THE PARAGRAPH IN THE "GAZETTE"
"My dear," said Miss Selina Boyle, "I am in some trouble, and must seek
your advice even at the risk of a confession."
Her exquisite face was half concealed by the shadow of her large
black hat, but over her round chin and throat, over the radiant hair
that flowed in glittering little curls on to her muslin bodice, the
afternoon sun, pouring through the long French window, rested brightly.
She had come upon Miss Chressham at tea; the delicate china was set out
on the tulip-wood table, and Susannah, pale and fair in lavender, had
laid aside her tapestry frame.
"A confession!" she smiled.
But her visitor's face remained grave.
"It may come to that," she said, and her sweet lips trembled.
Susannah Chressham looked at her, thinking of nothing but the frail and
endearing beauty she saw. Selina had taken off her black lace pelisse,
and from head to foot was in white, fine lawn, that billowed round the
gilt chair. Her silk parasol, of the blue of a forget-me-not, rested
against her knee, and at her breast was a cream-tinted rose.
"You are very serious," said Miss Chressham tenderly.
"I think I have a serious matter to deal with," breathed Miss Boyle.
There was a moment's pause. Susannah poured out the tea; the pleasant
sound of the cups as they touched one another and the whispering of
her silks filled the silence.
Then Miss Boyle spoke again, with an effort.
"My dear," she said pleadingly, "you must forgive me for coming to you.
Had I had anyone else--But in town I know none, and I dare not go to my
father or to--the persons concerned."
Miss Chressham set down the cup she held.
"Why, what is the matter?" she asked finally, startled at the other's
tone.
Selina Boyle clasped her hands on her lap.
"What will you think of me?" she cried. "Do not let me entirely lose
your good opinion; I am sufficiently distressed and humbled."
"I implore you to enlighten me," answered Miss Chressham. "You agitate
me, Selina."
Miss Boyle opened her reticule and drew out a copy of the _Gazette_.
"This was found by my maid this morning. What am I to do? What _am_ I
to do, Susannah?" She unfolded the paper and pointed to a paragraph on
the front page. "Read it," she said in a voice almost inaudible.
"This duel between Mr. Markham and Captain Galton?" asked Miss
Chressham, staring at the closely printed sheet.
"No, no! Below--look below."
Susannah obeyed, and read the following sentences:
"The next item from the Beau Monde has been Communicated to Us by
a Lady of Fashion whose Authority is beyond Reproach. It concerns
the Happy Advent of Miss S--l--a B----le of _Bristol_ into Town.
The Cause of her Coming, it seems, is not that She may be, as her
Friends expected, united to her Cousin, Sir Fr----is B----le. This
Match has been Broken off, owing to the Lady's Affection for a Noble
Lord who is well known for his Success in Affairs of the Heart. His
Lordship being so far Infatuated as to Request Miss S--l--a B----le in
a Passionate Letter not to Marry her Cousin, she in a Reply equally
Warm, gave the Desired Pledge, though it might have been supposed that
His Lordship would allow the Lady the Liberty he had taken to Himself
in making a Marriage of Convenience. The Friends of Miss S--l--a
B----le and the Admirers of the Earl of L--dw----d Await with interest
a Further Development of this Romance, the Course of which we Hope to
be able to inform our Readers upon in a future Time."
Miss Chressham laid the paper down. Her eyes darkened and her cheeks
blanched; she averted her glance from Selina Boyle.
"Well," she said unsteadily, "this is ugly malice; a pity you must
notice it."
"But you understand that I cannot ignore it," breathed Miss Boyle
entreatingly.
The other lady turned slowly and faced her.
"I do not know quite how much you mean me to understand," she said
quietly, "nor why you should not take this paper to your father or Sir
Francis."
"I cannot take it to them," answered Miss Boyle in a still way,
"because what is said there is true."
"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Miss Chressham, touched to the heart.
"It is not an invention," continued Selina. "Whoever wrote that knows
the truth." She bent forward until her hat concealed her drooping face
and she clasped her slim hands tightly on her knees. "He wrote to me,
as it says, and I answered, and--and that is the reason why I say no to
my cousin."
"There is no need to tell me this," answered Susannah, trembling. "Why
should you justify yourself to me, or speak to me of these things that
are your own matter? I can believe you always right, Selina, without
explanations."
"But I want you to hear," said Miss Boyle earnestly. "It has come to
that point when someone must hear, and you are almost like his sister."
Miss Chressham winced and averted her eyes.
"It is near two years ago since I first met him," continued Miss Boyle
in a low voice, "and from the very first we--he came to The Wells,
and there spoke to me--" her words failed her; she pulled out her
handkerchief and pressed it to her lips--"of the ruin that involved his
fortunes."
"Why pain yourself to speak of this?" asked Miss Chressham. "Indeed, I
have no right to know--hardly to listen."
Selina Boyle made an effort over her weakness.
"I entreat you, hear me! I deceived you, Susannah. I wrote to you,
mentioning him lightly; I did not dare confide in you, and I was
languishing for some word of him. We were then almost--secretly
betrothed." She paused, struggling with her troubled breath. "He
thought to go to Venice. Then he wrote to me about my lady and Mr.
Lyndwood. I saw how hopeless and wrong it was. I--well, it was over."
Susannah regarded her with eyes of a startled tenderness.
"Some of this I guessed," she said; "but it was not for me to speak."
Miss Boyle looked up.
"You guessed!" she exclaimed. "What must you have thought of me?"
"I thought it was no wonder," she answered.
"You are too gentle with me." Miss Boyle raised her hand to an agitated
bosom and pressed her heart. "But, indeed, I never wrote to him again
nor saw him save in public"--her voice was piteously humble--"until he
sent me this letter, which--ah, I should not have answered it! But I
could not have married Francis, you must understand. I told him so. I
had no right." She turned her head away sharply. "And now it is chalked
up for all the world to see!" she said in a muffled voice; "I shall be
the talk of London--and, since it is true, what am I to do?"
"Rose or Sir Francis will see it, and the matter will be out of our
hands, my dear."
"That is the least bearable thought," answered Miss Boyle, "that they
should meet on my account--and over this."
Miss Chressham crossed to her chair.
"Do you then hope to conceal it?"
"If I could!"
"It is impossible," said Susannah firmly. "That was not put there to be
overlooked; it will be repeated."
"If I could buy up the paper!" cried Selina frantically. "Who could be
so wantonly cruel?"
"Do you not guess? Rose's wife."
"The Countess!"
"Who else? Only someone in his house could have this knowledge of his
correspondence, and she is that manner of woman."
The outraged blood stormed Miss Boyle's cheeks.
"You mean--oh, Susannah, you cannot mean that she reads his letters!"
"I have no doubt at all," said Miss Chressham. "She and her maid spy on
him, and on us, perpetually."
"You think she has read that letter of mine!" cried Selina faintly.
"But it is not possible; he would never have left it about. What must
she think of me? Oh, that I should come to tremble at what may be
thought!"
"I see no cause to tremble," answered Susannah with resolution. "It is
her shame, not yours. Who is she but an ill-bred spiteful woman?"
"Yet his wife," murmured Miss Boyle; "and I had no right--oh!"--with
an accent of deep distress, "should I go to her, implore her not to
think ill of me?"
Miss Chressham's eyes flashed.
"What are you thinking of, my dear? She would insult you."
"Indeed, I could not do it--discuss this--him--with his wife! This is
terrible, and my fault!"
"It is Rose's fault," cried Susannah, with a heaving breast. "He had no
right to do as he did. You and he considered it his duty; I never did.
My lady was not penniless, and Marius could have taken his life in his
own hands. Rose obeyed his own imprudence--his own recklessness--in
marrying this woman; because of my lady's tears and the reproaches of
Marius he sells himself on the instant to a tradesman's daughter, and
brings into the family a creature that will surely ruin it!"
"Yet it was nobly done," murmured Selina.
"But wilful nobleness, and in any case a mistake," answered Miss
Chressham; "a mistake we are all paying for in misery and bitterness.
How dare he set this woman up as mistress of his house where she is in
a position to work harm among all for whom he ever cared?"
"Maybe you are right, Susannah," she said faintly and wistfully,
"but--ah, well, I know what they say of him, nor can I justify my heart
to my reason. Yet, if it were certain sin, as it is certain pain, I
could not forbear from caring."
"I am a fine one to preach," said Miss Chressham in a desperate way.
"Do I not know that he is lovable?" She left her chair and hung over
Selina. "Do not shed tears about it. We will find some way, indeed we
will."
Miss Boyle turned and clung to her.
Susannah gathered the delicate fragrant loveliness into her arms and to
her breast. She could feel the agitated heart beating close to hers and
the wet cheek pressed on her shoulder.
"I wonder what she knows of him?" was her swift thought. "Perhaps it is
better this way."
Selina sobbed like a child--in a helpless and stricken fashion,
clinging tightly the while to Miss Chressham, desperately revolving
some means of comfort and help.
But Miss Boyle was the first to speak.
"I want you to see him"--she steadied herself with an effort. "Will
you?"
Susannah was silent. Miss Boyle withdrew from her embrace and mastered
struggling sobs.
"I want you," she said humbly, pleading with wet eyes, "to show
him--that," she pointed to the paper by the neglected tea-table,
"before he sees it for himself, and to ask him--for--" She hesitated.
"For your sake," finished Miss Chressham, looking away. "Well?"
"To--to ignore it--to suppress it if he can; but to ignore it. Tell
him that I am going away--if I can; but that I confide in him to make
nothing of it. Oh, you know what to say!" She paused, then gathered
strength again. "Will you do this, dear?"
"Yes," said Miss Chressham quietly. "I will send to him at once."
"Thank you," whispered Selina; her blurred eyes shone with gratitude.
"You understand what I mean?"
"Yes, I understand." Susannah smiled sadly. "I am afraid it is rather a
woman's way, dear, but I can conceive of no other course to take."
Miss Boyle fumbled among her voluminous skirts for her reticule, and
pulled it open.
"He has only sent me three letters," she said breathlessly, "and you
shall see them."
Susannah turned swiftly.
"What do you make me? Indeed, I will not look at them--and you have no
right to show them."
Miss Boyle sat silent.
"I will do what I can," continued Susannah, "but I cannot answer for
Rose, save that he must perceive for himself how any action of his
would make the matter worse."
"Has he not possibly some influence with the gentleman who conducts the
paper?" asked Selina.
"Ah, my dear, that was tried before in the Cathcart case, and was found
useless! So there be but the thinnest veil over the names these papers
may publish what they please."
Miss Boyle rose and wiped her eyes.
"I am ashamed to disturb you with my troubles," she murmured; "but the
mere speaking of them has been a comfort."
"Do not thank me yet," said Susannah with a quick flush, "for though
all I have and am is at your service, I am very helpless."
"But I have the greatest trust in you and him, and--and I must go
before the candles come in." She caught Susannah by the shoulders and
kissed her impulsively. "Oh, I shall cry again if I stay. I am a weak
fool," she said in a breaking voice, "but--ah, well, good-bye!"
"Good-bye, dear," answered Miss Chressham. "I shall hope to send to you
in the morning."
Miss Boyle caught up the blue parasol.
"I do not know what I am asking of you," she said in an agitated tone,
"but I trust you, and if by any means you can persuade him----"
"What of Sir Francis?" asked Susannah suddenly.
"I think he is not likely to see the paper," replied Miss Boyle.
She picked up the copy of the _Gazette_ and thrust it into her bag.
"Farewell again, and thank you--oh, thank you, Susannah!" They kissed
again in the dusk that each was secretly so grateful for.
"Is your carriage below, dear?"
"It is waiting. Do not come down."
They parted; the door closed on the slight beauty of Selina Boyle, and
Susannah crossed at once to the fireplace and pulled the bell-rope.
Then she sank into a chair and pushed the fair locks back from her
brow, and stared desperately into the twilight. She felt her cheeks
becoming pale and her blood turning cold. A bitter exclamation left
her lips, she beat her foot in anger at her own weakness, and when the
servant entered rose and turned her back to the room.
One by one the delicate candle flames sprang from the taper and a soft
light illumined the pale rich chamber.
"A letter, madam," said the servant.
"For me?"
"No; for Captain Lyndwood, madam."
Miss Chressham gave a careless glance at the letter he placed on the
mantelshelf.
"In half an hour I shall have a message to be taken to Lyndwood House."
"Yes, madam."
She was alone again, with the curtains shutting out the blue summer
evening. She bit her lip and clenched her hands in her effort at
control, then pulled open a drawer in the buhl cabinet and commenced to
write to the Earl.
But words that would be sufficiently strong yet sufficiently cautious,
phrases that should command yet appear careless were not easy to
find, nor did her agitation allow her to search for the niceties of
composition.
She flung down the pen and rose. As she paced distractedly across the
room her eye was caught by the letter on the marble mantelshelf. It was
in the Countess Lavinia's hand. Susannah stood still a second, then
returned to the desk and sat down heavily.
The moment after, Marius entered. He noticed the untouched tea-table
and his cousin's face as she turned to look at him.
"Is there anything the matter?" he asked, pausing inside the door.
"No," said Susannah, "no. There is a letter for you--from Lady
Lyndwood." She marked the treacherous blood fly to his face and saw him
turn from her gaze. "What does the Countess write to you about?" she
asked.
Marius picked up the letter.
"How can I know," he answered, "before I have opened it?" His dark eyes
challenged hers with a look at once defiant and pleading; the even
pallor of her face did not change, nor did she lower her glance as he
tore open the envelope. "A ticket for Grafton's mask to-morrow," he
said, throwing it on a chair; the letter enclosing it he thrust back
into the envelope carelessly.
"There was no need to obtain that from her," answered Susannah wearily
and coldly.
"I shall not go," said Marius; "unless I might escort you there."
She faintly smiled.
"Did my lady send two tickets? No, I do not wish to go, Marius."
"Why will you not?" he demanded. "My lady will be going--and Rose, I
doubt not."
"Indeed, I do not care for it."
"Ye take pleasure in evading my company and in refusing my requests!"
said Marius fiercely, and, picking up the Countess's ticket and the
Countess's letter, he left the room with an angry step.
Susannah Chressham remained in a reflective attitude. She was not
thinking of Marius--indeed, she had hardly noticed the manner of his
departure.