DUTY BEFORE PLEASURE
The year ended sadly for Lillian, since she had lost her father, her
lover, and her home; gaining instead the doubtful companionship of a
paternal uncle, who stepped into the position of guardian. The girl,
although she did not know it at the time, was leaving a pleasant
flowery lane to turn into a flinty high road, arched by a dismal sky.
It is true that she still possessed Mrs. Bolstreath to comfort her,
but the loss of Dan could scarcely be compensated by the attentions of
the chaperon. Not that Halliday was altogether lost; but he had been
pushed out of her life by Sir John Moon, who approved as little of
this suitor as the late baronet had done.
"You see, my dear child," he exclaimed to Lillian, immediately after
the New Year and when things were more restful, "as your guardian and
uncle, I have to see that you make a good match."
"What is marriage without love?" queried Miss Moon scornfully.
"Love!" Sir John shrugged his elegant shoulders and sneered. "Love is
all very well, but a title is better. I say nothing about money, as
you have any amount of that useful article. Now, Lord Curberry----"
"I detest Lord Curberry, and I shan't marry Lord Curberry,"
interrupted Lillian, frowning, and her mind held a picture of the
lean, ascetic peer with the cruel, grey eyes. As a barrister, Curberry
was no doubt admirable; as a nobleman, he filled his new position very
well; but she could not see him as a lover, try as she might. Not that
she did try, for under no conditions and under no pressure did she
intend to become his wife.
"Your father wished you to marry Lord Curberry," hinted Uncle John
softly.
"My father wished me to be happy," cried Lillian hotly, "and I can't
be happy unless I marry Dan."
"That aviator man! Pooh! He has nothing to give you."
"He gives himself, and that is all I want."
"I see. Love in a cottage and----"
Lillian interrupted again. "There's no need for love in a cottage. I
have plenty of money; you said as much yourself, Uncle John."
"My dear," said the new baronet gravely, "from what I saw of young
Halliday he is too proud a man to live on his wife. And you would not
respect him if he did. I think better of you than that, my child."
"Dan has his profession."
"H'm! And a dangerous one at that. Besides, he doesn't make much
money."
"He will though. Dan is a genius; he has all kinds of ideas about
flying machines, and some day he will conquer the air."
"Meantime, you will be growing old waiting for him."
"Not at all," Lillian assured him. "I shall be with him, helping all I
can."
"You won't with my consent," cried her uncle, heatedly.
"Then I shall do without your consent. I shan't give up Dan."
"In that case," sighed Sir John, rising to show that the interview was
ended--and certainly it had ended in a clash of wills--"there is
nothing for me to do but to make young Halliday give you up."
"He'll never do that," said Miss Moon, pausing at the door with a
fluttering heart, for her uncle spoke very decidedly.
"Oh, I think so," replied Moon, with the air of a man sure of his
ground. "He has, I am sure, some notion of honor."
"It isn't honorable to give up a woman."
"It isn't honorable to live on a woman."
The two antagonists glared at one another, and a silence ensued.
Neither would give way, and neither would compromise in any way.
Lillian wanted Dan as her husband, a post Sir John did not intend the
young man to fill. But he saw plainly enough that harsh measures would
drive Lillian to desperation, and he did not yet know sufficient of
Halliday to be sure that he would not grasp at a rich wife. Sir John
believed that men were like himself, and would do anything--honorable,
or, at a pinch, dishonorable--to secure a life of ease and comfort.
However, as he swiftly reflected, Halliday was young, and probably
would be wax in the hands of a clever man, such as Moon considered
himself to be. It would be best to see him and control the boy's mind
by appealing to his decency--so Sir John put it.
"Very good, my dear," he said, when he reached this point, "matters
are at a dead-lock between us. I suggest that you let me interview
Halliday."
"I don't mind, so long as I see him first," pouted the girl,
mutinously.
Sir John smiled drily. "So as to arm him for the fray. Very well. I
consent, my dear. You can arrange your campaign, and then I can
discuss the matter with this very undesirable suitor. But you must
give me your promise that you will not run away with him meanwhile?"
Lillian held herself very erect and replied stiffly. "Of course I
promise, Uncle John. I am not ashamed of loving Dan, and I shall marry
him in a proper manner. But I shan't marry Lord Curberry," she ended,
and fairly ran away, so as to prevent further objections.
"Oh, my dear, I think you will," grinned Sir John at the closed door,
and he sat down to pen a diplomatic letter to Mr. Halliday, as he
wished to have the matter settled and done with. "These romantic young
nuisances," said the schemer crossly.
The new baronet was a slim, well-preserved dandy of sixty, who looked
no older than forty-five owing to the means he took to keep himself
fit. He was the younger and only brother of Moon, and inherited the
title since there was no nephew to take it. He also inherited ten
thousand a year for life on condition that he acted as Lillian's
guardian. It was no mean task, for the girl had an income of £50,000
coming in every twelve months. There would be plenty of hard-up flies
gathering round this honey-pot, and Sir John foresaw that it would not
be an easy business to settle the young lady's matrimonial future,
especially as the said young lady was obstinate beyond belief. Sir
John, being a loafer by nature, had never possessed sufficient money
to indulge to the full in his luxurious tastes, since his brother had
not financed him as largely as he could have wished. But now that he
was safe for the rest of his life on an income which would enable him
to enjoy the world's goods, Sir John did not wish to be bothered. It
was his aim to get his niece married and settled as soon as possible,
so that she would be looked after by a husband.
Under these circumstances, and since Lillian was anxious to marry Dan,
it was strange that the baronet did not allow her to indulge her
fancy. He did not for two reasons: one was that he really did not
think Halliday a good match; and, moreover, knew of his late brother's
opinion on the matter of the wooing. The second reason had to do with
the fact that he had borrowed a large sum of money from Lord Curberry,
and did not wish to pay it back again, even though he could do so
easily enough in his present flourishing circumstances. Curberry
offered to forego the payment if Sir John could persuade Lillian to
marry him. And as Moon wanted to be able to talk about the girl as a
peeress, and did not want to reduce his new income by frittering it
away in paying back debts, he was determined to bring about the very
desirable marriage, as he truly considered it to be.
"Curberry is sure to go in for politics," thought the plotter, "and he
has enough brains to become Prime Minister if he likes. He's got a
decent income, too, and a very old title. With Lillian's money and
beauty she should have a titled husband. Besides," this was an
after-thought, "Curberry can make himself deuced disagreeable if he
likes." And perhaps it was this last idea which made Sir John so
anxious for the marriage to take place.
The late Sir Charles had been a big, burly, broad-shouldered man, with
a powerful clean-shaven face--the kind of overbearing, pushing
personality which was bound to come up on top wherever men were
congregated. And Sir Charles had massively pushed his way from poverty
to affluence, from obscurity into notoriety, if not fame. Now his
honors and wealth were in the hands of two people infinitely weaker
than he had been. Lillian was but a delicate girl, solely bent upon
marriage with an undesirable suitor, while Sir John had no desire to
do anything with his new income and new title save to enjoy the goods
which the gods had sent him so unexpectedly. He was by no means a
strong man, being finical, self-indulgent, and quite feminine in his
love for dress and luxury. Much smaller and slighter than his
masterful brother, he was perfectly arrayed on all occasions in purple
and fine linen; very self-possessed, very polite, and invariably quiet
in his manner. He had several small talents, and indulged in painting,
poetry, and music, producing specimens of each as weak and neatly
finished as himself. He also collected china and stamps, old lace and
jewels, which he loved for their color and glitter. Such a man was too
fantastical to earn the respect of Lillian, who adored the strength,
which showed itself in Dan. Consequently, she felt certain that she
would be able to force him to consent to her desires.
But in this, the girl, inexperienced in worldly matters and in human
nature, reckoned without knowledge of Sir John's obstinacy, which was
a singularly striking trait of the man's character. Like most weak
people the new baronet loved to domineer, and, moreover, when his ease
was at stake, he could be strong even to cruelty, since fear begets
that quality as much as it fosters cowardice. Moon had removed Lillian
and Mrs. Bolstreath to his new house in Mayfair, because it was not
wise that the girl should remain at Hampstead, where everything served
to remind her of the good father she had lost. Therefore, Sir John
wished for no trouble to take place under his roof, as such--as he put
it--would shatter his nerves. The mere fact that Lillian wished to
marry young Halliday, and that Curberry wished to marry her, was a
fruitful source of ills. It stands to Sir John's credit that he did
not take the easiest method of getting rid of his niece by allowing
her to become Mrs. Halliday. He had a conscience of some sort, and
wished to carry out his late brother's desire that Lillian should
become a peeress. So far as the girl's inclinations were concerned he
cared little, since he looked upon her as a child who required
guidance. And to guide her in the proper direction--that is, towards
the altar in Curberry's company--Sir John put himself to considerable
inconvenience, and acted honestly with the very best intentions. His
egotism--the powerful egotism of a weak man--prevented him from seeing
that Lillian was also a human being, and had her right to freedom of
choice.
It must be said that, for a dilettante, Sir John acted with surprising
promptitude. He took the two women to his own house, and let the
mansion at Hampstead to an Australian millionaire, who paid an
excellent rent. Then he saw the lawyers, and went into details
concerning the property. Luckily, Sir Charles had gradually withdrawn
from business a few years before his death, since he had more or less
concentrated his mind on politics. Therefore, the income was mostly
well invested, and, with the exception of the line of steamers with
which Mrs. Brown's son had been concerned, there were few interests
which required personal supervision. Sir John, having power under the
will, sold the dead man's interest in the ships, withdrew from several
other speculations, and having seen that the securities, which meant
fifty thousand a year to Lillian, and ten thousand a year to himself,
were all in good order, he settled down to enjoy himself. The
lawyers--on whom he kept an eye--received the money and banked it, and
consulted with Sir John regarding reinvestments. They also, by the new
baronet's direction, offered a reward of £1,000 for the discovery of
the murderess. So, shortly after the New Year everything was more or
less settled, and Sir John found himself able to attend once more to
his lace and jewels, his music and poetry. Only Lillian's marriage
remained to be arranged, and after his conversation with the girl, Sir
John appointed a day for Dan to call. That young gentleman, who had
been hovering round, lost no time in obeying the summons, which was
worded amiably enough, and presented himself in due time. Sir John
received Halliday with great affability, offered him a chair and a
cigarette, and came to the point at once.
"It's about Lillian I wish to see you, Mr. Halliday," he remarked,
placing the tips of his fingers delicately together. "You can go up to
the drawing-room afterwards and have tea with her and with Mrs.
Bolstreath. But we must have a chat first to adjust the situation."
"What situation?" asked Dan, wilfully dense.
"Oh, I think you understand," rejoined Sir John, drily. "Well?"
"I love her," was all that Dan could find to say.
"Naturally. Lillian is a charming girl, and you are a young man of
discernment. At least, I hope so, as I wish you to give Lillian up."
Dan rose and pitched his cigarette into the fire. "Never," he cried,
looking pale and determined and singularly virile and handsome. "How
can you ask such a thing, Mr. Moon--I mean Sir John."
"My new title doesn't come easily I see," said the baronet smoothly.
"Oh, I quite understand. My poor brother died so unexpectedly that
none of us have got used to the new order of things. You least of all,
Mr. Halliday."
"Why not 'Dan'?" asked that young gentleman, leaning against the
mantelpiece since he felt that he could talk better standing than
sitting.
"Because, as I say, there is a new order of things. I have known you
all your life, my dear boy, as your parents placed you in my late
brother's charge when you were only five years of age. But I say Mr.
Halliday instead of Dan as I wish you to understand that we are
talking as business men and not as old friends."
"You take away your friendship----"
"Not at all, Mr. Halliday. We shall be better friends than ever when
we have had our talk and you have done the right thing. Probably I
shall then call you Dan, as of yore."
"You can call me what you please," said Dan obstinately, and rather
angrily, for the fiddling methods of Sir John annoyed him. "But I
won't give up the dearest girl in the world."
"Her father wished her to marry Lord Curberry."
"If her father had lived, bless him," retorted Halliday vehemently,
"he would have seen that Lillian loves me, and not Curberry, in which
case he would not have withheld his consent."
"Oh, I think he would," said Sir John amiably. "Lillian is rich, and
my poor brother wished to obtain a title for her. Very natural, Mr.
Halliday, as you must see for yourself. Charles always aimed at high
things."
"He loved Lillian and would not have seen her unhappy," said Dan
bluffly.
"I don't see that Curberry would make her unhappy. He is devoted to
her."
"But she does not love him," argued Halliday crossly, "and how can
there be happiness when love is lacking. Come, Sir John, you have, as
you said just now, known me all my life. I am honorable and
clean-living and wellborn, while Lillian loves me. What objection have
you to the match?"
"The same objection as my brother had, Mr. Halliday. Lillian is
wealthy and you are poor."
"I have only a few hundreds a year, it is true, but----"
"No 'buts' if you please," Sir John flung up a delicate hand in
protest. "You can't argue away facts. If you marry Lillian, you will
live on her."
Dan bit his lip and clenched his hands to prevent his temper from
showing itself too strongly. "If another man had said that to me, Sir
John, I should have knocked him down."
"Brute force is no argument," rejoined Moon unruffled. "Consider, Mr.
Halliday, you have a few hundreds a year and Lillian has fifty
thousand coming in every twelve months. Being wealthy, she can
scarcely live on your income, so to keep up the position to which she
has been born, she must live on her own. Husband and wife are one, as
we are assured by the Church, therefore if she lives on the fifty
thousand per annum, you must live on it also."
"I wouldn't take a single penny!" cried Dan hotly and boyishly.
"Oh, I am not suggesting that you would," said Sir John easily, "but
Lillian cannot live in the cottage your few hundreds would run to, and
if she lives, as she must, being rich, in a large house, you must live
there also, and in a style which your income does not warrant. You
know what people will say under the circumstances. Either you must
take Lillian to live on your small income, which is not fair to her,
or you must live on her large one, which is not fair to you. I speak
to a man of honor, remember."
"These arguments are sophistical."
"Not at all. You can't escape from facts."
"Then is this miserable money to stand between us?" asked Dan in
despair, for he could not deny that there was great truth in what Sir
John said.
The baronet shrugged his shoulders. "It seems likely unless you can
make a fortune equal to Lillian's."
"Why not? Aviation is yet in its infancy."
"Quite so, and thus accidents are continually happening. If you marry
my niece, it is probable that you will shortly leave her a widow. No!
No! In whatever way you look at the matter, Mr. Halliday, the match is
most undesirable. Be a man--a man of honor--and give Lillian up."
"To be miserable with Lord Curberry," said Dan fiercely, "never!" And
he meant what he said, as Sir John saw very plainly.
This being the case the baronet used another argument to obtain what
he wanted. "I have been young myself, and I know how you feel," he
said quietly. "Very good. I suggest a compromise."
"What is it?" muttered Dan dropping into his chair again and looking
very miserable, as was natural, seeing what he stood to lose.
"My poor brother," went on Sir John smoothly, and crossing his legs,
"has been struck down when most enjoying life. The person who murdered
him--presumably the woman who called herself Mrs. Brown--has not yet
been discovered in spite of the efforts of the police backed by a
substantial reward. I propose, Mr. Halliday, that you search for this
person, the period of searching be limited to one year. If you find
her and she is punished, then you shall marry Lillian; if you fail,
then you must stand aside and allow her to marry Lord Curberry."
"You forget," said Dan, not jumping at the chance as Sir John
expected, "if I do bring the woman to justice, your arguments
regarding my living on Lillian remain in full force."
"Oh, as to that, Mr. Halliday, when the time comes, I can find
arguments equally strong on the other side. To use one now, if you
revenge my brother's death, no one will deny but what you have every
right to marry his daughter and enjoy her income. That would be only
fair. Well?"
"Well," echoed Dan dully, and reflected with his sad eyes on the
carpet. Then he looked up anxiously. "Meanwhile, Lillian may marry
Lord Curberry."
"Oh," said Sir John, coolly, "if you can't trust her----"
"He can trust her," cried the voice of the girl, herself, and the
curtain of the folding doors was drawn quickly aside.
"Lillian!" cried Dan, springing to his feet and opening his arms.
Sir John saw his niece rush into those same arms and laughed. "H'm!"
said he whimsically, "I quite forgot that the folding-doors into the
next room were open. You have been listening."
Lillian twisted herself in Dan's arms, but did not leave them, as she
felt safe within that warm embrace. "Of course I have been listening,"
she cried scornfully; "as soon as I knew Dan was in the house, and in
the library, I listened. I told Bolly that I was coming down to
listen, and though she tried to prevent me, I came. Who has a better
right to listen when all the conversation was about me, and remember I
should have seen him first."
"Well," said her uncle unmoved, "it's no use arguing with you. A man's
idea of honor and a woman's are quite opposed to one another. You
heard. What have you to say?"
"I think you're horrid," snapped Lillian, in a schoolgirl manner, "as
if my money mattered. I am quite willing to give it to you and marry
Dan on what he has. It's better to love in a garret than to hate in a
drawing-room."
"Quite epigrammatic," murmured Sir John cynically. "Well, my dear, I
am much obliged to you for your fifty thousand a year offer, but I
fancy what I have is enough for me. I never did care for millions, and
always wondered why my late brother should wear himself out in
obtaining them. I decline."
"Whether you decline or not, I marry Dan," said Lillian hotly.
"What does Dan say?"
The young man disengaged himself. He had kept silent during the
passage of arms between uncle and niece. "I say that I can trust
Lillian to remain true to me for twelve months."
"For ever, for ever, for ever!" cried the girl, her face flaming and
her eyes flashing; "but don't make any promise of letting our marriage
depend upon finding the woman who murdered my poor father."
"Ah," said Sir John contemptuously, "you never loved your father, I
see."
"How dare you say that?" flashed out the girl, panting with anger.
"My dear, ask yourself," replied Moon patiently; "your father has been
basely murdered. Yet you do not wish to avenge his death and prefer
your own happiness to the fulfilment of a solemn duty. Of course,"
added Sir John, with a shrug, for he now knew what line of argument to
take, "you can't trust yourself to be faithful for twelve months
and----"
"I _can_ trust myself to be faithful, and for twelve centuries, if
necessary."
"No, no, no!" smiled Moon, shaking his head, "you prefer pleasure to
duty. I see you love yourself more than you loved your father. Well,"
he rose and waved his hands with a gesture of dismissal, "go your
ways, my dear, and marry Dan--you observe I call you 'Dan,' Mr.
Halliday, since you are to become my nephew straight away. When is the
wedding to be?"
"You consent?" cried Lillian opening her eyes widely.
"I can't stop you," said Moon, still continuing his crafty diplomacy.
"You will soon be of age and you can buy your husband at once, since
you dare not risk a probation of twelve months."
"I can risk twelve years," retorted Lillian uneasily, for in a flash
she understood how selfishly she was behaving, seeing that her
father's assassin was still at large, "and to prove it----" she looked
at Dan.
He understood and spoke, although he had already made up his mind as
to the best course to pursue. "To prove it," he said steadily, "we
accept your proposal, Sir John. Lillian will wait twelve months, and
during that time I shall search for the woman who murdered Sir
Charles. If I don't find her----"
"Lillian marries Lord Curberry," said Moon quickly.
"No," cried the girl defiantly; "that part of the agreement I decline
to assent to. Twelve months or twelve years it may take before the
truth comes to light, but I marry no one but Dan."
Sir John reflected on the dangers of aviation and swiftly came to a
conclusion. "We'll see at the end of the year," he said cautiously,
"much may happen in that time."
"So long as Lillian's wedding to Curberry doesn't happen," said Dan
obstinately, "I don't care. But it is understood that Lillian is not
to be worried about the matter?"
"That depends upon what you and Lillian call worry," said Moon drily,
"so far as I am concerned I shall not coerce her in any way. All I
wish is the promise of you both that you will wait twelve months
before taking any steps to marry. Meantime, you must not see too much
of Lillian."
"Oh," cried the girl, indignantly, "you would push Dan out of my
life."
"It's a test," explained Sir John, blinking nervously. "You will be in
mourning for the next twelve months, and should see few people."
"Of whom Dan will be one," she flashed out.
"Occasionally--very occasionally, you can see him, but, of course, if
you can't trust yourself to be true without being continually reminded
that Mr. Halliday exists, there is no more to be said."
"I can trust myself," muttered the girl uneasily.
"And I can trust Lillian," said Dan, promptly and decisively.
"It does not look like it since you always wish to see one another.
And remember, Lillian, you owe it to your father's memory to put all
thoughts of love, which is self, out of your heart until the mystery
of his death is entirely solved."
"There is something in that," said Halliday thoughtfully and Lillian
nodded; "but of course I can write to Lillian."
"Occasionally," said the baronet again, "you must both be tested by a
year's separation, with a meeting or a letter every now and then. Duty
must be the keynote of the twelve months and not pleasure. Well?"
The lovers looked at one another and sighed. The terms were hard, but
not so hard as Sir John might have made them. Still both the boy and
the girl--they were little else--recognized that their duty was to the
dead. Afterwards pleasure would be theirs. Silently they accepted and
silently adjusted the situation. "We agree!" said the two almost
simultaneously.
"Very good," said Moon, rubbing his hands, "how do you intend to begin
your search for the missing woman, Mr. Halliday?"
"I don't know," murmured Dan, miserably.
"Neither do I," rejoined Sir John with great amiability. "Come to
tea?"
And to tea the lovers went as to a funeral feast. But Sir John
rejoiced.