"I hate 'At Homes,' they're simply InquisitionsTo torture human beings into fits;A mixture of plebeians and patricians,On whom in judgment Mrs. Grundy sits;Sonatas played by second-rate musicians,And milk-and-water jokes by would-be wits;Such squallings, scandals, crush of men and ladies--It's like a family party down in Hades."
"I hate 'At Homes,' they're simply Inquisitions
To torture human beings into fits;
A mixture of plebeians and patricians,
On whom in judgment Mrs. Grundy sits;
Sonatas played by second-rate musicians,
And milk-and-water jokes by would-be wits;
Such squallings, scandals, crush of men and ladies--It's like a family party down in Hades."
As this was the first victory he had ever obtained over his egotistical nature, Eustace felt most unjustifiably proud, and viewed his actions with great self-complacency, therefore the good results of such victory merely became egotism in another form. His attitude towards Lady Errington had certainly altered, but not for the better, as the fantastic adoration he had formerly felt towards a vision of his own creation had changed to an earthly love for the real woman, in which there was mingled more of sensuality than platonism. Eustace was certainly not a coarse man in any sense of the word, but he had regarded the visionary Lady Errington so long as his own special property, withheld from him by the accident of her marriage with Guy, that when he saw the flesh-and-blood womanriantin all her newly-found vitality, he viewed her as a Sultan might view a fresh odalisque added to hisserail. The pale lily had changed into the rich red rose, and the spiritual being of his fevered imagination had taken the form of a beautiful woman, full of temptation to an ardent lover.
Any sensible man would have seen from the short conversation he had had with Lady Errington that love for the child filled her heart to the exclusion of all else, but Eustace, with supreme egotism, deemed that she loved the child simply because her husband was not worthy of her affection and when he deigned to worship her she would certainly forget the pale passion of maternal love under the fierce ardour of his devotion.
With this idea in his mind it was no wonder he felt that he was exercising great self-denial in trying to bring husband and wife together, and in renouncing his desire to gain possession of a woman for whom he felt an unreasoning admiration. However, being determined to carry out this new mood of asceticism to the end, he took Guy up to Town with him, and tried to amuse that moody young man to the best of his power, which was a somewhat unsatisfactory task.
Seeing that he had abandoned his scheme to gain Alizon's love, he did not intend to speak to Mrs. Veilsturm, as he had now no desire to entangle Guy with another woman, but as he was going to an "At Home" given by Cleopatra, he did not hesitate to take his cousin with him in the ordinary course of things.
Eustace knew more about Mrs. Veilsturm than she cared he should know, as he had met her at Lima, in South America, when she was--well, not Mrs. Veilsturm--and he judged a woman of her harpy-like nature would not strive to annex anyone but a rich man. Guy was not rich, so Eustace thought she would leave him alone--a most fatal mistake, as he had unconsciously placed Cleopatra's revenge within her grasp. Mrs. Veilsturm had neither forgiven nor forgotten the deadly insult offered to her by Lady Errington, but hitherto, owing to Guy's devotion to his wife, had been unable to entangle him in any way. Now, however, Fate was playing into her hands, and when she received a note from Eustace, asking if he might bring his cousin to the house in Park Lane she felt a savage delight at such a stroke of unforeseen luck, but, being too clever a woman to compromise her scheme in any way, wrote a cold reply to Mr. Gartney, telling him he could bring Sir Guy Errington--if he liked.
Of course Eustace did like, and as Guy, who had quite forgotten all about the episode between Mrs. Veilsturm and his wife, listlessly acquiesced, they both arrived at Cleopatra's "At Home" somewhere about five o'clock.
"I seem to remember the name," said Guy, as they struggled up the crowded stairs.
"You certainly ought to," responded Eustace, "seeing that she is about the best-known person in Town."
"Ah, but you see I'm a country cousin now," said Guy with a faint smile. "Hang it! what a crush there is here."
"That's the art of giving an 'At Home,'" answered Eustace drily, "you put fifty people who hate one another in a room built to hold twenty, and when they're thoroughly uncomfortable you give them bad music, weak tea, and thin bread-and-butter. After an hour of these delights they go away in a rollicking humour to another Sardine Party. Oh, it's most amusing, I assure you, and--well, here we are, and here is Mrs. Veilsturm."
Cleopatra had certainly not lost any of her charms, and looked as imperious and majestic as ever, standing in the centre of her guests, arrayed in a startling costume of black and yellow, which gave her a strange, barbaric appearance. There was no doubt that she wore too many diamonds, but this was due to her African love for ornaments, and with every movement of her body the gems flashed out sparkles of light in the mellow twilight of the room.
A foreign musician, with long hair and pale face, was playing some weird Eastern dance on the piano as Eustace entered and bowed before her, and it suddenly flashed across his mind that this sensuously beautiful woman was quite out of place amid these cold English blondes and undecided brunettes. She ought to be tossing her slender arms in a tropical forest, to the shrill music of pipes and muffled throbbing of serpent-skin drums, whirling in the mystic gyrations of some sacred dance before the shrine of a veiled goddess. The sickly odour of pastilles, which she was fond of burning in her drawing-room, assisted this fancy, and he was only roused from this strange vision by the mellow voice of his hostess bidding him welcome, as she touched his hand with her slender fingers.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Gartney," she said, with a slow smile; "it is indeed kind of you to call so soon after your return. And your friend, whom you were to bring?"
"Is here," replied Eustace, presenting his cousin, "Sir Guy Errington."
Guy bowed, feeling somewhat bewildered at her rich loveliness, and, with a swift glance from under her heavy eye-lashes, she shook hands with him.
"Mr. Gartney's friends are mine also--but you are welcome on your own account, Sir Guy."
"You are very kind," answered Errington mechanically, "I think the obligation is on my side, however."
"He's a fool," decided Mrs. Veilsturm in her own mind, as she looked at his fresh, simple face; "I can twist him round my finger, and I will, if it's only to spite his wife."
At this moment Eustace was seized upon by Mr. Dolser, who was on the look-out for copy, and, much against his will, was dragged to the other end of the room by the pertinacious little man, leaving his cousin in conversation with Mrs. Veilsturm.
The room was quite full of all sorts and conditions of men and women. Cleopatra knew everybody in the literary, artistic, and musical world, and they all came to her receptions, so that it was quite a treat to find somebody there who had done nothing. This happened on occasions when someone who had not done anything was brought to worship someone who had. There were plenty of lady novelists in all shades, from blonde to brunette, picking up ideas for their next three-volume publication; pale young poets, with long hair and undecided legs, who wrote rondels, triolets, and ballads, hinting, in wonderful rhyme, at things fantastical; dramatists, young and old, full of three-act plays and hatred of managers and critics. A haggard young man of the impressionist school drooped in a corner, discoursing of Art, in the newest jargon of the studios, to the last fashionable manageress, who did not understand a word he was saying, but pretended to do so, as she wanted him to paint her picture. Everyone present had an eye to business, and each was pursuing his or her aim with vicious pertinacity.
"Mixed lot, ain't they?--yes!" said Mr. Dolser superciliously, when he had got the unhappy Eustace pinned up in a corner; "don't they cackle about themselves too--rather See that stout old party in the corner, in the damaged millinery--new novelist, you know--disease school--Baudelaire without his genius--wrote 'The Body Snatcher' --yes!--read it?"
"No," responded Eustace, shortly, "and I don't intend to."
"It is rather a corker for weak nerves," said "The Pepper Box" proprietor, affably; "there's Gibbles--perfect genius as critic; always slashes a book without reading it. He's destroyed more reputations than any one I know. Yes! Ah! fancy Maniswarkoffi being here--pianist, you know. English, only they wouldn't have him under his real name of Grubs, so he went abroad and dug up his present jawbreaker. Draws money now, and smashes two pianos a week--beautiful!"
In this way Mr. Dolser artlessly prattled along, destroying a reputation every time he opened his mouth, much to the disgust of Gartney, who wanted to get away.
"Excuse me," he said, in despair, "but I see a friend over there."
"Ah! do you really?" replied Dolser, putting up his eyeglass. "Oh, Macjean, isn't it? Yes. Just come back from America. Had a row with pa because he wanted him to marry some Scotch lassie. Yes."
"You seem to know all about it?"
"Yes, yes; oh, yes. Business, you know--and by Jove! talking about that, I want an interview with you about your book."
"Then you won't get one."
"That's all you know," retorted Mr. Dolser. "What? You won't tell me anything? Never mind, I'll make up a few fairy tales. If they ain't true that's your look-out. Ta, ta! Look in 'The Pepper Box' next week. Jove! there's Quibbles. 'Cuse me, I want to ask about Bundy's divorce," and he disappeared into the crowd.
It was no use being angry with the little man, as he was so very good-natured with all his impudence, so Eustace merely smiled, and moving across the room to Otterburn, touched him on the shoulder.
"You here?" he said, in a tone of glad surprise. "Iamglad! I was just going away."
"Not enjoying yourself?" observed Eustace, leaning against the wall.
"Can any one enjoy himself here?" retorted Otterburn in disgust. "I'm tired of hearing people talk about themselves; and if they talk about anyone else----"
"They abuse them thoroughly. My dear boy, it's the way of the world. By the way, you got my note about Victoria?"
Otterburn coloured.
"Yes; I'm very much obliged to you," he replied, in his boyish fashion. "If it is only true what you think, that she does care for me----"
"Of course she cares for you."
"It seems too good to be true."
"Do you think so?" said Gartney, drily. "Oh, I beg your pardon. I forgot you are in love!"
"Cold-blooded cynic," laughed Otterburn, "go thou and do likewise."
"With your awful example before me--hardly," replied Mr. Gartney, with a kindly look in his eyes. "Did I tell you Errington is here to-day?"
"No. Is he really?--and Lady Errington?"
"Oh, she's in the country. But Errington seemed as if he wanted waking up, so I brought him to town with me."
"By the way, how is Lady Errington?"
"Very much changed--and for the better. My prophecy concerning the incomplete Madonna has come to pass. She is a mother now, and adores her child."
"Indeed! And is she going to adore her child for the rest of her life?" asked Otterburn, flippantly.
Eustace shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose so. She certainly can't adore her husband. Guy is a real good fellow, as I've always maintained, but no woman in the world would put him on a pedestal."
"Poor Errington! Is he as fond of his wife as ever?"
"Fonder, if possible."
"Then I pity him!" said Macjean, emphatically--"I pity any man who gives his heart to a woman to play with."
"Yet that is really what you propose to do with yours."
"Not at all. I am going to ask Miss Sheldon to be my wife once more. If she accepts me, well and good, as I've no doubt we'll make an exemplary married couple. But if she refuses--well, I'm not going to wear my heart on my sleeve by any means. There is always Laxton, Africa, and good shooting."
"All of which will console you for the loss of the woman you profess to adore. What a prosaic idea!"
"A very sensible one, at all events," retorted Macjean, with a grim smile. "I've no fancy to play shuttlecock to any woman's battledore. Oh! there is Errington talking to our fair hostess."
"Or rather, our fair hostess is talking to Errington."
"Precisely. You shouldn't have led this unfortunate fly into the spider's parlour, Gartney."
"Why not?" replied Eustace, superciliously. "I assure you the fly is all right. It is not rich enough for Mrs. Spider Veilsturm to seize on. She only cares for opulent flies."
"I'm afraid I can't take your view of the situation, seeing what I now see."
Gartney, moved by a sudden curiosity, looked sharply at Cleopatra, who was certainly putting forth all her fascinations towards Guy, and that gentleman, who had apparently forgotten his wife for the moment, was talking rapidly to her with a flushed face and considerable earnestness. Eustace was puzzled at this, and frowned amiably at the pair.
"Now what the deuce is that for?" he muttered to himself. "I certainly did not ask her to fascinate him, and she has no reason to do so. Humph! Perhaps Fate is once more interfering. If so----Well, Otterburn?"
But Otterburn had disappeared, and Eustace found that his place was taken by Dolly Thambits, attended by Mr. Jiddy, both gentlemen watching Mrs. Veilsturm over Gartney's shoulder.
"Ah! how do you do, Thambits?" said Gartney, taking no notice of the Jiddy parasite.
"I'm quite well," replied Dolly, whose mild face wore anything but a pleasant expression. "I say, who is he--the chap talking to Mrs. Veilsturm? He came with you, didn't he?"
"Yes; that is Sir Guy Errington, my cousin and very good friend."
"Oh!" returned Mr. Thambits, after a pause. "I thought he was married?"
"Of course--married Miss Mostyn," murmured Jiddy, meekly.
"Well, marriage isn't a crime," said Eustace, raising his eyebrows. "What is the meaning of the remark?"
"Eh?" answered Dolly, vacantly, with another scowl at Cleopatra. "Oh, nothing only--oh, bother! they've gone into the next room. Come, Jiddy!" and the young man vanished into the crowd, accompanied by his umbra, leaving Eustace in a state of considerable bewilderment.
"Is the boy mad," said that gentleman to himself, "or only jealous? The latter, I think. He sees it too. Confound it! What does it mean? She's surely not going to fight an enemy unworthy of her spear? Yet, I don't know. Women are strange creatures. She must have some reason. I'll go and see what Major Griff says about it."
That redoubtable warrior, looking stiffer, airier, and more military than ever, was talking in his sharp voice to a ponderous gentleman somewhat after the Dr. Johnson type, who was listening attentively.
"Yes, sir," the Major was saying, "I am growing tired of town. I think I'll take a run across to New York."
"And Mrs. Veilsturm?"
"I am not aware what Mrs. Veilsturm's plans may be," said Griff, in a frigid tone, "as she does not honour me with her confidence so far."
The ponderous gentleman smiled meaningly, as he, in common with the rest of society, was beginning to doubt the platonic relationship said to exist between the Major and Cleopatra. Major Griff saw the smile, and, ever on the alert to defend Mrs. Veilsturm from the slightest breath of scandal, would have made some sharp remark, but at that moment Eustace touched him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, Major," he said courteously, "but could I speak to you for a few moments?"
"Certainly, certainly," answered Griff, with great readiness. "Mr. Waldon, we will resume our conversation on some other occasion."
He was always willing to oblige Eustace from motives of diplomacy, as he was well aware Mr. Gartney was to a certain extent behind the scenes, and judged himself and Cleopatra from a very different standpoint to that of the world. Eustace indeed knew that both Major Griff and his fair friend were neither more nor less than a couple of clever adventurers, but with indolent good nature he never imparted this opinion to any one, as he saw no reason to topple down the house of cards they had so laboriously built up. Besides, he hated the trouble which the exposing of the pair would entail, and, in his innermost heart deeming them not much worse than the rest of London society, he permitted them to continue their predatory career unchecked. The Major knew that Eustace would leave himself and partner alone, but was always scrupulously polite to him, so that nothing disagreeable should arise to mar the perfect understanding between them.
"I'm glad to see you back again, Mr. Gartney," said the Major, mendaciously, when they were established in a comfortable corner out of earshot.
"It's very kind of you to say so," responded Gartney, who quite appreciated and understood the sincerity of the remark, "I thought you would have been glad to have heard of my death in Arabia."
"And why?" demanded Griff, warmly--"why, Mr. Gartney?"
"Oh, if you don't know I'm sure I can't tell you," retorted Eustace, maliciously; "but don't trouble yourself to pay fictitious compliments, Major. I think we understand one another."
"Of course," assented the Major, with great dignity; "between gentlemen there is always a sympathetic feeling."
Gartney would have liked to have argued this point, but having no time to do so, he merely shrugged his shoulders, and resumed the conversation.
"I brought my cousin, Sir Guy Errington, here to-day."
"The devil you did!" ejaculated Griff, considerably astonished.
Struck by the Major's tone, Eustace fixed his eyes keenly on him.
"If you doubt me," he said coolly, "you will be convinced by going to the refreshment room, where, at present, he is in conversation with Mrs. Veilsturm."
"Egad! she's got him at last," muttered Griff, pulling his grey moustache with an air of vexation.
"What do you say?" asked Gartney sharply.
Major Griff did not answer, being apparently in deep thought, but when Gartney addressed him the second time he had evidently made up his mind what course to pursue, and spoke accordingly.
"It doesn't suit me," said the Major deliberately, "and I'm sure it won't suit you, nor your cousin, nor your cousin's wife."
"It is as I thought," observed Eustace coolly; "there is something at the bottom of all this, therefore, if you will be less enigmatic, Major, I shall understand your meaning all the sooner."
"I don't like to show my hand," remarked Griff, taking an illustration from his favourite pursuit, "but in this case I'll treat you as a partner and do so. I know why you want to speak to me."
"Do you?" said Eustace imperturbably.
"Yes! She"--referring to Mrs. Veilsturm--"is no doubt making the running with Sir Guy Errington to an extent which surprises you, and you want to know the reason."
"Seeing that my cousin is not rich enough to tempt either Mrs. V. or yourself, I do," returned Eustace with brutal candour.
Whereupon, the Major, like the daring old campaigner he was, told Gartney the whole story of the card episode, to which he listened attentively, and saw clearly the pit into which he had innocently led his cousin.
"Well, Mr. Gartney," said Griff, when the story was finished and Eustace made no remark, "what do you say?"
Eustace took out his watch and glanced at the time before replying. Then he replaced it in his pocket and answered the Major.
"At present, I say nothing; later on, I may."
"Oh, ho!" quoth Griff sharply, "then you have some idea----"
"I have no idea whatever," replied Gartney sharply. "Your story was quite new to me. I brought my cousin here innocently enough, and if Mrs. Veilsturm thinks him sufficiently handsome to captivate, that's her business, not mine."
He turned on his heel and went off, leaving Griff staring after him in the most astonished manner.
"What does it mean?" pondered the old campaigner. "Oh! he doesn't seem to mind Maraquita playing the devil with his cousin, as she intends to. Now I shouldn't wonder," said the Major grimly, "I shouldn't wonder a bit if there was another lady mixed up in this affair."
"You have returned,I thought you would,Tho' you I spurned,You have returned;The lesson learnedWill do you good.You have returned,I thought you would."
"You have returned,
I thought you would,
Tho' you I spurned,You have returned;The lesson learned
Will do you good.
You have returned,
I thought you would."
When Otterburn disappeared so suddenly from the sight of his friend, he had gone straight across the room to where a slender girl dressed in a dark-green walking costume was standing near the door.
"Can you remember an old friend, Miss Sheldon?" he said in a low voice.
She turned round with a cry of surprise, flushing violently as she recognised him, and held out her hand with the greatest self-possession.
"Of course Mr. Macjean! My memory is not quite so short as you think."
They were both overcome by this unexpected meeting, but as the eyes of the world were on them they were perforce obliged to hide their emotions under a polite mask of indifference. No one, looking at this charming girl and this handsome young man, would have thought there was anything between them but the merest feelings of acquaintanceship. And yet they were both profoundly moved, and each, in some instinctive way, guessed the feelings of the other, although their greeting was so cold and studied.
"I did not expect to meet you here," said Victoria in a friendly tone.
"I suppose not," replied Otterburn politely, "as I only returned to Town about three weeks ago.'
"You have been away?"
"All over the world. Africa is the only place left for me to explore."
"And I daresay you are thinking of going there next?" Otterburn laughed.
"Perhaps! It all depends."
"Upon what?"
"Truth to tell, I hardly know," answered Macjean coolly. "Whims, fancies and desires of sport, I think."
"He doesn't care a bit about me or he would not talk so coldly about going away," thought Victoria, with a sad feeling at her heart, but, being too proud to show her real feelings, merely laughed as she answered his remark.
"There's nothing like enthusiasm! Well, Mr. Macjean, I'm glad to see you again."
"Do you really mean that?" he said anxiously, "or is it only the conventional society phrase?"
"Why should you think so?" replied Miss Sheldon in a displeased tone. "You know I always spoke my mind regardless of social observances."
"I have not forgotten that," observed Otterburn quietly. "Candour is such a wonderful thing to meet with now-a-days, that anyone with such a virtue is sure to be remembered."
"For nine days, I suppose? she said jestingly.
"Yes! or eighteen months," he responded meaningly.
Otterburn was evidently as audacious as ever in trespassing upon dangerous ground, so Victoria, although her heart beat rapidly at his last remark, deftly turned the conversation as she used to do in the old days.
"You have an excellent memory, Mr. Macjean," she said gaily, "but you have forgotten that I have been standing for the last ten minutes, that you have not asked me to have a cup of tea, and that I'm both tired and thirsty."
"A thousand pardons," said Otterburn, penitently offering his arm. "I plead guilty! As you are strong, be merciful."
"To your failings, certainly! I've got too many of my own to refuse absolution. Oh, there's Miss Lossins going to sing. I can't bear these drawing-room songs, so let us go at once."
She took his arm, and as they moved downstairs he felt a thrill run through his body at the light pressure of her hand. He felt inclined to speak boldly then and there, but a vague fear of the result withheld him, and in the presence of the woman he loved, Angus Macjean, man of the world as he was, felt like an awkward schoolboy.
On her part, Victoria felt that she still had an influence on his life, and derived from this instinctive feeling a wonderful amount of pleasure, which could only have been engendered in her breast by a sentiment of reciprocity.
Owing to some ridiculous feeling of pride, neither of them referred to Como during the whole of their conversation, as their parting at that place had been so painful, and although they were both thinking about it yet they talked of everything in the world except what was uppermost in their minds. They had thought of, dreamt of, loved, and desired one another all through these weary eighteen months, and now when they were together and a word would have removed all misunderstandings, neither the man nor the woman had the courage to utter it.
At present, however, they were downstairs indulging in the slight dissipation of afternoon tea, and Victoria, knowing that Otterburn was still her admirer, was quite at her ease, talking gaily about everything and everyone.
"This is awfully nice tea," she said, nodding her head to the Master. "Why don't you try some?"
"I will, on your recommendation," he replied, taking a cup the maid was holding out, "but won't you have some cake?"
"If there's some very curranty cake, I will," said Miss Sheldon gluttonously. "I'll have the brown outside piece."
"Why should that be more desirable than any other piece?" said Macjean as she took it.
"More currants in it! I'm fond of currants."
"So it seems."
"Now don't be severe. Let's talk about something else. Mr. Gartney, for instance."
"Oh, he's here to-day."
"Is he really? I thought it would be too frivolous for him. The Arabian desert is more in his style."
"Well, judging from his book, the Arabian Desert is not entirely devoid of feminine interest."
"Don't be horrid! It's a very charming book."
"Nobody said it wasn't. But I'm astonished to hear you defend Gartney like this. You used to hate him."
"No, no! I didn't exactly hate him, but I must say I didn't like him."
"Isn't that splitting straws?"
"Not at all," retorted Miss Sheldon gaily, "the two things are widely different. But to return to Mr. Gartney. He's really very nice."
"I'm so glad you think so," said Otterburn gravely. "I'll tell him so."
"No, don't," exclaimed Victoria, with genuine alarm. "I wouldn't have him know it for the world."
"Why hide the Sheldon light under the Gartney bushel?"
"You're talking nonsense, but you always did talk nonsense. But, good gracious, look at the time--six o'clock."
"Oh, that clock's wrong."
"So am I--in listening to you. Mr. Macjean, I must go. My chaperon will be waiting for me."
"Who is your chaperon?" asked Otterburn, as they ascended the stairs. "Mrs. Trubbles?"
"No! she's in the country. Now I am under the care of Mrs. Dills. Do you know her?"
"Only as the wife of Mr. Dills."
"She's a most amiable woman, but not pretty."
"Curious thing, amiable women never are."
"How cruel--to me."
"Pardon! you are the exception----"
"To prove your extremely severe rule! Thank you!"
Talking in this light and airy manner, which was really assumed to hide their real feelings, Miss Sheldon and her lover arrived at the drawing-room, found Mrs. Dills, small, spiteful and vivacious, to whom Victoria introduced the Master, and then went off to say goodbye to Mrs. Veilsturm.
When she returned, and Otterburn was escorting her downstairs in the train of Mrs. Dills he noticed a puzzled look on her face, and promptly asked the reason of it. She did not answer at first, but as they stood on the step, waiting for the carriage, suddenly asked him a question.
"Who introduced Sir Guy Errington to Mrs. Veilsturm?"
"Gartney did--to-day."
"To-day," she repeated, in astonishment. "Why from their manner to one another I thought they were old friends."
"Mrs. Veilsturm has such a sympathetic manner you see."
"Yes, very sympathetic," replied Victoria, sarcastically. "But here is the carriage Goodbye, Mr. Macjean. Come and call on Aunt Jelly."
"Certainly! I am anxious to make the acquaintance of Aunt Jelly."
"So anxious that you delayed the pleasure by three months," replied Miss Sheldon laughing, as the carriage drove away, leaving Otterburn on the steps in a very jubilant frame of mind.
When he had somewhat recovered his presence of mind, he went off to find Eustace, being so overburdened with his secret happiness that he felt it a necessity to speak to some one on the subject. Eustace knew all about his passion, Eustace had been a good friend in finding out Victoria's sentiments towards him, so Eustace was undoubtedly the proper person to speak to in this emergency.
After a hunt of some moments' duration, he found Mr. Gartney in company with Errington, talking to Mrs. Veilsturm, and while the latter seemed flushed and excited, the face of the former wore an enigmatic smile. Mrs. Veilsturm herself had been aroused from her habitual languor, and was chatting gaily, while Major Griff, ostensibly talking to Dolly Thambits, was in reality looking at Errington with a frown. It was quite a little comedy, and Eustace alone possessed the requisite understanding to enjoy it, although from the studied expression of his face it was impossible to tell his real feelings.
Otterburn touched Eustace on the shoulder, and drew him away from the group.
"I say, I believe it's all right," he said, in a eager whisper.
"What is all right?" asked Eustace, in a puzzled voice. "Oh, you know," replied Otterburn, with some disgust at his friend's density. "I met Miss Sheldon here, and--and I spoke to her."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" observed Gartney, with a kindly smile. "I suppose I must congratulate you?"
"Not yet. But I think it's all right," said Otterburn, repeating his first remark. "The way she talked, you know, and I talked also, and--and----"
"And you're counting your chickens before they're hatched," said Gartney impatiently. "Don't be angry, Macjean," he added, seeing Angus looked annoyed, "it's only my fun! I think it will be all right--that is if she's forgiven you for the Como business."
"Eh?" said Otterburn, obtusely. "I think it's she who requires to be forgiven."
"I'm afraid you won't find her take that view of the question," replied Gartney cruelly. "In love, the woman is always right and the man everlastingly wrong."
"What a dog-in-the-manger you are, Gartney," said Otterburn angrily, the brightness dying out of his face, "you won't love anyone yourself, or let anyone else do it. I tell you Miss Sheldon and myself understand one another. She asked me to call and see Aunt Jelly."
"How delightful--for Aunt Jelly," remarked Eustace sarcastically. "I hope the pair of you won't indulge in sentiment before the old lady--she doesn't believe in it."
"I'll take my chance of that," observed Angus cheerfully. "But I've got such a lot to tell you about Victoria. Come along with me to the Club."
"Very well," replied Gartney, in a resigned manner. "It seems my fate to hear love confidences. I'll come as soon as I can persuade Guy to leave Mrs. Veilsturm, or rather as soon as I can persuade Mrs. Veilsturm to let Guy go."
"It seems to me six of one and half a dozen of the other, as far as that goes," said Otterburn shrewdly.
Eustace did not reply, but walked up to his cousin and the lady.
"I'm afraid we must go, Mrs. Veilsturm," he said, smiling at Cleopatra.
"Oh, it's early yet," remarked Cleopatra languidly. "Must you go, Sir Guy?"
"I suppose so," answered Errington, looking at his watch. "Time, tide and dinner wait for no man. It's past six."
"So like a man," laughed Cleopatra, "thinking of his dinner before everything else."
"No, really," responded Errington, colouring at this rude remark, "but I've got an engagement, and I always like to be punctual."
"In that case don't forget my 'At Home' next week," said the lady, with a bewitching glance.
"Oh, no, I won't forget that," replied Errington coolly, much more coolly than Cleopatra liked, but she suppressed her anger at his nonchalance, and turned to Eustace.
"Goodbye, Mr. Gartney, so good of you to have come to-day. Mr. Maclean, I've no doubt I'll see you to-night at Lady Kerstoke's dance. Sir Guy, I hope you will find your way here again. Goodbye, all of you," and then her attention was claimed by another batch of departing guests, while the three gentlemen went downstairs.
"Well," said Eustace, with a sigh of relief, as they walked down Park Lane, "I must candidly confess I hate 'At Homes."
"Oh, no," replied Otterburn, with his mind full of Victoria, "they're very jolly."
"Oh, for the freshness of youth!" sighed Gartney, looking at the bright face of his companion. "Guy, what is your opinion?"
"What about?" asked Errington, rousing himself from a fit of abstraction. "Mrs. Veilsturm?"
"We were talking about 'At Homes,'" said Eustace, equably, "but as you've mentioned Mrs. Veilsturm, what is your opinion on that lady?"
"She's very pleasant, but rather overpowering," was Errington's verdict.
"And that's her reward for devoting the whole afternoon to you--'Oh, the ingratitude of man!'"
"She's not a woman I would fall in love with," said Otterburn, with an air of having settled the question.
"Nor I," echoed Sir Guy, so very resolutely that Eustace knew at once he was doubtful of his own strength of will.
"Self righteous Pharisees, both," he said scoffingly, "you talk bravely, but if Cleopatra put forth her strength she could twist you both round her finger."
"Snake! snake! your treacherous eyes,Grow and deepen to marvellous skies,Stars shine out in the rosy space,Every star is a woman's face,Flushed and wreathed with amorous smiles,Drawing my soul with magical wiles,Vision! while I am rapt in thee,Death is coming unknown to me.Snake hath caught me fast in his toils,Round me winding his shining coils,Ah, from dreams with a start I wake,Thou host stung me, oh cruel snake."
"Snake! snake! your treacherous eyes,Grow and deepen to marvellous skies,Stars shine out in the rosy space,Every star is a woman's face,Flushed and wreathed with amorous smiles,Drawing my soul with magical wiles,Vision! while I am rapt in thee,Death is coming unknown to me.Snake hath caught me fast in his toils,Round me winding his shining coils,Ah, from dreams with a start I wake,Thou host stung me, oh cruel snake."
Most men of strongly imaginative natures are superstitious, and Gartney was no exception to the rule, his instinctive leanings in this direction having been strengthened to a considerable extent by his contact with the fatalistic dreamers of the East. He had travelled over a goodly portion of the world without having been infected by the habits or thoughts of the so-called civilized races but the many months he had dwelt among the descendants of Ishmael, had inoculated him imperceptibly with their strong belief in predestination. In fact, his adaptability to the ways and customs of the East, seemed, to himself, so marvellous, that he almost inclined to the theory of transmigration, and believed he had lived before amid these lonely deserts.
At all events, his last sojourn among them had developed his instinctive vein of superstition in the strongest fashion, and he came back to England fully convinced that all things were preordained by the deity we call Fate. It was a very convenient doctrine, as it enabled him to blame a supernatural power for his own shortcomings, and when anything happened out of the ordinary course of events, he said "Kismet," like the veriest follower of Mahomet.
With this belief, it was little to be wondered at that he believed he saw the finger of Fate intervening in the matter of his love for Lady Errington, and argued the question in this style:
On his return to England, he had determined to abstain from seeing Alizon so as to keep out of the way of temptation, but Fate, in the person of Aunt Jelly, had forced him to meet her against his will in order to see if he could bring about an understanding between the young couple. Yielding to his passion, he had made up his mind to gratify it, but moved by the spectacle of Guy's misery, had gained a victory over himself, and strove to reconcile husband and wife.
With this aim, he had taken Guy up to Town, thinking a short absence might be beneficial, but Fate for the second time interfered, and in the most innocent fashion in the world he (Fate's instrument) had delivered the young man into the power of his bitterest enemy, by introducing him to Mrs. Veilsturm. She hated Lady Errington, and would certainly do her best to estrange husband and wife still further, thus the field was left open to Eustace to declare his dishonourable passion.
Twice, therefore, had he striven to conquer his feeling, and twice Fate had intervened, so that he now felt inclined to fight no longer. Had he given way to his present desires, he would have left Guy to the tender mercies of Cleopatra, and gone down to stay at Castle Grim from whence he would have been able to go over to Errington Hall daily and pay his court to Alizon. All feelings of honour, however, were not absolutely dead in his breast, so he determined to await the course of events and see if Mrs. Veilsturm would manage to subjugate Guy, in which case he determined to interfere. He knew quite enough about Mrs. Veilsturm, for his opinion to carry considerable weight with that lady, and although it was not a pleasant thing to step between a panther and its prey, yet he made up his mind to do so should occasion arise. But if Fate intervened for the third time, and rendered his trouble useless, Eustace felt in his own heart that further struggling against Destiny would be beyond his strength.
At present, however, he had rather over-estimated the situation, as Guy was by no means the abject slave of Mrs. Veilsturm he deemed him to be. Love for Alizon, although but ill-requited, still had possession of Guy's whole being, and formed a safeguard against the dangerous assaults of Cleopatra. Errington was constantly in attendance on her, and she put forth all her arts to enmesh him in her toils, but although three weeks had now passed, she saw that she had not made much headway. Guy liked her for her kindly manner towards him, admired her for her beauty, felt flattered by her preference, but in reality was as heart-whole as when he first saw her, and had his wife lifted her little finger, he would have flown to her side without a moment's hesitation.
Cleopatra was much too clever a woman not to see this, and felt rather nettled that any man should dare to withstand her charms. Moreover, being bent on separating Errington from his wife, she had a very powerful reason to do her best in reducing him to a state of bondage; therefore spared neither time nor trouble in attempting to do so. Errington's love for his wife, however, stood him in good stead, and despite the temptations to which he was subjected, he did not succumb in any way.
Major Griff was by no means pleased with this new fancy of his friend and partner. As a rule, by dexterous management, he could make her do what he liked, but on some occasions she broke away from leading-strings, and did what she pleased. This present desire to captivate Errington was due, not to a feeling of love, but to the more powerful one of revenge, and Griff, being an astute reader of character, saw that in her present frame of mind he could do nothing with her.
It was a terrible trouble to the Major that things should be like this, as during this season Rumour had once more been busy with Cleopatra's name, and to such a good purpose, that many doors hitherto open were now closed against her. Society began to talk of the number of men who had lost large sums of money at Mrs. Veilsturm's, hinted that the West Indian estates were a myth, and that Cleopatra was no better than an adventuress. Society suddenly discovered that it had been deceived, that a base woman had passed herself off as the purest of her sex, that it had nourished a viper in its bosom; so now Society, in righteous wrath, was prepared to denounce Mrs. Veilsturm and Major Griff with the bitterest vindictiveness from the house-tops. The storm had not broken yet, but could be heard muttering in the distance, and now this foolish passion of Cleopatra so openly displayed would accelerate the period of its bursting.
The Major, having his eyes and ears open on every possible occasion, saw all this, and took measures to secure a safe retreat in case of an unexpected collapse of the London campaign. America was to be the next field of the firm's operations, and both the Major and his fair friend had determined to signalize their departure by a grand fancy dress ball, to which friends and foes alike were to be invited, after which they could depart with flying colours to New York.
This little scheme had been very nicely arranged, but unluckily this Errington affair threatened to upset the whole business. Knowing she had very little time at her disposal, and being determined to ruin Guy's life if she possibly could, Cleopatra went beyond all the bounds of prudence, and blazoned her preference for Errington so very openly that everyone was scandalized.
In vain the Major implored Cleopatra to be cautious and not ruin everything by her mad folly; but, carried away by a fierce feeling of revenge against Lady Errington, she merely laughed at his entreaties and prosecuted her scheme of entangling Guy with redoubled ardour. Major Griff spoke to Eustace, thinking he could stop the affair by taking his cousin away, but Gartney, being determined to leave the matter in the hands of Fate, simply shrugged his shoulders and said he could do nothing. Being therefore unable to do anything, the Major could only look on in a cold fury at Cleopatra striving to ruin herself, Errington, and himself in a fit of mad anger.
Mrs. Veilsturm's intimate friends were also very indignant about what they pleased to call her infatuation, little dreaming of the real reason of this sudden passion. It was only the Major's influence over Mr. Dolser that kept the affair out of the scurrilous pages of "The Pepper Box," but although it had not appeared in print, the whole affair was an open secret.
Dolly Thambits, who was in love with Cleopatra, was furious at the way in which he was neglected, but this kind of treatment only made him all the more in love with his disdainful mistress, much to the relief of Griff, who was afraid that the boy would escape from his toils.
In the midst of this whirl of rage, envy, and revenge, Guy, seeing no special favour in Cleopatra's condescension, was quite cool and composed, being the most unconcerned person of the whole lot. Of course, no one dared to speak to him about the real facts of the case, and of the enmity he had provoked, so he remained in complete ignorance, anxiously awaiting for a letter from his wife asking him to return.
That letter never came, however, for Alizon was perfectly happy with her baby, and missed Errington no more than if he had been a stock or stone. She knew nothing of the perils to which her husband was exposed, and, curiously enough, none of her London friends wrote and told her, else she might have been for once startled from the serene pleasures of motherhood.
According to his promise, Otterburn called upon Aunt Jelly, and was graciously received by that strong-minded lady, who took a great fancy to him. As yet, he had not spoken outright to Victoria, but still the young couple understood one another, and such understanding was approved of by Miss Corbin, who saw in Otterburn the very husband she would have chosen for her ward. So Otterburn called on the old lady pretty often, and brought her all the news of the town, while Victoria, feeling completely at rest concerning her lover, listened quietly.
All her ideas of making Otterburn propose, and then refusing him out of revenge, had quite vanished, as she was now passionately in love with him, and according to the position now strangely altered since those old days at Como, it was for her to crave and for him to grant. Otterburn, however, knew nothing of this, but wooed in all honour and timidity, while Aunt Jelly, like a good but grim cherub, looked on in silent approval.
It was during one of Otterburn's visits, that by chance he let fall something of what was going on between Mrs. Veilsturm and Guy, whereupon the old lady, having an eye like a hawk, immediately saw that something was going on of which she knew nothing. With this idea she waited till Maclean departed, and then put Victoria through her facings, with the result that she found out all about it and was terribly wroth against her nephew.
Eustace called to see her, and she spoke to him about it, but Eustace point-blank refused to interfere again, saying he had done his best, but could now do no more. Aunt Jelly, therefore, being alarmed, not only for the happiness but for the respectability of the Errington household, wrote a note to Guy, asking him to call.
Having despatched this, she worked herself up into such a fury over the whole affair that she took a fit, and for some time was in danger of dying, but her indomitable spirit asserted itself, and with iron determination she arose from her bed of sickness to see her nephew.
It was a fight between Cleopatra and Aunt Jelly for possession of Guy, but all this time Guy had no more idea of playing his wife false, than he had of returning Mrs. Veilsturm's openly-displayed passion.