XVII
Meanwhile, Hector reached the opera, and made his way to the omnibus boxwhere he had his seat.
He felt he could not stand Morella Winmarleigh just yet. The second actof "Faust" was almost over, and with his glass he swept the rows ofboxes in vain to find Theodora. He sat a few minutes, but restlessnessseized him. He must go to the other side and ascertain if she could bediscovered from there. Morella Winmarleigh's box commanded a good viewfor this purpose, so after all he would face her.
He looked up at her opposite. She sat there with his mother, and sheseemed more thoroughly wholesomely unattractive than ever to him.
He hated that shade of turquoise blue she was so fond of, and thoseunmeaning bits and bows she had stuck about. She was a large young womanwith a stolid English fairness.
Her hair had the flaxen ends and sandy roots one so often sees in thosewomen whose locks have been golden as children. It was a thin, dank kindof hair, too, with no glints anywhere. Her eyes were blue and large andmeaningless and rather prominent, and her lightish eyelashes seemed togive no shade to them.
Morella's orbs just looked out at you like the bow-windows of a sea-sidevilla--staring and commonplace. Her features were regular, and hercomplexion, if somewhat all too red, was fresh withal; so that,possessing an income of many thousands, she passed for a beauty ofexceptional merit.
She had a good maid who used her fingers dexterously, and did what shecould with a mistress devoid of all sense of form or color.
Miss Winmarleigh went to the opera regularly and sat solidly through it.The music said nothing to her, but it was the right place for her to be,and she could talk to her friends before going on to the numerous ballsshe attended.
If she loved anything in the world she loved Hector Bracondale, but herfeelings gave her no anxieties. He would certainly marry her presently,the affair would be so suitable to all parties; meanwhile, there wasplenty of time, and all was in order. The perfect method of heraccount-books, in which the last sixpence she spent in the day was dulyentered, translated itself to her life. Method and order were itswatchwords; and if the people who knew her intimately--such as herchaperon, Mrs. Herrick, and her maid, Gibson--thought her mean, she wasnot aware of their opinion, and went her way in solid rejoicing.
Lady Bracondale was really attached to her. Morella's decorum, herabsence of all daring thought in conversation, pleased her so. She hadnone of that feeling when with Miss Winmarleigh she suffered in thecompany of her daughter Anne, who said things so often she did not quiteunderstand, yet which she dimly felt might have two meanings, and one ofthem a meaning she most probably would disapprove of.
She loved Anne, of course, but oh, that she could have been more likeherself or Morella Winmarleigh!
Both women saw Hector in the omnibus box, and saw him leave it, and werequite ready with their greetings when he joined them.
Miss Winmarleigh had a slight air of proprietorship about her, whichevery one knew when Hector was there. And most people thought as shedid, that he would certainly marry her in the near future.
He was glad it was not between the acts--there was no excuse forconversation after their greeting, so he searched the house in peacewith his glasses.
And although he was hoping to see Theodora, his heart gave a great boundof surprised joy when, on the pit tier, almost next the box he had justleft, he discovered her. He supposed it was a box often let to strangersthat season, as he could not remember whose the name was as he hadpassed. He got back into the shadow, that his gaze should not be tooremarkable. She had not caught sight of him yet, or so it seemed.
There she sat with her husband and another woman, whom he recognized asone of those kind creatures who go everywhere in society and helpstrangers when suitably compensated for their trouble.
Where on earth could she have come across Mrs. Devlyn? he wondered. Apoisonous woman, who would fill her ears with tales of all the world.Then he guessed, and rightly, the introduction had been effected byCaptain Fitzgerald, who would probably have known her in his own day.
Theodora appeared wrapped in the music, and was an enthralling pictureof loveliness; her fineness seemed to make all the women's faces whowere near look coarse, and her whiteness turned them into gypsies. Shewore a gown of black velvet with no relief whatever, only her dazzlingskin and her great pearls. He feasted his eyes upon her--eyes hungrywith a week's abstinence; for he had felt it more prudent to remain inParis for some days after she had left.
He looked round the rest of the house, and understood all the other mencould, and probably would, gaze too. And then he began to feel hot andjealous! This was different from Paris, where she was more or less atourist; but here, how long would she be left in peace without siegebeing laid to her? He knew his world and the men it contained. Yes, atthat moment the door at the back of the box opened and Delaval Stirlingcame in, Josiah Brown making way for him to sit in front. DelavalStirling--this was too much!
And Theodora turned with her adorable smile and greeted him, so itshowed they had met before--greeted him with pleasure. Good God! Howmuch could happen in a week! Why had he stayed in Paris?
If Morella Winmarleigh had glanced round at his face, even her thickperceptions must have grasped the disturbance which was marked there, ashe stood back in the shadow and gazed with angry eyes.
The moment she had seen him come into the box Mrs. Devlyn had said, "Iwant you to notice a man over there, Mrs. Brown, in the box exactlyopposite; on the grand tier--do you see?"
"Yes," said Theodora, and she perceived him shaking hands with MissWinmarleigh before he caught sight of her, so she was forearmed andturned to the stage.
"He is nice-looking, don't you think so?" continued Mrs. Devlyn, withouta pause. "He is going to marry that girl in the box; she is one of therichest heiresses of the day--Miss Winmarleigh. I always point outHector Bracondale to strangers or foreigners; he is quite a showEnglishman."
"Bracondale? Lord Bracondale?" interrupted Josiah Brown. "We met him inParis, did we not, my love?" turning to Theodora. "He dined with us ourlast evening. Where is he?"
"Oh, you know him, then!" said Mrs. Devlyn, disappointed. "I wanted tobe the first to point him out to you. They will make a handsome pair,won't they--he and Miss Winmarleigh?"
"Very," said Theodora, listlessly, with an air of dragging her thoughtsfrom the music with difficulty, while she suddenly felt sick and cold.
"And are they to be married soon?"
"I don't know exactly; but it has been going on for years, and we alllook upon it as a settled thing. She is always about with his mother."
"Is that Lord Bracondale's mother--the lady with the coronet of plaitsand the huge white aigrette with the diamond drops in it?" Theodoraasked. Her voice was schooled, and had no special tones in it. But oh,how she was thrilling with interest and excitement underneath!
"Yes, that is Lady Bracondale. She is quite a type; always dresses inthat old-fashioned way, and won't know a soul who is not of her own set.She is a cousin of one of my husband's aunts. I must introduce you toher."
"She looks pretty haughty," announced Josiah Brown. "I should not careto tread on her toes much." And then he remembered he had seen her yearsago driving through the little town of Bracondale.
Theodora asked no more questions. She kept her eyes fixed on the stage,but she knew Hector had raised his glasses now and was scanning the box,and had probably seen her.
What ought it to matter to her that he should be going to marry MissWinmarleigh? He could be nothing to her--only--only--but perhaps it wasnot true. This woman, Mrs. Devlyn, whom she began to feel she shoulddislike very much, had said it was looked upon as settled, not that itwas a fact. How could a man be going to marry one woman and makedesperate love to another at the same time? It was impossible--andyet--she would _not_ look in any case. She would not once raise her eyesthat way.
And so in these two boxes green jealousy held sway, and while Hectorglared across at Theodora she smiled at Delaval Stir
ling, and spokesoftly of the music and the voices, though her heart was torn with pain.
"Do you see Hector Bracondale is back again, Delaval?" Mrs. Devlyn said."Do you know why he stayed in Paris so long? I heard--" And shewhispered low, so that Theodora only caught the name "Esclarmonde deChartres" and their modulated mocking laughter.
How they jarred upon her! How she felt she should hate London among allthese people whose ways she did not know! She turned a little, andJosiah's vulgar familiar face seemed a relief to her, and her tendereyes melted in kindliness as she looked at him.
"You are very pale to-night, my love," he said. "Would you like to gohome?"
But this she would not agree to, and pulled herself together and triedto talk gayly when the curtain went down.
And Hector blamed his own folly for having come up to this box at all.Here he must be glued certainly for a few moments; now that they couldtalk, politeness could not permit him to fly off at once.
"The house is very full," Miss Winmarleigh said--it was a remark shealways made on big nights--"and yet hardly any new faces about."
"Yes," said Hector.
"Does it compare with the Opera-House in Paris, Hector?" MissWinmarleigh hardly ever went abroad.
"No," said Hector.--Not only had Delaval Stirling retained his seat, butChris Harford, Mrs. Devlyn's brother, had entered the box now and wasassiduously paying his court. "Damned impertinence of the woman,forcing her relations upon them like that," hethought.--"Oh--er--no--that is, I think the Paris Opera-House is abeastly place," he said, absently, "a dull, heavy drab brown and dirtygilding, and all the women look hideous in it."
"Really," said Morella. "I thought everything in Paris was lovely."
"You should go over and see for yourself," he said, "then you couldjudge. I think most things there are lovely, though."
Miss Winmarleigh raised her glasses now and examined the house. Her eyeslighted at last on Theodora.
"Dear Lady Bracondale," she said, "do look at that woman in blackvelvet. What splendid pearls! Do you think they are real? Who is it, Iwonder, with Florence Devlyn?"
But Hector felt he could not stay and hear their remarks about hisdarling, so he got up, and, murmuring he must have a talk to his friendsin the house, left the box.
He was thankful at least Theodora was sitting on the pit tier--he couldwalk along the gangway and talk to her from the front.
She saw him coming and was prepared, so no wild roses tinged her cheeks,and her greeting was gravely courteous, that was all.
An icy feeling crept over him. What was the change, this subtle changein voice and eyes? He suddenly had the agonizing sensation of being agreat way off from her, shut out of paradise--a stranger. What hadhappened? What had he done?
Every one knows the Opera-House, and where he would be standing, and theimpossibility of saying anything but the most banal commonplaces,looking up like that.
Then Josiah leaned forward, proud of his acquaintanceship with a peer,and said in a distinct voice:
"Won't you come into the box, Lord Bracondale? There is plenty of room."He had not taken to either Delaval Stirling or Chris Harford, andthought a change of company would not come amiss. They had ignored him,and should pay for it.
Hector made his way joyfully to the back, and, entering, was greetedaffably by his host, so the other two men got up to leave to make roomfor him.
He sat down behind Theodora, and Mrs. Devlyn saw it would be wiser toconciliate Josiah by her interested conversation.
She hoped to make a good thing out of this millionaire and his unknownwife, and it would not do to ruffle him at this stage of the affair.
Theodora hardly turned, thus Hector was obliged to lean quite forward tospeak to her.
"I have seen my sister to-night," he said, "and she wants so much tomeet you. I said perhaps she would find you to-morrow. Will you be athome in the afternoon any time?"
"I expect so," replied Theodora. She was longing to face him, to ask himif it was true he was going to marry that large, pink-faced young womanopposite, who was now staring down upon them with fixed opera-glasses;but she felt frozen, and her voice was a frozen voice.
Hector became more and more unhappy. He tried several subjects. He toldher the last news of her father and Mrs. McBride. She answered them allwith the same politeness, until, maddened beyond bearing, he leanedstill farther forward and whispered in her ear:
"For God's sake, what is it? What have I done?"
"Nothing," said Theodora. What right had she to ask him any question,when for these seven nights and days since they had parted she had beendisciplining herself not to think of him in any way? She must never lethim know it could matter to her now.
"Nothing? Then why are you so changed? Ah, how it hurts!" he whispered,passionately. And she turned and looked at him, and he saw that herbeautiful eyes were no longer those pure depths of blue sky in which hecould read love and faith, but were full of mist, as of a curtainbetween them.
He put his hand up to touch the little gold case he carried always nowin his waistcoat-pocket, which contained her letter. He wanted to assurehimself it was there, and she had written it--and it was not all adream.
Theodora's tender heart was wrung by the passionate distress in hiseyes.
"Is that your mother over there you were with?" she asked, more gently."How beautiful she is!"
"Yes," he said, "my mother and Morella Winmarleigh, whom the world ingeneral and my mother in particular have decided I am going to marry."
She did not speak. She felt suddenly ashamed she could ever have doubtedhim; it must be the warping atmosphere of Mrs. Devlyn's society forthese last days which had planted thoughts, so foreign to her nature, inher. She did not yet know it was jealousy pure and simple, which attacksthe sweetest, as well, as the bitterest, soul among us all. But athrill of gladness ran through her as well as shame.
"And aren't you going to marry her, then?" she said, at last. "She isvery handsome."
Hector looked at her, and a wave of joy chased out the pain he hadsuffered. That was it, then! They had told her this already, and shehated it--she cared for him still.
"Surely you need not ask me," he said, deep reproach in his eyes. "Youmust be very changed in seven days to even have thought it possible."
The shame deepened in Theodora. She was, indeed, unlike herself to havebeen moved at all by Mrs. Devlyn's words, but she would never doubtagain, and she must tell him that.
"Forgive me," she said, quite low, while she looked away. "I--of courseI ought to be pleased at anything which made you happy, but--oh, I hatedit!"
"Theodora," he said, "I ask you--do not act with me ever--to what end?We know each other's hearts, and I hope it would pain you were I tomarry any other woman, as much as in like circumstances it would painme."
"Yes, it would pain me," she said, simply. "But, oh, we must not speakthus! Please, please talk of the music, or the--the--oh, anything butourselves."
And he tried hard for the few moments which remained before the curtainrose again. Tried hard, but it was all dust and ashes; and as he leftthe box and returned to his own seat next door his heart felt like lead.How would he be able to follow the rules he had laid down for himselfduring his week of meditations in Paris alone?
"You see, dear Lady Bracondale," Morella Winmarleigh had been saying,"Hector knows that woman with the pearls. He is sitting talking to hernow."
"Hector knows every one, Morella. Lend me your glasses, mine do not seemto work to-night. Yes, I suppose by some she would be consideredpretty," Lady Bracondale continued, when the lorgnette was fixed to herfocus. "What do you think, dear?"
"Pretty!" exclaimed Miss Winmarleigh. "Oh no! Much too white, and,oh--er--foreign-looking. We must find out who she is."
The matter was not difficult. Half the house had been interested in thenew-comer, the beautiful new-comer with the wonderful pearls, who mustbe worth while in some way, or she would not be under the wing ofFlorence Devlyn.
; By the time Hector again entered their box in the last act, MissWinmarleigh had obtained all the information she wanted from one of themany visitors who came to pay their court to the heiress. And theinformation reassured her. Only the wife of a colonial millionaire; noone of her world or who could trouble her.
Early next morning, while she sat in her white flannel dressing-gown,her hair screwed in curling-pins, after the Brantinghams' ball, shewrote in her journal the customary summary of her day, and ended with:"H.B. returned--same as usual, running after a new woman, nobody ofimportance; but I had better watch it, and clinch matters between himand me before Goodwood. Ordered the pink silk after all, from the newlittle dressmaker, and beat her down three pounds as to price. BegunMarvaloso hair tonic."
Then, as it was broad daylight, after carefully replacing in its drawerthis locked chronicle of her maiden thoughts, she retired to bed, tosleep the sleep of those just persons whose digestions are as strong astheir absence of imagination.