CHAPTER X.
DOUBTS, PERPLEXITIES, AND A COMPROMISE.
Two days later the Countess paid her first visit to my lodging. I hadlooked forward to the moment with a great longing, deeming that herpresence would in a measure consecrate the rooms, and that the memoryof what she did and said would linger about them afterwards like asoft and tender light.
We had journeyed that morning in a party to view the ItalianGlass-house at Greenwich, and dining at a hostelry in theneighbourhood, had returned by water. We disembarked at Westminstersteps, and I induced the company to favour me with their presence anddrink a dish of bohea in my apartment.
Now the sitting-rooms which I occupied were two in number and openedupon each other, the first, which was the larger, lying along thefront of the house, and the second, an inner chamber, giving upon alittle garden at the back. Ilga, I noticed, wandered from one room tothe other, examining my possessions with an indefatigable curiosity.For, said she:
"It is only by such means that one discovers the true nature of one'sfriends. Conversation is but the pretty scabbard that hides the sword.The blade may be lath for all that we can tell."
"You distrust your friends so much?"
"Have I no reason to?" she exclaimed, suddenly bending her eyes uponme, and she paused in expectation of an answer. "But I forgot; youknow nothing of my history."
I turned away, for I felt the blood rushing to my face.
"I would fain hear you tell it me," I managed to stammer out.
"Some time I will," she replied quietly, "but not to-day; the time isinopportune. For it is brimful of sorrow, and the telling of it will,I trust, sadden you."
The strangeness of the words, and a passionate tension in her voice,filled me with uneasiness, and I wheeled sharply round.
"For I take you for my friend," she explained softly, "and so count onyour sympathy. Yet, after all, can I count on it?"
I protested with some confusion that she could count on far more thanmy sympathies.
"It may be," she replied. "But I believe, Mr. Buckler, the whole storyof woman might be written in one phrase. 'Tis the continual mistakingof lath for steel."
"And never steel for lath?" I asked.
"At times, no doubt," she answered, recovering herself with an easylaugh. "But we only find that error out when the steel cuts us. Soeither way are we unfortunate. Therefore, I will e'en pursue myinquiries," and she stepped off into the inner room, whither presentlyI went to join her.
"Well, what have you discovered?" I asked.
"Nothing," she replied, with a plaintive shake of the head. "Youdisappoint me sorely, Mr. Buckler. A student from the University ofLeyden should line his walls with volumes and folios, and I have foundbut one book of Latin poems in that room, and not so much as apamphlet in this."
I started. The book of poems could be no other than my copy of Horace,and it contained the plan of Lukstein Castle. I reflected, however,that the plan was a mere diagram of lines, without even a letter toexplain it, and with only a cross at the point of ascent. TheCountess, moreover, had spoken in all levity; her tone betrayed nohint of an afterthought.
A small package fastened with string lay on the table before her, andbeside of it a letter in Elmscott's handwriting. She picked up thepackage.
"And what new purchase is this?" she asked, with a smile.
"I know nothing of it. It is no purchase, and I gather from theinscription of the letter it comes from my cousin."
"I shall open it," said she, "and you must blame my sex for itsinquisitiveness."
"Madame," I replied, "the inquisitiveness implies an interest in theobject of it, and so pays me a compliment."
"Tis the sweetest way of condoning a fault that ever I met with," shelaughed, and dropped me a sweeping curtsey.
I broke the seal of Elmscott's letter while she untied the parcel.
"Marston's conversation at the theatre," he wrote, "reminded me ofthese buckles. They belong of right to you, and since it seems yourturn has come to need luck's services, I send them gladly in the hopethat they may repeat their office on your behalf."
The parcel contained a shagreen case which Ilga unfastened. Thediamond buckles from it flashed with a thousand rays, and she tippedthem to and fro so that the stones might catch the light.
"Your cousin must have a great liking for you," she said. "For intruth they are very beautiful."
"Elmscott is a gambler," I laughed, "with all a gambler'ssuperstitions," and I handed her the letter.
She read it through. "These buckles were your cousin's last stake, Mr.Marston related," she said. "Do you believe that they will bring youluck?"
"To believe would be presumption. I have no more courage than sufficesme to copy Elmscott's example, and hope."
She returned me no answer, giving, so it seemed, all her attention tothe brilliant jewels in her hands. But I saw the colour mounting inher cheeks.
"Meanwhile," she said, after a pause, with a little nervous laugh,"you are copying my bad example, and leaving your guests to divertthemselves."
Not knowing surely whether I had offended her or not, I deemed it bestto add nothing further or more precise to my hints, and got me backinto the larger room. Ilga remained standing where I left her, andthrough the doorway I could see her still flashing the bucklesbackwards and forwards. Her evident admiration raised an idea in mymind. My guests were amusing themselves without any need of help fromme. Some new scandal concerning the King and the Countess ofDorchester was being discussed for the tenth time that day with anenthusiasm which expanded as the story grew, so that I was presentlyable to slip back unnoticed. The inner room, however, was empty; butthe glass door which gave on to the garden stood open, and picking upthe shagreen case, I stepped out on to the lawn. Ilga was seated in alow chair about the centre of the grass-plot, and the sun, which hunglow and red just above the ivied wall, burnished her hair, and wasrosy on her face.
"Madame," said I, advancing towards her, "I have discovered how bestto dispose of the buckles so that they may bring me luck."
"Indeed?" she asked indifferently. "And which way is it?"
"They are too fine for a plain gentleman's wearing," said I. "Sweetlooks and precious jewels go best together." With that, and awkwardlyenough, I dare say, for I always stumbled at a compliment, I openedthe case and offered it.
She looked at me for a space as though she had not understood, andthen:
"No, no," she cried, with extraordinary vehemence, repulsing my giftso that the case flew out of my grasp, and the buckles sparkledthrough the air in two divergent arcs, and dropped some few feet awayinto the grass. She rose from her seat and drew herself up to her fullheight, her eyes flashing and her bosom heaving. "How dare you?" sheexclaimed, and yet again, "How dare you?"
Conscious of no intention but to please her by a gift which sheplainly admired, I stared dumbfounded at the outburst.
"Madame!" I faltered out at last; and with a great effort sherecovered a part of her self-control.
"Mr. Buckler," she said, speaking with difficulty, while the bloodswirled in and out of her cheeks, "the present hurts me sorely, eventhough--nay, all the more _because_, it comes from you. It is thefashion, I know well, to believe that a few gems will bribe the goodwill of any woman. But I hardly thought that--that you held me in suchpoor esteem."
I protested that nothing could have been further from my designs thanthe notion which she attributed to me, and went so far as to hint thatthere was something extravagant and unreasonable in her anger. For,said I, the gift was no bribe but a tribute, and, I continued, withgreater confidence as her pride diminished, if either of us had aright to feel hurt, it was myself, whom she insulted by the imputationof so mean a spirit.
"Then I am to humbly beg your pardon, I suppose," she cried, withanother flash of anger.
"Oh, there's no arguing with you," I burst out in a heat no lessviolent than her own. "Who bids you beg my pardon? What makes yo
usuppose I need you should, unless it be your own proper and fittingcompunction? There's no moderation in your thoughts. You jump from oneextreme to the other as nimbly as--as----"
I was turning away with the sentence unfinished, when:
"I could supply the simile you want," she said, with a whimsicaldemureness as sudden and inexplicable as her wrath, "only 'tissomething indelicate," and she broke into a ringing laugh.
To a man of my slow disposition, whose very passions have a certain[oe]conomy which delays their growth, the rapid transitions of awoman's humours have ever been confusing, and now I stood stockish anddumb, gazing at the Countess open-mouthed, and vainly endeavouring,like a fool, to reduce the various emotions she had expressed into alogical continuity.
"And there!" she continued, "now I have shocked you by lack ofbreeding!"
And once more she commenced to laugh with a mirth so natural andinfectious that presently it gained on me, and for no definite reasonthat I could name I found myself laughing to her tune and with equalheartiness. 'Twas none the less a wiser action than any deliberationcould have prompted me to, for here was our quarrel ended decisively,and no words said.
For a while we strolled up and down the lawn, Ilga interspacing hertalk with little spirts of laughter, as now and again she looked at myface, until we stopped at the end of the garden, just before a smallpostern-door in the wall.
"It leads into the Park?" she asked.
"Yes! Shall we slip out?"
She looked back at the house.
"The host can hardly run away from his guests."
"There is no one in the room to notice us."
"But the room above? 'Twould look strange, whoever saw us."
"Nay, there can be no one there, for it is my dressing-room."
She took hold of the handle doubtfully and tried it.
"It is locked."
"But the key is on the mantelshelf. I will get it."
"In this little room?"
"No, 'tis in the larger room, but----"
"Nay," she interrupted, "our absence will be enough remarked as it is.Clemence will read me a lecture on the proprieties all the way home."
Consequently we returned to the house, and the Countess took her leaveshortly with the rest of the company; but as I conducted her to thedoor, she said a strange thing to me.
"Mr. Buckler," she said, "you should be angry more often," and so withanother laugh she walked away.
That night, as I sat smoking a pipe upon the lawn, I saw somethingflash and sparkle in the rays of the moon, and I remembered thatElmscott's buckles still lay where they had fallen. Picking them up, Ireturned to my seat and fell straightway into a very bitter train ofthought. 'Twas the recollection of the Countess' indignation that setme on it, for since the mere gift could provoke so stormy and sincerean outburst, how would it have been, I reflected, had she really knownwho the giver was? The thought pressed in upon me all the more heavilyfor the reason which she had offered to account for her anger. She seta value upon my esteem, and no small value either; so much she hadtold me plainly. Now it had been my lot hitherto to meet with ahalf-contemptuous tolerance rather than esteem; so that this unwontedappreciation shown by the one person from whom I most desired itfilled me with a deep gratitude, and obliged me in her service. Yethere was I requiting her with a calculating and continuous deception.'Twas no longer of any use to argue that Count Lukstein had receivedno greater punishment than his treachery merited; that but for hislast coward thrust he would have escaped even that; that the advantageof the encounter had been on his side from first to last, since I waschilled to the bone with my long vigil upon the terrace parapet. Suchexcuses were the merest thistledown, and it needed but a breath fromher to blow them into air. The solid stalk of my thoughts was: "I wasdeceiving her." And it was not merely the knowledge of my concealmentswhich tortured me, but an anticipation of the disdain and contemptinto which her kindliness would turn, should she ever discover thetruth.
For so closely had the idea and notion of her become inwoven in mybeing that I ever estimated my actions and purposes by imagining thejudgment which she would be like to pass on them, and, indeed, saw notrue image of myself at all save that which was reflected from themirror of her thoughts.
I came then to consider what path I should follow. There were threeways open to my choice. I might go on as heretofore, practising myduplicity; or, again, I might pack my trunks and scurry ignominiouslyback to my estate; or I might take my courage between my two hands andtell the truth of the matter to the Countess, be the consequences whatthey might.
Doubtless the last was the only honest course, and if I did not bringmyself to adopt it--well, I paid dearly enough for the fault. At thetime, however, the objections appeared to me insurmountable. In thefirst place, my natural timidity cried out against this hazard of allmy happiness upon a single throw. Then, again, how could I tell herthe truth? For it was not merely myself that the story accused, norindeed in the main, but her husband. His treachery towards me in theactual righting of the duel I might conceal, but not his treachery toJulian, and I shrank from inflicting such shame upon her pride as thedisclosure must inevitably bring.
I deem it right to set out here the questions which so troubled me,with a view to the proper understanding of this story. For on the verynext day, while I was still debating the matter in great abasement anddespondency, an incident occurred which determined me upon acompromise.
It happened in this way. I had ridden out into the country early inthe morning, hoping that a vigorous gallop might help me to somesolution of my perplexities, and returning home in the evening,chanced to be in my dressing-room shortly after seven of the clock.
My valet announced that Lord Culverton and my cousin were below, and Isent word down that I would be with them in the space of a fewminutes. Elmscott, however, followed the servant up the stairs, andcoming into the room entertained me with the latest gossip, walkingabout the while that he talked. In the middle of a sentence he stoppedbefore the window which, as I have said, overlooked the Park, andbroke off his speech with a sudden exclamation. I crossed to where hestood, wishing to see what had brought him so abruptly to a stop. Thewalks, however, were empty and deserted, it being the fashion amongthe gentry of the town rather to favour Hyde Park at this hour. Achair, certainly, stood at no great distance, but the porters weresmoking their pipes as they leaned against the poles, and I inferredfrom that that it had no occupant.
"Wait," said Elmscott; "the wall of your garden hides them for themoment."
As he spoke, two figures emerged from its shelter and walked into theopen. I gave a start as I saw them, and gripped Elmscott by the arm.
"Lord!" said he, "are you in so deep as that?"
The woman I knew at the first glance. The easy carriage of her head,the light grace of her walk, were qualities which I had noted andadmired too often to make the ghost of a doubt possible. The man, whowas gaily dressed in a scarlet coat, an instinct of jealousy told mewas Hugh Marston. Their backs were towards the house, and I waited forthem to turn, which they did after they had walked some hundred paces.Sure enough my suspicions were correct. The Countess was escorted byMarston, her hand was upon his arm, and the pair sauntered slowly,stopping here and there in their walk as though greatly concerned withone another.
"Damn him!" I cried. "Damn him!"
Elmscott burst into a laugh.
"The pretty Countess," said he, "would be more discreet did she butknow you overlooked her."
"But she does know," I returned. "She knows that I lodge in the house;she knows also that this room is mine."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, in a tone of comprehension, "she knows that!"
"Ay; and 'twas no further back than yesterday that she discovered it.I told her myself."
Elmscott remained silent for a while, watching their promenade. Againthey disappeared within the shelter of the wall; again they emergedfrom it, and again they promenaded some hundred paces and turned.
"I thought
so," he muttered; "'tis all of a piece."
I asked what his words meant.
"You remember the evening at the Duke's Theatre, when she caught sightof you across the pit? One might have imagined she would not have hadyou see her on such close terms with our friend; that she feared youmight mistake her courtesy for proof of some deeper feeling."
"Well?" I asked, remembering how he had chuckled through the evening.For such in truth had been my thought, and I had drawn no smallcomfort from it.
"Well, she saw you long ere that; she saw you the moment she enteredthe box, before I pointed her out to you. For she looked straight inyour direction and spoke to the Frenchwoman, nodding towards you."
"No, it is impossible!" I replied. I recollected how her hand hadfallen upon mine, and the musical sound of her words--"the occasionmay come, too." "There is no trace of the coquette about her. Thismust be a mistake."
"It is you who are making it. Add her behaviour now," he waved hishand to the window, "to what I have told you! See how the incidentsfit together. Yesterday she finds out your room commands the Park,to-day she walks in Marston's company underneath the window, andbackwards and forwards, mark that! never moving out of range. 'Tis allpart of one purpose."
"But what purpose?" I cried passionately. "What purpose could sheserve?"
"The devil knows!" he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "It isof a woman we are speaking--you forget that."
I flung open the window noisily, in a desire to attract theirattention and observe how the Countess would take our discovery of herinterview. But she paid not the slightest heed to the sound. Elmscottmade a sudden dash to the door.
"Culverton!" he cried over the baluster.
I tried to check him, for I had no wish that Culverton's meddlesomefingers should pry into the matter. I was too late, however; heentered the room, and Elmscott drew him to the open window.
"Burn me, but 'tis the oddest thing!" he smirked.
For a minute or so we stood watching the couple in silence. Then theCountess dropped her fan, and as Marston stooped to pick it up sheshot one quick glance towards us. Her companion handed her the fan,and they resumed the promenade. But they took no more than half a turnbefore the Countess signalled to the porters, and getting into thechair, was carried off. Marston waited until she was out of sight,with his hat in his hand, and then cocking it jauntily on his head,marched off in the opposite direction. The satisfaction of his mannermade my blood boil with rage.
"The conceited ass!" I cried, stamping my feet.
"She heard the window open after all," said Elmscott.
As for Culverton, he tittered the more.
"The oddest thing!" he repeated. "The very oddest thing! Strike mepurple if I know what to make of the delightful creature!"
"'Tis as plain as my hand," replied Elmscott roughly. "No sooner didshe perceive that you were watching her than she gave Marston hisconge. He had done his work, and she had no further use for him. Sheis a woman--there's the top and bottom of it. A couple of men to frownat each other and grimace prettily to her! Her vanity demands no less.She is like one of our Indian planters who value their wealth by thenumber of their slaves; so she her beauty."
"Nay," interposed the fop. "If that were the whole business, one wouldhear less concerning Mr. Buckler from her rapturous lips. But rat meif she ever talks about any one else."
"Do you mean that?" I asked eagerly.
"Oh, most inquisitive, on my honour! In truth, your name is growingplaguy wearisome to me. Why, but the other night, when she selected meto lead her to her carriage at the theatre, 'twas but to question meconcerning you, and whether you gambled, and the horse of mine yourode, and what not. And there was I with a thousand tender nothings towhisper in her ear, and pink me if I could get one of 'em out!"
"Then I give the riddle up," rejoined Elmscott, though I would fainhave heard more of this strain from Culverton. "I make neither headnor tail of the business, unless, Morrice, she would bring you on by alittle wholesome jealousy." He looked at me shrewdly, and continued:"You are a timid wooer, I fancy. Why not go to her boldly? Tell heryou are going away, and have had enough of her tricks! 'Twould bringyour suit to a climax."
"One way or another," said I doubtfully.
"If Mr. Buckler would take the advice of one who has had some smallexperience of ladies' whims," interposed Culverton, "and someparticipation in their favours, he would buy some new clothes."
"These are new," I said. "I followed your advice before, and boughtenough to stock a shop."
"But of such a desperate colour," he replied. "Lard, Mr. Buckler, yougo dressed like a mute at a funeral! The ladies loathe it; stap me,but they loathe it! A scarlet coat, like our friend wears, a fullperiwig, an embroidered stocking, makes deeper inroads into theiraffections than a year's tedious love-making. The dear creatures'hearts, Mr. Buckler, are in their eyes."
With that the subject of Countess Lukstein dropped. For Culverton,once started upon his favourite topic, launched forth into a completephilosophy of clothes. The colour of each garment, according to him,had a particular effect upon the sex; the adjustment of each ribbonconveyed a particular meaning. He had, indeed, ingeniously classifiedthe various coats, hats, breeches, vests, periwigs, ruffles, cravatsand the other appurtenances of a gentleman's wardrobe, with the modesof wearing them, as expressions of feeling and emotion. The larger andmore dominant emotions were voiced in the clothes, the delicate andsubtler shades of feeling in the disposition of ornaments. In short,'twould be a very profitable philosophy for a race which had neithertongues to speak nor faces and limbs to act their meaning.
This incident, as I have said, determined me upon a compromise, for itset my heart aflame with jealousy. I had not taken Marston into mycalculations before; now I reflected that if I retired to the North, Ishould be leaving a free field for him, and that I was obstinatelyminded I would not do. On the other hand, however, this promenade infront of my windows, whether undertaken of set purpose or from sheercarelessness, seemed to show that after all I had no stable footing inIlga's esteem, and I feared that if I disclosed to her the deceptionwhich I had used towards her, there could be but one result andconsequence.
I determined then to forward my suit with what ardour and haste Imight, and to unbosom myself of my fault in the very hour that Ipleaded my love.
The Countess, however, gave me no heart or occasion for the work. Hermanner towards me changed completely of a sudden, and where I hadpreviously met with smiles and kindly words, I got now disdainfullooks and biting speeches. She would ridicule my conversation, myperson, and my bearing, and that, too, before a room full of people,so that I was filled with the deepest shame; or again, she wouldshrink from me with all the appearances of aversion. MademoiselleDurette, it is true, sought to lighten my suffering. "It is everLove's way to blow hot and cold," she would whisper in my ear. But Ithought that she spoke only out of compassion. For 'twas the cold windwhich continually blew on me.
At times, indeed, though very rarely, she would resume her oldfamiliarity, but there was a note of effort in her voice as though shesubdued herself to a distasteful practice, and something hysterical inher merriment; and as like as not, she would break off in the middleof a kindly sentence and load me with the extremity of scorn.
Moreover, Marston was perpetually at her side, and in his company shemade more than one return to the Park; so that at last, being falleninto a most tormenting despair, I made shift to follow Elmscott'sadvice, and called at her lodging one morning to inform her that Iintended setting my face homewards that very afternoon.