The event more than justified this prediction. The storm which burst when Kyrle proposed himself to Major and Mrs. Joscelyn as a suitor for Aimée was such as the latter, with all her experience, had never known before. They would not have received the proposal of a prince had it been possible to refuse it, for they were resolutely determined to retain control of the heiress and her fortune. But a man who by his own acknowledgment had nothing, yet was capable of throwing away a million or more dollars—words were too weak to express their opinion of him! They rejected his suit with scorn, and the major grew fairly inarticulate when trying to express himself with regard to such unparalleled audacity.
A penny-a-liner, a scribbler for newspapers, possessing not a dollar in property, yetso insane as to refuse a fortune for an absurd scruple! By Jove, a raving maniac would be as suitable a match! Never should Aimée throw herself away in such a manner—never! If it were necessary, they would constrain her for her own good. She should not wreck her life and her fortune by marrying a madman.
But the time had come when they were to learn what was in Aimée. She had so submissively yielded to their demands hitherto that they expected her to yield now; but it was characteristic of her that the strength which her nature possessed only manifested itself on rare and supreme occasions, so that she now and then took even those who knew her best by surprise. She certainly took her tyrants by surprise on this occasion. Quietly, but steadily, she faced them like a rock.
“I shall marry Mr. Kyrle,” she said. “I am sorry if my choice does not meet with my mother’s approval; but it is a matter which concerns myself alone, and I can not suffer dictation with regard to it.”
The major stormed, Mrs. Joscelyn tried tears and entreaties, culminating in hysterics,but Aimée remained unmoved. She calmly repeated her ultimatum, and left them.
Then, in view of the gravity of the situation, another family council was held. Percy came, pale and venomous with the shock of hearing that his worst fears had been realized, and Lydia with a suspicious redness around her eyes. She not only shrank in anticipation from the bitterness of her brother’s taunts and reproaches upon the failure of her effort to attract Kyrle, but there was a sting in the failure itself, for her fancy was of the order that went out to any man who approached her, and her eagerness to detain the young correspondent at her side had not been dictated only by regard for the family interest.
Percy condescended to throw her but one stinging word. “I was a fool to trust to such poor arts as yours,” he said. “Of course, the man was only amusing himself with your vanity and laughing in his sleeve at all of us. You have failed totally in keeping him from Aimée; have you succeeded better in discovering anything about his past relations with Mrs. Meredith?”
She shook her head. “No,” she answered, in a crestfallen tone. “I have never been able to draw anything from him, though I have tried. But I am sure that I am right—that there was something between them in the past!”
“So am I,” he retorted, “but what good is there in being sure when one has no proof? You might have got that out of him if you had done no more! But, even without proof, I have made up my mind to see what can be accomplished by threatening Mrs. Meredith with exposure.Toujours l’audace!She may believe that I know everything. Heavens! if I only did—”
He glared at poor Lydia as if it were her fault that he did not, then turned abruptly to his father. “If I fail in what I am going to try,” he said, “we must adopt a policy of stratagem. Drop all appearance of opposition, but insist upon returning at once to Paris. The first and essential thing is to separate Aimée from the Merediths. Separating her afterward from Kyrle will be comparatively easy.”
“She is—ah—um—very determined,” said the major.
“So is every girl who fancies herself in love; what does that matter? She will learn that her determination must bend before ours. For myself, I will hesitate atnomeans to accomplish this. Are you not ready to say the same?”
Under the challenge of that domineering and unscrupulous glance the major fidgeted, cleared his throat nervously, but finally spoke. “Yes,” he said, “I think that any means would be—ah—justifiable, to prevent a thing so mad as what she declares her intention of doing.”
“Then everything is settled,” said Percy, with sharp decision. “Make preparations for leaving Venice immediately. Whether I succeed or fail with Mrs. Meredith, that must be done. Give Aimée no excuse for refusing to go. Promise anything now. Once away, she will be in our hands, and the rest is easy.”
Even Lydia shuddered a little at the last words. To be in Percy’s hands, at Percy’smercy, was surely a fate not to be desired, and that, she knew, was what it meant; for he ruled them all, and his father and stepmother would consent to whatever he proposed. With the last words he rose.
“Now,” he said, “I am going to try intimidation with Mrs. Meredith. If I succeed, our work will be easier; if I fail, nothing will be lost. In any event, we go.”
Fanny Meredith was walking restlessly about her sitting-room, waiting for the news from Aimée, which Aimée had not yet come to give. Lennox had looked in after his interview with Major and Mrs. Joscelyn, made his report, received the sarcastic congratulations of his ally on having brought about exactly the result she had predicted, and which she supposed he had desired, and then taken his departure—for he felt as if solitude was at that moment the only thing he craved—solitude to dwell upon the look and the tone of Aimée when she put her hand in his as he was going, and said: “Do not let any of this trouble you. I shall not change.” Change! He could havelaughed at their folly in fancying they could change her. How well he knew that light in the brave, dark eyes, and the unflinching resolution which it indicated!
After his departure, Fanny looked for Aimée to appear shortly; but as time went on and she did not come, Mrs. Meredith grew restless and impatient. What was the matter? Even her courage shrank from bearding the lion in his den—that is, the enraged family in their own apartments; but she decided that if Aimée did not come soon, she would go and learn what detained her. It was just after this resolution had been formed that a knock at the door was followed by the appearance of Percy Joscelyn.
He was perfectly calm in outward bearing, but his quietness of manner did not deceive Fanny for a moment. She knew in the first glance of his eye that he had come for war, and she felt at once scornfully ready to meet it. What could Percy Joscelyn say that would matter to her? She threw back her head and met him with the weapon that always came to her most readily, that of mockery.
“Why, Percy,” she said, “this is a very unexpected pleasure. It is not often you are good enough to come to see me alone. But I suppose you want to talk over such an interesting event as Aimée’s engagement.”
“Not exactly,” replied Percy, blandly, though his glance became more venomous than ever. “I do not consider that Aimée’s engagement can take place without the consent of her parents and guardians; but I wish to congratulate you on your success in getting rid of an old lover who might tell awkward stories, by the simple expedient of stopping his mouth with an heiress.”
There was a moment’s pause. The gauntlet had been flung down, and he stood with his hand on the back of a chair, waiting to see how she would take it up. As for Fanny, astonishment rather than lack of courage held her silent for the short space of time in which they regarded each other. Then she said, with more dignity than any one could have imagined her capable of displaying:
“So you have come simply to insult me. That, at least, makes matters clear. I understandand can allow much for your disappointment with regard to Aimée; but I do not intend to listen to such insinuations as you have just uttered. Be good enough to leave my room.”
She lifted her hand and pointed to the door, but Joscelyn did not stir. On the contrary, he held his position with an air of determination, as he held her glance by the steadiness of his own.
“It will not be well,” he said, “for you to insist upon my leaving before I have finished what I have come to say. I know that Kyrle was your lover before you were married, and that you jilted him for a richer man. In order to deceive that man, you have represented him as having been the lover of Aimée. This is a pretense which might blind Mr. Meredith, but nobody else; and I hardly think it would blindhimvery long if one took the trouble to tell him the truth. Now, I do not propose that Aimée shall be bargained away to save your secrets, so I plainly give you your choice: send this fellow away, as I have no doubt you have the power to do, orMr. Meredith shall know the whole truth about him and you!”
“My dear,” said Fanny Meredith afterward, in describing the scene to Aimée, “I was astonished at myself. You know I always was a coward, and I had no doubt that the horrid wretch did know everything, as he said, and would tell it to Tom. But, for the life of me, Icould notquail before him! I felt such contempt for him, and such a sense of outrage that he should dare to threaten me in that manner, that I suppose it was anger that made me as brave as a lion.”
Whatever was the force supplying courage, whether anger or disdain, she did not exaggerate in saying that she showed no sign of quailing before Percy Joscelyn’s threats. She drew her brows together, and her eyes blazed as they looked at him. In that instant he felt that he had made a mistake—that to intimidate this woman was not possible.
“What a contemptible creature you are,” she said, in a clear, vibrating tone, “and what a fool besides, to think that you could accomplish anything withmeby such a method asthis! I will not condescend to answer your insolent assertions and insinuations. If you can induce my husband to listen to you, you can tell him what you please. But understand once for all that every effort in my power shall be devoted to helping Lennox Kyrle to rescue Aimée from any further association with such a person as yourself. Now will you go—or shall I be forced to ring for the servants to put you out of my apartment?”
Brave as a lion she surely was, or she would have shrunk from the impotent and vindictive rage that almost convulsed Percy’s countenance as he looked at her. There was little in his power to give which he would not have given at this moment to be able to crush her by some revelation such as he had hinted at, but which he now began to think had no existence in reality; for it seemed to him impossible that any one whose conscience convicted her of the falsity charged, could have been so daring and defiant. No, he had made a mistake, and yet—
What was this? Why did Fanny’s expression change so suddenly and greatly?Why did something like fear—yes, he could not be mistaken, itwasfear—come into her eyes, as she looked past him at the door to which she had again haughtily directed him? He turned quickly and faced Mr. Meredith, who paused astonished at the angry scene before him.
“Fanny!” he said, involuntarily addressing his wife.
Fanny felt as if her last hour had come, but to betray this to Percy Joscelyn was impossible! The spirit that was in her still kept her head erect and her manner dauntless, although it had not been able to keep from her eyes that sudden expression of fear which had leaped into them. She now addressed her husband with admirable composure, notwithstanding that there was a perceptible quiver of excitement in her voice.
“I have just requested Mr. Joscelyn to leave the room,” she said. “He has so forgotten himself, under the disappointment of Aimée’s engagement, that he has ventured to come here and threaten me—”
“Threaten you!” repeated Mr. Meredith,as she paused. He made a stride forward that brought him close to Percy Joscelyn, and then he stopped, controlling himself by an effort, but with all its usual genial expression gone from his face, and, instead, fierce indignation in every line. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, sternly. “Explain yourself!”
A bitter sneer curled the other’s lip. He could not, indeed, explain himself as he should have liked to do; he could not explicitly charge Fanny with duplicity which he only suspected, but he could at least throw a firebrand, and make, he fondly hoped, trouble between herself and her husband. So it was that the sneer came as he looked at that gentleman.
“Mrs. Meredith seems to have regarded it as a threat,” he said, “that I requested her to use her influence over her old lover to induce him to relinquish his fortune-hunting scheme with regard to Aimée, or else I should have the pleasure of enlightening you with regard to some episodes of her past connected with that gentleman.”
It was a desperate venture, this speech, for if he had been asked for the episodes——Buthe fancied that he knew Tom Meredith too well to fear that, and the event proved him right. Mr. Meredith did not glance at his wife at all, but looked at Joscelyn himself with lowering brows and gleaming eyes.
“You are a cowardly cur!” he said, distinctly. “My wife told you to leave the room. I now repeat the advice; and if you do not follow it instantly, I shall be obliged to kick you out!”
“O Tom, Tom,” cried Fanny, hysterically, “how good you were not even to gratify the wretch by listening to him!”
“Is it possible that you could have imagined that I would?” her husband asked. “Then I can only say that you don’t know me very well yet. Even if I had believed what he implied, do you think I would have lethimknow it? But how did such an idea enter his mind?” he inquired after a moment, as he sat down. “Is he not aware that Mr. Kyrle was Aimée’s lover long ago?”
Fanny stood silent, motionless, incapable, it seemed to her, of movement or speech. Neverhad that old falsehood, told so lightly and heedlessly in the past, appeared to her so odious, so black, so dishonorable as now! Oh, what a vile return for her husband’s trust and goodness to let him still be deceived, still believe a thing which was not so, still be less wise (so she fancied) than Percy Joscelyn, still think her better than she was! No, if it lost her his love forever, if he never, never forgave her the long deceit, she would tell him the truthnow, while she had the saving grace and courage to speak. Perhaps Mr. Meredith had never in his life been more surprised than when she suddenly rushed forward, sank on her knees by his chair, and burst into tears.
“O Tom,” she said, “I don’t know that you will ever forgive me for having deceived you so long, but Imusttell the truth! Lennox Kyrle was never Aimée’s lover at all. He was mine.”