My dear Hubby,Won't you open your eyes to see whereIam? I arrived a week ago, to stay with Nancy's friend, Mrs. De Wolfe, and am now living among the very highest company, and on the fat of the land! This is a lovely old place, something like what you read of in novels—with a great park, and lots of stiff-looking servants, and palms in the sitting rooms, and wonderful table silver. Here up in my room, every time I come into it, I find a fresh can of hot water standing in the basin—but I believe there are six housemaids—and such scented soap, and bath salts, and a big four-post bed, as soft as whipped cream. A great tennis tournament is being held all this week; so far I have done pretty well, in the 'ladies' doubles,' and this house is as full as if it were a fashionable hotel. Most of the people are strangers to me, except as tennis and Bridge partners, Finchie's niece and nephew are here, the Hon. Mrs. Speyde,—a black-eyed, flighty-looking widow,—and the Honourable Tony Lamerton, her brother: not a bad sort, and a good tennis player, but with a laugh to split your head! There is Major Horne, I came home with him on board ship last time but one,—terribly sea-sick he was too! and of all people in the world, who do you think, butCaptain Mayne! His uncle lives in these parts.Isn't it strange that he and Nancy should be staying in the same house, and talking politely to one another, as if they were bare acquaintances that had only lately met, for the first time? I suppose they have to pretend, as they are keeping their past verydark; and I believe they are both as obstinate as a pair of commissariat mules. I noticed that he sat next her at dinner last night, and they scarcely spoke, and they have played in the same sets at tennis. I also notice that he plays as a 'bachelor' against the married men. All the time, I'm the only one here, or in England, who happens to know, that he and Nancy are married; and when he addresses her as 'Miss Travers,' it's all I can do to hold my tongue. At tennis, I think they sometimes forget their feud, for I have heard him shout, 'Yours, Nancy,' and I have seen the two of them laughing together,—but elsewhere, as far as their manners to one another are concerned, they might have come out of a refrigerator!I must say, it's an awful pity that such a handsome young couple cannot make it up. I think Nancy should come forward,—being the one in the wrong. She is a real darling, and such a beauty that you'd never know her, and so nice and affectionate to a dowdy old girl likeme. I wish she and Mayne would make it up. I'd try my hand, only you say I always make a botch of such affairs, blurt out secrets, and give the show away. Well, well! perhaps something may happen to put things right.Old Mrs. De Wolfe is wrapped up in Nancy, she might be her own granddaughter; the girl goes about the place, as if she had lived here for years; she is well liked too,—indeedtoomuch liked by some! There's a dark foreign fellow, who is always trying to be her shadow, and who dances with her of an evening, but as far as I can see, I don't think Mayne minds—he has his own fish to fry!By the time this is in your hands, Jess and Teddy will have arrived, and given you my news, and your new socks, and jerseys. I'm sending you some postcards of this place; but they give a very poor idea of its style. Many a time, I shall dream of it, I know, when I am back with you in old Panora. You and I fancy our roses; well, you should see thosehere; the Pergolas just smothered in them, and the rosery a sight for angels; as for the apricots on the south wall, my mouth waters, when I think of them!Mrs. De Wolfe herself, in spite of all her engagements, has been mighty kind and friendly to me, and made me feel quite athome. When you look at the postcard of this place, and think of me, you will laugh at the idea. I play Bridge with her; my word! she is first class. Sees mistakes—but never scolds—not likeyou! Once she took me round the big garden all by myself. At the time, I felt it a tremendous honour, but on second thoughts, I believe she wanted to get something out of me about Nancy. She did her big best to pump me about Mayne,—and the reason of their coolness, but for once I was on my guard, and left her just as wise as ever! I'm afraid I told one or two small lies, but that under the circumstances, couldn't be helped. I'd give fifty rupees, cash down, to see her face, when she hears thetruth. I'll write from London by next mail.Your affectionate wife,Susan Hicks.
My dear Hubby,
Won't you open your eyes to see whereIam? I arrived a week ago, to stay with Nancy's friend, Mrs. De Wolfe, and am now living among the very highest company, and on the fat of the land! This is a lovely old place, something like what you read of in novels—with a great park, and lots of stiff-looking servants, and palms in the sitting rooms, and wonderful table silver. Here up in my room, every time I come into it, I find a fresh can of hot water standing in the basin—but I believe there are six housemaids—and such scented soap, and bath salts, and a big four-post bed, as soft as whipped cream. A great tennis tournament is being held all this week; so far I have done pretty well, in the 'ladies' doubles,' and this house is as full as if it were a fashionable hotel. Most of the people are strangers to me, except as tennis and Bridge partners, Finchie's niece and nephew are here, the Hon. Mrs. Speyde,—a black-eyed, flighty-looking widow,—and the Honourable Tony Lamerton, her brother: not a bad sort, and a good tennis player, but with a laugh to split your head! There is Major Horne, I came home with him on board ship last time but one,—terribly sea-sick he was too! and of all people in the world, who do you think, butCaptain Mayne! His uncle lives in these parts.
Isn't it strange that he and Nancy should be staying in the same house, and talking politely to one another, as if they were bare acquaintances that had only lately met, for the first time? I suppose they have to pretend, as they are keeping their past verydark; and I believe they are both as obstinate as a pair of commissariat mules. I noticed that he sat next her at dinner last night, and they scarcely spoke, and they have played in the same sets at tennis. I also notice that he plays as a 'bachelor' against the married men. All the time, I'm the only one here, or in England, who happens to know, that he and Nancy are married; and when he addresses her as 'Miss Travers,' it's all I can do to hold my tongue. At tennis, I think they sometimes forget their feud, for I have heard him shout, 'Yours, Nancy,' and I have seen the two of them laughing together,—but elsewhere, as far as their manners to one another are concerned, they might have come out of a refrigerator!
I must say, it's an awful pity that such a handsome young couple cannot make it up. I think Nancy should come forward,—being the one in the wrong. She is a real darling, and such a beauty that you'd never know her, and so nice and affectionate to a dowdy old girl likeme. I wish she and Mayne would make it up. I'd try my hand, only you say I always make a botch of such affairs, blurt out secrets, and give the show away. Well, well! perhaps something may happen to put things right.
Old Mrs. De Wolfe is wrapped up in Nancy, she might be her own granddaughter; the girl goes about the place, as if she had lived here for years; she is well liked too,—indeedtoomuch liked by some! There's a dark foreign fellow, who is always trying to be her shadow, and who dances with her of an evening, but as far as I can see, I don't think Mayne minds—he has his own fish to fry!
By the time this is in your hands, Jess and Teddy will have arrived, and given you my news, and your new socks, and jerseys. I'm sending you some postcards of this place; but they give a very poor idea of its style. Many a time, I shall dream of it, I know, when I am back with you in old Panora. You and I fancy our roses; well, you should see thosehere; the Pergolas just smothered in them, and the rosery a sight for angels; as for the apricots on the south wall, my mouth waters, when I think of them!
Mrs. De Wolfe herself, in spite of all her engagements, has been mighty kind and friendly to me, and made me feel quite athome. When you look at the postcard of this place, and think of me, you will laugh at the idea. I play Bridge with her; my word! she is first class. Sees mistakes—but never scolds—not likeyou! Once she took me round the big garden all by myself. At the time, I felt it a tremendous honour, but on second thoughts, I believe she wanted to get something out of me about Nancy. She did her big best to pump me about Mayne,—and the reason of their coolness, but for once I was on my guard, and left her just as wise as ever! I'm afraid I told one or two small lies, but that under the circumstances, couldn't be helped. I'd give fifty rupees, cash down, to see her face, when she hears thetruth. I'll write from London by next mail.
Your affectionate wife,Susan Hicks.
The letter from Mrs. Hicks to her "hubby" gave a fairly good sketch of events at the Court. There had been tennis, boating, Bridge, dancing, a certain amount of strolling about the lawns and turf walks, and sitting in rustic arbours, with congenial companions. Mrs. Hicks had played well, and vigorously in the married ladies against single, and it seemed to Mayne like good old days, when she served her cleverly placed balls, and shouted her triumphs.
On her arrival at the Court, Nancy, her neighbour, had taken her under her wing, inspected her wardrobe, subdued its too vivid colours with lace and chiffon, altered the style of her friend's hats with her own clever fingers, and made useful suggestions with regard to coiffure. Also, she gave her the names and characteristics of expected guests, and did her utmost to make her comfortable, and put her at her ease,—and Mrs. Hicks was not ungrateful. As she stood patiently, whilst the girl pinned and arranged a fichu upon her portly form, she said, "I declare to you, Nancy, you've done more to fix me up, and show me the ropes in two days, than my own girls in two years. Of course they are busy with their love affairs,—and you have none,—and it's your own fault. There isn't a young man I know, that can hold a candle to Mayne, as to looks and manners. He took the shine out of them all, at Jessie's wedding.Whycan't you make it up?"
"It takes two to do that," said Nancy, as she took a pin out of her mouth.
"Ah, I suppose the letter you sent him choked him off? It's funny you and he being in the same set, and him coming to stay in this very house."
"Yes: too funny to be pleasant."
"Lots of girls like him; I saw that at Jessie's wedding, and when I was down at Burlingham,—and there's one lady, unless I am greatly mistaken, likes him uncommon,—that Mrs. Speyde, a niece of Finchie's. She is always running after him, I am told. Maybe they'll run away together, some day! Why, Nancy child, I declare you look quite vexed! You're not jealous, are you?"
"Of course not,"—now giving the fichu a twitch,—"what a ridiculous idea."
"Well, if he would only throw a book at you, before a witness,—and then run away with someone, it would make matters so nice and simple."
"Simple, yes, but not exactly nice."—After a moment's hesitation, and a fresh pin, "I always thought you liked him, Mrs. Hicks."
"So I do, but it's you, I'mreallyfond of; it's foryourgood I'm thinking. Don't I remember you a little darling in your nurse's arms? as for him, I only knew him for a matter of a few weeks. If you would put your pride in your pocket, all might yet be well: that is to say,ifyou liked him. Do you Nancy? Come now, own up?"
Nancy made no reply for some moments; at last she said, "I like him better than I did; there, now your fichu is all right, and looks very nice; you must wear it this evening,—but mind you don't put it on wrong side out! Now I must run and dress," and imprinting a kiss on Mrs. Hicks' hard and healthy cheek, she hurried out of the room.
A few days later, Nancy had reason to repeat Mrs. Hicks' question, was she jealous? Strange to say, the idea did not now appear to be so supremely ridiculous. Within the last week, she'd been a little startled at the discovery of emotions, the existence of which took her by surprise! She found, that it gave her a painful sensation to see Josie and Captain Mayne, on such excellent and intimate terms. They sat and talked, motored, and danced together—almost as if they were an engaged couple. She endeavoured to console herself with the fact, that it was Josie who was playing the part of enchantress: she had a wonderful power of appropriating the interest of a man.
It was a by no means unusual sight, to behold the fascinating Mrs. Speyde, encompassed by a little crowd of admirers;—whilst other and far prettier women were overlooked, and neglected. Of late she had an instinct that relations between herself and Josie were changed; and that Josie no longer liked her. More than once, she had caught her black eyes fixed upon her with a steady and vindictive glare; in her remarks there was a belittling and malicious note—and she had felt herself laughed at, and so to speak "baited," for the entertainment of the company,—yes, no later than that very day at breakfast! Josie was a splendid mimic, and if her manner was rather boisterous, no one could tell a story with more vivacity and point. Her usual plan was to relate the joint adventure of herself, and victim,—describing it with grotesque exaggeration, and gesture, and making her unfortunate butt, look contemptibly foolish, and ridiculous. Expostulation was useless,—after all, the story wasnottold behind the subject's back, but boldly face to face, with audacious effrontery, and Nancy's feeble explanations, were drowned in shouts of laughter. The merest incident was sufficient excuse, on which to hang a tale, and Josie's victims never had the wit or spirits, to carry the war into the enemy's quarter,—and the tyrant scored.
Although Captain Mayne and Nancy saw but little of one another indoors, they had been drawn to play together in the "Ladies' and gentlemen's doubles." This had excited the jealousy of Mrs. Speyde, and although she intrigued and manœuvred, nothing she did or said, could alter the detestable fact. Nancy knew by instinct, that her late friend hated to see her and Captain Mayne together,—even if it were only for a few minutes; when they barely exchanged a word!
The weather was perfect, though still rather warm; and the scene in the grounds and around the tennis courts, had been described in the local paper, as "brilliant." No such successful tournament had taken place for years; the sun had shone, and the world and his wife had flocked to Newenham from far and near, and there been entertained, with first-class tennis, excellent refreshments, and any amount of grapeseed!
It had been a particularly strenuous day for Nancy, who had not only played in two hard fought competitions, but in acting deputy hostess, among the very mixed multitude in the tents; seeing that ices and cup were unfailing, and in distributing little civilities among the crowd,—with Sir Dudley as her attendant. When the last game had been contested, and the last straggling group had dispersed, she strolled towards the river, accompanied by Mrs. Hicks, who pounced upon her bodily, and said, "Come you here, you little Nancy girl! I never get a word with you these times," taking her arm, and with a significant glance at Sir Dudley, she added, "turn about is fair play; he has had more than his share," she continued, as he moved off.
"My goodness! how the time flies, I've been here five days, and they have gone like greased lightning. Let us go and sit on the bench by the boat-house, and see if there is a bit of air from the river!"
"You played in your very best form to-day," said Nancy. "Your service was splendid; I felt immensely proud of you."
"Thank you, my dear, the same to you!" she rejoined, seating herself with a sigh of satisfaction. "Who's them two over in the boat? I'm getting a bit short-sighted?"
"Mrs. Speyde, and Captain Mayne."
"They don't seem to be rowing?"
"No, just drifting,—and talking."
"Drifting! so they are,—well! well! well! Look here, Nancy girl, I've got something to say to you. There's no one in the boat-house, is there?" peering round.
"No one,—and is it really such a secret?" and she laughed.
"You shall judge for yourself! The last three days I have kept my eyes open."
"Are theyevershut?"
"Now don't interrupt me, with your stupid jokes," protested her companion, with a touch of impatience. "I've seen, that you and him, for all your stand-off airs,—like one another right well."
"What makes you think so?"
"The use of my senses. I've noticed you smiling and jabbering together just like old times,—although you were only talking tennis; and I believe you're a bit jealous,—always averyhealthy sign. Now, my dear child, take an old friend's advice, and don't makethemistake of your life! Good fortune, and a providential chance, have brought you and Mayne here together. Are you going to let him drift away?"
"But why do you talk as ifIwere the one to act and come forward?"
"Because you are! Now listen to me," seizing her hand in a firm grip, "it is for you to make the advance; you gave him the go-by; it was certainly an amazing act for a girl of your age. Now I think you have come to your senses; but he is frightened of your money. Yes!" she continued with emphasis, "he as good as told Teddy, and I dug it out ofhim,—that had you not been anheiress, he would have been willing to make it up!"
"He said that,—did he?" said Nancy with a quick catch in her breath.
"So Teddy informed me, and I have always found him to speak the truth. He told me, as a dead, dead, secret,—and mind you let it go no further, for if Teddy knew, he'deatme,—although Iamhis mother-in-law! Seeing how things are, and being really fond of you, Nancy, I thought I'd not allow love to pass out of your life, without doing my best to interfere, and stop it."
Nancy's colour was high, her heart beat unusually fast; here, indeed, was a wonderful piece of information. So it was not altogether her unpardonable flight,—but the money, that stood between them. She sat for a long time in dead silence, with her eyes fixed upon the river. At last she murmured, "I don't see how I could possibly do it."
"You'll find it easy enough, once you and he are face to face; you will never have a chancehere; never a moment together, unless when playing tennis: that gay lady in the boat, now lighting her cigarette on his, takes right good care of that!"
"But I thought you were so near-sighted?" said Nancy, with a faint smile.
"Only when it's convenient: and I thought perhaps you might not notice the pair. Well, here is that long-legged young Tony and Miss Miller, coming to fetch you," said Mrs. Hicks, rising as she spoke. "Think over what I have told you, my dear child, and don't let matters slide! I'll just go in, and get a bit of a rest before dinner,—my poor old joints, ay, but they do ache!"
The last set had been played, tennis prizes been distributed amid much clapping and applause, performers and spectators had dispersed, the great tennis week was over!
Nancy, who felt mentally and bodily fatigued, contrived to escape from her friends, to enjoy a short rest, and breathing time, before the evening gaieties set in; and by devious and cunning short cuts, made her way to a favourite seat, at the end of the least frequented Pergola. Here for once, she found herself out of the public eye,—the only eyes that rested upon her, were those of her companion, Bob, the brown spaniel,—nephew to the dogs at Maynesfort. Bob detested tennis, and had followed his mistress under the fond delusion that she was about to take him for a nice run by the river; alas! no, she threw herself down on a hard rustic bench, and heaved a long sigh. Poor disappointed Bob was in complete sympathy with this frame of mind, and inclined to sigh too.
All day long, Nancy had borne the fierce light, that beats on a pretty popular girl,—the most prominent figure in a society gathering; as deputy hostess, tennis competitor, adviser, referee, arbitress in little half-playful disputes, with an eye to the guests in the refreshment tents, and in perpetual demand, here, there, and everywhere.
Mrs. De Wolfe had abdicated and taken her ease, and an attitude of serene detachment, seated among her contemporaries, and intimates; all little anxieties and worries, were handed over to her vice-reine, and although she had the gift of social grace, youth, and energy, Nancy found the sceptre as heavy as lead! Here was Mrs. Harper looking alarmingly red and explosive, because no one had escorted her to tea, and there was Lizzie Stevens on the verge of tears, because the umpire had given her two faults; Mrs. Fitzhammond had lost a dear old silver brooch, she had had since she was a school-girl, and was unpleasantly querulous, injured, and fussy; whilst Sutton the butler had informed poor Nancy in a hollow whisper, that "the ice was running out!"
Well, it was all over at last! and had been a surprising success; but the deputy hostess felt completely exhausted, as she took off her hat, and closed her eyes. The previous night, she had lain awake for many hours, meditating on Mrs. Hicks' unexpected revelation. It seemed to her, that she was approaching a crisis in her life: looking into her own heart, she saw Derek Mayne; yes, Derek, and no one else. Far removed from the tragedy of former associations, in another hemisphere, and among other surroundings, she realized his personal attraction, his upright character, unfailing good humour,—and for a man,—surprising unselfishness!
She had noticed his thoughtful attention to his uncle; his pleasant ways to children, and to nobodies,—it was he, who had relieved her of Mrs. Harper, and carried off that swelling matron, to enjoy ices, and conversation (whilst Dudley Villars lay prone on the grass, at the feet of the county's duchess, entertaining her with scraps of highly-spiced scandal!). She recalled to mind, what a favourite he had been with her father; how he had given her to him when on his deathbed; later how fiercely she had thrust him aside, and fled. Yes! there was no doubt, thatshewas the offender; and it was for her, to venture the first advance—an advance bristling with difficulties and dangers. If she made an overture and was repulsed—how—how, could she ever hold up her head again? on the other hand, if she made no sign, and he went away, it would be something whispered,—for—ever.
During the last few days she and Derek had been on easier terms; naturally the tournament had thrown them together; more than once, he had addressed her as "Nancy," and more than once, she had surprised him surveying her with an expression of keen attention, and something else—"What?" What it was she could not analyse; interest, yes, perhaps interest; at any rate, the glance was neither cynical nor scornful! Possibly it might mean, that he wished to speak to her, that—oh no, never by word or look, had he intimated that he looked for any change in their relations; if she was to say, or do anything that would count; if she was to venture to break the ice, and her heart quailed at the mere idea of such an undertaking,—it must besoon. On Saturday, he was leaving the Court, and from what she could gather, shortly returning to India; so it was a case of now, or never! How could she begin?—she had not the gracious art of approaching the unapproachable. As she sat meditating, and by no means fancy free, the thumping of Bob's tail announced his welcome to someone; and opening her eyes, she beheld the subject of her thoughts, rapidly approaching along the turf walk. Was she asleep? or was his appearance the result of some strange telepathy?
How good-looking he was! a lover to gladden the eyes of any girl. His flannels set off an admirable well-knit figure—the touch of scarlet in his blazer, was eminently becoming to his dark hair and eyes; in one hand he swung a bat, and was apparently pressed for time.
"Well, what is it?" he inquired, as he came within earshot.
"I'm sure I don't know!" she answered, now sitting erect.
"But Mrs. Hicks told me to hurry here at once—she said you wished to speak to me."
"She must have been dreaming!"
"On the contrary, she looked particularly wide awake, and would take no refusal,—we are just getting up a match." Nevertheless, he lingered.
"I should have thought you'd had enough of tennis for to-day," remarked Nancy.
"Yes, I daresay. You are in great form, you and I, are the proud winners of the ladies' and gentlemen's doubles. I say——" he paused abruptly.
"What do you say?" she asked.
"Well,—it's about that fellow Villars;—you will remember, I begged you to drop him; and I find him here installed as Tame cat: in fact a sort of Puss in Boots,—running the whole show!"
"That's true," admitted Nancy, "but Sir Dudley wasl'ami de la maisonlong before Mrs. De Wolfe knew me,—and surely you can scarcely expect her to turn out her old friends onmyaccount,—besides, he is her godson."
"So you think that sanctifies him?" shifting his bat under his arm.
"No, certainly not; but I do honestly believe, you are prejudiced and that Sir Dudley is not any worse than his neighbours; he is religious in his way too, always down to family prayers,—of course, attendance is optional,—whilstyouappear with the hot dishes! He reads the Scriptures beautifully,—I've never heard the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes read with such expression."
"If you would only take my word for it, the Song of Solomon is a thousand times more in his line—all about my beloved, and roses, and lilies."
"Do you know, that he has awife?" said Nancy expressively.
"No, has he? Unhappy woman! but Idohappen to know, that he has run away with another man's wife! Certainly, it was years ago,—if he made any scandal with mine"—he paused and looked full into her eyes, "by Jove I would kill him,—and I shouldliketo kill him!"
Nancy burst into a peal of laughter. "How melodramatic you are! and how you do abhor him!"
"May I ask, if he is aware, that you have a husband?" Although his manner chaffed her—his voice had a ring of earnestness.
"What an absurd question; of course not! There isn't a soul in this country, who's in the secret—except Mrs. Hicks."
"I say," he exclaimed, "we are a fine couple of impostors! You may be amused to hear, that my uncle has taken an immense fancy to you."
"How nice of him."
"And between ourselves, he thinks you would be an ideal niece-in-law. The Maynes are poor, the place swallows up money, and the reigning proprietor is obliged to get hold of a consort with coin."
A thought instantly darted into Nancy's mind; here was her opportunity! and as if in obedience to some irresistible force, she rose, with a hammering heart,—looking, did she but know it, enchantingly pretty.—A little pale perhaps, but stirred by some inward emotion, her lovely face was unusually expressive. One or two rose leaves had fallen on her uncovered hair, and the light between the branches overhead, sent the shadows of leaves, to dance gaily upon her white skirt.
"A wife with coin," repeated Nancy, speaking with a desperate effort, and fixing her eyes upon the ground, "well! you did that yourself."
"Quite unintentionally, I assure you," was the emphatic reply; "the girl I married, was as poor as a church mouse! Nothing would temptmeto marry for money."
"I suppose," began Nancy—and she hesitated.
"You suppose what?" he asked sharply.
"That if ... if ..." she stammered—for the tone of his voice had been discouraging, and made her, if possible—more nervous. "If you could forgive me,—do you think.... Oh, howcanI put it?..." and her voice shook, "thatIcould tempt you? Oh no, I don't meanthat,—only I don't want all that money; no one knows better than you do, that I never was accustomed to riches, and—and I should be only too thankful, to give it to you."
Mayne stared at her amazed! She was no longer pale.
"Nancy!" he exclaimed, "I remember how in old days you talked the wildest nonsense, I don't suppose for a moment, that you know or mean, one single word of what you are saying."
"Yes, I do," she rejoined tremulously, "but I can promise you this,"—her lips quivered—and she added with difficulty, "I will never say it again," she paused, struggling between pride, and emotion.
"Oh, my dear Nancy, if I could only believe you—don't you know——"
"So here you are, Derek!" exclaimed a high, authoritative treble, and through a breach in the Pergola, Mrs. Speyde appeared, waving an imperative tennis bat. "Have you forgotten, that we areallwaiting to make up a match?" She glanced sharply from him to Nancy. His face wore a strained expression, as for the girl, she was the colour of a crimson rambler!
"Ah," with a little malicious laugh, "I see you have been talkingsecrets. Yes, Miss Nancy, I always suspected that you knew a good deal more about this gentleman than you pretended. Well, for the present, you must leave the catinthe bag. Derek," laying an arresting hand on his arm, "you'vegotto come!"
Mayne drew back, but before anything further happened, Nancy had picked up her hat, and vanished through an opening that led into the old walled garden.
That same evening, Nancy selected her most becoming frock, and took particular pains with her hair—for she entertained high hopes, that Mayne would seek her out, and endeavour to resume the conversation so cruelly interrupted by Josie Speyde. At dinner, she saw nothing of him,—as he happened to be on the same side of the table; later, as he held the door for the ladies to pass forth, it seemed to her, that he gave her a glance of particular significance; but strange to say, he did not come into the drawing-room with the other men.
About an hour later, when she was singing a duet with Sir Dudley, she noticed him standing near the door. It struck her, that he looked pale and rather stern,—as if he had been annoyed, or disappointed; he made no effort whatever to speak to her for the remainder of the evening; and she retired for the night, with an acute sense of hopelessness, and depression.
The following morning the guests who still remained at the Court, made up a party to attend a race meeting at Knapshot. Knapshot was thirty miles away, and could be reached by rail,—as the Court was but a short distance from a mean, and undeserving little station. However, most of the party decided to go by motor; Mrs. De Wolfe, Mrs. Horne, Sir Dudley and Nancy in the comfortable roomy Daimler, with Roger De Wolfe sitting by the chauffeur, Major Horne, Billy Miller, Josie and Captain Mayne, followed in the new Rolls-Royce. Several preferred to travel by rail, and Mrs. Hicks remained at home, to rest her weary bones, and repose upon her well-earned laurels.
The races, though not particularly notable, offered good sport; the lunch was excellent, the ladies had their fortunes told, and did a little betting. Mrs. De Wolfe and Mrs. Horne elected to return by train early in the afternoon, as there was a dinner-party at the Court that night—the last function of the week, moreover, the old ladies found motoring rather hot, and dusty; and escorted by Roger, left the rest of the party to follow, enjoining on all, that on no account were they to be late.
"We will go back just as we came!" said Josie, "we played games all the way, and don't want to break up our happy little set!"
This arrangement left Sir Dudley and Nancy to share the Daimlertête-à-tête, and she offered a seat to Billy, who, however (naturally), preferred to travel in company with Major Horne!
"We will take different roads," declared Josie, who seemed to have assumed command of the whole party, "and race, and see which car gets home first? The Charlton road is the shortest: but it's out of repair, the other by Langford is a couple of miles longer—but good going all the way. Shall we toss, Dudley?—come, be sporting, and have something on!"
They tossed accordingly, Mrs. Speyde won the long route—and booked a bet of five pounds.
With a good deal of laughing, and joking, the competitors started together, but within a quarter of a mile, the cars had separated, the Rolls-Royce to take a high road, more or less bordering the railway, the Daimler to plunge into what seemed to be the very heart and soul of the country. It was a light and lovely September evening, and they sped along with noiseless ease,—considering the ruts.
"This is a ripping good car!" remarked Sir Dudley, "and Josie's five pounds is already in my pocket,—I suppose your chauffeur knows the way?"
"Oh yes," replied Nancy, "Saxton belongs to this part of the country, he has been with Mrs. De Wolfe for years."
The couple discussed the races, the fortune-teller, and other matters, but neither appeared to be in a talkative mood. It was delightful flying along these quiet, grass-bordered roads, and lanes, breathing the soft delicious air, watching the homing birds, and the solemn rise of a splendid harvest moon. Suddenly Sir Dudley said:
"I thought Mayne's leave was up, and that he was sick of this country, but I heard him tell a fellow at the races, that he was going to apply for an extension."
"Is he?" murmured Nancy, and a bright colour invaded her face. "Was this the outcome of their interrupted interview?"
"Yes, and the sooner he goes the better! Josie Speyde is carrying on one of her most outrageous flirtations. Lord! what a number of them I've seen! If I didn't know her so well, I would swear that this time, she was in earnest. There was Chapman, Fotheringay, Montague——"
"Oh! Sir Dudley, it really isn't fair, to tell tales of your own cousin."
"Josie wouldn't mind, on the contrary, she's proud of her scalps. She's a queer woman, in her way—a freak! Here we are, on a by-road I see. I suppose it's all right?" then as the car slowed down, and drew up beside a picturesque old cottage, he added, "but what is he stopping for?"
"I expect to get water for the car," replied Nancy. "What a dear place"—looking in through the open door—"there's such a darling oak chest in the passage!"
"Yes, I know your craze,—and I think I see some china on a dresser further on! Do you wish to go in?"
"Only just for a second,—it looks the sort of cottage where one can pick up the most priceless treasures!" Before she finished the sentence, Nancy was already in the passage. A stout, grey-haired woman with a bulky figure and a pleasant face, appeared, wiping her hands.
"I wanted to look at your beautiful old chest," explained the visitor. "I caught sight of it through the open door."
"You are very welcome, miss," she answered, "and there's a still better one in the kitchen—if you care to see that? We have a good few old things—that came down from Bode's grandmother—Bode was my husband—he's dead, poor man—this ten year."
Nancy followed the woman down a long flagged passage, and found herself in a heavily-beamed, low room,—with a vast fireplace. Here she discovered a fine oak settle, a dresser and a chest,—with the date, sixteen hundred and seventy. Nancy was in raptures, and fell in love with an old blue bowl, that she saw on the dresser. She admired it with such heartfelt enthusiasm, that the woman,—honestly displaying various cracks,—declared that "it had been her grandfather's, but now leaked. If the young lady fancied it—she could have it for a shilling."
But Nancy protested, and said, "I wouldn't dream of imposing on your generosity"—she did not like to use the word "ignorance," and added, "I will gladly give you a sovereign for it"—and produced her purse. The bargain being concluded to their mutual satisfaction, and Sir Dudley having approved of the family chest, and bench, they took leave of the hostess, and returned to the entrance, but here, to their utter and speechless amazement, there was no motor to be seen!
"Where is he?" cried Nancy, looking up and down the road. "Has he taken the car into the yard?"
No, neither car, nor chauffeur were about the premises—they had mysteriously disappeared,—as if dissolved into thin air. Whilst Nancy and her companion stood bewildered, and exclaiming, a youth on a shaggy colt trotted up.
"Dan, did you see a motor?" demanded his mother.
"I did, it passed me just now—going at a great rate."
"What is to be done?" said Nancy, turning to Sir Dudley in despair.
"I understand what's happened; the fellow didn't notice us getting out, he was round in the yard at the time, and, thinking we were still in the car, he has driven off, and left us! Is there any station near this?" turning to the woman.
"Yes, about two miles off, but there's few trains. This is a terrible awkward place to get away from—being a bit out of the way."
"I suppose you have a post-office within reach?" inquired Nancy.
"Yes, in Lofty village,—a mile off."
"Then let us send a wire for the car to return; Auntie Wolfe will be most awfully fussed, if we are not back in time for dinner."
"You can take a telegram, my lad?" said Villars, appealing to the young man.
"Oh yes, sir, for sure," he answered eagerly.
"Then I've got a pencil, and," to Mrs. Bode, "if you'll let me have a bit of paper, I'll just go inside and write it." He retired indoors, and Nancy talked to the colt and Dan, and after a few minutes, Dudley reappeared, and handed a message to the youth, along with a half-crown.
"I'll give you something for yourself, when you come back; be as quick as ever you can. It's half-past seven now," he added, looking at his watch, and then glancing at Nancy, he nodded his head, and said, "There will be no dinner party for you, and me."
"Oh, if they deliver the message at the Court at once, say in half an hour, the car should be here by nine. We will dash home, and appear in time for dessert."
"'I doubt it, said the carpenter, and shed a bitter tear,'" quoted Villars. "Perhaps Mrs. Bode can find us something to eat?" he added.
"I am sorry I haven't got no butcher's meat in the house, sir, but there's fresh eggs, and cold bacon,—and good home-made bread."
"There are worse things!" said Villars, "but I'm not hungry, I was thinking of the young lady."
"A cup of tea, and a slice of home-made bread, is what I should like, if Mrs. Bode will be so kind,—and I shall make the most of my time, in poking about among her nice old things, and there is my nice blue bowl, which I intend to carry home, as a souvenir of this funny adventure. Will you come and help me to ransack the cottage?" said Nancy. "I know you have aflairfor old oak, and pewter too."
"No," replied Villars, "I'll let you have it all your own way for once; and leave you to gather up the spoil. I'll just stroll down the road for half an hour,—and smoke a cigarette."
Meanwhile the merry quartette in the Rolls-Royce had reached their destination rather late, but before she rushed off to dress, Mrs. Speyde eagerly inquired if Miss Travers, and Sir Dudley had arrived?
"No, ma'am, not yet," replied Sutton, the butler.
"Hooray!" she cried, turning to Mayne, "I win five pounds, and I'll gamble it away to-night, on weak, no trumpers."
There happened to be a considerable gathering at the Court that evening. Besides the guests in the house, not a few neighbours were present; and the beautiful old mahogany table loaded with fine silver, and softly shaded candelabra, surrounded by smart and well-favoured young people, looked very gay indeed. The racing party, who had scrambled into their clothes, gradually dropped in between soup, and the second entrée, and heartlessly announced that "the others had evidently lost their way!" It certainly looked like it, for as time advanced, no one appeared to fill the two vacant places;—and vacant places, make a gap, and spoil the symmetry of a dinner table, much as a missing front tooth, mars a pretty face!
"They certainly ought to be here bythistime," remarked Mrs. De Wolfe, consulting her wristlet watch, "it's just half-past nine."
"Perhaps the car has broken down?" suggested Major Horne, "and they are walking home!"
"A fairly long walk," said Billy Miller, "and a hatefully lonely road."
"Oh! Dudley won't mindthat," said Josie, in an intimate aside.
It had been a lively and festive meal, the guests were all in high good humour. Dessert had been disposed of, and the ladies were awaiting Mrs. De Wolfe's "eye," when Sutton, the butler, entered with unusual solemnity, and bending his head, made some grave announcement in the immediate vicinity of her left ear.
"Nonsense!" she exclaimed in a startled tone, "nonsense!"
"What is it?" demanded Mayne, and his voice sounded masterful, and imperious.
"Sutton tells me, that the car has come back, and that it isempty!"—Meanwhile Sutton stood by, with a face as expressionless as a dinner plate!
"Empty!" echoed Mrs. Horne; "what does he mean?—where are Nancy, and Sir Dudley?"
Sutton cleared his voice twice, and with an overwhelming importance suitable to the occasion, said: "When the footman ran down to open the door just now, there was no one inside the car—nothing but the dust knee cover, and Miss Travers' feather boa."
After a deadly silence, Mrs. De Wolfe pulled herself together, rose and said, as she looked round, "Of course we shall find some ridiculous explanation; meanwhile, let us adjourn,—I will interview Saxton myself."
Whilst the ladies in the drawing-room were whispering, and wondering, and the men in the dining-room were "lighting up" and passing round the port, Mrs. De Wolfe entered the library, there to await her chauffeur. She was accompanied by Roger, and was not a little astonished, when Captain Mayne joined them. He made no excuse whatever, and looked serious, and unlike his usual cheery self. After a short delay, Saxton was ushered in,—a middle-aged, clean-shaven man,—of few words.
"Pray explain, Saxton, where you left Miss Travers, and Sir Dudley?" said his mistress.
"That's more than I can say, ma'am," and there was a moment's silence.
"Well, saysomething!" urged Mayne impatiently (thrusting a spoon into what was not his porridge).
"All I can say, is, that I never laid an eye on either, from the time we left the race stand—till now."
"Where did you stop?" asked Mayne; promptly forestalling Mrs. De Wolfe's anxious questions.
"At a little old farm by the road, to get water for the engine. I ran round to the pump and wasn't away two minutes—later on we had a fairly long wait, maybe a quarter of an hour, at Harraby railway crossing."
"And you never happened to look back into the car?" suggested Roger De Wolfe.
"No, I never does,—I want all my eyes the other way."
"Very true, all right, go on."
"Well I was just staggered, when Fox opened the door of the car, and turned to me, and said, 'Why didn't you go round to the garage? there's no one inside'—and that's allIknow!"
"Very well, Saxton, that will do," said his mistress, "go now and get your supper," and with a military salute, Saxton departed.
"It is the strangest, most extraordinary affair," declared Mrs. De Wolfe. "I expect Nancy has done something wild, and giddy, and we shall have her arriving to-night, in the musty old station fly, full of her adventure, and apologies. I'm not really alarmed,—only puzzled. Well!" rising as she spoke, "I must return to the ladies; you two, have not had your smoke. Don't forget that we are playing Bridge,—and want to make up four tables."
Bridge proved to be unusually engrossing, and it was only when the players happened to be Dummy, that their thoughts wandered to the missing couple. Mayne was not among the card party, he seemed restless, and unsettled, and wandered into the big hall, where he concealed himself in one of the largest arm chairs, behind a newspaper. By twelve o'clock, the last lady guests had retired,—early hours were the rule at the Court.
And just about this time, a sinister whisper began to creep up from the lower regions; it reached Mrs. De Wolfe, as she was taking off her pearls. In spite of her attitude, the old lady was painfully anxious. "Thank God," she said to herself, "there was no fear of an accident,—the car and Saxton had come home intact; but where were Nancy and Dudley? Surely they must know the misery their absence was causing."
Turning to Haynes, her confidential treasure, she said, "Is it not extraordinary about Miss Travers? Although I have said nothing downstairs, I am very uneasy, and half inclined to telephone to the police station. I don't think there's much use in my going to bed, for I shall certainly not sleep. Why, Haynes, what's the matter, your face is all blotches,—you've been crying! Don't be foolish, don't you know, that half the troubles in the world, are those that have never happened."
"But thishashappened, ma'am," rejoined the maid with a sniff. "Martin tells me, that Antonio got a wire from his master about eight o'clock telling him where to bring his own car; and to pack his clothes, and get Miss Travers' warm coat, and a few things in a suit case. He said they were going off to Paris together."
The old lady gave a sharp exclamation, then suddenly sat down. "You must be out of your mind!" she cried.
"Martin wouldn't give him a stitch," continued Haynes triumphantly, "not as much as a pocket-handkerchief; she said she didn't believe a word he said—and I know myself, that I've caught him out in awful lies! However, he went and helped himself to a coat out of the hall—one ofyours, I think—took most of Sir Dudley's luggage, and went off with the car about ten o'clock: all the men saw him—! Here, wait a second, and I'll get a drop of brandy; keep up, my dear lady, and don't faint if you can help it, and Mrs. De Wolfe did keep up,—although she looked like death.
"I'm too old for these shocks, Haynes," she muttered, after a long silence, "I thought I was hardened! I suppose so far, this story is only known downstairs."
"That's all, ma'am; and I needn't tell you, that not one of the servants would breathe it."
The tale was nevertheless stealing through the house. Mrs. Speyde heard it from her maid; and was at first rudely incredulous. After taking two or three turns up and down the room, she said, "Wait a moment, I'll not undress yet—I've forgotten something downstairs."
"Can't I fetch it, ma'am?"
"No!" waving her back, "I know where it is myself!"
She went softly out along the corridor, and stood looking over the balustrade into the great lounge. Mayne was the only individual below—the other men were assembled in the smoking-room—suddenly he glanced up, and beheld Josie in her flame-coloured garment, drifting down the stairs. She paused half-way, and beckoned to him.
"Derek, I've something to tell you," she whispered, as she halted on the lowest step. Glancing round, she leant forward, and said: "Somethingdreadfulhas happened!—Dudley and Nancy have run away to Paris!"
Mayne stood very still—he might have been a stone.
"His own car, and chauffeur have gone to meet them with their luggage—what a terrible blow for the old lady!"
What a terrible blow for Mayne! This was the second time that Nancy had, so to speak, made him to pass through fire. How false, how treacherous, was that young, and innocent face!
As Mayne remained speechless, Josie continued: "So still waters run deep—not that Nancy was ever verystill. Although he is my own cousin, I always knew, that Dudley was a bad lot; a regular rotter! but as for the girl, I must confess I'm surprised.—Aren't you?"
"I am," he assented, in a strange dry voice, "surprised in one way, but not in another. It's not thefirsttime, that Miss Travers has run away."
Josie opened her great black eyes, to their widest extent.
"Andyouknew all about it—so that is the secret between you!" but Mayne made no reply, and to her great astonishment, walked across the hall, snatched his cap from a peg, opened the great door, and went out.
At this moment, the sound of loud and jovial voices approaching, warned her, that the smoking-room party were about to disperse, so she turned about, ran lightly up the stairs, and disappeared into her own apartment. As for Mayne, he went round into the stable-yard, where men were still hanging about: one of the neighbours had not yet taken his departure; he noticed a group of two or three grooms, and a couple of white-capped women in close conference,—they looked like a gang of conspirators. The doors of the great garage had not been closed, and as the moon made everything as bright as day, he saw, that Sir Dudley's big Mercédès had vanished!
As she had prognosticated, Mrs. De Wolfe never slept that night. She looked a wrinkled old wreck, when Haynes brought her her early tea; nevertheless this Spartan matron, insisted upon getting up and having herself dressed as usual. In spite of Haynes' expostulations, she declared, "I'll go down to breakfast, if it costs me my life! The people upstairs know nothing: so far no one knows the truth, except the servants, and I feel sure that they will keep this terrible matter to themselves. All my guests will have departed by twelve o'clock, and then I shall take to my bed. You may call it a chill, or whatever you like, but I depend upon you, to allowno oneto come near me."
The old lady's voice was unusually weak: her hands, as she put on her rings, trembled alarmingly. At last she was ready, and just as she was about to leave her room, a familiar figure came flying along the passage, with outstretched hands.
"Nancy!"
"Here I am at last!" she gasped out, "and so dreadfully, dreadfully, sorry, to have tortured you—darling Auntie," embracing her as she spoke.
"Where have you been?" said the trembling old lady, endeavouring to thrust her away.
"Let me come into your room, and tell you all about it." Taking her forcibly by the arm, she added, "Do sit down,—you are shaking all over!"
Mrs. De Wolfe made no reply, but signalled for her to speak.
"I spent last night in a cottage near Lofty.—You've heard about the car having left us behind. This morning, I got up at four o'clock, and walked over the wet fields, to a little station, and caught a milk train; I gave the guard five shillings,—and he dropped me at Haygate. Then I got the old fly,—and here I am!"
"And Dudley,—what has become of Dudley?"
"Haynes," said Nancy, suddenly turning towards her, "would you mind asking Martin to get my bath ready,—I do feel such a grub!"
Yes, for the first time in her life, Nancy appeared positively draggled: her hat was battered, her muslin race-gown torn and soiled, her smart shoes were covered with mud,—whilst her face looked worn, and almost haggard.
As soon as Haynes had departed, she sat down on the sofa by Mrs. De Wolfe, and taking her hand, she said, "Auntie, Sir Dudley has shown himself in his true colours, at last. He is a horrible, false, evil-minded wretch—yes, heis," then very rapidly she told how she could not resist the temptation to inspect the old chest, of the departure of the motor, and the wire dispatched to recall Saxton—sometimes speaking breathlessly, sometimes speaking deliberately, always with a great agitation, Nancy related the story of her experience in Mrs. Bode's front parlour;—to all of which her companion listened with an expression of incredulous horror.
When at last Nancy ceased to speak, she said: "Oh, to think of Dudley: Dudley, whom I've almost thought of as a son,—whata traitor! If anyone but you, had told me this—I would not have believed it. I must confess, this adventure of yours, has been a terrible revelation, another illusion destroyed. I have lost a life-long belief. Well, what you and I, have now to do, is to conceal this escapade. I shall go down, and announce your return. What cock and a bull story am I to tell them, Nancy?"
She rose as she spoke, and confronted her young friend,—looking terribly old, and shaken.
"Tell them?" repeated Nancy, "let me think! Tell them, that Sir Dudley and I were left behind,—thanks to Saxton's mistake, and that I was obliged to remain at the cottage for the night; but that Sir Dudley made his way to the nearest station, and went up to London. Do you think that will do?"
"It may pass! but what about his sending for his own car?"
"I don't suppose that will come out till later."
"No! Of course the servants will talk,—but their masters and mistresses who are leaving me to-day are bound to believemyversion of the adventure,—the least they can do after a week's hospitality!"
"Then I shall hurry off and have my bath, and dress," said Nancy, "and come down as soon as possible, and show myself. It will be rather a strain, all things considered, for just at present, I should like to go away, and have a really good comfortable cry."
Mrs. Bode's motley collection of good old "bits" of glass and china, odds and ends of quaint rubbish—samplers, beads, monster shells, mouldy books of great age, and Mrs. Bode's funny talk, had kept Nancy well amused, and occupied for nearly an hour, and then her hostess insisted on providing a meal, tea, home-made bread, fresh butter, russet apples, and cold bacon. With considerable pomp this simple repast, borne on a huge black tray,—was carried to the front sitting-room, or parlour, and there laid out upon a fine gate table,—flanked by cottage Chippendale chairs. From the deep narrow window, overlooking the road, Nancy leant out, and beckoned gaily to Sir Dudley,—who all this time had been pacing to and fro, smoking endless cigarettes.
As Nancy poured out tea, and he took a place opposite, she wondered if by any chance, Mrs. Bode would take them for husband and wife? Mrs. Bode, having as she considered, "done her manners," and pressed jam, bacon, and apples, in turn upon Sir Dudley, with an excuse about a sick calf, left them to their own devices. Sir Dudley appeared unusually silent and restless, he refused tea, but munched an apple, and then got up and began to pace about the long low room. His manner was that of a man, whose nerves were on edge.
"I can't think what is keeping the car," remarked Nancy, for the third time; "surely that boy took the wire," and she, too, rose, and returned to her post in the narrow deep-set window, through which the moonlight streamed into the room, making everything as clear as day.
"It is five minutes past ten by my watch."
"I expect your watch is fast," said Sir Dudley, as he joined her.
"Did you ever behold a more glorious night?Dio mio!What a night for lovers!" he murmured, as he confronted her in the narrow space.
Nancy felt a little uncomfortable; a vague sensation of apprehension came to her. "I think—I hear the car now," she announced, but her voice had an uncertain sound.
"It's just like old times, to have you all tomyself—even for an hour or two," continued her companion—ignoring her remark—"I'm in no hurry."
"ButIam," she declared with a nervous laugh.
"Everything comes to him who waits! I have waited nearly a year: and now, Nancy darling—" here Sir Dudley suddenly put his arm round her waist, "I've got you atlast!"
For a moment she was too paralysed to move; then as she felt his grip tightening, with a tremendous effort, she wrenched herself away, and backed against the shutter, breathless, and gasping.
"What do you mean?" she stammered. "How dare you?"
"A man dares anything, when he loves a woman—as for what Imean, I'll soon explain,—it's all I ask," he answered in a husky voice, now seizing both her wrists in a vice-like grip, and devouring her with his burning eyes. "Nancy, my love, I've adored you, from the moment we first met; but Auntie Wolfe's presence, and your own strange cold temperament,—held me in a state of frozen bondage. At first, I swear to you, I strove hard to strangle, and hide my feelings,—because Auntie Wolfe, my mother's friend,believesin me; but it was useless. After all,whyshould I struggle against my good angel? and you are cold and undemonstrative, as an angel should be—nevertheless, youdocare for me."
"No, no, no," protested Nancy breathlessly.—"Never—never—in the way you mean—I think you must be mad! Let go my hands."
"But yes, yes, yes," he reiterated. "To what other fellow, have you ever shown such preference? With me, you are always ready to sing, or dance, or sketch, or walk. I have watched like a lynx,—for I am as jealous as the devil,—and you have favourednone! As for Tony Hillside and Lord Lanark, bah!! You and I have tastes in common, we shall spend our lives together; we will go to Greece, to the Far East, to Japan,—and I will be your humble, and devoted slave."
"Willyou release my hands?" she demanded furiously.
"Presently, darling,—when I have said my say! Listen. Auntie Wolfe will forgive me in time; my wife will divorce me,—it will be merely a question of money."
Nancy endeavoured to interrupt, but it was useless; she was overpowered by a fiery torrent of words, and an emotion, ten times stronger than her own.
"Sometimes you drove me mad," he went on, "I felt inclined to kill you, and myself,—now fate has helped me!"
"I thought you were an honourable man," she broke in, "so this delay about the car deserting us, was all planned."
"No! I swear to you—I'll take my oath it was not," relinquishing her hands at last; "for once, good fortune has befriended me, and thrown me a priceless chance. I should like to pension that silly ass of a chauffeur; for thanks tohim, you are irretrievably compromised! Yes!" in reply to Nancy's gesture of recoil, "all the world will know, that you and I, have spent the night here together. As Miss Travers, you can never show your face in society; but later, as Lady Villars, you will be welcomed with open arms. The wire I sent, was to my man Antonio, telling him to bring my car and luggage here; I expect him about eleven, possibly earlier; as soon as he arrives, we will start for Folkestone, catch the early boat, and be in Paris in four hours!"
"Surely you do not suppose, that I will go with you," demanded Nancy fiercely.
"I do not suppose you have any alternative!" he answered impressively. "Of course I know, that I have startled you, by this unexpectedcoup, but before long, believe me, Nancy, you will look upon this evening, as the beginning of a new, and splendid life!Youwere not borne to waste your best days with an old woman,—who, much as I love her, saps one's vitality! You cannot deny that I am handsome, well born, wealthy, and adore you,—and if your cold little heart cares for anyone,—it cares forme. We were born to be happy together."
"What crazy talk!" cried Nancy, and she made an effort to pass him.
"No! no! my own darling; you shall stay here, and listen to me. Such love as mine, will kindle yours; it will,—itmust!"
Nancy's lips trembled—but she made no reply; she glanced at him, then round the room, with the eyes of a trapped animal; suddenly she made a dart, and placed the table between them. Oh! if she could but reach the door; but with folded arms, Sir Dudley stood between her, and that means of escape,—eyeing her strangely. At last, she said, in a low faint voice: "You spoke just now, about your wife?"
He nodded. "Yes! a she-devil; she's had serious money losses lately, and I shall have no difficulty in bringing her to terms; mywifewill be all right!"
"And what of my—husband?"
Villars broke into a loud derisive laugh, and said: "My own most exquisite Nancy, why invent a fairy tale? You and I, will live, a fairy tale."
"It is no fairy tale," she answered, "I was married in India before I came home."
"Pardon me,—but I do not believe it."
"I cannot help that,—but it is true! Mrs. Ffinch knows, so does Mrs. Hicks; she saw me married; it was all legal: my father wished it to take place,—as he was dying."
"And who are you?—who is your husband?"
"Captain Mayne."
"Mayne!why the joke gets better and better! you don't even speak; could you not think of someone more probable? What a preposterous make-up."
"It's no make-up, on my honour."
"Does Mrs. De Wolfe know?" he demanded sharply.
"No!"
"Nothing will ever make me believe your foolish story; if it were the truth,whyconceal it?"
"Because"—choking as she spoke—"immediately after the ceremony my father died; I was crazy with grief, Ihatedthe sight of Captain Mayne, I wrote, and told him this,—and then I ran away."
"Ah! so youcanrun away! Do you hate Captain Mayne now?"
"No, and if he would ask me, I would go back to him to-morrow."
Villars became suddenly livid—after a second's pause, a great perpendicular vein showed itself suddenly in his forehead.
"You would, would you? Well, from what I've seen of Mayne, he's the last sort of fellow to give you another chance; and anyhow this little episode withme, will, if youarehis wife, choke him off altogether! Listen to me, Nancy, I implore you; why waste your lovely youth? Why not come with me: live while you live, and see the far away beautiful world? And youshallcome with me," he concluded doggedly.
"I'd infinitely rather die!" she answered with decision.
"Oh, Nancy, when you speak, and look like that,—you break my heart; for months you have been my hope, and star,—my one thought,—my only object in life. Surely youguessed?"
"Never! or do you suppose, I should have been so friendly, and sisterly and trustful? Mrs. De Wolfe said your emotional speeches, and impulsive acts, were merely your Italian way,—and meant nothing,—she was mistaken, I see!"
"She was," now approaching, his eyes flaming in a white face.
At this moment, the door opened, and Mrs. Bode appeared in a bedgown and slippers. "There's ten o'clock gone, sir, and I'm thinking, that you and your lady, will have to stop here to-night. I can make up a room: it's not very grand, but,——" further information was interrupted,—by Nancy, who, thrusting the astonished matron violently aside, dashed out of the door, and ran down the long passage into the kitchen. The sound of Nancy's high-heeled shoes racing along the flags, brought Villars to his senses; he had a marvellous power of recovery and self-control; he had realized from the first, when Nancy recoiled from him against the shutter, that the game was lost! nevertheless, some infernal, perverse, impulse, urged him to persist! He might yet gain her by threats, and alarms—such cases had been known!
What devil had entered into him, and forced him to snatch his opportunity; had whispered into his ear,—as he wrote that telegram in this accursed room? The insanity of half an hour, had cost him the loss of Nancy, and his old godmother. Naturally the Court would be closed to him for the rest of his life. Yes! he had pretty well cooked himself. Well! he must make the most of a bad job!
Meanwhile, Mrs. Bode was staring at him, with her hands on her hips and her mouth half open. At last he turned round, and said: "The young lady and I have had a falling out."
"Looks a bit like it, sir! and I declare, here's the car come back for you at last!" for just at this moment, Antonio glided up to the entrance. Strange to say, neither the man nor motor were the same—this vehicle was a big grey open car, and there was luggage, and a lady's fur-lined coat, which the chauffeur brought in, and handed to Mrs. Bode with a ceremonious bow.
"Will you ask the lady to speak to me?" said Villars, as he pressed a sovereign into Mrs. Bode's horny palm.
"Thank you, sir; it's entirely too much,—entirely too much! I'll go and fetch the young lady," and Mrs. Bode padded off in her roomy felt slippers. She found Nancy, in the kitchen,—looking strangely white, and shaken.
"The car has come, miss," she announced cheerfully, "and here's your fur coat. The gentleman will be thankful, if he might speak to you?"
"No, Mrs. Bode, I will never speak to that gentleman again! If he follows me here I shall run away into the fields, or," looking round, "anywhere!"
"Then you ain't going with him in that lovely car, miss?"
"No, I'm going to stay here to-night, Mrs. Bode; if you can give me a bed or even a chair, and to-morrow morningveryearly, I'll get Dan to show me the way to the station."
"Oh, all right, miss, I'll give you a bed, and be pleased. At first, I thought you were man and wife,—specially as he walked about outside, and left you here by your lone,—but I see you've no ring."
"The gentleman is nothing to me,—nothing,worsethan nothing," cried Nancy passionately, "we happen to be staying in the same house, that was all; and the car left us here by mistake."
Sounds of a brisk booted foot, coming down the long passage; Nancy looked at Mrs. Bode, who hastily opened a door, and thrust her through. She found herself at the foot of some queer old stairs, that twisted round a huge beam or post, and led up to a low loft-like bedroom, with two windows, flush with the floor. Here was a tester bed, painted washstand, and a beautiful chest of drawers, and here Nancy, exhausted, and trembling, sat upon a low straw chair, her eyes riveted on the grey motor car, immediately beneath them. It seemed to be several hours,—but was really twenty minutes, before the car, and its occupants, moved slowly out of sight.
After a brief interview with her hostess,—who had appeared with a pair of clean sheets,—Nancy lay down on the tester bed, and in spite of a lumpy mattress, and an overpowering smell of old feathers, slept, until a shrill young cock, announced the breaking of another day.