One morning two weeks later as Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe, her daughter Gwendolen, and her two sons Percy and Cecil were gathered rather aimlessly in Lady Agatha's private morning-room, "a lady" was announced, as desirous of speaking with Lady Agatha.
"Who is it, Susan?" asked Lady Agatha of the maid, who appeared all of a tremble with some carefully suppressed excitement.
"Oh, my lady, it's Miss Jane Evelyn as ever was!" declared Susan, beaming with doubtful delight.
"It's Jane!" exclaimed the group in concert.
"Show her up at once, Susan," said Lady Agatha, with a graciousness which allayed poor Susan's fears. "Children," she added, turning to her attentive offspring, "you must remember that our dear Jane is quite an heiress now."
Gwendolen put up a haughty lip. "I don't want her here, even if she is," she said disagreeably.
"Of course you don't!" crowed Percy. "Jane's a beauty and you aren't!"
"Percy—my son!" exclaimed Lady Agatha warningly, and swept forward to greet the small, slight, bright-eyed person who entered the room escorted by the broadly smiling Susan.
"MydearJane!" murmured Lady Agatha, enfolding the little figure in her voluminous embrace. "How wehavesuffered since your cruel desertion of us!"
"I suppose it must have annoyed you, Aunt Agatha," said Jane sweetly. "But it couldn't be helped, you see."
Then she turned to the two boys, who had greeted her vociferously, and to Gwendolen, who sulkily offered a cheek to be kissed.
The girl's bright eyes were misty and she trembled a little as she looked from one to the other. English sights and sounds and faces had never seemed so delightful, yet she was no lessdetermined upon leaving them all for the land of her adoption.
"How much money did Uncle Foxhall leave me?" she asked, after the buzz of greetings and questions had somewhat subsided.
"Why, don't you know, my dear?" Lady Agatha exclaimed. "I thought the solicitors would have told you before this. It is not a large sum; but it will serve to alter your future materially. It is a trifle short of twelve thousand pounds, I believe; but withthatat your back I shall be able to arrange a very suitable marriage for you, I am sure. In fact, I have already mentioned quite an eligiblepartito your uncle, a Mr. Gildersleeve. He is a widower of excellent family, my dear Jane, andquitesuitable in every respect."
"He's an old frump," put in Gwendolen, with a hateful little laugh, "but I dare say he'll do forJane."
"MydearGwendolen!" protested Lady Agatha. "Of course, now that you can afford to dress in a manner becoming to your station,Jane, I shall not mind taking you out with Gwendolen—at least,occasionally. By the way, that is a very pretty frock you are wearing. Where did you get it, my dear?"
"This is an American gown," said Jane, drawing up her little figure with a proud smile, "and this," she added tremulously, "is an American—ring."
"What!—a wedding ring!You are notmarried already?"
"Yes," said Jane, with a blush that made her look handsomer than ever. "My husband is waiting for me downstairs. I should like you to meet him, Aunt Agatha, and you"—including the others with her smiling glance. "He is an American," she finished, with a touch of hauteur which was not lost on Lady Agatha, "and we sail for—home a week from to-day."
Being doubly assured of this desirabledénouement, Lady Agatha actually went to the length of giving a family dinner party in honor of her niece by marriage, and to this dubious merry-making the Hon. Wippingler Towle was biddenby the express commands of the master of the house.
"You've clean thrown away a good lump of money, Towle," grumbled Mr. Aubrey-Blythe; "but perhaps it will afford you some satisfaction to look at the hole."
"I shall certainly be glad of the opportunity to meet—er—Mrs. Everett once more," Mr. Towle said politely. "But I—er—don't quite follow you in your remark about the money." His stern eyes actually threatened his friend. "I am told that your niece has lately inherited a small legacy by the bequest of—er—a deceased relative, which will, I trust, make her quite comfortable and happy in her new home."
"Damn it, Towle!" blustered Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe, in the language of the hunting field; "I can't follow your lead, sir; I'd come a damned cropper, if I tried."
"Don't try, then," advised Mr. Towle curtly.
Being duly presented to the bride and to the groom, who comported himself on the happy occasion with an ease and composure which LadyAgatha Aubrey-Blythe later characterized as "brazen American boldness," Mr. Towle shook hands with both, with such a singular and unpleasant mist clouding his glass that he was immediately thereafter obliged to resort to a vigorous and prolonged use of his large, scented cambric handkerchief. And this circumstance spared him the knowledge of Jane's smiling coldness of manner.
Later in the evening Mr. Towle found himself unable to resist the opportunity of atête-à-têtewhich Gwendolen's half sneering, half curious appropriation of the young American made possible. Jane was seated upon a sofa engaged in a wholly hollow and perfunctory conversation with Lady Agatha, when Mr. Towle tentatively approached. Lady Agatha instantly made room for him with an air of undisguised relief which brought a faint smile to Jane's lips.
When she looked up to greet her late elderly suitor she was still smiling, and the circumstance gave him courage to say, rather stiffly: "I have not as yet—er—spoken with you upon thesubject of your marriage, Mrs.—ah—Everett; I trust you will permit me to wish you all happiness, and—er——"
"Thank you, Mr. Towle," said Jane sweetly.
She had already acquired, he reflected, the self-possessed air of the young matron, and her clear eyes were gazing at him with a shade of retrospection in their depths. She was thinking—and the man was unhappily aware of the fact—"what if I had married you!"
She sighed gently and stole a glance at her young husband, who was smiling with open amusement at Gwendolen's clumsy attempts to make game of him. "I fear," she said kindly, "that I was very rude to you the last time I saw you. But I——"
He waited for her to go on.
"I was really very unhappy, and when one is unhappy——"
Again she paused to glance at the young American whose handsome, vigorous head stood out in bold relief against the crimson cushions of his chair. "When one is unhappy it is difficultto—to be just to others. I have talked it all over with my—with Mr. Everett since our marriage, and he says you were a brick—a brick; yes, I am quite sure that is what he called you; but it really means something very nice and—square. You see words in America frequently mean something far different from what one has always supposed; and I am learning as fast as I can. But my husband says that I did not appreciate how awfully kind it was of you to come to America just to look for me. You did come for that; didn't you?"
"I had," said Mr. Towle gravely, "no other motive in going to America."
"Well, that being the case," Jane went on rapidly, "it wasn't a bit nice ofmeto send you away without a word of explanation; now was it? But this is the real, true reason; I don't mind telling it now." She paused to smile happily to herself—"I caught a glimpse of Mr. Everett coming up the street, and—and I thought it would be very awkward for you—for him—to meet just then. I hope you are not toohorribly vexed with me?" She smiled brilliantly upon him, with an obvious desire to be at peace with all her little world.
"Hum—ah," began Mr. Towle, eyeing the wistful little face which was inclined toward his with a sternness born of his determination not to make a fool of himself. "I—I beg to assure you, Mrs. Everett, that I—er—quite understand, and I am not disposed to——"
Jane's eyes drooped; so did the corners of her mouth. "I never seem able to say the right thing at the right time," she said mournfully. "I see that I have offended you again, and I only meant to tell you—to apologize for——"
"Jane," said Mr. Towle, in the deep, caressing tone which Jane had heard only twice before from his lips, "I forgive you for—everything, and I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I hope for nothing better in life than to hear that all is going well with you, and that you are—happy."
"Thank you," said Jane softly. Her eyes beamed kindly upon him. "You are verygood," she said; "I think I shall be even happier because you have said this."
And the Hon. Wipplinger Towle in his own peculiarly patient, middle-aged fashion blessed her in his heart of hearts for that little word "even." It was, in a way, one of those crumbs which sometimes fall from a rich man's table, and as such he thankfully appropriated it as his own meager share of the loaf which an unfriendly Fate had denied him.
THE END
THE LEADING NOVEL OF TODAY.The Fighting Chance.ByRobert W. Chambers. Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.In "The Fighting Chance" Mr. Chambers has taken for his hero, a young fellow who has inherited with his wealth a craving for liquor. The heroine has inherited a certain rebelliousness and dangerous caprice. The two, meeting on the brink of ruin, fight out their battles, two weaknesses joined with love to make a strength. It is refreshing to find a story about the rich in which all the women are not sawdust at heart, nor all the men satyrs. The rich have their longings, their ideals, their regrets, as well as the poor; they have their struggles and inherited evils to combat. It is a big subject, painted with a big brush and a big heart."After 'The House of Mirth' a New York society novel has to be very good not to suffer fearfully by comparison. 'The Fighting Chance' is very good and it does not suffer."—Cleveland Plain Dealer."There is no more adorable person in recent fiction than Sylvia Landis."—New York Evening Sun."Drawn with a master hand."—Toledo Blade."An absorbing tale which claims the reader's interest to the end."—Detroit Free Press."Mr. Chambers has written many brilliant stories, but this is his masterpiece."—Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph.D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
The Fighting Chance.
ByRobert W. Chambers. Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
In "The Fighting Chance" Mr. Chambers has taken for his hero, a young fellow who has inherited with his wealth a craving for liquor. The heroine has inherited a certain rebelliousness and dangerous caprice. The two, meeting on the brink of ruin, fight out their battles, two weaknesses joined with love to make a strength. It is refreshing to find a story about the rich in which all the women are not sawdust at heart, nor all the men satyrs. The rich have their longings, their ideals, their regrets, as well as the poor; they have their struggles and inherited evils to combat. It is a big subject, painted with a big brush and a big heart.
"After 'The House of Mirth' a New York society novel has to be very good not to suffer fearfully by comparison. 'The Fighting Chance' is very good and it does not suffer."—Cleveland Plain Dealer."There is no more adorable person in recent fiction than Sylvia Landis."—New York Evening Sun."Drawn with a master hand."—Toledo Blade."An absorbing tale which claims the reader's interest to the end."—Detroit Free Press."Mr. Chambers has written many brilliant stories, but this is his masterpiece."—Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph.
"After 'The House of Mirth' a New York society novel has to be very good not to suffer fearfully by comparison. 'The Fighting Chance' is very good and it does not suffer."—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
"There is no more adorable person in recent fiction than Sylvia Landis."—New York Evening Sun.
"Drawn with a master hand."—Toledo Blade.
"An absorbing tale which claims the reader's interest to the end."—Detroit Free Press.
"Mr. Chambers has written many brilliant stories, but this is his masterpiece."—Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph.
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ByW. B. Maxwell, Author of "Vivien." Cloth, $1.50.
"'The Guarded Flame,' by W. B. Maxwell, is a book to challenge the attention of the reading public as a remarkable study of moral law and its infraction. Mr. Maxwell is the son of Miss M. E. Braddon (Mrs. John Maxwell), whose novels were famous a generation ago, and his first book 'Vivien' made the English critics herald him as a new force in the world of letters. 'The Guarded Flame' is an even more astonishing production, a big book that takes rank with the most important fiction of the year. It is not a book for those who read to be amused or to be entertained. It touches the deepest issues of life and death."—Albany Argus.
"The most powerfully written book of the year."—The Independent."'The Guarded Flame' is receiving high praise from the critics everywhere."—Chicago Record-Herald."This is a book which cannot fail to make its mark."—Detroit News."Great novels are few and the appearance of one at any period must give the early reviewer a thrill of discovery. Such a one has come unheralded; but from a source whence it might have been confidently expected. The author is W. B. Maxwell, son of the voluminous novelist known to the world as Miss Braddon. His novel is entitled 'The Guarded Flame.'"—Philadelphia Press."The books of W. B. Maxwell are essentially for thinkers."—St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
"The most powerfully written book of the year."—The Independent.
"'The Guarded Flame' is receiving high praise from the critics everywhere."—Chicago Record-Herald.
"This is a book which cannot fail to make its mark."—Detroit News.
"Great novels are few and the appearance of one at any period must give the early reviewer a thrill of discovery. Such a one has come unheralded; but from a source whence it might have been confidently expected. The author is W. B. Maxwell, son of the voluminous novelist known to the world as Miss Braddon. His novel is entitled 'The Guarded Flame.'"—Philadelphia Press.
"The books of W. B. Maxwell are essentially for thinkers."—St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
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