + <p> + She covered her face with her hands. Even his tone was different. She felt + that this man was a stranger, and a stranger to be feared. Aynesworth came + over to her side and drew her away. + </p> + <p> + “I have a cart outside,” he said. “I am going to take you to Truro—” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave heard the gate close after them—he heard the rumble of the + cart in the road growing fainter and fainter. He was alone now in the + garden, and the darkness was closing around him. He staggered to his feet. + His face was back in its old set lines. He was once more at war with the + world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + REVENGE IS—BITTER + </h2> + <p> + At no time during his career did Wingrave appear before the public more + prominently than during the next few months. As London began to fill up + again, during the early part of October, he gave many and magnificent + entertainments, his name figured in all the great social events, he bought + a mansion in Park Lane which had been built for Royalty, and the account + of the treasures with which he filled it read like a chapter from some + modern Arabian Nights. In the city, he was more hated and dreaded than + ever. His transactions, huge and carefully thought out, were for his own + aggrandizement only, and left always in their wake ruin and disaster for + the less fortunate and weaker speculators. He played for his own hand + only, the camaraderie of finance he ignored altogether. In one other + respect, too, he occupied a unique position amongst the financial magnates + of the moment. All appeals on behalf of charity he steadily ignored. He + gave nothing away. His name never figured amongst the hospital lists; + suffering and disaster, which drew their humble contributions from the + struggling poor and middle classes, left him unmoved and his check book + unopened. In an age when huge gifts on behalf of charity was the + fashionable road to the peerage, his attitude was all the more noticeable. + He would give a thousand pounds for a piece of Sevres china which took his + fancy; he would not give a thousand farthings to ease the sufferings of + his fellows. Yet there were few found to criticize him. He was called + original, a crank; there were even some who professed to see merit in his + attitude. To both criticism and praise he was alike indifferent. With a + cynicism with seemed only to become more bitter he pursued his undeviating + and deliberate way. + </p> + <p> + One morning he met Lady Ruth on the pavement in Bond Street. She pointed + to the vacant seat in her landau. + </p> + <p> + “Get in, please, for a few minutes,” she said. “I want to talk to you. I + will take you where you like.” + </p> + <p> + They drove off in silence. + </p> + <p> + “You were not at the Wavertons’ last night,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she answered quietly. “I was not asked.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at her questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you were so friendly,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” she answered. “Lady Waverton scarcely knows me now! It is the + beginning of the end, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a little enigmatical this morning,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! You understand me very well,” she answered. “Everybody knows that + it is you who keep us going. Lumley has not got quite used to taking your + money. He has lost nearly all his ambition. Soon his day will have gone + by. People shrug their shoulders when they speak of us. Two years ago the + Wavertons were delighted to know me. Society seems big, but it isn’t. + There are no end of little sets, one inside the other. Two years ago, I + was in the innermost, today I’m getting towards the outside edge. Look at + me! Do you see any change?” + </p> + <p> + He scrutinized her mercilessly in the cold morning light. + </p> + <p> + “You look older,” he said, “and you have begun to use rouge, which is a + pity.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed hardly. + </p> + <p> + “You think so? Well, I don’t want Emily to see my hollow cheeks—or + you! Are you satisfied, Wingrave?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I don’t understand—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t lie,” she interrupted curtly. “You do understand. This is your + vengeance—very subtle and very crafty. Everything has turned out + exactly as you planned. You have broken us, Wingrave! I thought myself a + clever woman, but I might as well have tried to gamble with the angels. + Why don’t you finish it off now—make me run away with you?” + </p> + <p> + “It would bore us both,” he answered calmly. “Besides, you wouldn’t come!” + </p> + <p> + “I should, and you know that I would,” she answered. “Everyone expects it + of us. I think myself that it would be more decent.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “You are a strange woman,” he said. “I find it hard sometimes to + understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are a fool,” she declared in a fierce little whisper. “You know + what is underneath all my suffering, all my broken pride! You know that I + was fool enough to keep the flame flickering—that I have cared + always and for no one else!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “You are the most original woman I ever met,” he said quietly. “I neither + wish to care nor be cared for by anyone. Go home to your husband, and tell + him to buy Treadwells up to six.” + </p> + <p> + That same afternoon Wingrave met Aynesworth and cut him dead. Something in + the younger man’s appearance, though, perplexed him. Aynesworth certainly + had not the air of a successful man. He was pale, carelessly dressed, and + apparently in ill health. Wingrave, after an amount of hesitation, which + was rare with him, turned his car towards Battersea, and found himself, a + few minutes later, mounting the five flights of stone steps. Juliet + herself opened the door to him. She gave a little gasp when she saw who it + was, and did not immediately invite him to enter. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” Wingrave said coldly, “to inflict this visit upon you. If + you are alone, and afraid to ask me in, we can talk here.” + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks became as flushed as a moment before they had been pale. She + looked at him reproachfully, and, standing on one side to let him pass, + closed the door behind him. Then she led the way into her sitting room. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that you have come to see me,” she said. “Won’t you sit down?” + </p> + <p> + He ignored her invitation, and stood looking around him. There was a + noticeable change in the little room. There were no flowers, some of the + ornaments and the silver trifles from her table were missing. The place + seemed to have been swept bare of everything, except the necessary + furniture. Then he looked at her. She was perceptibly thinner, and there + were black rings under her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mrs. Tresfarwin?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “In Cornwall,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not afford to keep her here any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing for a living—painting still?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head a little piteously. + </p> + <p> + “They can’t sell any more of my pictures,” she said. “I am trying to get a + situation as governess or companion or—anything.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you have anything to eat last?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday,” she answered, and he was just in time to catch her. She had + fainted. + </p> + <p> + He laid her upon the sofa, poured some water over her face, and fanned her + with a newspaper. His expression of cold indifference remained unmoved. It + was there in his face when she opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you well enough to walk?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite, thank you,” she answered. “I am so sorry!” + </p> + <p> + “Put on your hat,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + She disappeared for a few minutes, and returned dressed for the street. He + drove her to a restaurant and ordered some dinner. He made her drink some + wine, and while they waited he buried himself in a newspaper. They ate + their meal almost in silence. Afterwards, Wingrave asked her a question. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Aynesworth?” + </p> + <p> + “Looking for work, I think,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not stay down in Cornwall?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Pengarth was away—and I preferred to return to London,” she + told him quietly. + </p> + <p> + “When are you going to marry Aynesworth?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She looked down into her glass and was silent. He leaned a little towards + her. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he remarked quietly, “you are already married?” + </p> + <p> + Still she was silent. He saw the tears forced back from her eyes. He heard + the sob break in her throat. Yet he said nothing. He only waited. At last + she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is settled yet,” she said, still without looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “I see no reason,” he said calmly, “why, until that time, you should + refuse to accept your allowance from Mr. Pengarth.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot take any more of your money,” she answered. “It was a mistake + from the first, but I was foolish. I did not understand.” + </p> + <p> + His lip curled with scorn. + </p> + <p> + “You are one of those,” he said, “who, as a child, were wise, but as a + young woman with a little knowledge, become—a prig. What harm is my + money likely to do you? I may be the Devil himself, but my gold is not + tainted. For the rest, granted that I am at war with the world, I do not + number children amongst my enemies.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes then, and looked him in the face. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of you,” she declared. “It is not that; but I have been + dependent long enough. I will keep myself—or starve.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders and paid the bill. + </p> + <p> + “My man,” he said, “will take you wherever you like. I have a call to make + close here.” + </p> + <p> + They stood upon the pavement. She held out her hand a little timidly. Her + eyes were soft and wistful. + </p> + <p> + “Goodbye, guardian,” she said. “Thank you very much for my lunch.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said gravely, “if you would let me always call myself that!” + </p> + <p> + She got into the car without a word. Wingrave walked straight back to his + own house. Several people were waiting in the entrance hall, and the + visitors’ book was open upon the porter’s desk. He walked through, looking + neither to the right nor the left, crossed the great library, with its + curved roof, its floor of cedar wood, and its wonderful stained-glass + windows, and entered a smaller room beyond—his absolute and + impenetrable sanctum. He rang the bell for his servant. + </p> + <p> + “Morrison,” he said, “if you allow me to be disturbed by any living + person, on any pretense whatever, until I ring, you lose your place. Do + you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave locked the door. The next hour belonged to himself alone... + </p> + <p> + When at last he rang the bell, he gave Morrison a note. + </p> + <p> + “This is to be delivered at once,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The man bowed and withdrew. Wingrave, with his hands behind him, strolled + out into the library. In a remote corner, a small spectacled person was + busy writing at a table. Wingrave crossed the room and stood before him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you my librarian?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The man rose at once. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” he answered. “My name is Woodall. You may have forgotten + it. I am at work now upon a new catalogue.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I have a quarto Shakespeare, I think,” he said, “that I marked at + Sotheby’s, also a manuscript Thomas a Kempis, and a first edition of + Herrick. I should like to see them.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” the man answered, hurrying to the shelves. “You have, + also, a wonderful rare collection of manuscripts, purchased from the Abbey + St. Jouvain, and a unique Horace. If you will permit me.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave spent half an hour examining his treasures, leaving his attendant + astonished. + </p> + <p> + “A millionaire who understands!” he exclaimed softly as he resumed his + seat. “Miraculous!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave passed into the hall, and summoned his major domo. + </p> + <p> + “Show me the ballroom,” he ordered, “and the winter garden.” + </p> + <p> + The little man in quiet black clothes—Wingrave abhorred liveries—led + him respectfully through rooms probably unequaled for magnificence in + England. He spoke of the exquisite work of French and Italian artists; + with a gesture almost of reverence he pointed out the carving in the + wonderful white ballroom. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave listened and watched with immovable face. Just as they had + completed their tour, Morrison approached. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lumley and Lady Ruth Barrington are in the library, sir,” he + announced. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I am coming at once,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WAY OF PEACE + </h2> + <p> + They awaited his coming in varying moods. Barrington was irritable and + restless, Lady Ruth gave no signs of any emotion whatever. She had the air + of a woman who had no longer fear or hope. Only her eyes were a little + weary. + </p> + <p> + Barrington was walking up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, his + eyes fixed upon his wife. Every now and then he glanced nervously towards + her. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said, “if he wants a settlement—well, there’s an end + of all things. And I don’t see why he shouldn’t. He hasn’t lent money out + of friendship. He hates me—always has done, and sometimes I wonder + whether he doesn’t hate you too!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth shivered a little. Her husband’s words came to her with peculiar + brutality. It was as though he were blaming her for not having proved more + attractive to the man who held them in the hollow of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t it strike you,” she murmured, “that a discussion like this is + scarcely in the best possible taste? We cannot surmise what he wants—what + he is going to do. Let us wait!” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and Wingrave entered. To Barrington, who greeted him with + nervous cordiality, he presented the same cold, impenetrable appearance; + Lady Ruth, with quicker perceptions, noticed at once the change. She sat + up in her chair eagerly. It was what she had prayed for, this—but + was it for good or evil? Her eyes sought his eagerly. So much depended + upon his first few words. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave closed the door behind him. His greetings were laconic as usual. + He addressed Lady Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “I find myself obliged,” he said, “to take a journey which may possibly be + a somewhat protracted one. I wished, before I left, to see you and your + husband. I sent for you together, but I wish to speak to you separately—to + your husband first. You have often expressed a desire to see over my + house, Lady Ruth. My major domo is outside. Will you forgive me if I send + you away for a few minutes?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruth rose slowly to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “How long do you wish me to keep away?” she asked calmly. + </p> + <p> + “A few minutes only,” he answered. “You will find me here when Parkinson + has shown you round.” + </p> + <p> + He held the door open and she passed out, with a single upward and + wondering glance. Wingrave closed the door, and seated himself close to + where Barrington was standing. + </p> + <p> + “Barrington,” he said, “twenty years ago we were friends. Since then we + have been enemies. Today, so far as I am concerned, we are neither.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington started a little. His lips twitched nervously. He did not quite + understand. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, Wingrave—” he began. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave interrupted him ruthlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I give you credit,” he continued, “for understanding that my attitude + towards you since I—er—reappeared, has been inimical. I + intended you to speculate, and you did speculate. I meant you to lose, and + you have lost. The money I lent to your wife was meant to remain a rope + around your neck. The fact that I lent it to her was intended to humiliate + you, the attentions which I purposely paid to her in public were intended + to convey a false impression to society—and in this, too, I fancy + that I have been successful.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington drew a thick breath—the dull color was mounting to his + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave continued calmly— + </p> + <p> + “I had possibly in my mind, at one time,” he said, “the idea of drawing + things on to a climax—of witnessing the final disappearance of + yourself and your wife from the world—such as we know it. I have, + however, ceased to derive amusement or satisfaction from pursuing what we + may call my vengeance. Consequently, it is finished.” + </p> + <p> + The light of hope leaped into Barrington’s dull eyes, but he recognized + Wingrave’s desire for silence. + </p> + <p> + “A few feet to your left, upon my writing table,” Wingrave continued, “you + will find an envelope addressed to yourself. It contains a discharge, in + full, for the money I have lent you. I have also ventured to place to your + credit, at your own bank, a sum sufficient to give you a fresh start. When + you return to Cadogan Square, or, at least, this evening, you will receive + a communication from the Prime Minister, inviting you to become one of the + International Board of Arbitration on the Alaskan question. The position, + as you know, is a distinguished one, and if you should be successful, your + future career should be assured.” + </p> + <p> + Barrington broke down. He covered his face with his hands. Great sobs + shook him. Wingrave waited for a few minutes, and then rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Barrington,” he said, “there is one thing more! What the world may say or + think counts for very little. Society reverses its own judgments and eats + its own words every day. A little success will bring it to your feet like + a whipped dog. It is for yourself I say this, for yourself alone. There is + no reason why you should hesitate to accept any service I may be able to + render you. You understand me?” + </p> + <p> + Barrington’s face was like the face of a young man. All the cloud of + suspicion and doubts and fears was suddenly lifted. He looked through new + eyes on to a new world. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” he exclaimed. “Not that I ever doubted it, Wingrave, but—thank + God!”... + </p> + <p> + Barrington left the house radiant,—Lady Ruth and Wingrave were + alone. She watched him close the door and turn towards her, with a new + timidity. The color came and went in her pale cheeks, her eyes were no + longer tired. When he turned towards her, she leaned to him with a little + seductive movement of her body. Her hands stole out towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + His first action seemed to crush all the desperate joy which was rising + fast in her heart. He took one hand, and he led her to a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” he said, “I have been talking to your husband. There are only a + few words I want to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “There are only three I want to hear from you,” she murmured, and her eyes + were pleading with him passionately all the time. “It seems to me that I + have been waiting to hear them all my life. Wingrave, I am so tired—and + I am losing—I want to leave it all!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” he answered cheerfully, “what you are going to do. You are + going to America with your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I am rather tired of the game,” he said, “that is all. I am like the + child who likes to build up again the house of bricks which he has thrown + down. I have procured for your husband a seat on the Alaskan Board. It is + a very distinguished position, and you will find that it will entail + considerable social obligations in America. When you return, he will be + able to claim a judgeship, or a place in the Government. You will find + things go smoothly enough then.” + </p> + <p> + “But you!” she cried; “I want you!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Ruth,” he said, “you may think so at this moment, but you are + very much mistaken. What you really desire is a complete reconciliation + with your husband and a place in the great world which no one shall be + able to question. These things are arranged for you; also—these.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her a little packet. She dropped it idly into her lap. She was + looking steadfastly away from them. + </p> + <p> + “You are free from me now,” he continued. “You will find life run quite + smoothly, and I do not think that you will be troubled with me when you + come back from America. I have other plans.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a slave,” she murmured, “who grew to love her gaoler, and when + they came to set her free and take her back to her own people—she + prayed only to be left in her cell! Freedom for her meant a broken heart!” + </p> + <p> + “But that was fiction,” he answered. “For you, freedom will mean other + things. There is work for you to do, honorable work. You must fan the + flame of your husband’s ambition, you must see that he does justice to his + great opportunities. You have your own battle to fight with society, but + you have the winning cards for, before you go, you and your husband will + be received as guests—well, by the one person whose decision is + absolute.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “My word of honor,” he said quietly, “was enough for Lord Marendon. You + will find things go smoothly with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wonderful,” she gasped, “but—you—you spoke of going + away.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to travel,” he said quietly, “rather a long journey. I have + lived three lives, I am going to try a fourth!” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite alone,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me where you are going?” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot do that,” he answered. “It is my secret.” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet. She was very pale. She stood in front of him, and + she laid her hands upon his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” she said, “I will obey. I will live the life you have shown + me, and I will live it successfully. But I will know this. Who is it that + has succeeded where I have failed?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You do!” she declared, “and I will know. For years you have been a man + with a shell upon your heart. Every good impulse, every kind thought + seemed withered up. You were absolutely cold, absolutely passionless! I + have worn myself out trying to call you back to your own, to set the blood + flowing once more in your veins, to break for one moment the barriers + which you had set up against Nature herself. Some day, I felt that it must + come—and it has! Who has done it, Wingrave? It is not—Emily?” + </p> + <p> + “Emily!” he exclaimed. “I have not seen her for months. She has no + interest for me—she never had.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me who it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Nature unaided,” he answered carelessly. “Human intervention was not + necessary. It was the swing of the pendulum, Ruth, the eternal law which + mocks our craving for content. I had no sooner succeeded in my new + capacity—than the old man crept out.” + </p> + <p> + “But Nature has her weapons always,” she protested. “Wingrave, was it the + child?” + </p> + <p> + He touched the electric bell. Taking her hands, he bent down and kissed + them. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady,” he said, “goodbye—good fortune! Conquer new worlds, and + remember—white is your color, and Paquin your one modiste. Morrison, + Lady Barrington’s carriage.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “LOVE SHALL MAKE ALL THINGS NEW” + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth was loth to depart. He felt that all pretext for lingering + was gone, that he had outstayed his welcome. Yet he found himself + desperately striving for some excuse to prolong an interview which was to + all effects and purposes concluded. + </p> + <p> + “I will do my best, Sir Wingrave,” he said, reverting to the subject of + their interview, “to study Miss Lundy’s interests in every way. I will + also see that she has the letter you have left for her within eight days + from now. But if you could see you way to leave some sort of address so + that I should have a chance of communicating with you, if necessary, I + should assume my responsibilities with a lighter heart.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave gave vent to a little gesture of annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” he said, “surely I have been explicit enough. I have told + you that, within a week from now, I shall be practically dead. I shall + never return to England—you will never see me again. I have given + life here a fair trial, and found it a failure. I am going to make a new + experiment—and it is going to be in an unexplored country. You could + not reach me there through the post. You, I think, would scarcely care to + follow me. Let it go at that.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth took up his bag with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave,” he said, “I am a simple man, and life with me has always + been a very simple affair. I recognize the fact, of course, that I am not + in a position to judge or to understand the mental attitude of one who, + like yourself, has suffered and passed through great crises. But I cannot + help wishing that you could find it possible to try, for a time, the quiet + life of a countryman in this beautiful home of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pengarth,” he said, “no two men are born alike into this world. Some + are blessed with a contented mind, some are wanderers by destiny. You will + forgive me if I do not discuss the matter with you more fully. My journey, + wherever and whatever it is, is inevitable.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pengarth was braver than he had ever been in his life. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Wingrave,” he said, “there is one journey which we must all take in + God’s good time. But the man who starts before he is called finds no + welcome at the end. The greatest in life are those who are content to + wait!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the least disposed to doubt it, Mr. Pengarth,” Wingrave said + calmly. “Now I must really send you away.” + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Pengarth went, but Wingrave was not long destined to remain in + solitude. There was a sound of voices in the hall, Morrison’s protesting, + another insistent. Then the door opened, and Wingrave looked up with + darkening face, which did not lighten when he recognized the intruder. + </p> + <p> + “Aynesworth!” he exclaimed, “what are you doing here? What do you want + with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes,” Aynesworth answered, “and I mean to have it. You may as + well tell your man to take his hand off my shoulder.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave nodded to Morrison. + </p> + <p> + “You can go,” he said. “Come back when I ring.” + </p> + <p> + They were alone! Aynesworth threw down his hat and crossed the room until + he was within a few feet of Wingrave. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth laughed a little unnaturally. + </p> + <p> + “I had to come,” he said. “It is humiliating, but the discipline is good + for me! I was determined to come and see once more the man who has made an + utter and complete fool of me.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave eyed him coldly. + </p> + <p> + “If you would be good enough to explain,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I’ll explain,” Aynesworth answered. “I engaged myself to you as + secretary, didn’t I, and I told you the reason at the time? I wanted to + make a study of you. I wanted to trace the effect of your long period of + isolation upon your subsequent actions. I entered upon my duties—how + you must have smiled at me behind my back! Never was a man more completely + and absolutely deceived. I lived with you, was always by your side, I was + there professedly to study your actions and the method of them. And yet + you found it a perfectly simple matter to hoodwink me whenever you chose!” + </p> + <p> + “In what respect?” Wingrave asked calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Every respect!” Aynesworth answered. “Let me tell you two things which + happened to me yesterday. I met a young New York stockbroker, named + Nesbitt, in London, and in common with all London, I suppose, by this + time, I learnt the secret of all those anonymous contributions to the + hospitals and other charitable causes during the last year.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” Wingrave said. + </p> + <p> + “I have come here on purpose to tell you what I think you are,” Aynesworth + said. “You are the greatest hypocrite unhanged. You affect to hate your + fellows and to love evil-doers. You deceived the whole world, and you + deceived me. I know you now for what you are. You conceived your evil + plans, but when the time came for carrying them out, you funked it every + time. You had that silly little woman on the steamer in your power, and + you yourself, behind your own back, released her with that Marconigram to + her husband, sent by yourself. You brought the boy Nesbitt face to face + with ruin, and to his face you offered him no mercy. Behind his back you + employ a lawyer to advance him your own money to pay your own debt. You + decline to give a single penny away in charity and, as stealthily as + possible, you give away in one year greater sums than any other man has + ever parted with. You decline to help the poor little orphan child of the + village organist, and secretly you have her brought up in your own home, + and stop the sale of your pictures for the sake of the child whom you had + only once contemptuously addressed. Can you deny any one of these things?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Wingrave answered quietly, “I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “And I thought you a strong man,” Aynesworth continued, aggrieved and + contemptuous. “I nearly went mad with fear when I heard that it was you + who were the self-appointed guardian of Juliet Lundy. I looked upon this + as one more, the most diabolical of all your schemes!” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave rose to his feet, still and grave. + </p> + <p> + “Aynesworth,” he said, “this interview does not interest me. Let us bring + it to an end. I admit that I have made a great failure of my life. I admit + that I have failed in realizing the ambitions I once confided to you. I + came out from prison with precisely those intentions, and I was conscious + of nothing in myself or my nature to prevent my carrying them out. It + seems that I was mistaken. I admit all this, but I do not admit your right + to force yourself into my presence and taunt me with my failure. You + served me well enough, but you were easily hoodwinked, and our connection + is at an end. I have only one thing to say to you. I am leaving this part + of the world altogether. I shall not return. That child has some foolish + scruples about taking any more of my money. That arises through your + confounded interference. She is poor, almost in want. If you should fail + her now—” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth interrupted with a hoarse little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Wingrave,” he said, “are you playing the simpleton? If Juliet will not + take your money, why should she take mine?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave came out from his place. He was standing now between Aynesworth + and the door. + </p> + <p> + “Aynesworth,” he said, “do I understand that you are not going to marry + the child?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Certainly not!” Aynesworth answered. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave remained quite calm, but there was a terrible light in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Now, for the first time, Aynesworth,” he said, “I am glad that you are + here. We are going to have a complete understanding before you leave this + room. Juliet Lundy, as my ward, was, I believe, contented and happy. It + suited you to disturb our relations, and your excuse for doing so was that + you loved her. You took her away from me, and now you say that you do not + intend to marry her. Be so good as to tell me what the devil you do mean!” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth laughed a little bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me,” he said, “but a sense of humor was always my + undoing, and this reversal of our positions is a little odd, isn’t it? I + am not going to marry Juliet Lundy because she happens not to care for me + in that way at all. My appearance is scarcely that of a joyous lover, is + it?” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave eyed him more closely. Aynesworth had certainly fallen away from + the trim and carefully turned out young man of a few months back. He was + paler, too, and looked older. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand this,” Wingrave said. + </p> + <p> + “I do!” Aynesworth answered bitterly. “There is someone else?” + </p> + <p> + “Someone whom I do not know about?” Wingrave said, frowning heavily. “Who + is he, Aynesworth?” + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. He said nothing. Wingrave came a step + nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “You may as well tell me.” he said quietly, “for I shall postpone my + journey until I know the whole truth.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my secret,” Aynesworth answered. “Ask her yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Wingrave declared, “I will. I shall return to London + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary,” Aynesworth remarked. + </p> + <p> + Wingrave started. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that she is here?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Aynesworth drew him towards the window. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “you shall ask her now.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave hesitated for a moment. An odd nervousness seemed to have taken + possession of him. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand this, Aynesworth,” he said. “Why is she here?” + </p> + <p> + “Go and ask her your question,” Aynesworth said. “Perhaps you will + understand then.” + </p> + <p> + Wingrave went down the path which led to the walled garden and the sea. + The tall hollyhocks brushed against his knees; the air, as mild as + springtime, was fragrant with the perfume of late roses. Wingrave took no + note of these things. Once more he seemed to see coming up the path the + little black-frocked child, with the pale face and the great sad eyes; it + was she indeed who rose so swiftly from the hidden seat. Then Wingrave + stopped short for he felt stirring within him all the long repressed + madness of his unlived manhood. It was the weakness against which he had + fought so long and so wearily, triumphant now, so that his heart beat like + a boy’s, and the color flamed into his cheeks. And all the time she was + coming nearer, and he saw that the child had become a woman, and it seemed + to him that all the joy of life was alight in her face, and the one + mysterious and wonderful secret of her sex was shining softly out of her + eager eyes. So that, after all, when they met, Wingrave asked her no + questions. She came into his arms with all the graceful and perfect + naturalness of a child who has wandered a little away from home.... + </p> + <p> + “I am too old for you, dear,” he said presently, as they wandered about + the garden, “much too old.” + </p> + <p> + “Age,” she answered softly, “what is that? What have we to do with the + years that are past? It is the years to come only which we need consider, + and to think of them makes me almost tremble with happiness. You are much + too rich and too wonderful a personage for a homeless orphan like me; + but,” she added, tucking her arm through his with a contented little sigh, + “I have you, and I shall not let you go!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Malefactor, by E. 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