HERCULES AND OMPHALE.
The next morning Neil Webster was conspicuous by his absence. His
excuse was that he had been suddenly recalled to town on business. Mrs.
Marshall was not deceived, and on the first available opportunity she
drew her brother aside.
"You have got rid of him, I see," she remarked, with evident
satisfaction. "But Ruth will not submit quietly to all this. In the
first place, she will refuse to believe that he has given her up;
such a sacrifice is beyond the conception of a pretty girl. In the
second----"
"Wait a bit, Inez. Let us dispose of Number One first of all. Ruth will
be convinced that Webster has given her up, for the simple reason that
he has left a letter telling her so."
"Ah! Then that is wily she has not come down to breakfast. I daresay
she is weeping and storming in her room. I'll go and----"
"No, no. Leave her alone. If you go and annoy her, there is no knowing
what she will do. You know how headstrong-----"
"You should have trained her better," said his sister.
"All the training in the world will not tame our mother's blood in
her--or in you, for the matter of that!"
"I know I am strong-minded, if that is what you mean."
"Well, if you like to call obstinacy strongmindedness, there is no need
to argue. No doubt we both mean the same thing----"
"With a difference," finished Mrs. Marshall.
Jennie Brawn was loud in her lamentations when she came to hear of the
Master's departure. She went at once to Ruth, and found that young lady
far from tearful, pacing her bedroom in a towering rage. Jennie paused
at the door; she saw that Ruth had a pencil-scribbled note in her hand.
"What is the matter?" asked Miss Brawn, amazed at this exhibition of
temper. Ruth pounced upon her.
"Matter enough!" she cried, flourishing the letter. "Here is Neil gone
to town in the most unexpected manner--without even an excuse to me!
Read this, Jennie."
"He says he is called away on business," said that young lady, when she
had mastered the contents of the note. "Well, that is, no doubt, the
truth!"
"The truth! Pshaw! You don't know men, my dear. They tell lies in the
most plausible manner. But Neil cannot deceive me! All I want to know
is who the woman is!"
Miss Brawn's freckled face grew crimson. "You have no right to say such
a thing as that! It is not like a lady!"
"I am a woman before I am a lady," cried Ruth. "And a jealous woman at
that. Don't I know how all the creatures swarm after him just because
he is handsome and famous! He has told me all sorts of things about the
notes and the presents they send him, and----"
"It was not nice of him to do that," remarked Jennie, for once blaming
her idol.
"Well,"--Ruth dropped into a chair fairly worn cut by her rage--"it was
not his fault. I worried him into telling me everything. He did not
want to--I must do him that justice."
"How did you worry him into betraying others?"
"You are a woman and ask that? Oh, I forgot--you are not in love--or
rather, no man is in love with you. Why, you stupid little creature if
a man loves a woman, he'll do anything she tells him. Besides, he did
not mention names; he only told me that he got heaps of presents and
letters. But I want to know who the woman is he has gone up to meet."
"I daresay there is no woman."
"My dear Jennie, you don't know men."
"Mr. Webster is devoted to you."
"So he says. Humph!"
"Ruth! Why, he shews it in every way."
"All put on!" cried Miss Cass, determined not to be pacified. "But I'll
get the truth out of my father. I hear from the servants that Neil was
with him in the library for three hours last night."
"Then that is the explanation. Your father has refused his consent to
the marriage, and the Master has gone away."
"Nonsense! Do you think he would give me up like that, and leave me so
cold a letter? No. There is something else--a woman, I am sure. But
I'll get the truth out of my father. I have as wild a temper as Aunt
Inez when I am roused. I can be nice enough, Jennie, as you know, but,
oh, how nasty I can be when I make up my mind!"
"You have evidently made up your mind now," said Miss Brawn, who had
known all about Ruth's temper when they were at school together. And
at this juncture, judging from previous experience, she considered it
prudent to retire, before she herself could be brought under the harrow.
Ruth, left alone, did not rage any more. She put on her prettiest
dress, bathed her eyes, which were reddened with tears, and went down
to try and cajole her father.
Mr. Cass was in the library; and one look at her face was enough
to tell him why she had come. He argued, however, from her studied
amiability, that she was in a particularly aggravating mood. But long
experience of his mother and sister had taught him how to deal with
this sinister sweetness. He was immediately on his guard; for, as he
well knew, if the truth was to be got out of him, his daughter was the
one to get it.
"Dear papa," she said, sinking into a chair beside the desk and patting
his hand. "I am in great trouble."
"I know,"--determined that he would carry the war into the enemy's camp.
"Mr. Webster was with me last night."
Ruth started to her feet with a tragic expression on her face. "And
you have forbidden our marriage!" she cried, and her air was that of a
Siddons.
"What else did you expect?" her father asked. "Neil is a good fellow,
but he is not the son-in-law I want. And, indeed, I should be sorry,
for his own sake, to see him marry you. He is too gentle and kind. What
you want, my young lady, is a master."
"No man shall ever master me," his daughter said, calmly. "And has he
given me up without a word?"
"No; he said a good many words. But I am adamant, so far as this
ridiculous marriage is concerned. He accepted the inevitable after some
fighting, and took his departure this morning before you were up. I
see," he added, glancing at the note in her hands, "that he has written
to you."
"Yes." Ruth gave it to him. "But it explains nothing."
"It explains all there is to explain," said Mr. Cass. "Let the matter
drop now. Neil has gone away on business; so we will say nothing about
his love for you. You'll soon get over it."
"Indeed I shan't!" sobbed the girl, now on the tearful tack. "It is
cruel of you to send him away when I love him so. I don't believe he
gave me up because you refused. There is something else."
"There is nothing else." Mr. Cass's tone was decisive.
But Ruth's fine ear caught something of hesitation in his voice, and
she dropped her handkerchief from her eyes with a triumphant air. "I
knew there was something else. What is it--something about his parents?"
Mr. Cass started and changed colour at this chance shot. "Good Heavens,
child! Who told you anything about his parents?" he said; and no sooner
had he said it than he repented his rashness. For thereby she had
gained an advantage which she would not be slow to seize.
"Why," she said, very slowly, with her eyes fixed on her father's
perturbed face, "it was just this way. Neil told me all about his
parents having died in America, and how you had brought him up at
Bognor."
"Did he tell you nothing else?" Mr. Cass was beginning to feel that she
was too much for him.
This was an opportunity which the girl was too clever to lose. "Well, he
did not tell me everything," she said. "He couldn't, you know."
"I'm glad he had that much sense," Mr. Cass said, with relief.
"Ah, papa, now I have caught you!" cried Miss Cass, clapping her hands.
"I know nothing, then, except that you brought him up. But you admit
there is something else which has stopped the marriage?"
He saw that he had been over-reached. "I can tell you nothing," he said.
"Very well, papa," she said, turning to go, "I'll write to Neil and ask
him to tell me the truth."
"He won't tell you."
"Oh, yes, he will. He loves me, and I can get any thing out of him."
"Girl! Ruth,"--her father seized her arm--"if you can be sensible, do
not write to Webster. He has gone out of your life of his own free
will."
"I will never--never believe that!" and she flushed angrily. "Do you
think I don't know when a man loves me or not? I will see him and learn
the truth."
"I forbid it, and Ruth saw that her father was very angry. With the
cunning of a woman who is determined to get her way, she suddenly
yielded, feeling that she could best gain her ends under the mask of
peace.
"Very well, papa," she said, with a few tears; "but it is very hard on
me. I love him, and you have sent him away--for no fault of his own,
I'm sure."
"He is not in fault--he is unfortunate----"
"In his parents?" she asked.
"Amongst other things," was the reply. "My dear child"--he took her
hand--"if you are wise, you will leave things as they are. I should
like you to marry Heron; but if you do not wish it. I will not press
the matter. As to Neil, put him out of your head, once and for all. He
can never be your husband! Now go." And he pushed her gently outside
the library door.
"What on earth can it be?" thought the girl, as she took her way to the
winter garden. "Has Neil committed some crime, or has----"
She had reached this point in her meditations when she suddenly came
upon Mr. Marshall. He was pale, and had a look of alarm on his face.
When he saw her he gave a startled cry. "Why, good gracious, uncle,
what is the matter?" asked Ruth.
"Oh, it's you!" replied Marshall. "I thought--never mind what I
thought. I'm upset."
"Oh, Aunt Inez has been giving you a bad time," said the girl, with
some amusement. She knew very well what a tight hand that lady kept
over her elderly Don Juan; and when her uncle nodded, she continued: "I
am upset myself, uncle. He has gone away!"
"Are you talking of Neil Webster?" he asked, with an obvious effort.
"Yes; did you know how much I cared for him, uncle--and--what's the
matter?"
For Mr. Marshall, with an ejaculation, had jumped up and was looking at
her with an expression of dismay. "Nothing is the matter," he gasped,
and it was quite evident that he was not speaking the truth. "But I
must confess I did not know that you cared for him. Ridiculous! Why, he
can never marry you."
"So papa says," replied Ruth, somewhat disconsolately. "He has refused
his consent."
"Quite right--quite right. Ruth, put the ocean between yourself
and that man; but never have anything to do with him. It is"--he
looked--round and approached his lips to her ear--"it is dangerous.
Don't say I told you!" And before she could recover from her
astonishment he had slipped away with an alacrity surprising in so
heavy a man.
Ruth remained standing, utterly perplexed by the manner of her usually
careless and good-natured uncle. "I wonder if he knows why Neil has
gone away?" she thought. "I will find out the reason," she went on to
herself "I am as obstinate as they are. Since they won't tell me I will
write to Neil."
This she proceeded to do, demanding to know the cause of his departure.
"If you love me as you say, you will not give me up at my father's
bidding. I am ready to brave his anger for your sake. Can you not be as
brave as I?"
The reply came, as she had expected, by return, and it was with a
violently beating heart that she tore it open. "I must give you up," he
wrote. It is in vain to fight against the destiny that parts us. I love
you still; but it is my duty to forget you. Do the same, for only in
that way can you be happy.
"Oh, he is mad!" cried Ruth, angrily. "And if he thinks he can put me
off in this way he will find his mistake. I will know!" She stamped her
foot. "I will--I will!"
Notwithstanding Ruth's refusal of him, Geoffrey Heron had not gone
away; he was too deeply in love with her for that, and remained like a
moth fluttering round a candle. Sometimes he felt annoyed with himself;
but he was no longer his own master. Then, much to his surprise, the
girl sought him of her own free will. He was delighted, though he
wisely strove not to shew it. She suggested a walk, in order that they
might not be interrupted.
After some preliminary skirmishing, she led the conversation up to the
departure of Neil Webster.
"I am sorry," she said, with a sigh.
"You need hardly tell me that," replied Geoffrey, not very amiably, for
he was annoyed by the speech and the sigh. "I know he is the lucky man."
"If he is lucky, he does not value his luck."
"What do you mean? I understood from Miss Brawn that you were engaged
to marry him."
"Ah! that's just it. I was engaged, but now--he has gone away without a
word. I don't believe he cares one bit about me."
"What a fool! Oh, Ruth, if you only knew!"
"I do know," she said, kindly; "you want me to be your wife. Well, I
refused, because I could not really love you; but you know that I do
like you extremely."
"Even that is something."
"And if it were not for Neil--well, I might bring myself to marry you."
"No," he said, firmly. "I also have my pride. Much as I want you to be
my wife, I will not consent to that unless you can tell me that you
love me."
"Won't liking do?"
"No,"--gruffly--"liking will certainly not do."
"I might grow to love you in time."
"I wish you could--but--what does all this mean?"
She thought for a moment; then she said: "I hope you won't think me
bold for speaking openly. But the fact is--well, I was engaged to Neil,
and he--he has broken our engagement."
"Ah!" exclaimed the young man. "And how can I remedy the situation?"
"Go to him and ask why he went away."
"I cannot. Do you expect me to bring my rival back to you?"
"If you loved me and wished me to be happy, you would."
"I don't want to see you happy with another fellow," and his manner was
eminently human. "I want you to myself."
"Well, you will not get me by behaving in this way!" cried Ruth, now
thoroughly exasperated. "This is the very first time I have ever asked
you to do anything for me, and you refuse!"
Geoffrey temporised. "Supposing Webster were to persist in his refusal
to come back to you, would there be a chance for me?"
Miss Cass looked straight before her, with her nose in the air.
"I really don't know," she said coldly. "I make no bargains."
"Very well," said Geoffrey, most unexpectedly, "I'll do it."