My Dearest Mamma,--You will be surprised, and I hope you will be pleased to hear that I am engaged to be married! You are not to smile--it would be cruel--this, really, is serious. Charlie is all that a husband should be--you are not to laugh at that--you know exactly what I mean. I am nearly twenty, and, this time, I feel that my happiness really is at stake. I may not be able to keep my looks for long--some girls lose them when they are quite young--and something seems to tell me that I ought to begin to look life seriously in the face, and become responsible. I almost wish that I had taken to district visiting, like Emma Mortimer--it might have balanced me. Poor Emma! what a pity she is so plain.
Will you mind hinting to Tom Wilson that I think he might be happy with Nora Cathcart? It is true that I made him promise that he would never speak to her again, but all that is over. I hope you will not think me fickle, dear mamma. I enclose the ring Tom gave me. Will you please give it to him? And point out to him that I am now persuaded that boy and girl attachments never come to anything serious.
By the way, do not forget to tell them to send two pairs of evening shoes. Those which I have are quite worn out. Let both pairs be perfectly plain bronze. Charlie thinks that they make my feet look almost ethereal. Is he not absurd? But I hope that you will not think so, when you come to know him, for he loves your child. You might also ask them to send me a dozen pairs of stockings--nice ones. All mine seem to be in holes. You know I like them as long as you can get them.
I have been here nearly a month, and I have been almost engaged to three different men. How time does seem to fly! Lily says I am a heartless little flirt. I think that perhaps I was, until he came. He has been here just a week, and I seem to have known him years.
Lily seems to be under the impression that I was engaged to Captain Pentland. She is wrong. Captain Pentland has some very noble qualities. He is destined to make some true woman profoundly happy. Of that I have no doubt whatever. But I am not that woman. No, dear mamma, I feel that now. Besides, he wears an eyeglass. As you are aware, I have always had an insuperable objection to an eyeglass. It seems to savour of affectation. And affectation I cannot stand. And then he lisps. As I told you, when I wrote you last, when I sprained my ankle on Highdown Hill, he carried me in his arms for over a mile. Of course, I was grateful. And, between you and me, dear mamma, he held me so very closely to him, that, afterwards I felt as if I ought to marry him. I have explained everything to Charlie. He quite agrees with me that it is absurd for Captain Pentland to think himself ill-used.
While I think of it, when you are in town will you tell them to send me a box of assorted chocolates? You know the kind I like. There is nothing of that sort to be had here, and I do so long for some.
Charlie is Lily's cousin. Do you think that cousins ought to kiss each other? I wish I could get the opinion of someone on whose judgment I could implicitly rely. At any rate, even supposing that they ought I am quite sure that there should be limits. Before long I am afraid that I shall have to give Charlie a hint that I do not think, under the circumstances, that he ought to kiss Lily quite as much as he does me. She may be his cousin, but she is young, and she is pretty. And cousins are not sisters. It is nonsense for people to pretend they are.
The odd part of it is that if Charlie had not been so fond of kissing Lily I might not be going to marry him now. I knew that he was coming. And I was sitting alone in the drawing-room, in a half-light, with my back to the door, when suddenly someone, putting his arm round my waist, lifting me off my feet, twisted me right round, and began kissing me on my eyes and lips and everywhere.
I thought it was Captain Pentland. Though I was astonished at such behaviour even from him--because it was only that morning we quarrelled. You may judge of my astonishment when I was again able to look out of my own eyes, to find myself being held, as if I were a baby, or a doll, in the arms of a perfect giant of a man, whom I had never seen before. You may imagine how shocked I felt, because, as you know well, my views on such subjects--which I owe to your dear teaching--are, if anything, too severe. I will do him the justice to admit that he seemed to be almost as much shocked as I was.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "ten thousand times. I thought that you were Lily."
He put me down very much as you handle your Chelsea cups, mamma--softly and delicately, as if he had been afraid of chipping pieces off me.
"I suppose you're Charlie?"
I spoke more lightly and more cheerfully than I felt. He seemed so ashamed of himself, and so confused, that I pitied him. You know, dear mamma, that when people know, and feel, that they have done wrong, I always pity them. I cannot help it. It is my nature. All flesh is weak. I myself am prone to err. When Lily did appear, we were talking quite as if we knew each other. And that is how it began. It is odd how these sort of things sometimes do begin. As you are aware, I speak as one who has had experience. I shall always believe that it was only the breaking of a shoelace which first brought Norman Eliot and me together.
But those chapters in my life are closed. In the days which are past I may have seemed to hesitate, to occasionally have changed my mind. But now my life is linked to Charlie's by bonds which never shall be broken. I feel as if I were already married. The gravity of existence is commencing to weigh upon my mind. A woman when she is nearly twenty is no longer young.
While I remember it, when you send the chocolates don't send any walnuts. I am sick of them. Variously flavoured creams are what I really like. And let two pairs of the stockings be light blue, with bronze stripes high up the leg.
I cannot truly say that Lily is behaving to me quite nicely in my relations with Charlie. I do not wish to wrong her, even in my thoughts--she is the very dearest friend I have!--but, sometimes, I cannot help thinking that she had an eye on Charlie for herself. Because when the other morning I was telling her how strongly I disapproved of cousins marrying, if she had not been Lily--whose single-hearted affection I have every faith in--I should have said that she was positively rude. Charlie only proposed to me last night, yet, although she must have seen what was coming, in the afternoon she was actually talking to me of Norman Eliot--as if I had been to blame! Mr. Eliot and I never really were engaged--some people jump to conclusions without proper justification. And am I compelled to answer a person's letters if, for reasons of my own--quite private reasons--I do not choose to?
She came to my bedroom last night, just as I was going to bed. I told her what Charlie had said, and what I had said. Of course I expected her to congratulate me--as, in circumstances such as mine, a girl's best friend ought to do. She heard me to an end, and she looked at me, and said:
"So you've done it again."
"I don't know about again, dear Lily," I replied. "But it would seem as if I had done it at last. I am feeling so happy that it almost makes me afraid."
"Some girls would feel afraid if they had reason to be conscious of the fact that they had engaged themselves to marry three men at once."
I could not help but notice that a jarring something was in her tone. But I paid no heed to it.
My thoughts were elsewhere.
"How wrong it is," I murmured, "for people to scoff at love. They cannot know what love is--as I do."
"Perhaps not. I should think that what you don't know about love, May, isn't worth knowing." I sighed.
"I fancy, Lily dear, that I have heard stories about you."
"I daresay; but I never snapped up your favourite cousin from under your nose. Possibly you will not mind telling me if you do mean to marry one of them, and, if so, which."
"Lily! How can you ask me such a question? Have I not just been telling you that there is only one man in the world for me, henceforth and for ever, and that his name is Charlie?"
"Exactly. Only last week you told me precisely the same story, and his name was Jim, while about a fortnight ago, it was Norman."
My dearest mamma, you see I am making a clean breast of everything to you. I own, quite candidly, that since I have been here I have not behaved precisely as I might have done, and, indeed, ought to have done. I do not know how it is, I meant to be good; I am sure that nothing could have been better than my resolutions. I had no idea that they could have been so easily broken. It only shows, after all, how fragile we are. I felt that, strange and sad though it seems, Lily was not wholly unjust. I got up from my chair, and I knelt at her feet, and I pillowed my head in her lap and I cried:
"Oh, Lily, I've been so wicked! You can't think how sorry I am, now that it's too late. I wish you'd help me, and tell me what I ought to do."
"I'm a bit of a dab at a cry myself," she said. "So, if you take my advice, to begin with, you'll literally dry up."
Was it not unkind? And was it not vulgar? But I sometimes think that Lily's heart is like the nether millstone--so hard, you know. She went on:
"If you do mean business with Charlie, and you do want my advice, you'll just tell him everything you have been doing, and leave the solution of the situation to him."
I made up my mind there and then that that was exactly what I would do. I resolved that I would have no secrets from my husband--particularly as he would be sure to be told them by unfriendly lips if he did not learn them from mine. Besides, in such matters, a man is so much more generous, and so much more sympathetic than a woman--especially the man. Nor does he value you any the less because he finds that someone else happens to value you a little too.
So, directly Lily had gone I let my hair down, and I put on my light blue dressing-jacket and a touch of powder, and I waited. Presently I heard steps coming along the passage. I opened the door. Sure enough it was Charlie, just going to bed. At sight of me he started. I was conscious that I was, perhaps, acting with some imprudence. But I could not help it. My entire happiness was at stake. You know, dear mamma, that I do look nice in that pretty dressing-jacket, with my hair, not at all untidy, but simply let down. You yourself have told me that, in every sense of the word, I look so young. He held out his hands to me--under a misapprehension. I shrank back.
"Mr. Mason," I began very softly, with, in my voice, a sort of sob, "I could not rest until I had told you all that has passed between us to-night must be considered as unsaid."
He started as if I had struck him. I could see that his face went white.
"Miss Whitby! May! What do you mean?" He seemed to gasp for breath. "After all, it is only natural that you should not love a great hulking idiot such as I am."
"You are mistaken. You are not a great hulking idiot. And I do love you. I shall never love anyone but you. It is you who will not love me when you have heard all I have to say."
"What nonsense are you talking?"
Again he held out his arms to me. And again I shrank away.
"It is not nonsense. I wish it were. So far is it from being nonsense that I felt that I could not be at peace until my conscience was unburdened." I paused. I felt the crucial moment was arriving. My voice sank lower. "Someone else was staying here before you came."
"Yes, I know; Lily told me--a man named Pentland."
"Oh, Lily told you so much, did she? Did Lily also tell you that the man named Pentland had bad taste enough to fancy that he had fallen in love with me?"
"Bad taste, you call it. I know nothing about the man, but there, evidently, can be no sort of doubt about his perfect taste."
"But, Charlie--I mean, Mr. Mason."
"You don't--you mean Charlie."
Dear mamma, once more I sighed. I perceived that it would have to be. Some men are so dictatorial.
"The worst of it is that he worried and worried me so--I was staying in the same house, and couldn't get away from him, you see--that he made me almost think I cared for him. But now you have come, and made me see what a mistake it was."
"My little love."
For the third time he held out his arms to me. And, this time, he took me in them. I could not find it in my heart to resist him any longer; it might be the last time he would ever hold me there. I continued my remarks with my head not very far away from his waistcoat. He smoothed my hair, very softly, with his great right hand.
"Unfortunately, I am not at all sure that Captain Pentland does not think that, in a sort of way, I am engaged to him. Oh, Charlie, whatever shall I do?"
"Tell him the truth. Say that you're sorry for him, poor chap, but even the best regulated girls will make mistakes. I'm the mistake you've made."
I was silent. Then I whispered:
"Will you forgive me?"
"It strikes me that it is I who ought to ask you to forgive me--for not having been the first to come upon the scene."
This was throwing a new light upon the subject. It had not occurred to me to look at it from that point of view before. But I had not come to the end of my confessions. Dear mamma, how careful we women ought to be! It is these crises in our lives which make us feel what short-sighted mortals we actually are.
"Before Captain Pentland came"--I was pulling at one of the buttons on his waistcoat as I spoke, and I realised what a big heart Charlie's must be, if it was at all in proportion to his chest--"another friend of Lily's was stopping in the house."
"Ye-es."
I could not help but be conscious of a certain hesitation in his pronunciation of the word.
"His name was Eliot."
"Well?"
There had been a moment's silence before he spoke. And, when he had spoken, there ensued a portentous pause. I hid my face still more from his examining gaze. My voice seemed almost to die away.
"He, also, professed to bestow on me the gift of his affection."
"The devil he did!"
Yes, mamma, that was precisely what he said. It made me shiver. But he was sorry as soon as the words had passed his lips.
"Forgive me! I didn't mean it! After all, it is only to be expected that every man who sees you will fall in love with you at sight."
I wondered if he would talk to me like that in years to come. Do husbands of ten years' standing say such things unto their wives? Oh, how ashamed of myself I felt as I thought of what I still had to admit! Dear mamma, I will try hard never again to do what my conscience tells me is not right. If only we would always listen to the still small voice which seeks to guide us!
"Charlie, you have no notion how foolish I have been! Until you came I had no proper conception of the actualities of existence. Mr. Eliot caused me to confuse the issues just as Captain Pentland did."
He held me out a little way in front of him, trying to look into my face. I was careful not to let him see too much of it. I hung down my head with what, I do hope, mamma, was proper penitence.
"Let me know, clearly, where we are, little girl. Am I to understand you to say that both these men asked you to marry them?"
"I am afraid, Charlie, that you are to understand something of the kind."
"And that you gave both of them encouragement?"
I looked up at him--such a look, mamma! My eyes were swimming in tears. I knew he would not tell me to "dry up." My heart seemed to be rising to my lips.
"Not real encouragement. I never gave anyone real encouragement, Charlie, till I knew you. Even in your case I fear I ought to have been more reticent. But you cannot have the least idea of what a wide world of love you seem to have opened out to me. Won't you forgive me for encouraging you?"
Dear mamma, he collapsed. Of what took place during the moments which immediately followed. I can give you no definite description. I know I began to think that the end of the world had come. When he had quite finished, he said:
"Look here, young lady, what is past is past. We will make no further allusions to what took place before the war. But, in the future, perhaps you will kindly manage not, as you put it, to confuse the issues, but will continue to confine yourself to encouraging me."
Was it not noble of him? And so sweet! I am persuaded that his character is one of singular beauty.
Dear mamma, the passages which ensued were too sacred even for your dear eyes. When he left me I felt certain it was to dream of him. I know that, all night long, I dreamt of him. And, on my knees, beside my bed, I registered a vow that, in the time to come, I will be as good as I possibly can.
Do not forget the shoes, and the stockings, and the chocolates! And do give Tom his ring! I am registering this letter, so you are sure to get it safe.
I will bring, or send, Charlie to you, on approval, whenever you please.
I am, my dearest mamma,
Your ever loving daughter,
May.
"There's a fortune in it!"
"For the bottlemakers."
"If for them, then what for us? We shan't want more bottles than we can sell. Besides, we can make our own bottles if it comes to that. Cost of bottle, contents, cork, label, and all, one penny. Selling price, eightpence. Sale, at a moderate estimate, one million bottles a year. How does that figure for a profit?"
"It figures nicely. But give me facts. How long do you suppose it will take us to reach that sale?"
"No time. The name will sell it! 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' There isn't an old woman in England who, seeing those words staring her in the face, won't press a longing hand to her inside."
"Outside, I presume, you mean. But no matter."
Hughes placed the bottle on the table. He looked at it with loving eyes. Then he shook his head.
"There's only one thing we want."
"Customers?"
"Testimonials! There's something in it. I know there is."
"Not much, perhaps, but still something."
"That bottle, sir, contains a remedy for all known diseases, and all unknown ones, for all that I can tell. In fact, I have a suspicion that it is to the unknown diseases that it will come as the greatest blessing. Patent medicines generally do. Those mysterious maladies which, up to the advent of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' have baffled all the resources of medical science. Give me a day or two and I will prove it. I will bring you testimonials which will make your hair stand up on end, and--" He paused, looking me fixedly in the face--"all genuine."
That evening I had a small dinner-party. It was rather an occasion. The suggestion, I am bound to admit, had come from Margaret.
"My dear George, it's the easiest thing in the world, and you could do it nicely! Why don't you ask us to dinner? Aunt and I, and old Pybus to round it off." Square it off, I suspect she meant, because, of course, that would make four with me. But I didn't correct her. "And then you and I could look over the house together--after dinner."
So I asked them. And they came. Old Pybus said he would be delighted. I don't care for Pybus myself, but Mrs. Chalmers does, and this was an occasion on which her taste had to be consulted rather than mine. And during dinner I began on "Aunt Jane's Jalap."
"Well, it's all settled with Hughes."
I addressed myself to Margaret.
"What about?"
"'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"
Mrs. Chalmers put down her spoon. This was while the soup was on.
"'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' Whatever's that?"
"The new patent medicine--the coming boom. You must know that my friend Francis Hughes has a wonderful old nurse, and this wonderful old nurse has the most wonderful medicine, which she used to administer to all her charges. Hughes has obtained the receipt from her."
"How much did he give her for it? Half-a-crown?"
I crushed Pybus.
"That is a private matter, butrathermore than half-a-crown."
As a plain statement of fact he hadn't given her anything as yet. But, of course, we should both of us see that she made a good thing of it when the sale got up.
"I need scarcely observe what fortunes have been made in patent medicines."
"And lost in them, my boy."
This was just like Pybus--but I let it pass.
"Millions, literally millions, have been made, and, I may safely say, that none of them can compare with 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"
"Have you tried the stuff upon yourself?"
"No, Pybus, I have not. I am ready at any time to try it upon you. Well, Hughes has supplied the medicine, and I am going to supply part of the capital."
"What part?"
"That is another private matter, Pybus. Sufficient, I trust, to bring the matter before the public eye."
"Don't you think the name is rather a funny one?--'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'"
This was hard, coming from Margaret.
"My dear Margaret, the name is half the battle. Hughes thinks it's a splendid one."
"But don't you think it makes one think of indigestion?"
"That's exactly what it's meant to do."
"Before, or afterwards?"
This, of course, was Pybus.
"Let those laugh who win. Wait till you see the name blazoned on every dead wall. Then you'll welcome 'Aunt Jane's Jalap' as a friend."
That dinner, I confess, was a little patent mediciney. More than once I rather wished that I had kept the subject out of it. Pybus told some pleasant and characteristic anecdotes about injurious effects of patent medicines. How he had known whole families killed by taking them. How more than half the infant mortality of Great Britain was owing to their unrestricted sale. How the habit of taking patent medicines was worse than the habit of dram drinking, and the why, and the wherefore, and so on. I could not, at my own table, take the man by the scruff of the neck and drop him from the first floor window. But I know that Margaret didn't like it--and I didn't either. Mrs. Chalmers seemed undecided. She herself swears by some noxious compound, which is absurdly named "Daddy's Delight," and which I know, by the mere smell of it, is nothing else but poison.
"Have you any of the stuff in the house?" she asked.
"I have a bottle of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' which is not stuff, my dear Mrs. Chalmers, but a most invaluable medicine. Hughes brought it this afternoon as a sample."
"Trot it out," said Pybus.
Pybus is fifty-five, if he is a day, but he uses the slang of a schoolboy. I was not going to act on such a hint as that, but when Mrs. Chalmers expressed a wish to look at it I fetched the bottle. It was a small black bottle, such as is used for "samples" of wines, about quarter-bottle size. I held it in my hand.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' It is a name which I trust will soon be familiar in your mouths as household words. This, however, is its first appearance on the scene, and I propose, to mark the importance of the occasion, that we drink to its success. I propose, ladies and gentlemen, that we drink to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap'in'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' Brooks, bring four claret glasses."
I drew the cork.
"George, you don't mean that we're to drink the stuff?"
"I do, my dear Margaret, why not? The dose is a wine-glassful, to be taken immediately after meals. Mrs. Chalmers, allow me to offer you a glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"
She sniffed at it.
"It has a very disagreeable smell."
That was good. I protest that I have smelt "Daddy's Delight" when I was passing the house, and took it--till I knew better--for drains.
"Margaret, a glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"
"But, George, I assure you that I never do take medicine."
"Some people's wine is no better than medicine. We drink that, and pretend we like it. Why not jalap?"
This was Pybus! As he had just before been making insinuations about my wine, the allusion was pointed. But the man's proverbial.
"No heeltraps--'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--with the honours!"
We all stood up. I drained my glass. I immediately wished I hadn't. The others drained their glasses. I saw they wished they hadn't too. I do not think I ever tasted anything quite so nasty. I wished I had sampled it before. As it was, it took me by surprise, so much by surprise that my first impulse was to fly for shelter. It was like--well, the taste was really so exceedingly disagreeable that comparison fails me.
"It is a case of kill or cure," observed Pybus, with the most extraordinary expression of countenance I ever saw. "The man who takes much of that stuff will be killed if he isn't cured. Death for me, rather than 'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--if itisjalap."
"It is rather pungent," I owned.
"I don't know about pungent," continued Pybus, who certainly seemed to be suffering; "but with ice pudding it's a failure."
"Never," declared Mrs. Chalmers, who was leaning back in her chair, and had her handkerchief in her hand, "never did I taste anything like it! Never! and after dinner, too!"
Margaret's feelings seemed for the moment to be too strong for speech. I perceived the thing had been a failure. Still, I endeavoured to pass it off, which was difficult, for I myself felt really ill.
"Ah! it is to the after effects we must look forward."
"It is the after effects I'm thinking of," said Pybus.
That was almost more than I could bear; it was the after effects I was thinking of as well.
"Come, let's adjourn and have a little music."
"Have we finished the bottle of jalap?" inquired Pybus.
"I really must apologise; I confess I had no idea what a peculiar taste it had; it certainly is peculiar." Mrs. Chalmers put her handkerchief up to her eyes.
"And after dinner, too!"
We accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room, as well as we could. Pybus went with Mrs. Chalmers, I took Margaret. As we went I whispered in her ear:
"Now, you and I can look over the house together."
"I am afraid, George, you must excuse me. I--I couldn't walk about just yet. Do take me to a chair!"
We had planned that we would examine the house together from attic to basement; indeed, the whole affair had been got up for that express purpose. Everything was in apple-pie order and ready for inspection. The servants were on the tiptoe of expectation. As we went, Margaret was to make suggestions for alterations which would fit the house for its mistress. And opportunities might arise for a little confidential intercourse. But, of course, I could not drag the girl about the place against her will. Love works wonders. But therearecircumstances which prove too strong.
The atmosphere of the drawing-room was depressing. It was no use my talking to Margaret, because she wouldn't talk to me. And general conversation seemed out of the question. So I tried another line.
"Pybus, give us a song." (Pybus thinks he can sing. He may have been able to--once.) "Here's 'Drink to me only.' That's a favourite of yours." (You should hear him sing it.) "Margaret will play the accompaniment."
"Lucas," he said, "Do you think, by any chance, that dose of jalap was too strong? I ask the question because I remember, when I was a boy, hearing of a family being poisoned by an overdose of jalap. In their case they took it by mistake. Though, judging from the taste of your jalap, I can't see how that could be. Still, if there is likely to be any danger it is as well that we should be prepared for it."
"Margaret," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "let's go home."
"Why, aunt? It will pass off in time."
In time! At that moment I heartily wished that Hughes had been at Jericho before he induced me to dabble in his patent medicines. I always did hate them, even as a child.
"It is quite impossible," continued Pybus, "that the sensations which I am now experiencing are the ordinary and natural outcome of a dose of jalap."
"Margaret," groaned Mrs. Chalmers, "I insist upon your coming home."
"Aunt, what is the use of going home?"
"You haven't got a book in the house, Lucas, treating of poisons?"
"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Pybus. It really is unfair. I quite perceive that I made a mistake in administering the dose after dinner; in fact, I am myself inclined to believe that I misunderstood Hughes, and that the dose ought to be administered before a meal."
"Good God!"
"Pybus!"
"I can't help it. I really cannot help it, sir. The idea of a reasonable person voluntarily swallowing such a concoction as that before his dinner is enough to make any man profane!"
"I don't think, Mr. Lucas," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "that you have the least idea how ill I feel."
"My dear Mrs. Chalmers, if--if there is anything I can do for you." "Yes," said Pybus, "another bottle."
Just then Brooks came in.
"Mr. Hughes, sir, wishes to speak to you."
"Excuse me one moment--I'll be back directly."
I found Hughes waiting for me in my snuggery.
"Sorry to interrupt you, old man, but I just called in to prevent accidents."
"What do you mean?"
"You know that bottle I brought you this afternoon. I thought it was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' but it isn't. I found it out directly I got home. You see, I keep all sorts of bottles in my cupboard--regular chemist's shop!--and I caught hold of the wrong one by mistake."
"Not 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'"
"No, it's laudanum."
"Laudanum? Hughes!"
"The fact is--Lucas!--What's the matter?--You don't mean to say you have been drinking some?"
"Is--is it poison?"
"Poison!--Why, it's pure laudanum!"
"Would--would a wineglassful do any harm?"
"A wineglassful! Lucas, old man, don't say you've drank a wineglassful!"
"We all have."
"All have!"
"Margaret, and Mrs. Chalmers, and Pybus.
"Great powers!"
"We--we thought it was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' and we drank to its success."
"Are they dead?"
"Dead! Hughes!"
"How long ago is it since they took it?"
"Not long. After dinner."
"But--a wineglassful! Are they conscious?"
"They were when I just now left them. But they weren't feeling well. I--I'm not either. We couldn't understand it. This--this explains it. Hughes, you--you've murdered us!"
"Never mind, old man. Keep your head; I'll pull you through. Trust all to me. The great thing in a case like this is to keep your head. Don't sit down; keep yourself in constant circulation! Just one second! Brooks! Brooks! Run, Brooks, to the nearest doctor, and then to half-a-dozen others, and tell them there's a case of laudanum poisoning, and they're to come at once."
"Laudanum poisoning, sir! What, in the house?"
"Yes, in the house. Don't stand there like a pig in a fit. It's a question of life or death!"
"One moment, sir, while I get my hat."
"Go without your hat. Here; take mine. Now, run for your life. Remember, if anything happens through you, you will be held responsible in the eyes of the law. Come along, Lucas, let's go in to them. Keep yourself awake, old man; jump about. Don't say a word to them about what has happened. Don't let them even suspect from your manner that anything is wrong. The great thing is to keep them in entire ignorance. And keep cool--keep cool."
He gave a jerk at my arm which almost pulled me forward on my face.
"I say, Hughes, don't!"
"But I must, old man, I must. I must keep you alive, at any cost. Oh, Lucas, old man, if anything should happen---- But I won't talk like that, or I shall make a fool of myself. Come along, old man, and mind what I say. Keep cool."
We went along--that is to say, he took me by the arm and dragged me towards the drawing-room. My emotions I am unable to describe. I always think that when a man is able to describe his emotions he hasn't had any worth describing. But through it all I had a dim perception that, in spite of his repeated adjurations, Hughes himself kept anything but cool. Outside the drawing-room door I brought the procession to a standstill. I gripped his arm.
"Hughes, do you think that she will die?"
"Who?"
"Margaret."
"Nonsense! Don't I tell you no one's going to die? For goodness' sake don't talk like that. Don't I keep telling you to keep cool?"
He did. But it was scarcely with an air of coolness that he threw the door wide open, and with so much force that it seemed as if he were trying to wrench it from its hinges. I fancy our entry made a slight sensation. It was strange if it didn't. They were certainly not unconscious--yet! Even amidst my own agitation it was with quite a sensation of relief that I perceived so much. Mrs. Chalmers was reclining on the couch, with her head thrown back, and a look about her which I did not like. Margaret was on a settee, seeming as though the proceedings had lost all interest for her. Pybus sat in an arm chair, his hands crossed upon his stomach.
"Good evening," said Hughes. I could see he did not like the look of things. "I--I've just dropped in."
Pybus rose.
"I'm just dropping out. Good evening, Lucas. I have to thank you for a very pleasant evening. I'll send you the doctor's bill when I get it."
Hughes looked at me, then at Pybus.
"You're not going, Mr. Pybus?"
"Do you wish me to be ill here?"
"But I was looking forward to a song, or a dance, or something."
"Dance! I feel like dancing; and singing, too. I've been the victim of an outrage, Mr. Hughes. I've been introduced to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"
"I've heard of it. Lucas ought not to have given it you."
"And after dinner!"
This was a murmur from the couch.
"That was wrong--quite wrong. The dose should have been administered before the meal."
"In that case," I observed, a little nettled, "we should all of us been dead by now."
Pybus glanced at me sharply.
"Dead! What do you mean?"
Hughes turned on me in a rage.
"Yes. What do you mean?"
I felt I had made a mistake.
"I--I mean nothing. Only--only I think Hughes was as much to blame as I was."
Hughes took Pybus away. They went to Mrs. Chalmers. So far as I could judge, the lady was rapidly sinking into a lethargic condition. I remained standing where I was. I began gradually to realise my situation--the approaching tragedy in which, by fate or circumstance, I was cast as an actor. A strange leaden feeling seemed to be stealing over me, but, in spite of it, I began to understand that at any moment the drawing-room, this drawing-room, my drawing-room, might be strewed with corpses. I knew nothing of the effects of laudanum poisoning, but Hughes seemed to be surprised that we were not all of us dead already. Here was Margaret, the woman I loved best in all the world, upon my right. There was her aunt, for whom, I own, my love was less, upon the couch. There was old Pybus. That old man's blood was also on my hands.
What would they call me? A suicide? The irony! In the full flush of health and strength, with fortune, all the world before me, and a wife. A wife whom I loved with a great fulness of love which was quite old-fashioned. I had wrought this hecatomb. I felt impelled to scream aloud. To warn my victims of the frightful fate which was stealing fast upon them, and of which they were still unconscious.
Someone touched me on the arm. I turned. It was Margaret!
"George, what is the matter?"
"Margaret!"
My voice trembled. There was a choking in my throat. I wished to take her in my arms before them all. It might be a last embrace.
"George, tell me, what is wrong?"
I made an effort to pull myself together.
"Oh! there's nothing wrong. I--I'm only a bit upset."
She put her arm through mine. She led me across the room. I required leading. She drew me into an alcove, which was formed by a window bay.
"Now, George, tell me what is wrong. I know there is something wrong. Tell me what it is."
I was at a loss for words. I trifled with her.
"Margaret! What do you mean?"
"George, was"--her voice sank to a whisper--"was there anything wrong about that stuff you gave us?"
What could I say to her?
"It--it was a mistake drinking it after dinner."
"Is that all? Was it the right stuff, George?"
"It--it was the stuff Hughes gave me."
"You are trifling with me? I know that there is something wrong. I can see it in your manner and in Mr. Hughes's. See how strangely Mr. Hughes is behaving now."
I peeped round the corner. Hughes was behaving strangely. He was frantically urging Mrs. Chalmers to stand up and dance, though anyone looking less like dancing than she did I never saw. He was evidently forgetting his own axiom--keep cool. A curious qualm came over me. Almost without knowing it I leaned for support against the wall.
"George! What is the matter? You are ill."
Margaret's eager face looked into mine.
"It will be all right in a minute."
"It won't! I know it won't! Tell me what it is. There was something the matter with that stuff you gave us. I knew it directly I had swallowed it. Do you think I am a coward? Do you think I am afraid? But it is only fair that you should tell me. If you won't tell me, George, I will go to Mr. Hughes and insist upon his telling me."
"Don't, Margaret. The doctor will be here directly."
"The doctor?" She drew herself straight up. A strange look came into her eyes.
She spoke almost in a whisper. "What is the doctor coming for?"
"Hughes thought that he had better come."
"Is it so bad as that? George, what was that stuff you gave us?"
"I have not said that it was anything. The--the dose was too strong."
"Was it poison?"
"Margaret!"
I took her two hands in mine. She came into my arms. I held her to my breast.
"Was it poison? If you love me half as much as I love you you will tell me, George."
"Margaret!"
"What poison was it?"
"Laudanum!"
She drew herself away from me. She looked at me with her great wide open eyes. Then her eyes were closed. Before I had the least suspicion of what was going to happen she had fallen to the ground. I knelt beside her.
"Margaret!" I cried. I cried to her in vain. I was seized with a great horror. "She is dead!" I exclaimed.
Hughes came running forward. I almost sprang at him.
"You have killed her!"
"Don't be an idiot, Lucas! Shecan'tbe dead!"
"She is dead. And it is your work. For the matter of that, all our blood is upon your head. But we shall not die alone. You shall come, too, my friend."
"If you don't take your hands away, Lucas, I shall have to do you a mischief."
"Mr. Lucas! Mr. Hughes! Have you both of you gone mad? Are you aware that there are ladies present?"
The interference came from Pybus. He dragged us asunder. He showed more presence of mind, and more coolness, too, than I had credited him with. He was a great deal calmer than either Lucas or I.
"What is the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour? And what is the matter with Miss Hammond?"
"He has killed her."
"Who has killed her?"
"That scamp; with his infernal negligence."
"I don't in the least understand you. And I think that instead of wrangling here your attentions were better bestowed upon Miss Hammond."
I threw myself at her side. I was like a man distraught in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions which came sweeping over me.
"My darling! Oh, my darling! I shall soon be with you. Already the poison is stealing through my veins. May my end be as rapid as was yours. Why doesn't the doctor come? I don't believe that you have sent for him. Go and fetch him."
Again I sprang at Hughes. And again Pybus interposed.
"Mr. Lucas, may I ask for an explanation of your singular conduct? Has Miss Hammond fainted?"
"Fainted! He has poisoned her!"
"Poisoned her!"
"Yes, and you and me and all of us! We all, like her, are doomed to die."
"Mr. Lucas!"
"Lucas, you're--you're mad, you know."
This was Hughes. But a piercing scream came from the couch.
"I knew that I was poisoned!"
Mrs. Chalmers might know that she was poisoned, but that was no reason why, on the strength of her knowledge, she should develope violent hysterics, which she immediately did. I had never seen so much of the man in Pybus as he showed just then. He gave one look at Mrs. Chalmers, and then he turned to Hughes.
"Mr. Hughes, will you be so good as to tell me if there is any meaning in Mr. Lucas's words?"
Hughes was ghastly white.
"The great point is to bring Miss Hammond back to life again. While we are talking here she may be dying at our feet. I appeal to your manhood, Mr. Pybus, to help me bring her back to consciousness."
Hughes knelt down by Margaret. Pybus turned to me.
"What does he mean?" he said.
I did not answer. I knelt down by Hughes. He had my darling's hand in his. I saw that he was putting great restraint upon himself. Beads of perspiration were on his brow.
"She is not dead," he stammered. "She is in a faint or something. At any cost we must bring her back to consciousness. Be a man, Lucas, and help me. Her life should be even more precious to you than to me."
"Don't talk like that, Hughes. Don't you see that I am nearly mad already? What can I do?"
"Help me to raise her."
Between us we raised her to a perpendicular position.
"Mr. Pybus, can I trouble you to order some brandy? Stay, she is coming back to life again!"
She was. She sighed. She opened her eyes, as if she were waking out of sleep. She turned to me.
"George!"
"My darling!"
I caught her in my arms. I held her to my breast. What mattered it if there were others there? We were standing by an open grave!
"I do so love you, George!"
She was dreaming. She thought we were alone.
"Margaret!"
I kissed her. Something caused her to look round. There was old Pybus standing at her side. She drew herself away from me. She blushed a rosy red; then her glance travelled round the room. She pressed her hands against her bosom. A startled look came into her eyes.
"Then--it wasn't all a dream."
Hughes slipped his arm through hers.
"Miss Hammond, I must insist upon your taking exercise. Take a sharp turn or two round the room with me. Lucas, I wish you'd sit down and play us a dance. Or, better still, let me sit down and play, and you and Miss Hammond take a few turns together. Mr. Pybus, you must dance with Mrs. Chalmers. A flyaway gallop, or a rattling polka. They're better than valses."
There was a remarkable expression upon old Pybus's enamelled countenance. So far as that goes, I expect there was on mine--but, as to that, no matter.
"Might I ask, once more, for an explanation of these very singular proceedings?"
"I warn you, Mr. Pybus, that if you do not dance with Mrs. Chalmers, you must be responsible for the consequences, both as they regard yourself and the lady."
Pybus's eyes wandered from Hughes to Mrs. Chalmers. The lady was making noise enough for ten. She did not strike the imagination as being a promising partner for a dance. So Pybus seemed to think. Hughes struck up, "You should see me dance the polka," playing it at the rate of about sixty miles an hour. Margaret looked at me.
"Are you and I to dance? Why dance?"
I shook my head.
"Hughes," I said, "I can't."
"You must, man, you must! Are you mad?"
"I can't."
I couldn't. A numbness seemed to be settling on my brain. My legs refused to support me. I sank into a chair. Margaret hesitated for just one second. I could see her trembling. Then she sat on the ground close to my feet. She leaned her arm upon my knee. Her face was turned towards mine.
"Nor can I. If we must die, George, let us die together; but not dancing."
"What on earth," inquired Pybus, "is all this talk of dying, Mr. Hughes? I insist upon an answer, sir."
In a sort of fury Hughes leaped from the music-stool.
"And I insist, Mr. Pybus, upon your dancing with Mrs. Chalmers. I warn you that if you don't you will be morally guilty, not only of murder, but of suicide." He turned to me. "As for you--are you a man? Do you think that it is your life only which is hanging in the balance? I tell you that the only hope for Miss Hammond is to keep her circulating. Do that, and I will answer for it with my own life, that all will yet be well."
"Come, while I can, let me keep you circulating, Maggie!"
It was not often that I called my "rare, pale Margaret" Maggie. But, at that master moment of our lives, I felt that the endearing name was best. She rose, my darling. I put my arm about her waist.
"George, whatever you think it best."
"That's better," said Hughes.
"Now let me see you go it. Give her fits, my boy."
Again he dashed into Mr. Grossmith's popular air. I never heard it played at such a rate before. Possibly with a view of raising our spirits, he shouted out the chorus in a tone of voice which must have been audible quite two streets away. It was deafening!