Chapter 5

"Now where am I at?" he said, blankly. "I've written down it isn't any of 'em. And that's what granny says. But I don't believe her."He chewed his pencil till it was in rags, and then a sudden idea struck him."I'll buy all Sherlock Holmes and read him right through," said Bob. "That's the way to find out anything. I wish I knew the man that wrote him. I wonder if De Vere knows him? I'll ask Baker to get a sick dog from the vet's, and I'll go down and stay with De Vere if I can make granny say 'yes.' I wonder why old De Vere wants a sick dog, though. I can't understand poets."It was no wonder Gordon wished he had a boy like Bob.CHAPTER XIII.It was all very well for Bob to declare that his grandmother was altogether "off it" when she said that Penelope wasn't married at all. For, little by little, after furious discussions in ten thousand houses, in the court, the camp, and the grove, that came to be the general opinion.Titania expressed the general opinion:"She is mad, of course. What can one expect when her mother was an American? All Americans are mad. Bradstock assures me there is a something in the air of the United States (oh, even in Canada) which makes one take entirely new views of everything. And that, of course, is madness, my dear, madness undoubted and dangerous. He assured me, poor fellow, that six months in that absurd country made him tremble for his belief in a constitutional monarchy! He adds that he has only partially recovered, by firmly fixing his eyes on what a limited monarch might be, if he tried. Yes, she was an American, and adored our aristocracy, not knowing what we are, poor thing. And yet where Penelope's ideas come from I do not know. I firmly believe Bradstock is the cause of them. When she was a little girl he would take her on his knee and pour anarchism into her innocent ears. You know his way; he runs counter to everything, though now comparatively silent. And Penelope was always ready to go against me, though she loves me. This was an early idea of hers; Augustin owns that he suggested it humourously to her years ago. There is nothing so dangerous as humour; it is always liable to be taken seriously. Mr. Browning, the poet, said so to me at a garden-party; he said he was a humourist, and he said Mr. Tennyson (oh, yes, Lord Tennyson) lacked humour, while he himself had too much of it. He explained Sordello to me, and made me laugh heartily. But as I was saying, Penelope took up the idea and gave it out, and now is sorry, and, not having the courage to say so, she has taken refuge in what I am reluctantly compelled to characterize as a lie, and it is a great relief to me. The scandal will blow over; already the halfpenny papers are tired of her. I expect she will marry by and by. Oh, no, of course she isn't married!"And as Penelope's ideas were in every way absolutely contrary to what one has a right to expect, it is only natural that, proof of the contrary being lacking, the whole world began gradually to come around to Titania's opinion. A duchess has a great deal of influence if she only likes to use it, and the public is no more proof against her than the public offices are.And Pen set her teeth together and ignored every one, and had very little to say to society. Her apparent passion was for motor-cars, and she went out in the sixty-horse Panhard almost every day. And every end of the week she disappeared, coming back on Monday or Tuesday."I could tell 'em something," said Geordie Smith, "couldn't I, old girl?"The "old girl" he referred to was the machine he loved next best, at least, to Lady Penelope."Me and Bunting could wake 'em up some," he said. "I'd like Bunting if he'd only get rid of the notion that horses are everything. I hope to see the time when there won't be any except in parks, running wild like deer."It was an awful notion, and it was a wonder that he and Bunting got on without fighting."My ladyusesyour bloomin' tracking engine," said Tim, contemptuously, "but sheloves'orses. You can't give carrots to your old thing, and it ain't got no smooth and silky muzzle to pat. Faugh! the smell of it makes me sick; give me the 'ealthy hodour of the stable, Smith!""Find me a horse that'd carry her and me a hundred and twenty miles in three hours and damn the expense in fines," replied Smith, "and I'm with you. My lady loves this car a'most as much as I do. Who can catch her and me, flying along? Let 'em come, let 'em try, and I'll put her out to the top notch and let her sizzle. You come out and try, Tim; one drive and you'll be another man, looking on horses as what they are, mere animals and not up to date. My lady's up to date and beyond it.""When I go in your bally machine hit'll be by my lady's horders," said Timothy, "and it'll be tryin' my hallegiance very 'ard. Come and 'ave a drink, if you hain't too advanced for that! 'Ave you been chased lately as you brought my lady 'ome?""I thought I was," replied Smith, "but I shook 'em off. I'm egging her on to get a ninety-horse in case. That young cousin of hers let on to me that she'll be followed up some day, and I told her. She'll do it!""I wonder what's her game?" said Tim. "Blowed if I hunderstand.""So far's I see," replied Smith, "it's a general notion that a party's private biz is their private biz. And the others says it isn't, and there's where the trouble begins. I agree with her in a measure, don't you?""I agrees with my lady hevery time," said Tim. "She's a sweet lady, and, my word, if I didn't I'd get the sack, which I don't want. What she says she sticks to, bein' in that different to hany woman I never met. That's what the trouble is, that and reformin' lovers and husbands and law and so hon!"But the real trouble was that what she said she stuck to. She began to care much less for reform, and now never read Herbert Spencer and the greater philosopher, who has discovered that man doesn't think so much of yesterday as he does of to-morrow. She forgot the Deceased Wife's Sister, and ignored the London County Council, and didn't read theTimesexcept on great occasions. She spent the days in dreaming, and, except when she was devouring the space between London and Lincolnshire, she lay about on sofas and read poetry or listened to Bob, and looked ten thousand times more beautiful than ever, like the Eastern beauties, of whom one reads in the Arabian Nights, returning from the bath. She was wonderfully affectionate to Bob, who was a most considerate boy, and didn't worry her when he had once discovered that asking questions was no use. He told her of his vain efforts to find out whom she had married, and was very amusing. He began to have great ambitions."Mr. Gordon says I've a great future before me, Pen. He thinks no end of me. He says being a duke by and by is all very well, but I agree with him there are greater things than merely being one. He says the men with power are the rulers of the world. He told me how he and Rothschild stopped a war in a hurry. He didn't say which war. I asked him why he didn't stop the South African War, and he said that was different. I asked him did he bring it on then, and he said 'No.' But I think he did, somehow. Will you ask old Sir Henry if he did? I don't like Sir Henry, though, do you?"He went on to tell her about Sherlock Holmes."I'm reading him through again, Pen. And when I go down to De Vere's I shall ask De Vere to invite the man that wrote him. I'm going to De Vere's to take him a sick dog. He said he wanted one, and I've got one from Baker. Baker says he must want to vivisect him, and he doesn't like the idea. Baker's a very kind man to animals, but I've given my word that the dog sha'n't be vivisected. You don't think a poet would, do you? Did you tell him to learn to be a vet or anything? If you did, that would explain it. I've been through the whole list, Pen, and, though I won't worry you, I've come to the conclusion so far that I don't know which you've married. If I find out I won't tell.""You're a dear," said Pen, languidly."I've got a notion how to find out, though," said Bob. "At least, I shall have when I've finished Sherlock Holmes. I'd rather be Sherlock Holmes than a duke. It seems to me that unless you are the Duke of Norfolk or the Duke of Devonshire you are out of it. Being a common duke is dull, but being Holmes must be very exciting."One thing that he told her made her think furiously."Not one of 'em really believes you, Pen, and they're much more jealous of each other than they were. I believe they'll be fighting presently.""Don't talk nonsense," said Pen, anxiously.Bob shrugged his shoulders, a trick he had caught from the marquis."It's not nonsense. I can see bloodshed in their eyes. The marquis looks awfully ferocious, and Williams, too. Of course, I don't say that Gordon would fight much. And I should snigger to see old De Vere in a duel, shouldn't you? But if Bramber and the marquis and Williams and Goby get together, I shouldn't be surprised if they fought with swords or guns. I think Rivaulx would like that. He would stick them all and make 'em squeal, I can tell you. He's a whale at fencing. He took me to see him once, and when he stamped and said 'Ha-ha,' like a war-horse, I wondered the other man didn't run.""If they had a duel, any of them, I shouldn't speak to them again," said Penelope. "I abhor duels and warfare and weapons, and think they should be abolished in universal peace. And as I am married now, Bob, I hope you will do what you can to make them believe it.""You can make 'em believe it at once," said Bob. "I do think this is absurd. And don't you see it's funny, too, Pen?""No," said Pen, "it's not. It's right, and what is right can't be funny."Bob reflected."Well, there's something in that. It ain't much fun generally."And he returned to Sherlock Holmes."I wonder what he would do," said Bob to himself, pensively. "There ain't any footsteps or blood in this. I suppose he'd take a look at Pen and then have a smoke and go out in a hansom and come back very tired. I've looked at Pen a lot, but smoking still makes me sick, and I don't know where to go in a hansom. And I think Holmes would think it mean to follow her when she goes off with Smith in her car. Besides, a hansom can't catch a sixty-horse Panhard unless it breaks down. I think he would get at it by looking at the men."That put him on the track of a dreadful scheme, a most wicked and immoral scheme, that his hero would have disapproved of."I believe I have it," said Bob, starting up in wild excitement. "If I go around to them all and say that I'm sure she's not married, but that she loves the one they hate most, they will jump and be in a rage, won't they? I should be, I know. And the one that doesn't jump will be him. I dare say De Vere won't jump, but he's not a jumping sort, but he'll cry, likely. Rivaulxwillsnort if it isn't him."He sat and pondered over this lovely scheme."But if she loves one of 'em, why don't she own it to him, and why this mystery? They'll ask that, of course. Oh, but that doesn't matter; they'll do the snorting first. And, besides, I could let on that not all of them are in earnest. Ain't it possible that the one she loves won't ask her now, and she's covering up her disappointment? That would make Rivaulx fairly howl, I know. He's a real good chap, and between howling and weeping he says he wants her to be happy. I'll do it."He went off to do it at once."Ha, ha, my beautiful boy," said the Marquis of Rivaulx, whom he found in his rooms in Piccadilly, "have you come with news for me, the devoted and despairing?""Well, I don't know, marquis," returned Bob, soberly. "I've been thinking about it, and I'm in a state of puzzle.""And I am in a state of the devil himself," replied Rivaulx. "I suspect every one. I am enraged. I suspect you, Bob, my boy."Bob shook his head."I suspect you, too. I've never got over thinking that it may be you," he said, "for you are all just like each other, and it's obvious some one is telling me lies."Rivaulx smiled, a deep and dark French smile, which was agonizing to behold. It puzzled Bob dreadfully."There," he said, "you smile, and so does Pen, and you all smile. But I believe I've discovered something.""About who or which?" asked Rivaulx. "Is it about that Goby?"He might loathe Gordon, but he was jealous of Goby. He promenaded the room, and was already in a rage."Yes," said Bob, boldly. "I believe she's not married, and I believe she likes him best.""The hound, the vile one, the unmeasured beast," roared Rivaulx, "it cannot be. If she loves him (no, I can't believe it), why does she not wed him? I shall slay him. Is she unhappy? Does she weep? I adore her, but if she loves him he shall marry her or I will stab him to the heart.""I dare say he's not in earnest," said Bob. And the marquis ground his teeth and foamed at the mouth, and again tried to tear his close-cropped hair without the least success."Not—oh, sacred dog of a man,—ha—let me kill him!"He tore around the room and knocked two ornaments off the mantelpiece and upset a table, which Bob laboriously restored to its place. After he had put it back three times, he gave it up and cowered under the storm."I shouldn't be surprised if this was put on," said Bob, rather gloomily. "I know he can act like blazes; Pen says he can. She said he was finer than Irving or Toole in a tragedy. I don't think it has the true ring of sincerity."And making his escape from the cyclone, he went off to see Goby, who was hideously jealous of Carteret Williams."I hope he won't be as mad as the marquis," said Bob. "That table barked my shins horribly the last time it fell. I wish Frenchmen wouldn't shout so when they're angry; I'm nearly deaf."There was the devil to pay with Goby. He announced his intention of assaulting Williams at once."Oh, I say, you mustn't," cried Bob, in great alarm. "She'll never forgive you.""That Williams!" said Goby. "I always did hate war correspondents. I don't believe it."But it looked as if he did."I dare say you are putting it on," cried Bob. "I don't know where I am."Goby said he didn't, either, but that if this turned out to be true he would wring Williams's neck in the park the first fine Sunday in June."He would have acted just the same if he was married to her, and thought she loved Williams best after all," said Bob to himself. "I'll try Bramber and Williams, and then give it up."Bramber was in a furious temper, and when Bob assured him that Penelope loved Gordon best of any one, he swore horribly. As he rarely swore, this was very impressive, and Bob almost shivered."I say, you mustn't kick Gordon," he urged. "After all, I may be mistaken.""I wish you were dead," said Bramber, "and you will be if you don't get out."Bob got out, and when he was in the open air he sighed."I don't think I'll try Williams," he said, thoughtfully. "He's much bigger and stronger even than Goby, and they say he's a terror when he's very angry. My scheme doesn't seem to work; there's something wrong with it."But there was nothing wrong with it, and it worked marvellously. The report that Bob said positively that Pen wasn't married carried much weight. Goby and Rivaulx both gave it away. And all the men now loathed each other openly. Rivaulx cut Goby and Goby cut Williams and Bramber sneered at Gordon, and there was great likelihood of there being the devil to pay. Pen tried to patch up peace among them, and failed, and wept about it, seeing so much of the good she had done melt like sugar in warm rain. At last she announced her intention of leaving them and the world alone."I almost think I'll give up reform," she sighed.And the season went by and the autumn came, and Titania found herself at Goring in October with a large house-party which didn't include Penelope."She is, of course, somewhat ashamed of herself," said Titania, happily. "This comes of having ideas and foolishly attempting to carry them into practice. Now that I am certain she is not married and that she only says so, I feel quite different. I no longer abhor the poor, foolish men who are so much in love with her. I see plainly (for I, too, am naturally a democrat of the proper kind) that they have fine qualities. I have marked my sense of this in a way which appears to amuse Lord Bradstock for some reason that I do not follow,—but then, I never could follow Augustin, poor fellow,—by asking them all down here. I dare say they think Penelope will come, for they have all accepted. I am delighted, for I really admire them. Mr. Carew is the handsomest young man in London, and will paint my portrait between meals. I wonder whether I shall try to get thinner by eating less, or will it be better to tell Mr. Carew to make me thinner in his picture. That seems the easiest course; for if Penelope's conduct has not made me thin, what would? Neither hot weather nor despair has the least effect upon me. I shall trust to Mr. Carew's idea of what is right and proper. I wish I could rely with equal confidence upon poor, dear, misguided Penelope."There was much discontent in the camp when the lovers learnt that their beloved was not one of Titania's house-party. They were not civil to each other, and with difficulty were civil to Titania."Confound the old harridan," said Goby. This was wicked, for Titania was very sweet, and retained much more than a trace of her youthful beauty. She belonged to the modern band of those who sternly refuse to grow old."Great Scott!" said Carteret Williams. The others made equally appropriate exclamations. They damned Goring in heaps, and looked at each other like a crowd of strange dogs. Owing to Penelope's influence they all came in motor-cars. Even De Vere turned up in one which was guaranteed by age and its maker not to go more than ten miles an hour. There wasn't room to get them into the temporary garage out of the wet. But the marquis did not come in a balloon or a flying-machine. That was something, at any rate, though Bob growled about it bitterly. Pen's request that he should do his best to make the world believe she was married was entirely forgotten. Without quite meaning to say so, he practically asserted in every word that she was not."After all," said Bob, "I believe she is capable of deceiving even me, for she is a woman. Horace, in his Odes, seems to think that. It seems to me that classical authors had a very poor opinion of women."He went to Rivaulx crossly."I say, I think you ought to have come in a flying-machine. Why didn't you? Pen will be mad."He introduced De Vere to Baker (who had been a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers), and left him with him, discussing hydrophobia and bulldogs."Baker says he has a great admiration for you, sir," said Bob. "He has lots of pups for you to look at. There's a very queer spotted one that Pen said she was sure you would like. It's very cheap for a spotted dog of the kind, Baker says."But they were an unhappy crowd, and even the shooting, which was fairly good for a poor duke's place, hardly consoled them.At night the women, who all gambled, naturally were very cross. It appeared that not one of the men would play bridge, because Penelope had made them swear off. There were only three men in the house not in love with Penelope. Titania had a dreadful time, and much regretted her hospitality. Carew was furious, of course, and his notions of colour were very morbid. And he appeared to see the duchess as she was, in spite of the hints the poor woman threw out to the desperate painter, who looked at her sorrowfully and sighed as he shook his head."Being painted is an ordeal," she said. Not one of the others consoled her. De Vere wept with her in the drawing-room; Williams wrecked her orchids in the hothouse; Plant and Gordon quarrelled in the smoking-room. And Bramber, who was only there for four days, looked horridly sorry for himself, and sneered at every one. The marquis went around the park in a ninety-horse-power racer seventeen times between breakfast and lunch. The chauffeurs quarrelled furiously; they even fought in the stable yard with Baker as umpire and Bob as timekeeper.At the dinner-table was the only time of peace, and then it was too peaceful. Nobody but Bob and Ethel Mytton and Titania did any talking. Bob spoke of very little but Penelope, which was natural but awkward. He told them what Baker said, till they all desired to go out and strangle Baker. Bradstock encouraged him, for Bradstock was the only man there who had any apparent desire to be amused. The rest of them played with the soup, toyed with theentrées, fooled with the roasts, choked over the birds, and went out and oversmoked themselves. Then they met in the big hall and the drawing-room, and Titania had to assure them all one after the other, that she was certain Penelope was not married."Then why does she say she is?" they asked, bitterly."It must be to try you," said Titania. "Augustin, don't you think it is to try them?"Bradstock made that sound which the English write as "Humph" and the Scotch put down as "Imphm." It means a great deal, but is intelligible to the intelligent."Yes, it is to try you," said Titania. "She is a dear, sweet thing, but has ideas which do not commend themselves to me. I understand them, of course, but regret them. It may be, of course, that she does not love any of you, and is trying to get out of it. By and by you will find out if that is so. She is enthusiastic and impulsive. Oh, these impulses of youth! How well I remember the delightful impulses of youth, when one feels as if one could fly with wings! Even now I get impulses. Poor Penelope! Ah, dear, I wish she would come. I have written again and again to ask her, but I'm afraid she will not."And, indeed, no one at that moment knew where she was, unless, indeed, it was Timothy and Geordie Smith and Miss Mackarness and the pirate in goggles of the motor-car who carried her off.Titania and Bob between them, at any rate, accomplished one thing. No one pretended to assign a satisfactory reason for Pen's conduct, but every one, except one, perhaps, believed she was still single. They were sure of it, and grew surer every day. As a result, they recovered some little peace of mind; they quarrelled less and ate more and shot straighter. Rivaulx only went fifteen times around the park before lunch; De Vere bought more dogs; Plant agreed to go into some scheme of trust robbery with Gordon, who assured the rest of them that he had Rothschild up his sleeve. Williams stamped less on flower-beds and swore half as much as usual. Goby and Bramber went out walks together with Bob and Ethel Mytton. Titania's barometer went up and her size went down in Carew's picture. He saw her less yellow, and did not insist on her wrinkles. Augustin sat in the library and read books which were of so humourous a character that they compelled him to put them down and laugh continually. It was certainly a most amusing house-party."I thought there would have been duels in the park," said Augustin. "I wonder what the deuce Pen would think of them if she saw them now."And then one day something serious happened. It was on a Sunday, and on Sundays the post came in at half-past ten, just at the time they were all having breakfast before going to church. They were just about as happy as they could ever hope to be till Penelope married one or all of them. Bob, who was especially greedy that morning, was eating against time and winning. Only Ethel was sad, for Goby seemed quite cheerful. When he was mournful she was happier always. Titania flowed wonderfully. Augustin was saying the kind of thing he could say when sitting down. Goring himself was eating as if he was in rivalry with Bob. He never said anything, but looked like a duke, which is a very fine thing when a man is a duke, and can afford it with care. Gordon was eating bacon as if he had no great appetite for it."Oh, here's the post," said Titania. Augustin took Saturday'sTimesand opened it."I wonder whether dear Penelope has written to me," said Titania. The "horde" looked up; they hoped even yet that Penelope would give in and come at last."Any news?" grunted Goring."I don't see any," replied Augustin."What are Jack Sheppard's United?" asked Gordon, slipping a piece of bacon into his pocket.And Augustin made his celebrated speech over again, his single speech in the House of Lords."Good God!" said Augustin, and he turned almost as white as theTimespaper before it went through the machines. Every one stared at him."What is it?" screamed Titania. Bob jumped up and deserted a pig's cheek just as it was showing signs of utter defeat."It's—it's—" said Augustin, and he stammered vainly."I say, let's look," cried Bob. "Granny, it's something in the Births, Marriages, and Deaths!""Good heavens, speak, Augustin!" implored Titania.The band of lovers went as white as Augustin; they stood up simultaneously."I see it, I see it," said Bob, and he actually snatched the paper from Lord Bradstock's hand."Is she married? Is she dead?" asked Titania."No, no," said Bob, sputtering and aflame with wild excitement; "it's 'Brading—Lady Penelope Brading on the 18th of a son!'"CHAPTER XIV.There are blows which stun; this was, of course, one of them. Titania did not shriek or faint at the awful intelligence conveyed by the Thunderer of Printing House Square. She nodded her head as if she was partially paralyzed, and at last murmured in a dry whisper:"Of a son! Of a son!"Bradstock's eyebrows were as high as they would go, and he stared at Titania, and then look around on the circle of men and women. Ethel squeaked a little squeak, like a mouse behind the wainscot and was silent."Oh—of a son," said Goby, sighing and looking at the floor."Of a son!" said Plant, eyeing the ceiling."Un fils!" shrieked Rivaulx.Gordon said "Damnation;" De Vere shook like a stranded jelly-fish; Bramber went as scarlet as a lobster, and then as white as cotton; Carteret Williams looked blue, and Carew looked green, and Bob said: "My eye!"There is something organic in any given number of people acting under the same shock or the same impulse. What one thinks another thinks; and now all the room fixed their eyes on Titania, whose lips moved in silence."This is dreadful!" said Titania to herself. "I don't believe she's married at all. One of these men is a scoundrel, a ruffian, a seducer!"No one heard what she said, but as she thought it the men looked at each other with awful suspicions. And then Titania, whose mind was whirling, said feebly:"We—we must hush it up!"And there lay theTimes! Hush it up indeed! And Bradstock recovered some of his equanimity."Nonsense! She's married, as she says," he remarked, with comparative coolness.But no one believed it. The men drew apart from each other. De Vere moved his chair, because Goby was looking at him like a demon. Carew shrank from Carteret Williams. Gordon went livid under Plant's eyes. Bramber looked at them all as if he would die on the spot. Rivaulx rose up and waltzed around the room. It was a happy chance that he did so; it is possible that he saved immediate bloodshed. Bradstock and Bob caught the Frenchman in their arms, and led him outside to the lawn, where there was ample room for a franticpas seul."Steady, old chap!" said Bradstock, "steady! Her husbandmustacknowledge now who he is!""Oh, no," said Bob, in immense delight, "not much! If she's married at all, she's sworn him not to. She told me she'd swear him not to! And she said if he broke his oath she'd never see him again!""Great heavens!" said Bradstock, "so she did. I remember now, shedidspeak of oaths, dreadful oaths!"Rivaulx danced over a flower-bed, came in contact with a fence, fell over it, and uttered a howl which brought every one into the garden. He tumbled into a ditch, fortunately a comparatively dry one, and lay there, using the very worst French language.The gloomy crowd lined the ditch and listened, and wished they understood. As a matter of fact, only Bradstock and Bramber knew sufficient decent French to guess what Rivaulx said, and they shivered. In the background Titania and Ethel hung to each other and wept; old Goring remained inside sucking at an unlighted cigar."The terrible, terrible disgrace!" said Titania. She believed the very worst at once. "Is it the marquis? Is he smitten with remorse?"Rivaulx got out of the ditch on the wrong side, and walked out into the park, where he addressed a commination service to a nice little herd of Jersey cows. After five minutes of this exercise, he returned toward the house and climbed the fence. Then he shook his fist at the others."One of you is ascélerat," he howled, "a scoundrrrel! I challenge you all to fight! Ha, ha!"Bradstock took him by the arm and led him away."One of us is a hound!" said Goby."Yes," said the others, "yes!"They glared at each other horribly, and clenched their fists. Bob ran around them in the wildest excitement."Look here, I say, Captain Goby. Oh, Mr. de Vere! I say, Mr. Plant, if you want to fight, come into the stables. Granny says you mustn't fight here."He grabbed several of them, and was hurled into space at once. He finally laid hold of De Vere, who wasn't capable of hurling a ladybird off his finger."You shall fight Goby if you want to," he roared.[image]THE MARQUIS DE RIVAULX. Anti-Semite to his manicured finger-tips"But I don't want to," shrieked the poet. "What shall I do? My heart is broken!""Oh, what rot!" said Bob. "I don't understand what the row is about. Pen said she married, and she's got a kid. It will make her happy, for she always loved kids."But then the notice in her maiden name! Was it not awful, horrible, brazen, peculiar, anti-social, against all law? It was wicked, immoral, indecent. Behind it there must be a dreadful story."By God!" said Bradstock, speaking at large to all but Rivaulx, who was breaking up a cane chair at a short distance, "I do think, oaths or none, that the man who is married to her should tell the duchess in confidence."But Rivaulx heard in the intervals of destruction, and stayed his hand."Ha, ha!" he said aloud, "I love her! I am a man! I love her! What shall I do?"He threw the fragments of the chair into a fountain, kicked over a flower-pot, and ran again into the park, taking the fence in his stride."I believe it's remorse," said Titania. "I begin to suspect the marquis!"But everybody suspected everybody, and yet at the very height of their rage what Bradstock said sank into their hearts. Pen had selected them with care for their inherent nobility. They said to themselves that they would show how noble they were. With one accord they straightened themselves up, and an air of desperate resolve was upon every man's face."I will think it out and make up my mind this afternoon," said each of them. They walked away in different directions, and in five minutes not one of them was in sight but the marquis, who was knocking his head against a sapling in a way that caused the herd of Jerseys to revise their estimate of humanity. Even he gave up at last, and went off into the distance with great strides."I say," said Bob, "I don't know what to make of this. Where are they going, and what are they going to do? I wish I knew where Pen is; I'd send her a telegram."The rest of the party said nothing. Titania wept. Old Goring asked Bradstock for a light, and at last got his cigar going. He said nothing whatsoever. Ethel Mytton was in a fearful state of nervousness, and shook with it. Bradstock walked up and down whistling. The men who were not in it gathered in the billiard-room, and said they thought they had better have urgent calls to town. They wanted to discuss the scandal in their clubs. They knew that there wasn't a house in England that would not consider their presence in the light of a tremendous favour, considering all that had occurred at Goring while they were there. They went, and regretted it afterward, for much occurred that very afternoon that no man could have foreseen.Not a soul came in to lunch but Bob and Bradstock and the old duke."Augustin, my boy," said Goring, "these are surprising events, very surprising events. I thought I understood something about women, but I find I'm as ignorant as a two-year-old. What the devil does Penelope mean?"Bob intervened."I believe, grandfather, that she wants to make you all sit up," he said, eagerly."Shut up, Bob," said the duke. "Eat pie and hold your tongue. Augustin, is she married, or isn't she?""I'm sure of it," said Bradstock, "but—""I think it's a damn silly business," said the duke. "I can't remember any parallel except when Miss Wimple, who was a devilish pretty girl fifty years ago, married Prince Scharfskopf morganatically, and kept it dark in spite of twins. There was a devil of a fuss, but it was kept quiet, no announcements in papers, and so on. The emperor boxed Scharfskopf's ears in court when it came out, for it upset his diplomatic apple-cart, as Scharfskopf was to have married Princess Hedwig of Wigstein. She was virtuous and particular, and made trouble, being thirty-five. Do you think Penelope has married any damn prince, for instance?"Bradstock didn't think so."Was any prince sneaking about, eh?""Oh, I say," cried Bob, who was listening eagerly, "there was the Rajah of Jugpore!""Good heavens!" said Goring, "so there was. I say, Bradstock, what have you to say to that? I'd like to have a look at the infant. Damme, it's a wonderful world!"And this bore its fruit afterward in scandal and conjecture, for Bob threw out hints about it. But in the meantime they could only talk, and presently they saw the marquis coming across the lawn. He kept on stopping and looking up at the sky, as if for help or a balloon, and he smote his breast repeatedly in a very peculiar fashion."Queer cuss, Rivaulx," said Goring. "Takes it hard. Give me a light, Bob. Look at the Johnny smiting himself in the chest. What's he thinking of now? Looks as if he was bound upon a desperate deed. Dear me, I hope there will be no bloodshed, Bradstock! I'm too old for bloodshed now. I won't have duels in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, Bradstock, mind that.""All right," said Augustin, still looking at Rivaulx gesticulating violently in front of a large laurestinus. "Bob, give me those glasses."Through the glass Rivaulx's face was plain to see."Damn!" said Augustin to himself, "what's up? He's going to do something, something desperate. He is looking like a hero on a scaffold. He has an air of sad nobility. Oh, Pen, Pen!"Rivaulx advanced on the house with his head up. He came in and sent word to the collapsed duchess that he desired most humbly an audience with her. Bob listened."He wanted to see granny," said Bob."Let him," said the duke. "I don't; I want peace."Titania sent down word that she would see him."Poor sad Penelope, poor mournful Penelope!" said Rivaulx. "Ha, but I will save her from further woe!"He found Titania on a sofa, and he kissed her hand. This pleased poor Titania; it reminded her of her youth."Oh, marquis, I am in despair!" she cried."Despair not," said Rivaulx, as he stood up and smote his forehead, "despair not. All is not lost. But for me, I stand between two dreadful alternatives, and I have resolved to do my duty."There was an air of tragedy about him that covered him like a robe. Titania shivered."What is it? What have you to tell me?""Ah, what!" cried Rivaulx. "But I shall do it. I shall do it at once, immediately, if not sooner, as your poet says.""You won't kill any one, at least not here," shrieked Titania."Far from it," replied the marquis. "Oh, but it is terrible, for I have to smash, to break an oath. I swore not to reveal what I am about to reveal.""Good heavens!" said Titania. "Oh, what? Is it—can it be—no—""Yes, yes," cried Rivaulx, "it is true; I own it!""Own what, marquis?"He smote his breast and looked above her."I am the man!""Oh, what man?" squealed the duchess."I am the husband—and—and—the father," said Rivaulx, with a gulp, as if he were swallowing an apple whole."Of my Penelope?""Yes, yes," said the marquis. "Say nothing. It is a secret, full of oaths. Why, I know not, but she, the dear, insists, and what am I?"Titania lay and gasped. The relief was tremendous. Three hours ago she would have refused to think of Rivaulx as Pen's husband. Now she welcomed the notion; she sighed and almost fainted. Rivaulx muttered strange things to himself."Can I announce it?""No," said the marquis, "it is a secret. But it is all right. I go.""Take my blessing," said Titania. "Go to her quickly, poor dear, and implore her to let me come to her, and bid her tell all the world. What is her address?""I cannot give it," said Rivaulx, pallidly. "It is a secret. But I go, I hasten. Adieu, duchess; I am distracted. Oh, my mother and my country!"He fled from the room, and, leaving his man to bring on his things, went away at an illegal speed toward London."Well, well," said Titania, with a gasp, "I cannot understand anything. But, after all, the marquis is a fine man and of a good family. I could almost sleep a little."But just as she was composing herself to rest, Mr. Plant sent up word that he wished to see her for a few moments on urgent business before he went back to town."Let him come up," said the duchess. When Plant entered, he stood bolt upright in front of her, with a strange air of determination."I shall surprise you, I reckon," he said, in an American accent as thick as petrol fumes. "I know I shall.""No, you won't," said Titania. "Nothing can surprise me now, I assure you.""I shall surprise you, ma'am," said Plant, "and you'll have to own it. Prepare yourself and remember that what I tell you is in the nature of a secret. I can stand it no longer. I have to let it out. To hear Lady Penelope, whom I adore, spoken of as I do, makes my blood boil. She may have made some mistakes, but I've made some, too. I am going to surprise you—""No, you are not, Mr. Plant," said Titania."I—I am Lady Penelope's husband," said Plant, desperately, fixing his eyes on space."You arewhat?" shrieked Titania."Her husband—and—the parent of the announcement in theTimes," said Plant, firmly."Am I mad?" asked Titania."No, but I am," said Plant, who was as pale as a traditional ghost. "I'm mad both ways. I want to kill.""You mustn't," cried Titania, feebly. "I don't know where I am. What did you say? Oh, say it again!"He said it again, and before she could say anything further, he rushed from the room and bounded down-stairs. She heard him turn his motor-car loose, and knew that in twenty seconds he was a mile away."What's wrong with everything, and me, and them?" asked Titania. "I wish I was a dairy-maid in a quiet farm, and had no relations. Am I mad? Did the marquis say it? Or did I dream it?"Lord Bramber was announced."Oh, oh, oh!" said Titania. "Yes, I'll see him."Bramber came in fuming, and, like the others, fixed his eyes over her head. He was nervous and abrupt."I can't stand any more, duchess," he began."I can't stand much," said Titania."It's a secret of course," said Bramber, "and I'm breaking my word!""Are you the husband of Penelope?" asked Titania."I—I am," replied Bramber, "and the cause, so to speak, of the notice in theTimes.""I thought so," said Titania. "Look at me, Ronald. Do I look mad? does my hair stand on end? do I seem wild and wandering?""No, of course not," said Bramber. "I'm telling you this because I feel I ought to. Now I'm going to her at once. This last news was rather unexpected, of course. Good-bye—""Stay!" shrieked Titania, but she was too late. Bramber was down-stairs and bounded into his motor-car and let her rip."What's the matter with everybody?" wailed Titania. "The marquis made me happy, but now I'm confused, very sadly confused, and I can't think she's married them all."Gordon was announced, and in about three sentences he told her that, though the affair was a secret, he was Penelope's husband."I knew you were," said Titania. "When I heard you wanted to see me, I knew you were coming to say so. Oh, good-bye. Ask Lord Bradstock to send for a doctor. Good-bye, Mr. Gordon. Go now."And Gordon went, just as De Vere came in."You have come to say you have married Penelope, Iknow," said Titania. "I feel sure you have.""I have a heart for sorrow, for disgrace, for all things lovely. I—I am responsible for everything, even theTimes," said De Vere, who was as pale as plaster."Leave me," said Titania. "Go and see her at once. Settle who it is. Go!"And when he had gone, Carteret Williams and Carew came one after the other with the same confession. And she received them sadly, and appeared to wander. When the house was empty, she sent for Bradstock."Augustin, dear Augustin," she said, "you won't let them put me in an asylum. Have me taken care of at home, won't you? Don't let Goring give me cruel keepers. I am quite gentle and broken down!""I won't let anything beastly be done," said Bradstock. "But, my dear child, what's the matter?"And Titania told him:"By the Lord," said Bradstock, "they are damned good chaps! but where the devil are we?"He went down-stairs when the doctor came and told everything to Goring. And Goring told Bob. For Titania forgot to mention to Augustin that all the husbands had insisted it was a dead secret."I say," said Bob, "of all the larks I've ever heard of, this takes the cake! I wonder what I ought to do. I think I'll ask Baker."And he asked Baker. And in less than twenty-four hours the world knew all about it.

"Now where am I at?" he said, blankly. "I've written down it isn't any of 'em. And that's what granny says. But I don't believe her."

He chewed his pencil till it was in rags, and then a sudden idea struck him.

"I'll buy all Sherlock Holmes and read him right through," said Bob. "That's the way to find out anything. I wish I knew the man that wrote him. I wonder if De Vere knows him? I'll ask Baker to get a sick dog from the vet's, and I'll go down and stay with De Vere if I can make granny say 'yes.' I wonder why old De Vere wants a sick dog, though. I can't understand poets."

It was no wonder Gordon wished he had a boy like Bob.

CHAPTER XIII.

It was all very well for Bob to declare that his grandmother was altogether "off it" when she said that Penelope wasn't married at all. For, little by little, after furious discussions in ten thousand houses, in the court, the camp, and the grove, that came to be the general opinion.

Titania expressed the general opinion:

"She is mad, of course. What can one expect when her mother was an American? All Americans are mad. Bradstock assures me there is a something in the air of the United States (oh, even in Canada) which makes one take entirely new views of everything. And that, of course, is madness, my dear, madness undoubted and dangerous. He assured me, poor fellow, that six months in that absurd country made him tremble for his belief in a constitutional monarchy! He adds that he has only partially recovered, by firmly fixing his eyes on what a limited monarch might be, if he tried. Yes, she was an American, and adored our aristocracy, not knowing what we are, poor thing. And yet where Penelope's ideas come from I do not know. I firmly believe Bradstock is the cause of them. When she was a little girl he would take her on his knee and pour anarchism into her innocent ears. You know his way; he runs counter to everything, though now comparatively silent. And Penelope was always ready to go against me, though she loves me. This was an early idea of hers; Augustin owns that he suggested it humourously to her years ago. There is nothing so dangerous as humour; it is always liable to be taken seriously. Mr. Browning, the poet, said so to me at a garden-party; he said he was a humourist, and he said Mr. Tennyson (oh, yes, Lord Tennyson) lacked humour, while he himself had too much of it. He explained Sordello to me, and made me laugh heartily. But as I was saying, Penelope took up the idea and gave it out, and now is sorry, and, not having the courage to say so, she has taken refuge in what I am reluctantly compelled to characterize as a lie, and it is a great relief to me. The scandal will blow over; already the halfpenny papers are tired of her. I expect she will marry by and by. Oh, no, of course she isn't married!"

And as Penelope's ideas were in every way absolutely contrary to what one has a right to expect, it is only natural that, proof of the contrary being lacking, the whole world began gradually to come around to Titania's opinion. A duchess has a great deal of influence if she only likes to use it, and the public is no more proof against her than the public offices are.

And Pen set her teeth together and ignored every one, and had very little to say to society. Her apparent passion was for motor-cars, and she went out in the sixty-horse Panhard almost every day. And every end of the week she disappeared, coming back on Monday or Tuesday.

"I could tell 'em something," said Geordie Smith, "couldn't I, old girl?"

The "old girl" he referred to was the machine he loved next best, at least, to Lady Penelope.

"Me and Bunting could wake 'em up some," he said. "I'd like Bunting if he'd only get rid of the notion that horses are everything. I hope to see the time when there won't be any except in parks, running wild like deer."

It was an awful notion, and it was a wonder that he and Bunting got on without fighting.

"My ladyusesyour bloomin' tracking engine," said Tim, contemptuously, "but sheloves'orses. You can't give carrots to your old thing, and it ain't got no smooth and silky muzzle to pat. Faugh! the smell of it makes me sick; give me the 'ealthy hodour of the stable, Smith!"

"Find me a horse that'd carry her and me a hundred and twenty miles in three hours and damn the expense in fines," replied Smith, "and I'm with you. My lady loves this car a'most as much as I do. Who can catch her and me, flying along? Let 'em come, let 'em try, and I'll put her out to the top notch and let her sizzle. You come out and try, Tim; one drive and you'll be another man, looking on horses as what they are, mere animals and not up to date. My lady's up to date and beyond it."

"When I go in your bally machine hit'll be by my lady's horders," said Timothy, "and it'll be tryin' my hallegiance very 'ard. Come and 'ave a drink, if you hain't too advanced for that! 'Ave you been chased lately as you brought my lady 'ome?"

"I thought I was," replied Smith, "but I shook 'em off. I'm egging her on to get a ninety-horse in case. That young cousin of hers let on to me that she'll be followed up some day, and I told her. She'll do it!"

"I wonder what's her game?" said Tim. "Blowed if I hunderstand."

"So far's I see," replied Smith, "it's a general notion that a party's private biz is their private biz. And the others says it isn't, and there's where the trouble begins. I agree with her in a measure, don't you?"

"I agrees with my lady hevery time," said Tim. "She's a sweet lady, and, my word, if I didn't I'd get the sack, which I don't want. What she says she sticks to, bein' in that different to hany woman I never met. That's what the trouble is, that and reformin' lovers and husbands and law and so hon!"

But the real trouble was that what she said she stuck to. She began to care much less for reform, and now never read Herbert Spencer and the greater philosopher, who has discovered that man doesn't think so much of yesterday as he does of to-morrow. She forgot the Deceased Wife's Sister, and ignored the London County Council, and didn't read theTimesexcept on great occasions. She spent the days in dreaming, and, except when she was devouring the space between London and Lincolnshire, she lay about on sofas and read poetry or listened to Bob, and looked ten thousand times more beautiful than ever, like the Eastern beauties, of whom one reads in the Arabian Nights, returning from the bath. She was wonderfully affectionate to Bob, who was a most considerate boy, and didn't worry her when he had once discovered that asking questions was no use. He told her of his vain efforts to find out whom she had married, and was very amusing. He began to have great ambitions.

"Mr. Gordon says I've a great future before me, Pen. He thinks no end of me. He says being a duke by and by is all very well, but I agree with him there are greater things than merely being one. He says the men with power are the rulers of the world. He told me how he and Rothschild stopped a war in a hurry. He didn't say which war. I asked him why he didn't stop the South African War, and he said that was different. I asked him did he bring it on then, and he said 'No.' But I think he did, somehow. Will you ask old Sir Henry if he did? I don't like Sir Henry, though, do you?"

He went on to tell her about Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm reading him through again, Pen. And when I go down to De Vere's I shall ask De Vere to invite the man that wrote him. I'm going to De Vere's to take him a sick dog. He said he wanted one, and I've got one from Baker. Baker says he must want to vivisect him, and he doesn't like the idea. Baker's a very kind man to animals, but I've given my word that the dog sha'n't be vivisected. You don't think a poet would, do you? Did you tell him to learn to be a vet or anything? If you did, that would explain it. I've been through the whole list, Pen, and, though I won't worry you, I've come to the conclusion so far that I don't know which you've married. If I find out I won't tell."

"You're a dear," said Pen, languidly.

"I've got a notion how to find out, though," said Bob. "At least, I shall have when I've finished Sherlock Holmes. I'd rather be Sherlock Holmes than a duke. It seems to me that unless you are the Duke of Norfolk or the Duke of Devonshire you are out of it. Being a common duke is dull, but being Holmes must be very exciting."

One thing that he told her made her think furiously.

"Not one of 'em really believes you, Pen, and they're much more jealous of each other than they were. I believe they'll be fighting presently."

"Don't talk nonsense," said Pen, anxiously.

Bob shrugged his shoulders, a trick he had caught from the marquis.

"It's not nonsense. I can see bloodshed in their eyes. The marquis looks awfully ferocious, and Williams, too. Of course, I don't say that Gordon would fight much. And I should snigger to see old De Vere in a duel, shouldn't you? But if Bramber and the marquis and Williams and Goby get together, I shouldn't be surprised if they fought with swords or guns. I think Rivaulx would like that. He would stick them all and make 'em squeal, I can tell you. He's a whale at fencing. He took me to see him once, and when he stamped and said 'Ha-ha,' like a war-horse, I wondered the other man didn't run."

"If they had a duel, any of them, I shouldn't speak to them again," said Penelope. "I abhor duels and warfare and weapons, and think they should be abolished in universal peace. And as I am married now, Bob, I hope you will do what you can to make them believe it."

"You can make 'em believe it at once," said Bob. "I do think this is absurd. And don't you see it's funny, too, Pen?"

"No," said Pen, "it's not. It's right, and what is right can't be funny."

Bob reflected.

"Well, there's something in that. It ain't much fun generally."

And he returned to Sherlock Holmes.

"I wonder what he would do," said Bob to himself, pensively. "There ain't any footsteps or blood in this. I suppose he'd take a look at Pen and then have a smoke and go out in a hansom and come back very tired. I've looked at Pen a lot, but smoking still makes me sick, and I don't know where to go in a hansom. And I think Holmes would think it mean to follow her when she goes off with Smith in her car. Besides, a hansom can't catch a sixty-horse Panhard unless it breaks down. I think he would get at it by looking at the men."

That put him on the track of a dreadful scheme, a most wicked and immoral scheme, that his hero would have disapproved of.

"I believe I have it," said Bob, starting up in wild excitement. "If I go around to them all and say that I'm sure she's not married, but that she loves the one they hate most, they will jump and be in a rage, won't they? I should be, I know. And the one that doesn't jump will be him. I dare say De Vere won't jump, but he's not a jumping sort, but he'll cry, likely. Rivaulxwillsnort if it isn't him."

He sat and pondered over this lovely scheme.

"But if she loves one of 'em, why don't she own it to him, and why this mystery? They'll ask that, of course. Oh, but that doesn't matter; they'll do the snorting first. And, besides, I could let on that not all of them are in earnest. Ain't it possible that the one she loves won't ask her now, and she's covering up her disappointment? That would make Rivaulx fairly howl, I know. He's a real good chap, and between howling and weeping he says he wants her to be happy. I'll do it."

He went off to do it at once.

"Ha, ha, my beautiful boy," said the Marquis of Rivaulx, whom he found in his rooms in Piccadilly, "have you come with news for me, the devoted and despairing?"

"Well, I don't know, marquis," returned Bob, soberly. "I've been thinking about it, and I'm in a state of puzzle."

"And I am in a state of the devil himself," replied Rivaulx. "I suspect every one. I am enraged. I suspect you, Bob, my boy."

Bob shook his head.

"I suspect you, too. I've never got over thinking that it may be you," he said, "for you are all just like each other, and it's obvious some one is telling me lies."

Rivaulx smiled, a deep and dark French smile, which was agonizing to behold. It puzzled Bob dreadfully.

"There," he said, "you smile, and so does Pen, and you all smile. But I believe I've discovered something."

"About who or which?" asked Rivaulx. "Is it about that Goby?"

He might loathe Gordon, but he was jealous of Goby. He promenaded the room, and was already in a rage.

"Yes," said Bob, boldly. "I believe she's not married, and I believe she likes him best."

"The hound, the vile one, the unmeasured beast," roared Rivaulx, "it cannot be. If she loves him (no, I can't believe it), why does she not wed him? I shall slay him. Is she unhappy? Does she weep? I adore her, but if she loves him he shall marry her or I will stab him to the heart."

"I dare say he's not in earnest," said Bob. And the marquis ground his teeth and foamed at the mouth, and again tried to tear his close-cropped hair without the least success.

"Not—oh, sacred dog of a man,—ha—let me kill him!"

He tore around the room and knocked two ornaments off the mantelpiece and upset a table, which Bob laboriously restored to its place. After he had put it back three times, he gave it up and cowered under the storm.

"I shouldn't be surprised if this was put on," said Bob, rather gloomily. "I know he can act like blazes; Pen says he can. She said he was finer than Irving or Toole in a tragedy. I don't think it has the true ring of sincerity."

And making his escape from the cyclone, he went off to see Goby, who was hideously jealous of Carteret Williams.

"I hope he won't be as mad as the marquis," said Bob. "That table barked my shins horribly the last time it fell. I wish Frenchmen wouldn't shout so when they're angry; I'm nearly deaf."

There was the devil to pay with Goby. He announced his intention of assaulting Williams at once.

"Oh, I say, you mustn't," cried Bob, in great alarm. "She'll never forgive you."

"That Williams!" said Goby. "I always did hate war correspondents. I don't believe it."

But it looked as if he did.

"I dare say you are putting it on," cried Bob. "I don't know where I am."

Goby said he didn't, either, but that if this turned out to be true he would wring Williams's neck in the park the first fine Sunday in June.

"He would have acted just the same if he was married to her, and thought she loved Williams best after all," said Bob to himself. "I'll try Bramber and Williams, and then give it up."

Bramber was in a furious temper, and when Bob assured him that Penelope loved Gordon best of any one, he swore horribly. As he rarely swore, this was very impressive, and Bob almost shivered.

"I say, you mustn't kick Gordon," he urged. "After all, I may be mistaken."

"I wish you were dead," said Bramber, "and you will be if you don't get out."

Bob got out, and when he was in the open air he sighed.

"I don't think I'll try Williams," he said, thoughtfully. "He's much bigger and stronger even than Goby, and they say he's a terror when he's very angry. My scheme doesn't seem to work; there's something wrong with it."

But there was nothing wrong with it, and it worked marvellously. The report that Bob said positively that Pen wasn't married carried much weight. Goby and Rivaulx both gave it away. And all the men now loathed each other openly. Rivaulx cut Goby and Goby cut Williams and Bramber sneered at Gordon, and there was great likelihood of there being the devil to pay. Pen tried to patch up peace among them, and failed, and wept about it, seeing so much of the good she had done melt like sugar in warm rain. At last she announced her intention of leaving them and the world alone.

"I almost think I'll give up reform," she sighed.

And the season went by and the autumn came, and Titania found herself at Goring in October with a large house-party which didn't include Penelope.

"She is, of course, somewhat ashamed of herself," said Titania, happily. "This comes of having ideas and foolishly attempting to carry them into practice. Now that I am certain she is not married and that she only says so, I feel quite different. I no longer abhor the poor, foolish men who are so much in love with her. I see plainly (for I, too, am naturally a democrat of the proper kind) that they have fine qualities. I have marked my sense of this in a way which appears to amuse Lord Bradstock for some reason that I do not follow,—but then, I never could follow Augustin, poor fellow,—by asking them all down here. I dare say they think Penelope will come, for they have all accepted. I am delighted, for I really admire them. Mr. Carew is the handsomest young man in London, and will paint my portrait between meals. I wonder whether I shall try to get thinner by eating less, or will it be better to tell Mr. Carew to make me thinner in his picture. That seems the easiest course; for if Penelope's conduct has not made me thin, what would? Neither hot weather nor despair has the least effect upon me. I shall trust to Mr. Carew's idea of what is right and proper. I wish I could rely with equal confidence upon poor, dear, misguided Penelope."

There was much discontent in the camp when the lovers learnt that their beloved was not one of Titania's house-party. They were not civil to each other, and with difficulty were civil to Titania.

"Confound the old harridan," said Goby. This was wicked, for Titania was very sweet, and retained much more than a trace of her youthful beauty. She belonged to the modern band of those who sternly refuse to grow old.

"Great Scott!" said Carteret Williams. The others made equally appropriate exclamations. They damned Goring in heaps, and looked at each other like a crowd of strange dogs. Owing to Penelope's influence they all came in motor-cars. Even De Vere turned up in one which was guaranteed by age and its maker not to go more than ten miles an hour. There wasn't room to get them into the temporary garage out of the wet. But the marquis did not come in a balloon or a flying-machine. That was something, at any rate, though Bob growled about it bitterly. Pen's request that he should do his best to make the world believe she was married was entirely forgotten. Without quite meaning to say so, he practically asserted in every word that she was not.

"After all," said Bob, "I believe she is capable of deceiving even me, for she is a woman. Horace, in his Odes, seems to think that. It seems to me that classical authors had a very poor opinion of women."

He went to Rivaulx crossly.

"I say, I think you ought to have come in a flying-machine. Why didn't you? Pen will be mad."

He introduced De Vere to Baker (who had been a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers), and left him with him, discussing hydrophobia and bulldogs.

"Baker says he has a great admiration for you, sir," said Bob. "He has lots of pups for you to look at. There's a very queer spotted one that Pen said she was sure you would like. It's very cheap for a spotted dog of the kind, Baker says."

But they were an unhappy crowd, and even the shooting, which was fairly good for a poor duke's place, hardly consoled them.

At night the women, who all gambled, naturally were very cross. It appeared that not one of the men would play bridge, because Penelope had made them swear off. There were only three men in the house not in love with Penelope. Titania had a dreadful time, and much regretted her hospitality. Carew was furious, of course, and his notions of colour were very morbid. And he appeared to see the duchess as she was, in spite of the hints the poor woman threw out to the desperate painter, who looked at her sorrowfully and sighed as he shook his head.

"Being painted is an ordeal," she said. Not one of the others consoled her. De Vere wept with her in the drawing-room; Williams wrecked her orchids in the hothouse; Plant and Gordon quarrelled in the smoking-room. And Bramber, who was only there for four days, looked horridly sorry for himself, and sneered at every one. The marquis went around the park in a ninety-horse-power racer seventeen times between breakfast and lunch. The chauffeurs quarrelled furiously; they even fought in the stable yard with Baker as umpire and Bob as timekeeper.

At the dinner-table was the only time of peace, and then it was too peaceful. Nobody but Bob and Ethel Mytton and Titania did any talking. Bob spoke of very little but Penelope, which was natural but awkward. He told them what Baker said, till they all desired to go out and strangle Baker. Bradstock encouraged him, for Bradstock was the only man there who had any apparent desire to be amused. The rest of them played with the soup, toyed with theentrées, fooled with the roasts, choked over the birds, and went out and oversmoked themselves. Then they met in the big hall and the drawing-room, and Titania had to assure them all one after the other, that she was certain Penelope was not married.

"Then why does she say she is?" they asked, bitterly.

"It must be to try you," said Titania. "Augustin, don't you think it is to try them?"

Bradstock made that sound which the English write as "Humph" and the Scotch put down as "Imphm." It means a great deal, but is intelligible to the intelligent.

"Yes, it is to try you," said Titania. "She is a dear, sweet thing, but has ideas which do not commend themselves to me. I understand them, of course, but regret them. It may be, of course, that she does not love any of you, and is trying to get out of it. By and by you will find out if that is so. She is enthusiastic and impulsive. Oh, these impulses of youth! How well I remember the delightful impulses of youth, when one feels as if one could fly with wings! Even now I get impulses. Poor Penelope! Ah, dear, I wish she would come. I have written again and again to ask her, but I'm afraid she will not."

And, indeed, no one at that moment knew where she was, unless, indeed, it was Timothy and Geordie Smith and Miss Mackarness and the pirate in goggles of the motor-car who carried her off.

Titania and Bob between them, at any rate, accomplished one thing. No one pretended to assign a satisfactory reason for Pen's conduct, but every one, except one, perhaps, believed she was still single. They were sure of it, and grew surer every day. As a result, they recovered some little peace of mind; they quarrelled less and ate more and shot straighter. Rivaulx only went fifteen times around the park before lunch; De Vere bought more dogs; Plant agreed to go into some scheme of trust robbery with Gordon, who assured the rest of them that he had Rothschild up his sleeve. Williams stamped less on flower-beds and swore half as much as usual. Goby and Bramber went out walks together with Bob and Ethel Mytton. Titania's barometer went up and her size went down in Carew's picture. He saw her less yellow, and did not insist on her wrinkles. Augustin sat in the library and read books which were of so humourous a character that they compelled him to put them down and laugh continually. It was certainly a most amusing house-party.

"I thought there would have been duels in the park," said Augustin. "I wonder what the deuce Pen would think of them if she saw them now."

And then one day something serious happened. It was on a Sunday, and on Sundays the post came in at half-past ten, just at the time they were all having breakfast before going to church. They were just about as happy as they could ever hope to be till Penelope married one or all of them. Bob, who was especially greedy that morning, was eating against time and winning. Only Ethel was sad, for Goby seemed quite cheerful. When he was mournful she was happier always. Titania flowed wonderfully. Augustin was saying the kind of thing he could say when sitting down. Goring himself was eating as if he was in rivalry with Bob. He never said anything, but looked like a duke, which is a very fine thing when a man is a duke, and can afford it with care. Gordon was eating bacon as if he had no great appetite for it.

"Oh, here's the post," said Titania. Augustin took Saturday'sTimesand opened it.

"I wonder whether dear Penelope has written to me," said Titania. The "horde" looked up; they hoped even yet that Penelope would give in and come at last.

"Any news?" grunted Goring.

"I don't see any," replied Augustin.

"What are Jack Sheppard's United?" asked Gordon, slipping a piece of bacon into his pocket.

And Augustin made his celebrated speech over again, his single speech in the House of Lords.

"Good God!" said Augustin, and he turned almost as white as theTimespaper before it went through the machines. Every one stared at him.

"What is it?" screamed Titania. Bob jumped up and deserted a pig's cheek just as it was showing signs of utter defeat.

"It's—it's—" said Augustin, and he stammered vainly.

"I say, let's look," cried Bob. "Granny, it's something in the Births, Marriages, and Deaths!"

"Good heavens, speak, Augustin!" implored Titania.

The band of lovers went as white as Augustin; they stood up simultaneously.

"I see it, I see it," said Bob, and he actually snatched the paper from Lord Bradstock's hand.

"Is she married? Is she dead?" asked Titania.

"No, no," said Bob, sputtering and aflame with wild excitement; "it's 'Brading—Lady Penelope Brading on the 18th of a son!'"

CHAPTER XIV.

There are blows which stun; this was, of course, one of them. Titania did not shriek or faint at the awful intelligence conveyed by the Thunderer of Printing House Square. She nodded her head as if she was partially paralyzed, and at last murmured in a dry whisper:

"Of a son! Of a son!"

Bradstock's eyebrows were as high as they would go, and he stared at Titania, and then look around on the circle of men and women. Ethel squeaked a little squeak, like a mouse behind the wainscot and was silent.

"Oh—of a son," said Goby, sighing and looking at the floor.

"Of a son!" said Plant, eyeing the ceiling.

"Un fils!" shrieked Rivaulx.

Gordon said "Damnation;" De Vere shook like a stranded jelly-fish; Bramber went as scarlet as a lobster, and then as white as cotton; Carteret Williams looked blue, and Carew looked green, and Bob said: "My eye!"

There is something organic in any given number of people acting under the same shock or the same impulse. What one thinks another thinks; and now all the room fixed their eyes on Titania, whose lips moved in silence.

"This is dreadful!" said Titania to herself. "I don't believe she's married at all. One of these men is a scoundrel, a ruffian, a seducer!"

No one heard what she said, but as she thought it the men looked at each other with awful suspicions. And then Titania, whose mind was whirling, said feebly:

"We—we must hush it up!"

And there lay theTimes! Hush it up indeed! And Bradstock recovered some of his equanimity.

"Nonsense! She's married, as she says," he remarked, with comparative coolness.

But no one believed it. The men drew apart from each other. De Vere moved his chair, because Goby was looking at him like a demon. Carew shrank from Carteret Williams. Gordon went livid under Plant's eyes. Bramber looked at them all as if he would die on the spot. Rivaulx rose up and waltzed around the room. It was a happy chance that he did so; it is possible that he saved immediate bloodshed. Bradstock and Bob caught the Frenchman in their arms, and led him outside to the lawn, where there was ample room for a franticpas seul.

"Steady, old chap!" said Bradstock, "steady! Her husbandmustacknowledge now who he is!"

"Oh, no," said Bob, in immense delight, "not much! If she's married at all, she's sworn him not to. She told me she'd swear him not to! And she said if he broke his oath she'd never see him again!"

"Great heavens!" said Bradstock, "so she did. I remember now, shedidspeak of oaths, dreadful oaths!"

Rivaulx danced over a flower-bed, came in contact with a fence, fell over it, and uttered a howl which brought every one into the garden. He tumbled into a ditch, fortunately a comparatively dry one, and lay there, using the very worst French language.

The gloomy crowd lined the ditch and listened, and wished they understood. As a matter of fact, only Bradstock and Bramber knew sufficient decent French to guess what Rivaulx said, and they shivered. In the background Titania and Ethel hung to each other and wept; old Goring remained inside sucking at an unlighted cigar.

"The terrible, terrible disgrace!" said Titania. She believed the very worst at once. "Is it the marquis? Is he smitten with remorse?"

Rivaulx got out of the ditch on the wrong side, and walked out into the park, where he addressed a commination service to a nice little herd of Jersey cows. After five minutes of this exercise, he returned toward the house and climbed the fence. Then he shook his fist at the others.

"One of you is ascélerat," he howled, "a scoundrrrel! I challenge you all to fight! Ha, ha!"

Bradstock took him by the arm and led him away.

"One of us is a hound!" said Goby.

"Yes," said the others, "yes!"

They glared at each other horribly, and clenched their fists. Bob ran around them in the wildest excitement.

"Look here, I say, Captain Goby. Oh, Mr. de Vere! I say, Mr. Plant, if you want to fight, come into the stables. Granny says you mustn't fight here."

He grabbed several of them, and was hurled into space at once. He finally laid hold of De Vere, who wasn't capable of hurling a ladybird off his finger.

"You shall fight Goby if you want to," he roared.

[image]THE MARQUIS DE RIVAULX. Anti-Semite to his manicured finger-tips

[image]

[image]

THE MARQUIS DE RIVAULX. Anti-Semite to his manicured finger-tips

"But I don't want to," shrieked the poet. "What shall I do? My heart is broken!"

"Oh, what rot!" said Bob. "I don't understand what the row is about. Pen said she married, and she's got a kid. It will make her happy, for she always loved kids."

But then the notice in her maiden name! Was it not awful, horrible, brazen, peculiar, anti-social, against all law? It was wicked, immoral, indecent. Behind it there must be a dreadful story.

"By God!" said Bradstock, speaking at large to all but Rivaulx, who was breaking up a cane chair at a short distance, "I do think, oaths or none, that the man who is married to her should tell the duchess in confidence."

But Rivaulx heard in the intervals of destruction, and stayed his hand.

"Ha, ha!" he said aloud, "I love her! I am a man! I love her! What shall I do?"

He threw the fragments of the chair into a fountain, kicked over a flower-pot, and ran again into the park, taking the fence in his stride.

"I believe it's remorse," said Titania. "I begin to suspect the marquis!"

But everybody suspected everybody, and yet at the very height of their rage what Bradstock said sank into their hearts. Pen had selected them with care for their inherent nobility. They said to themselves that they would show how noble they were. With one accord they straightened themselves up, and an air of desperate resolve was upon every man's face.

"I will think it out and make up my mind this afternoon," said each of them. They walked away in different directions, and in five minutes not one of them was in sight but the marquis, who was knocking his head against a sapling in a way that caused the herd of Jerseys to revise their estimate of humanity. Even he gave up at last, and went off into the distance with great strides.

"I say," said Bob, "I don't know what to make of this. Where are they going, and what are they going to do? I wish I knew where Pen is; I'd send her a telegram."

The rest of the party said nothing. Titania wept. Old Goring asked Bradstock for a light, and at last got his cigar going. He said nothing whatsoever. Ethel Mytton was in a fearful state of nervousness, and shook with it. Bradstock walked up and down whistling. The men who were not in it gathered in the billiard-room, and said they thought they had better have urgent calls to town. They wanted to discuss the scandal in their clubs. They knew that there wasn't a house in England that would not consider their presence in the light of a tremendous favour, considering all that had occurred at Goring while they were there. They went, and regretted it afterward, for much occurred that very afternoon that no man could have foreseen.

Not a soul came in to lunch but Bob and Bradstock and the old duke.

"Augustin, my boy," said Goring, "these are surprising events, very surprising events. I thought I understood something about women, but I find I'm as ignorant as a two-year-old. What the devil does Penelope mean?"

Bob intervened.

"I believe, grandfather, that she wants to make you all sit up," he said, eagerly.

"Shut up, Bob," said the duke. "Eat pie and hold your tongue. Augustin, is she married, or isn't she?"

"I'm sure of it," said Bradstock, "but—"

"I think it's a damn silly business," said the duke. "I can't remember any parallel except when Miss Wimple, who was a devilish pretty girl fifty years ago, married Prince Scharfskopf morganatically, and kept it dark in spite of twins. There was a devil of a fuss, but it was kept quiet, no announcements in papers, and so on. The emperor boxed Scharfskopf's ears in court when it came out, for it upset his diplomatic apple-cart, as Scharfskopf was to have married Princess Hedwig of Wigstein. She was virtuous and particular, and made trouble, being thirty-five. Do you think Penelope has married any damn prince, for instance?"

Bradstock didn't think so.

"Was any prince sneaking about, eh?"

"Oh, I say," cried Bob, who was listening eagerly, "there was the Rajah of Jugpore!"

"Good heavens!" said Goring, "so there was. I say, Bradstock, what have you to say to that? I'd like to have a look at the infant. Damme, it's a wonderful world!"

And this bore its fruit afterward in scandal and conjecture, for Bob threw out hints about it. But in the meantime they could only talk, and presently they saw the marquis coming across the lawn. He kept on stopping and looking up at the sky, as if for help or a balloon, and he smote his breast repeatedly in a very peculiar fashion.

"Queer cuss, Rivaulx," said Goring. "Takes it hard. Give me a light, Bob. Look at the Johnny smiting himself in the chest. What's he thinking of now? Looks as if he was bound upon a desperate deed. Dear me, I hope there will be no bloodshed, Bradstock! I'm too old for bloodshed now. I won't have duels in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, Bradstock, mind that."

"All right," said Augustin, still looking at Rivaulx gesticulating violently in front of a large laurestinus. "Bob, give me those glasses."

Through the glass Rivaulx's face was plain to see.

"Damn!" said Augustin to himself, "what's up? He's going to do something, something desperate. He is looking like a hero on a scaffold. He has an air of sad nobility. Oh, Pen, Pen!"

Rivaulx advanced on the house with his head up. He came in and sent word to the collapsed duchess that he desired most humbly an audience with her. Bob listened.

"He wanted to see granny," said Bob.

"Let him," said the duke. "I don't; I want peace."

Titania sent down word that she would see him.

"Poor sad Penelope, poor mournful Penelope!" said Rivaulx. "Ha, but I will save her from further woe!"

He found Titania on a sofa, and he kissed her hand. This pleased poor Titania; it reminded her of her youth.

"Oh, marquis, I am in despair!" she cried.

"Despair not," said Rivaulx, as he stood up and smote his forehead, "despair not. All is not lost. But for me, I stand between two dreadful alternatives, and I have resolved to do my duty."

There was an air of tragedy about him that covered him like a robe. Titania shivered.

"What is it? What have you to tell me?"

"Ah, what!" cried Rivaulx. "But I shall do it. I shall do it at once, immediately, if not sooner, as your poet says."

"You won't kill any one, at least not here," shrieked Titania.

"Far from it," replied the marquis. "Oh, but it is terrible, for I have to smash, to break an oath. I swore not to reveal what I am about to reveal."

"Good heavens!" said Titania. "Oh, what? Is it—can it be—no—"

"Yes, yes," cried Rivaulx, "it is true; I own it!"

"Own what, marquis?"

He smote his breast and looked above her.

"I am the man!"

"Oh, what man?" squealed the duchess.

"I am the husband—and—and—the father," said Rivaulx, with a gulp, as if he were swallowing an apple whole.

"Of my Penelope?"

"Yes, yes," said the marquis. "Say nothing. It is a secret, full of oaths. Why, I know not, but she, the dear, insists, and what am I?"

Titania lay and gasped. The relief was tremendous. Three hours ago she would have refused to think of Rivaulx as Pen's husband. Now she welcomed the notion; she sighed and almost fainted. Rivaulx muttered strange things to himself.

"Can I announce it?"

"No," said the marquis, "it is a secret. But it is all right. I go."

"Take my blessing," said Titania. "Go to her quickly, poor dear, and implore her to let me come to her, and bid her tell all the world. What is her address?"

"I cannot give it," said Rivaulx, pallidly. "It is a secret. But I go, I hasten. Adieu, duchess; I am distracted. Oh, my mother and my country!"

He fled from the room, and, leaving his man to bring on his things, went away at an illegal speed toward London.

"Well, well," said Titania, with a gasp, "I cannot understand anything. But, after all, the marquis is a fine man and of a good family. I could almost sleep a little."

But just as she was composing herself to rest, Mr. Plant sent up word that he wished to see her for a few moments on urgent business before he went back to town.

"Let him come up," said the duchess. When Plant entered, he stood bolt upright in front of her, with a strange air of determination.

"I shall surprise you, I reckon," he said, in an American accent as thick as petrol fumes. "I know I shall."

"No, you won't," said Titania. "Nothing can surprise me now, I assure you."

"I shall surprise you, ma'am," said Plant, "and you'll have to own it. Prepare yourself and remember that what I tell you is in the nature of a secret. I can stand it no longer. I have to let it out. To hear Lady Penelope, whom I adore, spoken of as I do, makes my blood boil. She may have made some mistakes, but I've made some, too. I am going to surprise you—"

"No, you are not, Mr. Plant," said Titania.

"I—I am Lady Penelope's husband," said Plant, desperately, fixing his eyes on space.

"You arewhat?" shrieked Titania.

"Her husband—and—the parent of the announcement in theTimes," said Plant, firmly.

"Am I mad?" asked Titania.

"No, but I am," said Plant, who was as pale as a traditional ghost. "I'm mad both ways. I want to kill."

"You mustn't," cried Titania, feebly. "I don't know where I am. What did you say? Oh, say it again!"

He said it again, and before she could say anything further, he rushed from the room and bounded down-stairs. She heard him turn his motor-car loose, and knew that in twenty seconds he was a mile away.

"What's wrong with everything, and me, and them?" asked Titania. "I wish I was a dairy-maid in a quiet farm, and had no relations. Am I mad? Did the marquis say it? Or did I dream it?"

Lord Bramber was announced.

"Oh, oh, oh!" said Titania. "Yes, I'll see him."

Bramber came in fuming, and, like the others, fixed his eyes over her head. He was nervous and abrupt.

"I can't stand any more, duchess," he began.

"I can't stand much," said Titania.

"It's a secret of course," said Bramber, "and I'm breaking my word!"

"Are you the husband of Penelope?" asked Titania.

"I—I am," replied Bramber, "and the cause, so to speak, of the notice in theTimes."

"I thought so," said Titania. "Look at me, Ronald. Do I look mad? does my hair stand on end? do I seem wild and wandering?"

"No, of course not," said Bramber. "I'm telling you this because I feel I ought to. Now I'm going to her at once. This last news was rather unexpected, of course. Good-bye—"

"Stay!" shrieked Titania, but she was too late. Bramber was down-stairs and bounded into his motor-car and let her rip.

"What's the matter with everybody?" wailed Titania. "The marquis made me happy, but now I'm confused, very sadly confused, and I can't think she's married them all."

Gordon was announced, and in about three sentences he told her that, though the affair was a secret, he was Penelope's husband.

"I knew you were," said Titania. "When I heard you wanted to see me, I knew you were coming to say so. Oh, good-bye. Ask Lord Bradstock to send for a doctor. Good-bye, Mr. Gordon. Go now."

And Gordon went, just as De Vere came in.

"You have come to say you have married Penelope, Iknow," said Titania. "I feel sure you have."

"I have a heart for sorrow, for disgrace, for all things lovely. I—I am responsible for everything, even theTimes," said De Vere, who was as pale as plaster.

"Leave me," said Titania. "Go and see her at once. Settle who it is. Go!"

And when he had gone, Carteret Williams and Carew came one after the other with the same confession. And she received them sadly, and appeared to wander. When the house was empty, she sent for Bradstock.

"Augustin, dear Augustin," she said, "you won't let them put me in an asylum. Have me taken care of at home, won't you? Don't let Goring give me cruel keepers. I am quite gentle and broken down!"

"I won't let anything beastly be done," said Bradstock. "But, my dear child, what's the matter?"

And Titania told him:

"By the Lord," said Bradstock, "they are damned good chaps! but where the devil are we?"

He went down-stairs when the doctor came and told everything to Goring. And Goring told Bob. For Titania forgot to mention to Augustin that all the husbands had insisted it was a dead secret.

"I say," said Bob, "of all the larks I've ever heard of, this takes the cake! I wonder what I ought to do. I think I'll ask Baker."

And he asked Baker. And in less than twenty-four hours the world knew all about it.

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