Alathea (Harriet Hammond) realizes that Suzette (Renee Adoree) is the only woman that stands between her and the love of Sir Nicholas (Lew Cody). (A scene from Elinor Glyn's production "Man and Maid" for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer)Alathea (Harriet Hammond) realizes that Suzette (Renee Adoree) is the only woman that stands between her and the love of Sir Nicholas (Lew Cody). (A scene from Elinor Glyn's production "Man and Maid" for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer)
He promised he would, then he smoked for a minute or two in silence. "Pretty terrible thing, marriage," and he puffed blue rings with perfect precision. "I have never been able to face it. What has made you slip into the mesh?"
"Because I think I have found someone who will be a good companion and not bore me."
"You are not in love then? It is a sensible arrangement, and in that way you have a chance of happiness; also the girl has had a hard life, and may be grateful for comfort and kindness."
"What do you suppose men really want, George?"
"The continuous stimulation of the hunting instinct, of course. It is satiety which kills everything, but what a small percentage of women know how to keep it alive, on the mental side!"
I waited for him to go on.
"You see, dear boy, love which is only the camouflaged aspect of the creative instinct, cannot really hold, but a clever woman acts as a spur to the mind, keeps it hunting in the abstract, as well as gratifying, not too generously, the physical desires. Unfortunately it has never been my good fortune to encounter such a being, so I have never been able to remain faithful. You are very much in luck if Bobby's girl shows intelligence. She ought to be a remarkable creature because she was born at the white heat of passion on both parents' side, and self-sacrifice and devotion added on the mother's."
"She is, George."
"My best wishes, Nicholas. I think you are wise,probably wounded as you are, it will be nice for you to have an agreeable companion," and he sighed.
"You have quite finished with Violetta?"
"Now that is the odd part," and he actually removed his cigar from his lips. "I thought I had, but when I went to see her with the certain intention of deceiving her and backing out gracefully,—that vixen Carmencita was drawing me so strongly!—I found Violetta quite tranquil. She said she had realized that I was cooling off, and her rule was to hold nothing which did not wish to stay, so she was quite prepared to part from me. She was very tender, she looked beautiful, and you know when it came to saying farewell, I found myself quite unable to do so! I had prepared a lot of lies about my not being justified in giving the time from my work, but before I could tell them Violetta had forestalled me by assuring me that she knew I must really stick closer to my office, and she would no longer expect much of my company. You know, Nicholas, I suddenly found her charm renewed tenfold, and I could only congratulate myself upon the fact that the affair with Carmencita had not gone far enough to amount to anything, and now I am in pursuit of Violetta again, and 'pon my soul, Nicholas, if she only keeps me wondering, I believe I shall be really in love!"
"Shall you marry, George?"
He looked almost bashful.
"It is just possible,—Violetta is a widow."
Then our eyes met and we both laughed aloud.
"You can contemplate happiness, George with your widow, because you feel that she now knows how to handle you, and I contemplate happiness with my little girl, because I respect her character and adore every inch of her, and by Jove! old man, I believe we shall both get what we are looking for!"
Then our talk drifted to politics and the war, and it was just about midnight before old George left, and when he had gone I opened the window wide, and looked out on the night, there was a half moon almost set, and the air was still, and very warm for the beginning of November. There are nights like that, mysterious and electric when all sorts of strange forces seem to be abroad. And something of romance in me exalted my spirit, and I found myself saying a prayer that I might be true to my trust, and have strength enough of will to wait patiently until my Alathea comes voluntarily into my arms.
And how I wonder what she is thinking about, there at Auteuil?
I went along into the room which is to be hers to-morrow, and I saw that it was all arranged, except the flowers, which would come in fresh in the morning. And then I hobbled back to my own room and rang for Burton. The faithful creature waits for me no matter how late I am.
When I was safely in bed, he came over to me, and his dear old face showed emotion.
"I do indeed wish you happiness, Sir Nicholas, to-morrow will be the best day of my life."
We shook hands silently, and he left me, still writing in this journal!
I feel no excitement, rather as if another act in the drama of life was ended, that is all, and that to-morrow I am starting upon a new one which will decide whether the end of the play shall be tragedy or content?
XXII
I am not going to describe the wedding in this Journal. A civil ceremony is not interesting in its baldness. I had literally no emotions, and Alathea looked as pale as her white frock. She wore a little sable toque and a big sable cloak I had sent her the night before, by Nelson. The ring was the new diamond hoop set in platinum. No more gold fetters for modern girls!
Old George and Mr. Nelson were our witnesses, and the whole thing was over in a few minutes, and we were being congratulated. Burton was by far the happiest face there, as he helped me into the automobile, lent by the Embassy. Alathea had just shaken hands with Mr. Nelson and been wished joy by George. I wonder what he thought of the glasses, which even for the wedding she had not taken off!
"May you know every happiness, Lady Thormonde," he said. "Take care of Nicholas and make him quite well, he is the best fellow on earth."
Alathea thanked him coldly. He is such a citizen of the world that he showed no surprise, and finally we were off on our way to the flat.
Here Madame Bizot and her daughter, and the baby, awaited us! And in the creature's tiny hand was a bunch of violets. This was the first time Alathea smiled. She bent and kissed the wee face. These peopleknow and love her. I stayed behind a few moments to express my substantial appreciation of their friendly interest. Burton had been beside the chauffeur to help me in and out, and while we had been driving Alathea had not spoken a word. She had turned from me, and her little body was drawn back as far in the corner as possible.
My own emotions were queer. I did not feel actually excited. I felt just as I used when we were going to take up a new position on the line where great watchfulness would be necessary to succeed.
The maid Alathea had engaged arrived in the morning, and I had had the loveliest flowers put in all the rooms. Pierre intended to outdo himself for the weddingdéjeuner, I knew, and Burton had been able to find somewhere a really respectable looking footman, not too obviously wounded.
Alathea handed me my crutch as we got out of the lift. Perhaps she thinks this is going to be one of her new duties!
We went straight into the sitting-room and I sat down in my chair. Her maid, named Henriette, had taken her cloak and hat in the hall, and I suppose from sheer nervousness, and to cover the first awkward moments, Alathea buried her face in the big bowl of roses on a table near another arm chair, before she sat down in it.
"What lovely flowers!" she said. They were the first words she had spoken to me directly.
"I wondered what would be your favorites. Youmust tell me for the future. I just had roses because they happen to be mine."
"I like roses best too."
I was silent for quite two minutes. She tried to keep still, then I spoke, and I could hear a tone of authority in my voice.
"Alathea, again I ask you please to remove your glasses, as I told you before, I know that you wear them only so that I may not see your eyes, not for sight or light or anything. To keep them on is a little undignified and ridiculous now, and irritates me very much."
She colored and straightened herself.
"To remove my glasses was not part of the bargain. You should have made it a condition if you had wanted to impose it. I do not admit that you have the least right to ask me to take them off, and I prefer to wear them."
"For what possible reason?"
"I will not tell you."
I felt my temper rising. If I had not been a cripple I could not have resisted the temptation to rise and seize her in my arms, tear the d—— d things off! and punish her with a thousand kisses. As it was, I felt an inward rage. What a fool I had been not to have actually made the removal of them asine qua nonbefore I signed the contract!
"It is very ungenerous of you, and shows a spirit of hostility which I think we agreed that you would drop."
Silence.
The desire to punish her physically, beat her, make her obey me, was the only thing I felt. A nice emotion for a wedding day!
"Do you mean to wear them all the time, even when we go out in the world?" I asked when I could control my voice.
"Probably."
"Very well then, I consider you are breaking the bargain in spirit, if not in the letter. You, yourself, said you were going to be my permanent secretary—no secretary in the world would insist upon doing something she knew to be a great irritation to her employer."
Silence.
"You are only lowering yourself in my estimation by showing this obstinacy. Since we have now to live together, I would rather not have to grow to despise you for childishness."
She started to her feet, and with violence threw the glasses on to the table. Her beautiful eyes flashed at me; the lashes are that peculiar curly kind, not black, but soft and dusky, a little lighter near the skin. It is the first time I have ever seen such eyelashes on a woman's lids. One sees them quite often on little boys, especially little vagabonds in the street. The eyes themselves are intensely blue, and with everything of passion and magnetism, and attraction, in them. It is no wonder she wore glasses while having to face the world by herself! A woman with eyes like that would not be safe alone in any avocation where men could observe her. I havenever seen such expressive, fascinating eyes in my life. I thrilled in every fibre of my being, and with triumph also to think that our first battle should be won!
"Thank you," I said, making my voice very calm. "I had grown so to respect your balance and serenity, I should have been sorry to have to change my opinion."
I could see that she was palpitating with fury at having been made to obey. I felt it wise to turn the conversation.
"I suppose lunch will be ready soon."
She went towards the door then, and left me. I wondered what she would say when she got to her room and found the three sapphire bangles waiting for her on the dressing table!
I had written on a card inside the lid of the box:
"To Alathea with her husband's best wishes."
Burton announced lunch before she returned to the sitting-room. I sent him to say that it was ready, and a moment after she came in. She had the case in her hand which she put down on the table, and her cheeks were very pink, her eyes she kept lowered.
"I wish you would not give me presents," she gasped a little breathlessly, coming close up to my chair. "I do not care to receive them, you have loaded me with things—the sables, the diamond ring, the clothes, everything, and now these."
I took the case and opened it, removing the bangles.
"Give me your wrist," I said sternly.
She looked at me too surprised at my tone to speak.
I put out my hand and took her bare arm, her sleeves were to the elbows, and I deliberately put the three bracelets on while she stood petrified.
"I have had enough of your disagreeable temper," I said in the same voice. "You will wear these, and anything else I choose to give you, though your rudeness will soon remove my desire to give you anything."
She was absolutely flabbergasted, but I had touched her pride.
"I apologize if I have seemed rude," she said at last. "I—suppose you have the right really—only—" And her whole slender body quivered with a wave of rebellion.
"Let us say no more about the matter, but go into lunch, only you will find that I am not such a weakling, as you no doubt supposed you would have to deal with." I hobbled up from my chair, Burton discreetly not having entered the room. Alathea gave me my crutch, and we went in to the dining-room.
While the servants were in there I led the conversation upon the war news, and ordinary subjects, and she played the game, but when we were alone with the coffee, I filled her glass with Benedictine, which she had refused when Burton handed the liqueurs. She had taken no wine at all.
"Now drink whatever toast you like," I told her. "I am going to drink one to the time when you don't hate me so much and we can have a little quiet friendship and peace."
She sipped her glass, and her eyes became inscrutable. What she was thinking of I do not know.
I find myself watching those eyes all the time. Every reflection passes through them, they are as expressive of all shades of emotion as the eyes of a cat, though the beautiful Madonna tenderness I have never seen again since the day when she held the child in her arms, and I was rude to her.
When we went back into the salon I knew that I was passionately in love with her. Her restiveness is absolutely alluring, and excites all my hunting instinct. She looks quite lovely, and the subtle magnetism which drew me the first days, even when she appeared poor and shabby, and red of hand, is stronger than ever—I felt that I wanted to crush her in my arms and devour her, the blood thumped in my temples, I had to use every atom of my will with myself, and lay back in my chair and closed my eye.
She went straight to the piano and began to play. It seemed as though she were talking, telling me of the passion in her soul. She played weird Russian dances and crashed agonizing chords, then she played laments, and finally a soft and soothing thing of McDowell's, and every note had found an echo in me, and I had followed, it almost seemed, all her pain.
"You play divinely, child," I said, when she had finished. "I am going to rest now, will you give me some tea later on?"
"Yes," and her voice was quite meek, while shehelped me with my crutch, and I went to the door of my room.
"I would like you to wear nice soft teagowns. My eye gets so wearied with everything bright after a while. I hope—you have got all you want, and that your room is comfortable?"
"Yes, thanks."
I bowed and went on into my room and shut the door. Burton was waiting to help me to lie down.
"It has been a very tiring day for you, Sir Nicholas," he said, "and for her Ladyship also."
"Go and have a rest yourself, Burton, you have been up since cock crow, the new man Antoine can call me at five." And soon I was in a land of blissful dreams.
Of course it was the very irony of fate that Suzette should have selected this very afternoon to come in and thank me for the Villa which she was just now going down to see—!
Antoine opened the door to her while Burton was out. I heard afterwards that she told him she had an appointment with me when he had hesitated about letting her in. She was quite quietly dressed and had no great look of thedemi-monde, and a new footman, blunted with war service, was probably impervious even to the very strong scent which she was saturated with—that perfume which I had never been able entirely to cure her liking for, and which she reverted to using always when she went away from me, and had to be corrected of again and again when she returned.
Antoine came to my room by the passage, and said "a lady was in the salon to see me by appointment."
For a moment I was not suspicious. I thought it might be Coralie, and fearing Alathea might be somewhere about, and it might be awkward for her, I hastened to rise and go in to see and get rid of the inopportune guest. I told Antoine he must never let anyone in again without permission.
It was just growing dim in the salon, about half-past four o'clock, and a figure rose from the sofa by the fire as I entered.
"Mon chou—mon petit cheri!" I heard, simultaneously with a softly closing sound of the door behind the screen, which masks the entrance to the room from the hall—Antoine leaving I supposed at the time, probably it was Alathea I surmised afterwards!
"Suzette!" I exclaimed angrily. "Why do you come here?"
She flew to me and held out her arms, expressing affection and grateful thanks. She had come for no other reason only just to express her friendly appreciation! To get rid of her was all I desired. I never was more angry, but to show it would have been the poorest game. I did not tell her it was my wedding day. I just said I was expecting some relatives, and that I knew she would understand and would go at once.
"Of course," she said, and shook me by the hand. I was still standing with my crutch. She was passing to see her cousin Madame Angier, in the flat above, and could not resist the temptation to come in.
"It must be the very last time, Suzette," I said. "I have given you all that you wanted, and I would rather not see you again."
She pouted, but agreed, and I drew her to the door and saw her into the corridor, and even followed her to the front door. She was chatting all the time. I did not answer. I was speechless with rage, and could have sworn aloud, when at last I heard the door shut between us, then I strode back into my room, praying that Alatheahadbeen unaware of my visitor.
Nemesis, on one's wedding day!
I waited until five and then went back into the sitting-room to my chair, and Antoine brought in the tea, and turned on the lights, and a moment or two afterwards Alathea came in. Her eyes were stony, and as she advanced up the room she sniffed the air disgustedly, her fine nostrils quivering. Suzette's pungent perfume was no doubt still present to one coming from outside!
Hauteur, contempt and disgust, expressed themselves in my little darling's blue eyes. There was nothing to be said—qui s'excuse s'accuse—!
She wore a soft lavender frock, and was utterly delectable, and when I reflected that but for this impassable barrier, which my own action in the past had been the means of erecting between us, I might now have made her love me, and that on this, our wedding day, she might have been coming into my arms. I could have groaned aloud.
"May I open the window," she said with the air of an offended Empress.
"Yes, do, open it wide," and then I laughed aloud cynically. I could as easily have cried.
Alathea would not of course have spoken about her suspicions, to do so would have inferred that she took an interest in me beyond that of a secretary; every impression she always has given me is that nothing in my life can matter to her one jot. But I know that this affair of Suzette does matter to her, that she resents it bitterly, that it is the cause of her smouldering anger with me. She resents it because she is a woman, and, how I wish I might believe that it is because she is not as indifferent towards me as she pretends.
She poured out the tea. I expect my face looked like the devil, I did not speak, I knew I was frowning angrily. A rising wind blew the curtain out and banged the window. She got up and shut it, then she threw some cedar dust on the fire from the box which it is kept in on a table near. She had seen Burton do this no doubt. I love the smell of cedar burning.
Then she came back and poured out the tea and we both drank it silently.
The room looked so comfortable and home like, with its panelling of old pitch pine, cleaned of its paint and mellowed and waxed, so that it seems like deep amber, showing up the greyish pear-wood carvings. One might have been in some room in old England of about 1699. Everything looked the setting for a love scene. The glowing lamps, apricot shaded, and the firelight, and the yellow roses everywhere, and twohuman beings who belonged to one another and were young, and not cold of nature, sitting there with faces of stone, and in each one's heart bitterness. Again I laughed aloud.
The mocking sound seemed to disturb my bride. She allowed her tea cup to rattle as she put it down nervously.
"Would you like me to read to you," she asked icily.
And I said "Yes."
And presently her beautiful cultivated voice was flowing along. It was an article in theSaturday Reviewshe had picked up, and I did not take in what it was about. I was gazing into the glowing logs, and trying to see visions, and gain any inspiration of how to find a way out of this tangle of false impression. I must wait and see, and endeavor when we get more accustomed to one another—somehow to let Alathea know the truth.
When she finished the pages she stopped.
"I think he is quite right," she said, but I had not heard what the argument was, so I could only say "Yes!"
"Will it interest you going to England?" I then asked.
"I dare say."
"I have a place there you know. Shall you care to live in it after the war is over?"
"I believe it is the duty of people to live in their homes if they have inherited them as a trust."
"And I can always count upon you to do your duty."
"I hope so."
Then I exerted myself and talked to her about politics and what were my views and aims. She entered into this stiffly, and so an hour passed, but all the time I could feel that her inner self was disturbed, and more resentful and rebellious than ever. We had been two puppets making conversation all the time, neither had said anything naturally.
At last the pretense ended, and we went to our separate rooms to dress for dinner.
Burton had returned by now, and I told him of the detestable thing which had happened, at which he was much concerned.
"Best of her sort was Mam'zelle, Sir Nicholas, but I've always said they bring trouble, every one of them,—if I may make so bold!"
And as I hobbled back into the salon to meet my wife for our first dinner alone, once more I heartily agreed with him!
XXIII
Alathea looked perfectly lovely when she came into the salon dressed for dinner. It is the first time I have seen her in anything pertaining to the evening. She had a gauzy tea-gown on, of a shade of blue like her eyes. Her nut brown hair was beautifully done, with the last "look" like Coralie's, showing her tiny head. Whether she likes it or no, I must give her some pearl earrings, and my mother's pearls. That will be a moment! But I had better wait a little while. Her eyes were shining with excitement or resentment, or a mixture of both. She was purely feminine. She intended to attract me I am certain, her subconscious mind did at all events, even though she would not have admitted it to herself. She was smarting still about Suzette. The situation fills her with distrust and uneasiness, but I know now, after analysing every point, when I could not sleep last night, that she is not really indifferent to me. And it is because she is not, that she is angry.
I registered a vow that I wouldmakeher love me without explaining about Suzette, fate can let her find out for herself.
I had not come to the comforting conclusion that she is not indifferent at the beginning of the evening though, so the sense of self-confidence and triumph didnot uplift me then. I was still worried at the events of the afternoon.
I had troubled to put on a tail coat and white waistcoat, not a dinner jacket as usual, and had even a buttonhole of a gardenia, found by Burton for this great occasion!
I looked into her eyes with my one blue one, which is I suppose, as blue as her own. She instantly averted her glance.
"I cannot offer you my arm, milady," I said rather sarcastically, "So we will have to go in after each other."
She bowed and led the way.
The table was too beautifully decorated, and the dinner a masterpiece! while the champagne was iced to perfection, and the Burgundy a poem! The pupils of Alathea's eyes before the partridge came, were black as night. Burton discreetly marshalled Antoine out of the room each time after the dishes were handed.
"When will you get your new eye?" my wife—I like to write that!—asked in the first interval when we were alone, "and your new leg?"
"I suppose they will both be restored to me in a day or two. It will be so wonderful to walk again."
"I should think so."
Then something seemed to strike her suddenly, of how hateful it must all have been for me. Her hard expression changed and she almost whispered:
"It—will seem like a new life."
"I mean to make a new life, if you will help me. I want to get away from all the old useless days. I want to do things which are worth while."
"Shall you soon go into Parliament?"
"I suppose it will take a year or two, but we shall begin to pave the way directly we go back to England, and I hope that will be for Christmas."
She avoided looking at me. I could never catch her eye, but her adorable little profile was good enough to contemplate, the crisp curl by her ear delighted me, and another in the nape of her neck filled me with wild longings to kiss it, and the pearly skin beneath it!
I think I deserve great praise for the way I acted, for the whole thing was acting. I was cold, and as haughty and aloof as she was herself, but I used every art I knew of to draw her out and make her talk.
She is such a lady that she fell into the stride and spoke politely as if to some stranger who had taken her into dinner at a party.
At last we talked of the Duchesse, and we discussed her interesting character, such a marvel of theancien régime!
"She is so very good and charitable," Alathea said, "and has always a twinkle in her eye which carries her through things."
"You laugh sometimes, too?" I asked with assumed surprise. "That is delightful! I adore the 'twinkle in the eye,' but I was afraid you would neverunbend far enough so that we could laugh together!"
I think this offended her.
"Life would be impossible without a sense of humor, even if it is a grim one."
"Well, nothing need be grim any more, and we can both smile at the rather absurd situation between us, which, however, suits us both admirably. You will never interfere with me, or I with you."
"No—" There was a tone in this which let me feel that her thoughts had harked back to Suzette.
"The Duchesse is going to have a little tea party for us on Saturday, you know, so that you may be introduced as my wife."
Alathea became embarrassed at once.
"Will people know my real name?"
"No—we shall tell no stories, but we shall not be communicative. You will be introduced as an old English friend of the Duchesse's."
She looked at me for an instant and there was gratitude in her expression.
"Alathea, I want you to forget all about the troubles which must have clouded your life. They are all over now, and some day, perhaps you will introduce me to your mother and little sister."
"I will, of course when they come back from the South. My mother has often been so ill."
"I want you to feel that I would do anything for them. Are you sure they have all they want?"
She protested.
"Indeed—yes, far more. You have given too much already."
She raised her head with that indescribable little gesture of hauteur, which becomes her so beautifully. I could read her mind. It said, "I loathe receiving anything from him, with that woman in the background!"
When we went into the salon I wondered what she would do. I did not speak. She took my crutch and shook up my cushion, taking great care not to touch me. I could not look up. I knew that a powerful electric current would pass from my eye to hers, if I did, and that she would see that I was only longing to take her to my heart.
I remained silent and gazed into the fire. She sat down quietly on the sofa at the side, so that I would have to turn my head to look at her. Thus we remained for quite five minutes, speechless. The air throbbed with emotion. I dared not move.
At last she said, "Would you care that I should read to you again, or play?"
"Play for a little." My voice was chilly. I was quite determined the iciness should come from me first, not her, for a few days.
She went to the piano, and she began the Debussy she had played that afternoon when I had first asked her to play—I never can remember its name—and when she had finished she stopped.
"What made you play that now?" I asked.
"I felt like it."
"It wrenches my nerves. What makes you feel all unrestful and rebellious and defiant, Alathea, am I not keeping the bargain?"
"Yes, of course."
"You are bored to death then?"
"No, I am wondering."
"Wondering what?"
She did not answer. I could not see her without getting up out of my chair.
"Please come here," I asked in an indifferent cold voice. "You know it is so difficult for me to move."
She came back and sat down upon the sofa again. The light of the apricot lamp fell softly on her hair.
"Now tell me about what you were wondering."
Her mouth grew stubborn and she did not speak.
"It is so unlike you to do these very female things, beginning sentences and not going on. I never saw anyone so changed; once I looked upon you as the model for all that was balanced, and unlike your sex. It was I who used to feel nervous and ineffectual, now, ever since we have been engaged, you seem to be disturbed, and to have lost your serenity. Don't you think as it is the first evening that we are alone together that it would be a wise thing to try and get at each other's point of view? Tell me the truth Alathea, what has caused the alteration in you?"
Now she looked straight at me, and there was defiance in her expressive eyes.
"That is just what I was wondering about. It istrue, I seem to have lost my serenity, I am self-conscious—I am conscious of you."
A delicious sensation of joy flowed through me, and the feeling of triumph began which is with me still. If she is conscious of me—!
"Do you mind if I smoke?" I asked with complete casualness to hide my emotions. She shook her head, and I lit a cigarette.
"You were uneasy because you did not trust me, you thought underneath there might be some trap, and that I would seize you once you belonged to me. There was a moment when I might have felt inclined to do so, though I would never have broken my word, but you have cured me of all that, and there is nothing to prevent our being quite good acquaintances,—even if your prejudice does not ever allow you to be friends."
For a second a blank look came into her expression. I was banking on my knowledge of the psychology of a human mind, the predatory instinct must inevitably be aroused in her by my attitude of indifference, if I can only act well enough and keep it up! I should certainly win in a fairly short space of time. But she is so attractive, I do not yet know if I shall have the strength of mind to do so.
"Are you not going to give me some regular work to do each day?" she asked with a tone of mock respect in her voice. "None of the letters have been answered lately, or the bills paid."
"Yes. I scrambled through them all myself whileI was waiting, but if you will look over the book again, we might finally send it to a publisher."
"Very well."
"I don't want you to feel that you have ever to stay in or do any work you don't feel inclined for. We shall have lots of time, for the rest of our lives. No doubt to-morrow you would wish to spend with your mother, if she is going away."
"I said good-bye to her this morning. There is no need for me to go back. I came prepared to stay. Unless of course you would rather be alone, then I can go out for a walk." This last with a peculiar tone in the words.
"Naturally you will want to go for walks, and drives, and shopping. You don't imagine that I shall expect you to be a prisoner, just waiting on my beck and call!"
"Yes, that is how I took the bargain. It is quite unfair otherwise. I am here as a paid dependant and receiving really too high wages for any possible work I can give in return. I would not have entered into it otherwise or on any other terms. I loathe to receive favors."
"Madame Lucifer!"
She flashed blue sparks at me!
"I am not forced to command you to work you know," I went on "that is not part of the bargain, the bargain is entirely concerned with my not askingyouto give me any favors, personal favors, like affection,or caresses, etcetera, or that I shall ever expect you to be really my wife."
She frowned.
"Well, you may put your mind entirely at rest, you have been so awfully disagreeable to me for so long, ever since we were at Versailles in the summer, that you don't attract me at all now, except your intellect and your playing. So if you will talk sometimes and play sometimes, that will be all right. I don't desire anything else. Now, assured about this, can't you be at ease and restful again?"
I know why she wore glasses. She cannot control the expression of her eyes! The pupils dilate and contract and tell one wonderful things! I know that this attitude of mine is having a powerful effect upon her, the feminine in her hates to feel that she has lost power over me—even over my senses. I could have laughed aloud, I was so pleased with my success, but I did not dare to look at her much, or I could never have kept the game up. She was more delectable than I can ever describe.
"It would interest me so much to know why your hands used to be so red," I asked after a little pause. "They are getting so much whiter now."
"I had work to do, dishes to wash, our old nurse was too ill, as well as my mother, and my little brother then—" there was a break in her soft voice. "I do not like red hands any more than you do. They distressedmy father always. I will try to take care of them now."
"Yes—do."
The evening post had come in, and been put by Burton discreetly on a side table. He naturally thought such mundane things could not interest me on my wedding night. I caught sight of the little pile and asked Alathea to bring them to me.
She did. One from Coralie was lying on top and one immediately under it from Solonge de Clerté! Alathea saw that they were both in female writing. The rest were bills and business.
"Do you permit me to open them?" I asked punctiliously.
"Of course," and she reddened. "Are you not master here? How absurd to ask me!"
"It is not; you are Lady Thormonde, even if you are not my wife, and have a right to courtesy."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Why did you put—'To Alathea from her husband' on the bracelets? You are 'Sir Nicholas' and not my husband."
"It was abêtise, a slip of the pen; I admit you are right," and indifferently I opened Coralie's effusion, smiling over it. I put up my hand as if to shade my eye, and looked at Alathea through the fingers. She was watching me with an expression of slightly anxious interest. I could almost have believed that she wasjealous!
My triumph increased.
I removed my hand and appeared only to be intent upon Coralie's letter.
"Perhaps we each have friends which might bore the other, so when you want to have parties tell me, and I will arrange to go out, and when I want to, I will tell you. In that way we can never have any jars."
"Thank you, but I have no friends except the Duchesse, or very humble people who don't want to come to parties."
"But you will be making plenty of new friends now. I have some which you will meet out in the world which I daresay you won't care about, and some who come and dine with me sometimes, who probably you would dislike."
"Yes,—I know."
"How do you know?" I asked innocently, affecting surprise.
"I used to hear them when I was typing."
I smiled. I did not defend them.
"If you should chance to meet, would you be civil to them?"
"Of course, 'Coralie,' 'Odette,' and 'Alice,' the Duchesse has often described them all! It was 'Coralie' who came to talk to you at Versailles in the park, was it not?"
Her voice was contemptuously amused and indifferent, but her little nostrils quivered. Underneath she was disturbed I knew.
"Yes, Coralie is charming, she knows more abouthow to put clothes on becomingly than any other woman."
"Do they dine often? Because I could perhaps arrange to go and have my music lesson with Monsieur Trani on those evenings, twice a week or oftener?"
"You would refuse to meet them?" I pretended to be annoyed.
"Certainly not, one does not do ridiculous things like that. I will meet whoever you wish. I only thought it might spoil your pleasure if I were there, unless of course you have told them that I am only a permanent secretary masquerading under the name of your wife—so that they need not restrain themselves."
Her face had become inscrutable. She was quite calm now. I grew uncertain again for a moment. Had I carried the bluff far enough?
"They have all quite charming manners, but as you infer they might not be so amused to come to the dinner of a married man. I think the last part of your speech was rather a reflection upon my sense of being a gentleman though. I of course have not informed anyone of our quaint relations.—But remember you told me once you did not think I was a gentleman, so I must not be offended now."
She did not speak, she was looking down and her eyelashes made a shadow on her cheeks. Her mouth was sad.
Suddenly something pathetic about her touched me. She is such a gallant little fighter. She has hadsuch an ugly cruel life, and Oh! God she is growing to love me, and soon shall I be able to tell her that I worship the ground she walks on, and appreciate her proud spirit and great self-respect? But I cannot chance anything. I must go on and follow what I know to be sound psychological reasoning.
I felt my will weakening then, she looked so perfectly exquisite there in the corner of the sofa. We were alone.—It was nearly ten o'clock at night, the flowers were scenting the air, the lights were soft, the dinner had been perfection. After all I am a man, and she legally belongs to me. I felt the blood rushing wildly in my veins. I had to clench my hands and shut my eye.
"I expect you are tired now," I said a little breathlessly. "So I will say good-night—Milady, and hope that you will sleep well the first night in your new home."
I got up and she came forward quickly to hand me my crutch.
"Good-night," she whispered quite low, but she never looked at me, then she turned and went slowly from the room, never glancing back. And when she had gone instead of going to bed I once more sank into my chair. I felt queerly faint, my nerves are not sound yet I expect.
Well, what a strange wedding night!
Burton's face was a mask when he came to undress me. Among the many strange scenes he has witnessedand assisted at, after forty years spent in ministering to the caprices of the aristocracy, I believe he thinks this is the strangest!
When I was in bed and he was about to go, I suddenly went into a peal of bitter laughter. He stopped near the door.
"Beg pardon, Sir Nicholas?" he said as though I had called to him.
"Aren't women the weirdest things in the world, Burton!"
"They are indeed, Sir Nicholas," and he smiled. "One and all, from Mam'zelle to ladies like her Ladyship, they do like to feel that a man belongs to themselves."
"You think that is it, Burton?"
"Not a doubt of it, Sir Nicholas."
"How do you know them so well, never having married, you old scallywag!"
"Perhaps that's why, Sir. A married man looses his spirit like—and his being able to see!"
"I seem lonely, don't I Burton," and I laughed again.
"You do, Sir Nicholas, but if I may make so bold as to say so, I don't think you will be so very long. Her Ladyship sent out for a cup of tea directly she got to her room."
And with an indescribable look of blank innocence in his dear old eyes, this philosopher, and profound student of women, respectfully left the room!