CHAPTER IX.
I RENEW AN ACQUAINTANCESHIP.
The next morning, and while I was still in bed drinking a cup ofchocolate, came Elmscott's servant to me, and under his guidance I setforth to purchase such apparel as would enable me to cut a morepassable figure in the eyes of Countess Lukstein. Seldom, I think, hadthe shopkeepers a customer so nice and difficult to please. Here thewares were too plain and insignificant; there too gaudy andpretentious, for while I was resolved to go no longer dressed like aQuaker, I was in no way minded to ape the extravagance of my lordCulverton. At last I determined upon a dozen suits, rich but of asober colour, and being measured for them, went from the tailor's tothe hosier's, shoemaker's, lace-merchant's, and I know not what othertradesmen. Muslin jabots, Holland shirts, ruffles of Mechlin and pointde Venise, silk stockings, shoes with high red heels, which I neededparticularly, for I was of no great stature, laced gloves--I boughtenough, in truth, to make fine gentlemen of a company of soldiers.
Needless to say, when once my purchases were delivered at my lodging,I let no long time slip by before I repeated my visit to the house inPall Mall. The Countess welcomed me with the same kindliness, so thatI returned again and again. She distinguished me besides by displayingan especial interest not merely in my present comings and goings, butin the past history of my uneventful days. Surely there is no flatteryin the world so potent and bewitching as the questions which a womanputs to a man concerning those years of his life which were spentbefore their paths had crossed. And if the history be dull as minewas, a trivial, homely record of common acts and thoughts, why, thenthe flattery is doubled. I know that it intoxicated me like a headywine, and I almost dared to hope that she grudged the time duringwhich we had been strangers.
Her bearing, indeed, towards me struck me as little short ofwonderful, for I observed that she evinced to the rest of hercourtiers and friends a certain pride and stateliness which, while itsat gracefully upon her, tempered her courtesy with an unmistakablereserve.
The summer was now at its height, and the Countess--or Ilga, as I hadcome to style her in my thoughts--would be ever planning some newexcursion. One day it would be a water-party to view the orangery andmyrtelum of Sir Henry Capel at Kew; on another we would visit the newcamp at Hounslow, which in truth, with its mountebanks and booths,resembled more nearly a country fair than a garrison of armed men; oragain on a third we would attend a coursing match in the fields behindMontague House. In short, seldom a day passed but I saw her and hadtalk with her; and if it was but for five minutes, well, the remaininghours went by to the lilt of her voice like songs to the sweetaccompaniment of a viol.
One afternoon Elmscott walked down to my lodging, and carried me withhim to see a famous comedy by Mr. Farquhar which was that day repeatedby the Duke's players. The second act was begun by the time we got tothe theatre, and the house, in spite of the heat, very crowded. Forawhile I watched with some interest the packed company in the pit, theorange-girls hawking their baskets amongst them, the masked women inthe upper boxes and the crowd of bloods upon the stage, who werecontinually shifting their positions, bowing to ladies in theside-boxes, ogling the actresses, and airing their persons and dressto the great detriment of the spectacle. Amongst these lattergentlemen I observed Lord Culverton combing the curls of his periwigwith a little ivory comb so that a white cloud of powder hung abouthis head, and I was wondering how long his neighbours would put upwith his impertinence when Elmscott, who was standing beside me, gavea start.
"So he has come back," said he. I followed the direction of his gaze,and looked across the theatre. The Countess Lukstein and MademoiselleDurette had just entered one of the lower boxes; behind them in theshadow was the figure of a man.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"An acquaintance of yours."
The man came forward as Elmscott spoke to the front of the box, andseated himself by the side of Ilga. He was young, with a white faceand very deep-set eyes, and though his appearance was in some measurefamiliar to me, I could neither remember his name nor the occasion ofour meeting.
"You have forgotten that night at the H. P.?" asked Elmscott.
In a flash I recollected.
"It is Marston," I said, and then after a pause: "And he knows theCountess!"
"As well as you do; maybe better."
"Then how comes it I have never seen him with her before?"
"He left London conveniently before you came hither. We all thoughtthat he had received his dismissal. It rather looks as if we were outof our reckoning, eh?"
Marston and the Countess were engaged in some absorbing talk withtheir heads very close together, and a sharp pang of jealousy shotthrough me.
"'Tis strange that she has never mentioned his name," I stammered.
"Not so strange now that Hugh Marston has returned. Had he been nomore than the discarded suitor we imagined him, then yes--you mightexpect her to boast to you of his devotion. 'Tis a way women have. Butit seems rather that you are rivals."
Rivals! The word was like a white light flashed upon my memories. Irecalled Marston's half-forgotten prophecy. Was this the contest, Iwondered, which he had foretold in the chill dawn at the tavern? Werewe to come to grips with Ilga for the victor's prize? On the heels ofthe thought a swift fear slipped through my veins like ice. He hadforetold more than the struggle; he had forecast its outcome andresult.
It was, I think, at this moment that I first understood all that theCountess Lukstein meant to me. I leaned forward over the edge of thebox, and set my eyes upon her face. I noted little of its youngbeauty, little of its wonderful purity of outline; but I seemed to seemore clearly than ever before the woman that lurked behind it, and Ifelt a new strength, a new courage, a new life, flow out from her tome, and lift my heart. My very sinews braced and tightened about mylimbs. If Marston and I were to fight for Ilga, it should be hand tohand, and foot to foot, in the deadliest determination.
Meanwhile she still spoke earnestly with her companion. Of a sudden,however, she raised her eyes from him, and glanced across towards us.I was still leaning forward, a conspicuous mark, and I saw her facechange. She gave an abrupt start of surprise; there appeared to mesomething of uneasiness in the movement She looked apprehensively atMarston, and back again at me; then she turned away from him, and satwith downcast head plucking with nervous fingers at the fan which layon the ledge before her, and shooting furtive glances in ourdirection.
Elmscott, for some reason, began to chuckle.
"Let us make our compliments to the Countess!" he said.
We walked round the circle of the theatre. At the door of the box Istopped him.
"Marston heard nothing from you of my journey to Sir Julian Harnwood?"I asked.
"Not a word! He knows you were travelling to Bristol; so much you saidyourself. But for my part, I have never breathed a word of the matterto a living soul." And we went in. The Countess held out her hand tome with a conscious timidity.
"You are not angered?" she said, in a low voice.
The mere thought that she should take such heed of what I might feel,made my pulses leap with joy. She seemed to recognise, as I shouldnever have dared to do myself, that I had a right to be jealous, andher words almost granted me a claim upon her conduct. For answer Ibent over her hand and kissed it, and behind me again I heard Elmscottchuckling.
Hugh Marston had risen from his chair as we entered, and stood lookingat me curiously.
"You have not met Mr. Marston," she said. "I must make my two bestfriends acquainted."
I would that she had omitted that word "best," the more especiallysince she laid some emphasis upon it. It undid some portion of herprevious work, and set us both upon a level in her estimation.
"We have met before," said Marston, and he bowed coldly.
"Indeed? I had not heard of that."
Marston recounted to her the story of the gambling-match, but shelistened with no apparent attention, fixing her ey
es upon the stage.
"I fancied, Mr. Buckler, you had no taste for cards or dice," she saidcarelessly, when he had done.
"Mr. Buckler in truth only stayed there on compulsion," repliedMarston. "He came from Leyden in a great fluster without any money inhis pockets, and so must needs wait upon his cousin's pleasure beforehe could borrow a horse to help him on his way."
I threw a glance of appeal towards Elmscott, and he broke in quickly:
"'Twas Lord Culverton lent him the horse, after all."
But the next moment the Countess herself, to my great relief, broughtthe conversation to an end.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" she said abruptly, with a show of impatience."I fear me I am as yet so far out of the fashion as to feel someslight interest in the unravelling of the play, and I find itdifficult to catch what the players say."
After that there was no more to be said, and we sat watching the stagewith what amusement we might, or conversing in the discreetest ofwhispers. For my part I remembered that Ilga had shown no greatinterest in the comedy while she was alone with Marston, and I beganto wonder whether our intrusion had angered her. It was impossible forme to see her face, since she held up a hand on the side next to meand so screened her cheek.
Suddenly, however, she cried:
"Oh, there's Lord Culverton!" and she bowed to him with markedaffability.
Now Culverton had ranged himself in full view with an eye ever turnedupon our box, so that it seemed somewhat strange she had not observedhim till now. He swept the boards with his hat, and looking about thetheatre, his face one gratified smirk, as who should say, "'Tis anevery-day affair with me," immediately left his station, anddisappearing behind the scenery, made his way into the box. TheCountess received him graciously, and kept him behind her chair,asking many questions concerning the players, and laughing heartily atthe pleasantries and innuendos with which he described them. It seemedto me, however, that there was more scandal than wit in his anecdotes,and, marvelling that she should take delight in them, I turned awayand let my eyes wander idly about the boxes.
When I glanced again at my companions I perceived that thoughCulverton was still chattering in Countess Lukstein's ear, her gazewas bent upon me with the same scrutiny which I had noticed on theevening that we sat together in her balcony. It was as though she wastaking curious stock of my person and weighing me in some balance ofher thoughts. I fancied that she was contrasting me with Marston, andgained some confirmation of the fancy in that she coloured slightly,and said hastily, with a nod at the stage:
"What think you of the sentiment, Mr. Buckler?"
"Madame," I replied, "for once I am in the fashion, for I gave no heedto it."
I had been, in truth, thinking of her lucky intervention in Marston'snarrative, for by her impatience she had prevented him from tellingeither the date of the gambling-match or the name of the town which Iwas in such great hurry to reach. Not that I had any solid reason tofear she would discover me on that account, for many a man might haveridden from London to Bristol at the time of the assizes and hadnaught to do with Sir Julian Harnwood. But I had so begun to dread thepossibility of her aversion and hatred, that my imagination found amotive to suspicion lurking in the simplest of remarks.
"'Twas that a man would venture more for his friend than for hismistress," she explained. "What think you of it?"
"Why, that the worthy author has never been in love."
"You believe that?" she laughed.
"'Twixt friend and friend a man's first thought is of himself. Shameon us that it should be so; but, alas! my own experience has provedit. It needs, I fear me, a woman's fingers to tune him to the truenote of sacrifice."
"And has your own experience proved that too?" she asked with somehesitation, looking down on the ground, and twisting a foot to and froupon its heel.
"Not so," I answered in a meaning whisper. "I wait for the woman'sfingers and the occasion of the sacrifice."
She shot a shy glance sideways at me, and, as though by accident, herhand fell lightly upon mine. I believed, indeed, that 'twas no morethan an accident until she said quietly: "The occasion may come, too."
She rose from her chair.
"The play begins to weary me," she continued aloud. "Besides, Mr.Buckler convinces me the playwright has never been in love, and 'tisan unpardonable fault in an author."
Marston and myself started forward to escort her to her carriage. TheCountess looked from one to the other of us as though in doubt, and westood glaring across her. Elmscott commenced to chuckle again in a waythat was indescribably irritating and silly.
"If Lord Culverton will honour me," suggested the Countess.
The little man was overwhelmed with the favour accorded to him, andwith a peacock air of triumph led her from the box.
"Tis a monkey, a damned monkey!" said Marston, looking after him.
The phrase seemed to me a very accurate description of the fop, and Iassented to it with great cordiality. For a little Marston satsullenly watching the play, and then picking up his hat and cloak,departed without a word. His precipitate retreat only made my cousinlaugh the more heartily; but I chose to make no remark upon thismerriment, believing that Elmscott indulged it chiefly to provoke meto question him. I knew full well the sort of gibe that was burning onhis tongue, and presently imitating Marston's example, I left him toamuse himself.
In the portico of the theatre Marston was waiting. A thick fog hadfallen with the evening, and snatching a torch from one of thelink-boys who stood gathered within the light of the entrance, hebeckoned to me to follow him, and stepped quickly across the squareinto a deserted alley. There he waited for me to come up with him,holding the torch above his head so that the brown glare of the flamewas reflected in his eyes.
"So," he said, "luck sets us on opposite sides of the table again, Mr.Buckler. But the game has not begun. You have still time to drawback."
For the moment his words and vehement manner fairly staggered me. Ihad not expected from him so frank an avowal of rivalry.
"The stakes are high," he went on, pressing his advantage, "and callfor a player of more experience than you."
"None the less," said I, meeting his gaze squarely, "I play my hand."
Instantly his manner changed. He looked at me silently for a second,and then with a calmness which intimidated me far more than hispassion:
"Are you wise? Are you wise?" he asked slowly. "Think! What will theloser keep?"
"What will the winner gain?"
We stood measuring each other for the space of a minute in the flareof the torch. Then he dropped it on the ground, and stamped out thesparks with his heel. 'Twas too dark for me to see his face, but Iheard his voice at my elbow very smooth and soft, and I knew that hewas stooping by my side.
"You will find this the very worst day's work," he said, "to whichever you set your hand;" and I heard his footsteps ring hollow downthe street. He had certainly won the first trick in the game, for heleft me to pay the link-boy.