"Is she a nice woman?" was her next question.
"She's an angel."
"That means, you love her."
"How do you----?"
"Because you are a brick wall I can see through, Mr. Askew. No; I have never met Mrs. Berring. Why did she throw you over and marry Mr.--er--Berring?"
Askew looked quite alarmed. "I say youareclever," he remarked.
"Why not? You called me Circe, and I must live up to the name. Well?"
"Well!" echoed Askew, blankly, and their eyes met. He coloured. "No, I can't tell you," he said quickly, for he guessed her desire.
"Yes, you can, and you will," rejoined Leah, composedly.
Jim was bearing the artillery of Mrs. Penworthy's eyes in his usual indifferent way, and showed no disposition to seek out his wife. Probably he would remain for the next hour in the clutches of the little woman, who was the limpet to Jim's rock. This being so, Leah began to ask questions which Askew hesitated to answer.
"We hardly know one another," he murmured, embarrassed. "I daren't tell you, Lady James."
"Ah! Then there's something improper in the matter?"
Askew flushed through his bronzed skin. "Not at all," he said in a brusque tone. "Señorita Fajardo is all that is good and holy and pure."
"What bread and butter!" thought Leah, wondering if Jim had stumbled upon a convent. But she was too wise to quote Byron to this young man, who apparently was simple enough to regard love as something sacred.
"Fajardo," she repeated. "A Spanish name."
"And a Spanish lady," he said, gloomily. "Lola Fajardo, of the Estancia, San Jago, near Rosario."
"I thought you said of Lima?"
"No; I met her there. She is in the habit of stopping at Lima with her aunt. But her true home is at Rosario, in the Santa Fe province of the Argentine republic. I wonder if Berring brought her to England. She was madly in love with him."
"She must have been, to marry him."
"Oh, Berring's a good-looking chap, and not bad," said Askew, with the innate chivalry of a man towards a successful rival. "I suppose theydidmarry."
"Oh! Then you are not certain?"
"No; I never even knew if they were engaged. But when I joined my ship again at Callao, every one said 'marriage'--they were so uncommonly thick. I must ask Berring."
"I'm sure he'll be delighted to afford you the information you seek," was Lady Jim's ironical reply.
"Have you seen Mrs. Berring?" asked the young man, eagerly.
"No; I don't think any Mrs. Berring is stopping here."
"Then perhaps he did not marry Lola, after all," cried Askew, rising hastily, and with flashing eyes, "unless"--his voice fell--"she is dead."
Leah yawned. "Really, I don't know," she replied; "you had better ask Mr. Berring. I see he is passing out of the garden with Mrs. Penworthy."
"In that case I can't spoil sport," laughed the lieutenant, with an obvious effort; "but later on."
"Later on, of course," she said, rising. "Here comes your uncle."
Lord Sargon advanced, and, with an apologetic look towards Leah, took Askew's arm. "I wish to present you to Lady Canvey," he said.
The young man looked towards his charmer. "Will you permit me to leave you for a time?"
"Certainly. You will find Lady Canvey delightful, and as pre-historic as you can wish. We may meet after dinner," and, with a nod, she left the winter garden for the purpose of seeking solitude. She wanted to think over Jim's iniquities, and to consider what use might be made of them for her own benefit.
Lady Canvey was delighted to receive Askew, as she liked handsome young men, especially when they were deferential and attentive, as this new acquaintance appeared to be. "Though I'm a bad substitute for Lady Jim," she remarked pleasantly. "Lady Jim?"
"That charming creature with whom you have been talking."
"Yes, of course, Lady Canvey. She is indeed charming."
"But private property. Her husband is the Duke's second son, at present in the clutches of that little harpy, Mrs. Penworthy. Don't you make love to Lady Jim, or you'll burn your fingers. I mistrust red-haired women, myself. But she and Jim match each other capitally. Their marriage was made in heaven;" and Lady Canvey chuckled.
"Is her husband here?" asked Askew, looking round, anxious to see who owned Circe-of-the-many-wiles.
"No; he went out with Mrs. Penworthy a quarter of an hour ago."
Askew remembered how Lady Jim had drawn his attention to an outgoing couple. "Didn't the lady go out with a Mr. Berring?" he gasped.
"No; with Lord Jim Kaimes!"
"And she--his wife--the lady I----" Askew stopped with a groan.
"Try an unmarried woman," advised Lady Canvey, misunderstanding his emotion. "It's more proper, and less expensive."
Keeping up the necessary Darby-and-Joan comedy, Kaimes strolled into his wife's dressing-room half an hour before dinner to inquire if she was ready. Leah had a second-hand view of him in a full-length mirror before which she posed, while her maid added a few final touches to an eminently successful frock. From the composed expression of his face she guessed that he had not yet renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Askew, and therefore must be ignorant that the free-spoken sailor had let the cat out of the bag. Lady Jim possessed the animal now, but she did not intend to reveal her capture until Jim explained how he had sped with the Duke. A slight nod towards the glass showed her husband that she was aware of his presence, and the maid continued to use experienced fingers. But Leah looked so charming, that further trouble in this way was like adding sugar to honey. Jim stared approvingly, and, when the maid was dismissed, saw his way to a compliment.
"You have the good points of several women rolled into one, Leah," he said, with the look of a sultan appraising an odalisque.
"That polite speech means much, coming from a man of your experience, my dear Jim. What good point of Mrs. Penworthy's have I annexed?"
"You're jealous!"
"Horribly! You are so deeply attached to that bundle of faded chiffon."
"I don't care two straws for her."
"Appearances are misleading, then. But," added Leah, remembering Askew's eulogy, "it may be that you prefer something that's good and holy and pure."
"I don't know why you should say that," grumbled Jim, annoyed at being credited with such primitive tastes.
"You may know before long," and she laughed at the thought of the marine bomb-shell which would shortly shatter Jim's complacency.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about," said Kaimes, with unaffected surprise, "an' I'm confoundedly hungry."
"Ah! Did the Duke's lecture give you an appetite?"
"Leah!" Jim became so serious as to look almost intelligent. "My father is the best man who ever wore shoe-leather."
"He is usually condemned to cloth boots for gouty feet," murmured Leah, patting the back of her head. "So you've pulled the wool over his eyes again?"
"I wish you wouldn't use slang," protested Jim, virtuously.
"I can't pretend to vie with Mrs. Penworthy's purity of speech, my dear man. How much have you got out of the Duke?"
"Well, he hasn't given me money----"
"Oh!"
"But he's promised----
"Ah!"
"I wish you'd let me speak," cried Kaimes, testily, "My father has promised to pay all the debts----"
"Good heavens! Is he aware of the amount?"
"Wait, I've not finished. He'll pay the debts, and reduce our income to a thousand a year till he recoups himself."
"Really! I thought you had seen your father, and not a money-lender. Have you accepted this most generous offer?"
"Yes, I have," said Jim, sulkily, and kicking a mat out of the way.
"I see. It's to be Bayswater after all, James."
"If you talk like that, I'll go down to dinner without you."
"By all means. You've taken away my appetite."
She laughed in a way calculated to still further infuriate Jim, who paced the room in a towering passion. Nevertheless, she was seriously angry. Had the Duke refused all help, it would have been more decent; but this bargain, which was all on one side, annoyed her beyond measure. What did the Duke mean by takingtheirmoney?
"It seems to me we've got to pay our own debts, then," she said, while Jim seethed like a whirlpool.
"An' why shouldn't we? It's only fair."
Leah stared, and began to think that Jim was too good for this world.
"I hope you are not going to die," she said, anxiously.
"Not in your way," cried Kaimes, misunderstanding her, "we aren't going to have any buryin' alive or substituted corpses, an' I'm goin' to hang on as a respectable member of society."
"I'll come and hear you preach, Jim."
"I'm preachin' now," raged her husband, "an' don't you make any mistake, Leah. I've told the Duke everythin'."
"How injudicious! He might have had a fit."
"He didn't even blame me," said Jim, breaking down, "an' there were tears in his eyes."
Leah laughed amazingly long and loud, considering the tightness of her corset.
"I wish I had been present. Did you cry too, Jim?"
"I jolly well nearly did," said Kaimes, truthfully, if ungrammatically, "though it's no good explainin' to an icicle like you. But the pater's goin' to pay the debts, free our income, an' let the Curzon Street house."
"Better and better. Then wedogo to Bayswater?"
"He'll allow us one thousand a year till the debts are wiped off," went on Kaimes hurriedly, and wishing to get the explanation over, "an' we can go abroad for a couple of years."
"You can. I shan't!"
"As my wife, you must."
"As an individual, I shan't," retorted Lady Jim, calmly. She was getting over her rage now, as she foresaw a very different interview between herself and Jim before they retired for the night. "It is very good of you to have settled all this without consulting me. And now that you have done so, let us go to dinner."
"But I----"
"There's the gong," observed Leah, opening the door, "and I don't like cold soup."
"You'll have to like lots of things now you didn't like before," said Jim, as they went down.
"The selection doesn't include you, my good man, so don't be disappointed."
Jim could have shaken her, and began to understand why the lower orders indulged in wife-beating. But as they were entering the drawing-room at this moment, he had to play the part of a devoted husband. Leah floated radiantly into the brilliantly lighted apartment, and Jim sought out the oldest and ugliest woman he could find. When he thought of his wife, beauty sickened him for the time being. Thus it came about that Miss Jaffray had the pleasure of shouting into his ear throughout a long and wearisome dinner.
Whether it was the work of the fetish or of Lady Frith, Leah did not know, but she found herself seated at the table with Askew on her right hand.
The young man looked flustered, and ill at ease. "I'm so sorry!" he began apologetically, and, as she thought, tactlessly.
"That you're my neighbour?" she interrupted sweetly. "How unkind!"
"No! But I never knew he was your husband."
"Who? Mr. Berring?"
"Don't make it harder for me," he entreated softly. "I've been calling myself names ever since we parted."
"You should have left that to me, Mr. Askew."
"There's nothing in it, you know," he stuttered, heedlessly. "Of course, she never married him."
"I hope not, for the sake of morality," said Lady Jim, lightly, and thinking that the soup was worse than usual. "However, it doesn't matter. My husband is a modest man, and sometimes drops his title when travelling. I daresay, as Mr. Berring, he thought he was free to make love."
"But he wasn't," protested Askew, with a glance towards the unconscious Jim, who apparently had not recognised him.
"You should tell him so."
"I intend to--in the smoking room."
Lady Jim looked at him imperiously, and softened her voice to a very direct whisper. "Don't make trouble," she said, in a somewhat domineering tone; "that will do no good and much harm. And after all, married or unmarried, every man has a right to admire a pretty woman."
"But not to make love to her," muttered the young man, with another vengeful glance.
"I am no casuist," replied Leah, calmly; "and you should be pleased that things are as they are. You can now return to Lima, or Rosario, and marry the lady."
"She wouldn't have me!"
"Is she so much in love with Mr. Berring, then?"
"Please don't, Lady James. I can't talk like this to you."
She gave a light laugh. "It seems to me that you are talking; therefore I repeat my question."
"It might only have been gratitude," he murmured.
"For what?"
"Berring--I mean your husband--saved her from being trampled upon by a mustang."
"How picturesque, and how suited to Jim's qualifications! And she----?"
"No, she didn't," interrupted Askew, hurriedly. "I see I have been mistaken. It was gratitude, not love."
"Of course," said Lady Jim, jeeringly; "a woman always prefers to exercise the former rather than the latter."
"I wish I'd stopped and tried my luck," muttered the sailor, not clever enough to interpret this speech.
"It's not too late. Mr. Berring is safely secured, by love and the law, to my apron-strings, so you can go back and----"
"No; I've just come in for a property of sorts, and the service has seen the last of me."
"Is Señorita Fajardo in the same predicament as the service?"
"There's a cousin, Lady James----"
"A female cousin, who goes with the property, as a fixture. I quite understand. You have to marry her, out of gratitude for the money, and without the discomforting passion of love. The Spanish lady's history repeats itself, I see."
Askew was rather discomfited. "How quick you are!"
"You can't have had much to do with women," she murmured; "but I hope you will make no trouble in the smoking-room."
"No; as things are, it's none of my funeral," he observed, grumpily.
"Quite so. I am the chief mourner."
"But I say, Lady James," said the lieutenant, anxiously, "I hope what I've inadvertently told you won't----"
"Of course not," she assured him, mendaciously; "my husband is most trustworthy, as you can see by his choice of that ugly old maid as a dinner companion. You were mistaken."
"I think I must have been," said Askew, with great relief. "Of course, people talk at Lima, as elsewhere," he ended apologetically.
"Unless South America is inhabited by the deaf and dumb, I suppose they do."
"You're laughing at me, Lady James."
"I always laugh. It's good for the digestion."
"At everything?"
"At everything."
"Even at love?" he asked timidly.
She shot an amused glance at his colouring face. "Remember you are engaged to the fixture, Mr. Askew."
"But I say, can't I come and see you in town?"
"I shall be delighted, if you can find your way to Curzon Street."
"You live there?" he asked obtusely.
"In a most respectable manner with my husband, Mr. Berring. I'm known as Lady Jim of Curzon Street. Most improper, isn't it, when Berring----?"
"I say, don't," expostulated the young man, quickly. "I'll never forgive myself for being such a fool. Can I call you Lady Jim?"
He was getting on very fast, and Leah, in the interests of virtue, deemed it necessary to snub him. "Certainly not. Only people who have known me fifty years address me so familiarly."
"You must believe in re-incarnation then," he retorted.
This was clever and pleased her. "I was Circe in the days of Homer, Mr. Askew. But as to my name now, there is another Lady Jim--a horrid woman who carries tracts and meddles with morals, and dresses in a piously shabby fashion. So that we may not be mixed up, I am known by the name of the street I live in. To you I am Lady James Kaimes!"
"And Circe, the sorceress," he murmured.
Leah laughed. "We'll see what sort of animal my magic will turn you into," she observed, with an encouraging smile.
This was a distinct promise, or at least he construed it as such, for his eyes brightened, and he glanced at her in a way which assured her that she was looking her best. He was certainly a delightful boy, she reflected, if somewhat fickle. But a man who was catholic enough to marry the fixture, and adore the Spanish lady, and make sudden love to herself, must be worth feminine appreciation and study. Besides, he was good-looking, and had money, conjoined with a frank and unsuspicious nature. Assuredly, he might be useful, if not inclined to explore the Land of Tenderness too assiduously. But in that case, he might compromise her in an earnest, pig-headed way, which would be at once boring, ridiculous, and dangerous. Leah approved of playing with fire, but she was too careful to risk a personal conflagration. Though allured by the prospect of tormenting an honest heart, she had not made up her mind to enjoy the opportunity by the time she left the dining-room. But a distinctly tigerish glance, sent to her address by Demetrius, almost inclined her to give young Askew the chance of making a fool of himself. The Russian had apparently noticed the embryo flirtation.
"All the better," thought Leah, sailing into the Adamless Eden of the winter garden; "it will be an additional card to play"--which showed that Lady Jim was by no means satisfied with the arrangement come to between her husband and his father.
"A cigarette, dear Lady Jim?" simpered Mrs. Penworthy.