THE EMBASSY OF GEOFFREY HERON.
Within that week the house party at Hollyoaks broke up. Mr. and Mrs.
Marshall returned to their own house, which was only four miles away;
Jennie Brawn went back to Bedford-park and the family of nine; and
Geoffrey Heron took his way to his London Chambers. So Ruth was left
to the society of her father, and she made up her mind that she would
say no more about Neil. Indeed, she half intimated to Mr. Cass that she
might, after all, marry her other lover--an intimation which delighted
the worthy merchant beyond words.
"You are a sensible girl after all, Ruth," he said. "Believe me, you
would do wisely. You see my love, you could not have been really in
love with Webster, since you have so soon forgotten him."
She answered him meekly enough.
"I daresay you are right, papa, Neil has behaved very badly to me, and
I think no more of him."
"Poor fellow," sighed Mr. Cass!
"Really, papa," exclaimed the girl, "you are difficult to please. At
your desire I have given him up: now you think I have treated him
badly."
"My dear, I said nothing of the sort," protested the embarrassed Mr.
Cass. "All the same, I wish he had not set his heart on you."
"Oh, he has not done that, or he would not have been so ready to give
me up."
"My dear, you do not understand."
Ruth went away thinking over this last speech. "No," she murmured to
herself, "I do not understand, but I shall soon. I ought to hear from
Geoffrey in a few days. After all, I am really beginning to think I
like him better than Neil. What Jennie said was quite right, although I
would not for the world acknowledge it to her. I am not the wife for a
man like him. I want to be considered, and I am sure Geoffrey would do
all in his power to please me and to make me happy. Neil? Well, I think
he might have been rather a trial."
A week after Neil's departure, Mr. Cass received a letter from him
which caused the worthy merchant much perplexity. He shut himself up in
his library to think it over. Webster had gone away with the fullest
intention of proving his mother's innocence, yet this short letter
intimated that he had abandoned the idea. "I have seen my mother," he
wrote, "and I see it is best to take your advice and let sleeping dogs
lie. I am going abroad shortly, and it is not likely that I shall see
you for many months. Never again will I come to your house; and I only
hope that you will impress upon Ruth the necessity of forgetting me as
speedily as possible. I cannot trust myself to see her again, so I must
leave this task to you."
"Poor lad!" sighed Mr. Cass, as he finished the letter. "It is bitter
for him that he should have to suffer for the sins of his parents.
But I wonder why he has stopped short in his endeavour to prove Mrs.
Jenner's innocence? What can she have said to him? I have a good mind
to see him--or her," he added as an after-thought; then changed his
mind. "No, it would only revive sad memories. The matter is settled by
this letter, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. I will think no
more of it."
So he said, but so he did not do. His conscience frequently took
pleasure in reminding him of the whole story, and despite all his
philosophical resolves to "let sleeping dogs lie," he knew very well
that he ought to rouse them. But this he could not bring himself to do.
Too much was at stake, and a bolder man than Mr. Cass would have shrank
from the consequences. In this frame of mind he did his best to argue
that he was right, and--he failed in the attempt.
Meanwhile Geoffrey was in town. He had learnt from Ruth that Neil
occupied rooms in the Waverley Hotel in Cherry-square, a quiet,
unpretentious establishment.
Three times Heron called at the hotel, only to be told that Mr. Webster
was out of town. The fourth time he was more lucky and found the young
man at home.
Neil Webster looked extremely ill; dark circles under his eyes told
of sleepless nights, and his restless movements hinted at a nervous
system which had gone to pieces. Moreover, his lips were dry, his eyes
feverishly bright.
The room was luxuriously furnished. The prevailing colour was a dark
red, and on the walls were hung portraits of his favourite composers.
Curiously enough, the furniture was upholstered in a soft shade
of grey, the effect of which in the warm-tinted room was, to say
the least, of it, somewhat odd. A revolving bookcase, filled with
books--mostly of poems--stood near a Louis Quinze escritoire; but the
glory of the room was a magnificent grand piano standing alone at one
end of the apartment.
"I suppose you are surprised to see me, Webster?" said the young squire
abruptly.
"Well, I must admit that I am. We could hardly be called the best of
friends at any time, I think."
"Still, we have not been enemies, Webster. Because two men may happen
to be rivals they need not have a bad opinion of each other."
"You are very good," Neil said, faintly.
"Don't be sarcastic; there is no need, I assure you."
The remark made Webster laugh.
"Why do you laugh?" asked the other, sharply.
"I was wondering whether I could make a friend of you, and the thought
of our relative positions with Miss Cass made me scout the possibility.
We can never be friends."
"Why not? I like you very well. I don't see why you should be so bitter
to me."
"I am not bitter. In fact, you would be my friend, I think, if it were
not for Miss Cass."
"I am ready to be your friend in any case," said Heron, quickly. "And
don't think me a mean brute to hate a man because he is more lucky than
I."
"Lucky!" sighed Neil, sitting up. "Heaven help you if you are not a
luckier man than I. Well, when we know one another better we may be
friends. I need one badly enough, Heaven knows. But, first of all, to
pave the way to our better acquaintance, why have you come here?"
"I will answer you frankly. Miss Cass has informed me that you have
broken off your engagement to her. Now, you know that I am very much
in love with her, and that I wish her to be my wife. She loves you, I
think----"
"No, pardon me," Webster said, lifting one thin hand. "She does not
really care for me. I have come to that conclusion after much thought.
She admires my talents, but you possess what wins a woman's eyes and
her heart in the long run--strength."
"You are complimentary," Heron said, good-humouredly, "but I think most
women would admire you. All I want to know is whether your engagement
with Miss Cass is really at an end, because in that case I'll sail in
and try my luck."
Webster leant back. It was hard to give up this girl, and although he
had really done so, yet there was the official announcement to be made.
But it had to be done, for, knowing what he knew, he felt that no truly
honest man in his place would hold her to her promise. So Neil braced
himself up to make the sacrifice, and spoke out with decision:
"My engagement to Miss Cass is at an end," he said. "She will never
be my wife, nor is it probable that I shall ever see her again. She
is free to marry you, indeed, I hope she will, and"--here his voice
quivered--"I wish you joy."
"Well," Heron said, thoughtfully, "I can't deny that I am glad to hear
this, for Ruth Cass is all the world and more to me. At the same time
time I am sorry, for I can see that you feel this very deeply. Is it of
your own free will that you do this?" and he eyed Webster curiously.
"In one way it is, in another it is not. A few weeks ago I had a right
to marry her, now I have none."
"Can I help you?" Heron asked.
"No, no. Impossible!"
The man was so shaken and ill that Geoffrey asked no more questions.
He went over and shook hands. "As you have withdrawn I will try my
luck. But, I also may fail; and if I do I hope I shall bear the
disappointment as well as you do. If you will allow me I will come and
see you again."
"I shall be glad to see you. But are you not going back to Hollyoaks?
"No," replied Geoffrey. "I shall be in town for a week or so, and if I
can see you again so much the better."
"Come by all means, then. I am usually at home during the evening. I'm
afraid I can't ask you to dine just now. I really do not feel well
enough."
"That's all right," Heron said, brightly. "I know you feel bad, but you
have behaved like a Briton." Than which Geoffrey thought there could
not be higher praise. "And if I can help you in any way I will. I have
an idea, you know, that we shall be friends, after all."
"We have made a good start, anyhow," said Neil. "Good-bye."
When Geoffrey had gone, the unhappy man buried his face in the sofa
cushions and wept bitterly. He had crushed down his feelings throughout
the interview; but now Nature would have her way.
"Oh, Heavens!" he wailed. "Shall I ever know peace again?"