CHAPTER XIII.
COUNTESS LUKSTEIN IS CONVINCED.
One detail of this mischancy episode occasioned me considerableperplexity. Conjecture as I might, I could hit upon no cause orexplanation of it that seemed in any degree feasible. The astonishmentof Otto Krax I attributed, and as I afterwards discovered rightlyattributed, to the appearance of Lady Tracy so pat upon the discussionof her picture, and to my expressed desire to present her to theCountess within a few minutes of strenuously denying her acquaintance;and I deemed it not extravagant. That he recognised her as the objectof his master's capricious fancy at Bristol, I considered mostimprobable. For I remembered how successfully the intrigue had beenconcealed; so that even Julian himself came over-late to the knowledgeof it. His second exclamation on the stairs I set down to theprobability that he had perceived Lady Tracy was on the point ofswooning.
It was indeed the fact of the lady's swoon which troubled me. Hernatural repugnance to meeting the Countess was not motive enough. Nordid I believe her sufficiently sensible to shame for that feeling towork on her to such purpose. It seemed of a piece with the terrorwhich she had subsequently shown on her recovery. The miniature, Iconjectured, had something, if not everything to do with it. Resolvingwisely that I had best ascertain the top and bottom of the matter, Icalled upon Marston at his house in Lincoln's Inn Fields, close to thenew college of Franciscans, and asked where his sister stayed, on theplea that I would fain pay my respects to her, and assure myself ofher convalescence.
"I can satisfy you on the latter point," he returned cordially, "butat the cost of denying you the pleasure of a visit. For my sister leftLondon on the next day, and has gone down into the country."
"So soon?" I asked in some surprise. For Lady Tracy hardly impressedme as likely to find much enjoyment in the felicities of a rural life.
"Her illness left her weak, and she thought the country air would giveher health."
For a moment I was in two minds whether to inquire more precisely ofher whereabouts and follow her; but I reflected that I might encountersome difficulty in compassing an interview, for it was evident thatshe had fled from London in order to avoid further trouble and concernin the matter. And even if I succeeded so far, I saw no means ofeliciting the explanation I needed, without revealing to her theunscrupulous use which her brother had made of her miniature; and thatI had not the heart to do. The business seemed of insufficientimportance to warrant it. There was besides a final and convincingargument which decided me to remain in London. If I journeyed into theWest, I should leave an open field for my rival, and no ally with theCountess to guard against his insinuations; and I reflected furtherthat there were few possible insinuations from which he would refrain.
On this point of his conduct, however, I was minded to teach him alesson, which would make him more discreet in the future, and at thesame time effect the purpose I had in view when Lady Tracyinopportunely swooned. For when I came to think over the events ofthat morning, I recollected that after all Lady Tracy had not spokenas I asked her, and though the last words Ilga had said to me as Ileft the house seemed to show me that she no longer believed thecalumny, I was none the less anxious to compel Marston to disavow it.
Now it was the fashion at the time of which I write for the fineladies and gentlemen of the town to take the air of a morning in thePiazza, of Covent Garden; and choosing an occasion when Marston waslounging there in the company of the Countess and her attendant,Mdlle. Durette, I inquired of him pointedly concerning his sister'shealth, meaning to lead him from that starting-point to an admissionthat Lady Tracy was until that chance meeting a complete stranger tome.
But or ever he could reply, Ilga broke in with an air of flurry, andcalling to Lord Culverton, who was approaching, engaged him in a rapidconversation. She was afraid, I supposed, that I meant to break thepromise which I had given her upon the stairs, and tax Marston withhis treachery; and I was confirmed in the supposition when I repeatedthe question. For she shot at me a look of reproach, and said quickly:
"I was telling your friend when you joined us," she said, "of my homein the Tyrol." She laid some stress upon the word "friend." "'Twerehard, I think, at any season to find a spot more beautiful."
"'Twere impossible," rejoined Culverton, with his most elegant bow."For no spot can be more beautiful than that which owns Beauty for itsqueen."
"The compliment," replied Ilga, with a bow, "is worthy of theplayhouse."
"Nay, nay," smirked my lord, mightily gratified; "the truth, madame,the truth extorted from me, let me die! And yet it hath some wit. Icannot help it, wit will out, the more certainly when it is truth aswell."
"Lady Tracy, then----" I began to Marston.
"But at this time of the year," interrupted the Countess immediately,"Lukstein has no rival. Cornfields redden below it, beeches aremarshalled green up the hillside behind it, gentian picks out a mosaicon the grass, and night and day waterfalls tumble their music throughthe air. Yet even in winter, when the ice binds it and gags itsvoices, it has a quiet charm of silence whereof the memory makes onehomesick."
As she proceeded the anxiety died out of her face, and she grewabsorbed in the picture which her memories painted.
"Madame," said Marston, "I should appreciate the description better ifit spoke less of a longing to return."
"It is my kingdom, you see," she replied. "Barbarous no doubt, with aturbulent populace, but still it is my kingdom, and very loyal to me."
Culverton paid her the obvious flattery, but she took no heed of it.
"The tiniest, compactest kingdom," she went on in a musing tone,"sequestered in a nook of the world." She seated herself on a chairwhich stood at the edge of the Piazza. "Indeed, I shall return there,and that, I fancy, soon."
"Countess!" replied Culverton. "That were too heartless. 'Twoulddecimate London, let me perish! For never a gallant but would drinkhimself to death. Oh, fie!"
Marston joined eagerly in the other's protestations. For my part,however, I remained silent, well content with what she had said. For Irecollected the evening when I first had talk with her, and theconstruction which I had placed upon her words; how she would neverreturn to Lukstein until she was eased of the pain which her husband'sdisaster had caused her. The notion that her memories had lost theirsting thrilled me to the heart, and woke my vanity to conjecture of acause.
"Then," said the Countess, "would my friends be proved heartless. Forit is their turn to visit me, and I would not be baulked of requitingthem for their kindness to me here. 'Tis not so tedious a journeyafter all."
"I can warrant the truth of that," said Culverton. "For I have been asfar as Innspruck myself."
"Indeed?" said the Countess. She looked hard at him for a second, andthen laughed to herself. "When was that?" she asked.
"Some six years ago. I was on the grand tour with a tutor--a mostobnoxious person, who was ever poring over statues and cold marblefigures, but as for a fine woman, rabbit me if he ever knew one whenhe saw her. He dragged me with him from Italy to Innspruck to viewsome figures in the Cathedral."
"Then you must needs have passed beneath Lukstein," said the Countess,"for it hangs just above the high-road from Italy."
Culverton would not admit the statement. Some instinct, some angelicwarning, he declared, would surely have bidden him stop and climb tothe Castle as to a holy shrine. The Countess laughingly assured himthat nevertheless he had passed her home, and with a fond minutenessshe described to him its aspect and position.
Then the strangest thing occurred. She leaned forward in her chair,and with the tip of the stick she carried, drew a line on the gravelat the edge of the pavement.
"That represents the road from Meran," she explained. "The stoneyonder is the Lukstein rock, on which the Castle stands." She brieflydescribed the character of the village, and marked out the windings ofthe road from the gates at the back of the Castle down the hillside,until she had well-nigh completed a diagram i
n all essentials similarto that which Julian had sketched for me in my Horace.
"From the village," she said, "the road runs in a zigzag to join thehighway."
She traced two long, distinct lines, but stopped of a sudden at theapex of the second angle, where the coppice runs to a point, with herface puckered up in a great perplexity. Culverton asked her whattroubled her.
"I was forgetting," she said. "I was forgetting how often the roadtwisted," and very slowly she drew the final line to join with thatwhich she had marked to represent the highway in the bed of thevalley.
It struck me as peculiar for the moment, that with her great affectionfor Lukstein, she should forget so simple and prominent a detail asthe number of angles which the road made in its descent. But I gavelittle thought to the matter, being rather engrossed in the strangecoincidence of the diagram. It brought home to me with greaterpoignancy than ever before the deceit which I was practising upon mymistress. For I compared the use to which I had put my plan of theCastle with the motive which had led her unconsciously to reproduceit, I mean her desire that her friends should appreciate the home inwhich she took such manifest delight.
But while I was thus uneasily reproaching myself I perceived Marstonseparate from the group, and being obstinately determined that heshould admit before Ilga the tenuity of my acquaintance with hissister, I called him back and asked him at what period Lady Tracymight be expected again in town.
This time the Countess made no effort to divert me. Indeed, she seemedbarely to notice that I had put the question, but sat with her chinpropped on the palms of her hands gazing with a thoughtful frown atthe outline which she had drawn; and I believed her to be engrossed inthe picture which it evoked in her imagination.
"It appears that you feel great interest in my sister, Mr. Buckler,"said Marston curiously. Doubtless my question was a clumsy one, for Iwas never an adept at finesse; but this was the last answer which Idesired to hear. "Nay, nay," I said hurriedly, and stopped at a loss,idly adding with my cane a line here and there to Countess Lukstein'sdiagram.
To my surprise, however, Ilga herself came to my rescue, and in acareless tone brought the matter to an issue.
"Perhaps Mr. Buckler," she remarked, "is an old friend of LadyTracy's."
I raised my eyes from the Countess, fixing them upon Marston to notehow he took the thrust, and with a quick sweep of her stick shesmoothed the gravel, obliterating the lines. That I expected to seeMarston disconcerted and in a pother to evade the question, I need notsay, and 'twas with an amazement which fell little short ofstupefaction that I heard him answer forthwith in a brusque, curttone.
"That can hardly be. For my sister has been abroad all this year, andMr. Buckler in the same case until this year."
I turned to Ilga. But she seemed more interested in Lady Tracy than inthe fact of the admission.
"Ah! Lady Tracy was abroad," she said. "When did she leave England?"
"In September."
"The very month that I returned," I exclaimed triumphantly.
The Countess turned quickly towards me. "I fancied you only returnedthis spring."
"I was in England for a short while in September," said I, regrettingthe haste with which I had spoken.
"September of last year?"
"Of last year."
"Anno Domini 1685," laughed Culverton. "There seems to be some doubtabout the date."
"September, 1685," repeated the Countess with a curious insistency.
"There is no doubt," returned Marston hotly. "I could wish for Betty'ssake we had not such cause to remember it. She was betrothed to one ofMonmouth's rebels, curse him! and Betty was so distressed by hiscapture that her health gave way."
I was upon tenterhooks lest Ilga should inquire the name of the rebel.But she merely remarked in an absent way, as though she attached nosignificance to his words:
"'Tis a sad story."
"In truth it is, and the only consolation we got from it was that therebel swung for his treachery. Betty was ordered forthwith abroad, andshe left England on the fourteenth of September. I remember the dayparticularly since it was her birthday."
"September the fourteenth!" said the Countess; and I, thinking to makeout my case beyond dispute, cried triumphantly:
"The very day whereon I bade good-bye to Leyden."
The words were barely off my lips when Ilga rose to her feet. Shestood for a moment with her eyes very wide and her bosom heaving.
"I am convinced," she whispered to me with an odd smile. "I ought notto have needed the proof. I am convinced."
With that she turned a little on one side, and Marston resumed:
"That proves how little Mr. Buckler is acquainted with Lady Tracy."
He spoke as though I had been endeavouring to persuade the companythat I was intimate with his sister; he almost challenged me tocontradict him. I could not but admire the effrontery of the man incarrying off the exposure of his falsity with so high a head, and Isurmised that he had some new contrivance in his mind whereby he mightsubsequently set himself right with Ilga. One thing, however, wasapparent to me: that he had no suspicion of his sister's acquaintancewith Count Lukstein.
"It was on the fourteenth that Betty set out for France," he once moredeclared, and so walked away.
"Where she married most happily three months later," sniggeredCulverton. "As you say, madame, it is a very sad story."
The Countess laughed.
"She was not over-constant to her rebel."
"In the matter of the affections," replied Culverton, "Lady Tracy wasever my Lady Bountiful."
It seemed to me that the Countess turned a shade paler, but anyinference which I might have drawn adverse to myself from that wasprevented by a proposal which she presently mooted. For some other ofour friends joining us about this time, she proposed for a frolic thatthe party should take chairs and immediately invade my lodgings.Needless to say, I most heartily seconded the proposition, apologisingat the same time for the poor hospitality which the suddenness of theinvitation compelled me to offer.
Since by chance I had the key in my pocket, we entered from the Parkby the little door in the wall of the garden. I mention this because Iwas waked up about the middle of the night by the sound of this doorbanging to and fro against the jambs, and I believed that I must havefailed to lock it after I had let my friends into the garden, the doorhaving neither latch nor bolt, but was secured only by the lock. Forawhile I lay in bed striving to shut my ears to the sound. But thewind was high, and, moreover, blew straight into the room through theopen window, so that I could not but listen, and in the end grew verywakeful. The sounds were irregularly spaced according to the lulls ofthe wind. Now the door would flap to three or four times in quicksuccession, short and sharp as the crack of a pistol; now it wouldstand noiseless for a time while I waited and waited for it to slam.At last I could endure the worry of it no longer, and hastily donningsome clothes, I clattered downstairs.
The moon was shining fitfully through a scurrying rack of clouds, butas I always placed the key of the door upon the mantel-shelf of thelarger parlour, and thus knew exactly where to lay my hand on it, Idid not trouble to strike a light, to which omission I owed my life,and, indeed, more than my life. I stumbled past the furniture, crossedthe garden, locked the door, and got me back to bed.
In a few moments I fell asleep, but by a chance association ofideas--for I think that the banging of the postern must have set mythoughts that way--I began, for the first time since I came to London,to dream once more of the door in Lukstein Castle, and to see it open,and open noiselessly across the world. For the first time in thehistory of my nightmare fancies, that door swung back against thewall. It swung heavily, and the sound of the collision shook me to thecentre. I woke trembling in every limb. It was early morning, the sunbeing risen, and, to my amazement, through the open window I heard thepostern bang against the jamb.