THE VOW
THE VOW
Itwas a dull November day, and the flickering light from the log fire lighted up one side of John Gaunt’s face—a strong face, with great possibilities in it for good or evil. The eyes were keen and steady; the nose commanding, while the lips were rather full, and would have denoted a nature that might run riot had it not been for the firmly moulded chin.
His wealth had been gathered by the use of his brains, and in that fact he took an intense pride. But one thing had been missing from his life—a friend. Acquaintances his check-book had brought, and he possessed the usual parasites that crowd the path of the millionaire. Life had been too strenuous to allow him to realize that he was losing a good deal of its sweetness, but latterly he had been conscious of a fierce longing to find some one who might become a second self—some one in whom he could confide, and whom he could trust with his inmost thoughts. And he imagined that he had found such a one in Lady Mildred Blythe.
A footman entered and approached with that deprecating air of the well-trained servant.
“Mr. Braithwaite would like to see you, sir.”
Gaunt hesitated, but soon a grim look came to his face.
“I will see him.”
A few moments later a gentleman, who was evidently ill at ease, came in and approached Gaunt with a deprecating air.
“They told me in the City that I should find you here,” he remarked apologetically.
“Then they failed in their duty. What do you want?” Gaunt asked curtly.
“You’ve been a good friend to me, and I’m afraid that I’ve worried you; but it is not my fault, old chap. I’m desperately hard up—and——”
“Cut it short. I suppose that you want to borrow again?”
“I thought that you would——”
“In this instance you thought correctly. I owe you a debt, for you did me a service many years ago. On several occasions since I have endeavored to repay it. Now, I will give you a check for a hundred pounds.”
Braithwaite began effusively to express his thanks but was cut short abruptly.
“This is the last time—and I am a man of my word. It seems to me that you must be a shiftless kind of person not to get on, with all the chances you have had. But I won’t preach. I want you to understand that I won’t give you another penny piece—not if you are starving,” Gaunt said with quiet emphasis.
Braithwaite watched his every movement, and when the check had been signed, almost clutched at the slip of paper.
“I am very grateful—and——”
“That’s sufficient. Now you can go,” Gaunt intervened, and gave him a curt nod of dismissal.
Braithwaite slouched away, and there was a little more color in his pale cheeks, perhaps brought there by shame; perhaps by that feeling of exultation which the sudden acquirement of money gives to the needy.
Gaunt fell into a reverie, and his thoughts were with the past. It was a great thing to have succeeded as he had done, when little more than thirty years of age. Everything he touched turned to gold, and now he possessed more than two million pounds; but there was nothing of the miser in his disposition, for it was not the gold that he loved, but the power that it represented, and it was ambition that directed his every step—save one. It was true that marriage with the woman he had chosen, Lady Mildred Blythe, would increase his social prestige, but it was not for that reason that he was about to offer her his hand and a share of his wealth. During his early years—that grim time spent on the Congo—he had not spoken to a white woman, the amassing of wealth had kept him too busy to think of love.
A month ago he would have laughed to scorn the idea of such a marriage and now he knew that everything else counted as naught, when weighed with his love for Lady Mildred. Even now he could picture her unerringly, with her beauty that moved him so strangely. And yet he realized that if she but knew what an inferno of passion she had aroused, her answer would be the refusal of his suit.
But there was no nervousness on his face when he was shown into the room where she awaited him. Lady Mildred did not rise from the chair, but gave him her hand and looked at him frankly.
“What news, Mr. Gaunt? How is that investment of mine?” she asked gaily.
But he could see the anxiety in her eyes. The woman he loved was poor, with that gnawing poverty of one who must keep up appearances.
“The shares have gone up fifteen shillings,” he answered quietly.
“Then I have made——?”
“About two thousand pounds.”
“Can I have a check at once, for——?” Lady Mildred stopped, and her face flushed painfully. She hated that this man should know that she so sorely needed the money; but poverty must sink its pride.
“You can have a check when you want. But I do not want to talk business, Lady Mildred—I am a blunt man, and I must come straight to the point. Will you be my wife?”
His eyes were fixed eagerly on her face, and it required a great effort to hide the passion that swayed him. But he would play the game as he had planned, and when he continued, his voice was almost devoid of expression.
“I am aware that you don’t love me, but I am content to take you on your own terms. I won’t insult you by remarking that I am a rich man. But money can be very useful. There is your brother—and——”
“You wish to remind me that he is on the verge of bankruptcy. Let us be quite frank with one another. Isuppose you know that I shall accept your offer,” she continued very quietly.
“I hoped that you would.”
“You forget your boasted bluntness. Youknewthat I could not refuse—I wonder that you want me. There are many girls more beautiful, and with blood as blue in their veins. Why do you honor me?”
Gaunt longed to seize her in his arms and answer the question by fierce kisses.
“I have only met one woman in my life that I would care to ask to be my wife—and that woman is yourself!”
His voice was low and trembled slightly, in spite of his effort to control it. She looked at him curiously and a smile played about her mouth. Yes, he was eminently handsome and clean-looking, a man of whose appearance she would never be ashamed, and yet she was conscious of a feeling of something akin to fear. This man would endeavor to be her master, and the idea was extremely distasteful.
Prior to Gaunt’s arrival she had decided to accept him, but now she was vaguely reluctant to do so. Were there not rumors of the manner in which he had gained his wealth? His connection with the Congo was enough to damn him in the sight of most people; but on the other hand, there was the great temptation to say “good-bye” forever to mean poverty—to wear jewels that would make her the envy of all her friends. And she loved luxurious surroundings.
To do Lady Mildred justice, there was no man for whom she cared, and no one would be wronged should she accept John Gaunt. And there was her brother tobe considered, for with the help of this millionaire, Geoffrey would be given a fair chance—the glories of their name might be renewed—and the Earl of Lynton take his proper place in the world. Then, too, there was her sister Ethel, who was not yet out of the schoolroom.
Gaunt watched her closely, for he realized that she was trying to make up her mind. Not for a moment had he imagined that she would hesitate, and he realized how heavy the blow would be should she refuse him.
Could she care for some one else? The mere idea caused him torments, and passionate words came near his lips. But no—he must not frighten her, for that would be fatal to his chance; and he moved away so that his face could not be seen.
“You are not going?” she cried hastily.
“I will stay, if you wish,” he answered very quietly.
“I do wish. Mr. Gaunt, I will be your wife.”
In a moment he was by her side and with his eyes fixed eagerly on her. Lady Mildred was almost frightened, now that she had promised to give herself to him; but she regarded him steadily.
“I am deeply honored.”
The words were spoken very quietly, and he raised her hand to his lips.
“I should like our marriage to take place as soon as possible. I will see your brother to-night and arrange about the settlements,” he continued gravely.
“You are very good, Mr. Gaunt—and——”
“Mildred, my name is John,” he suggested gently.
“Thank you, I won’t forget it again, John. May I say that you are a very curious kind of man. You have never tried to make love to me—and perhaps that is why I have consented to marry you,” she added reflectively.
“I hope you will like this ring.”
He placed it on her finger, and she looked at it reflectively.
“You made very certain of my answer,” she said a little coldly.
“I had chosen you for my wife, and I generally get my own way—sooner or later,” he answered, and there was exultation in his voice.
“Yes. I think you would. John, you would make a bad enemy.”
“But a loyal friend. Even my enemies in the City—and they are many—will tell you that I am a man of my word. I promise that I will always be good to you, Mildred. You shall never regret the promise that you have just made.”
“I wonder if you are right? Would you mind leaving me now?” she said gently.
He hesitated and would have taken her in his arms had he received the slightest encouragement, but she merely gave him her hand, which he again raised to his lips.
Late that night John Gaunt thought over the great event of the day. His self-confidence was supreme, and he had not the slightest doubt that in time he would win the love of the woman who had promised to be his wife. His passion for her had only increased by reason of its relentless suppression, and he already looked forward tothe day when she would give him love for love, and kiss for kiss.
And a month later John Gaunt and Lady Mildred became man and wife.