The state of mind into which England was plunged by the news of the
disappearance of the Commander-in-Chief cannot be fittingly described by
a pen so weak as mine. It was not that we had lost anything of our
former courage, or that we had resigned all hope of coming out victors
in the struggle. We were as resolved as ever to carry this war through
to the bitter end, yet the news clanged like a death knell upon a
thousand hearts. Of my own feelings I will not speak. That expressed by
the nation voices my own. I was sad, how sad few can guess, but despite
my sorrow I declared that the war must go on--that the end should be
reached. And now to turn to a brighter subject.
On the Tuesday before the day I was due to dine at Wiltshire House, I
had the good fortune to receive a visit from an old friend. He was none
other than the Duke of Rotherhithe, the gentleman who had been obliging
enough to convey the Countess de Venetza and her father from
Constantinople to Naples on a certain memorable occasion, and who was
known to entertain a great admiration for her. Having had a somewhat
busy morning, I did not reach home until after two o'clock. I had
scarcely sat down to lunch, before Thompson, my butler, informed me that
the Duke of Rotherhithe was anxious to see me.
"My dear fellow, this is friendly of you," I said, as we shook hands a
few moments later. "You are just in time for lunch. I have only this
minute commenced."
"You couldn't offer me anything better," he replied. "I have eaten
nothing all the morning. By Jove! how good it is to see your face again,
old man, and what a swell you have become, to be sure, since I saw you
last--Cabinet Minister, and I don't know what else besides. You'll be
Premier before you've done."
"Not quite so high as that," I answered. "I have my ambitions, I will
admit, but I am afraid that the Premiership is scarcely the one that
will be likely to be realised."
One thing was quite certain: Rotherhithe was in the most excellent
spirits. His honest, manly face was wreathed in smiles, and had an
artist been present he might have used it for the personification of
Happiness. Throughout the meal he laughed and joked continually,
recalled old days, old escapades, long since forgotten on my side, and
vowed that we were both of us growing younger instead of older. That
there was something unusual about it all I could plainly see, but what
that something was I had not then the least idea. My suspicions,
however, were aroused very soon.
"By the way," I said, when we had finished lunch, "let me tell you that
I have lately had the pleasure to be of some service to an old friend of
yours."
"An old friend of mine?" he said, with what I could not help thinking
was pretended surprise. "Who is the friend?"
"The Countess de Venetza," I replied. "The lady whose wealth and beauty
have made her such a prominent figure in London Society of late. She
told me that she had been yachting with you in the Mediterranean, and
spoke quite feelingly of your kindness to herself and her father. Do you
mean to tell me that you don't recollect her?"
"Recollect her? of course I do," he said, still with the same sheepish
look upon his face. "Oh yes, I remember her well enough. And so you've
been kind to her, have you?"
Here he laughed in a foolish fashion to himself.
"Umph!" I said to myself, "surely he cannot have been idiotic enough to
have----"
I stopped myself abruptly. I knew very well that I should hear all the
news he had to tell quite soon enough.
At last Thompson and the men left the room, and an expression of great
solemnity took possession of my friend's countenance. What was more, he
drew his chair a little closer to mine.
"My dear old fellow," he said, laying his hand on my arm, "we have been
friends many years. In point of fact I don't know of a man whose good
wishes I should so thoroughly appreciate. By Jove, old fellow, I am the
happiest being in the world! So happy, in fact, that I'm dashed if I
know whether I am standing on my head or my heels!"
"Let me reassure you then," I said dryly. "You are standing on your
heels at the present moment."
"Confound your silly jokes," he said angrily. "Any one but a Cabinet
Minister would have seen that I was speaking metaphorically. Now I want
to tell you that----"
"If you are going to be confidential," I replied, "let us adjourn to the
smoking-room. I shall give you much better attention over a cigar, and
you will doubtless prove more eloquent."
We accordingly adjourned to the room in question, where I produced a box
of cigars, furnished the Duke with a light, and then, when we had seated
ourselves, bade him commence his tale. I have often noticed that when a
man who is anxious to be communicative is invited to begin his
confidences, he finds that his stream of loquacity has dried up. It was
so in Rotherhithe's case. He hummed and hawed, gazed very steadily at
the ceiling for some seconds, and finally rose from his chair and began
to pace the room.
"You may remember," he began in the tone of a man addressing a public
meeting, "that you and several other of my friends have continually
endeavoured to impress upon me that it is my bounden duty, not only to
myself, but to the name I bear, to marry and settle down. You can't
grumble, therefore, if I take you at your word."
"You couldn't do better," I said reflectively, examining the ash of my
cigar as I spoke. "There is only one objection to the scheme so far as I
can see."
"Objection?" he cried, firing up as usual. "What sort of objection can
there be to such a thing?"
"It is just possible you may marry the wrong girl," I said quietly. "You
must admit that _that_ would be a very decided one."
"I am not likely to be such an idiot," he returned. "What is more, I am
not about to marry a girl."
I was becoming more and more convinced that my suspicions were correct.
"In that case, the objection is removed," I said. "And now let me offer
you my heartiest congratulations. I sincerely hope you may be happy."
"But hang it all, you haven't asked me yet who the lady is! You might
have done that."
"If I wanted to waste time I might very well have done it," I replied.
"There is no need, however, seeing that I already know who she is."
"The deuce you do! Then who is she?"
"The Countess de Venetza," I answered, shaking the ash of my cigar into
the tray beside me. "I had my suspicions at lunch, and you afterwards
confirmed them. I presume I am correct?"
"Quite correct," he said in a tone of relief. "And, by Jove, don't you
think I am a lucky man? Isn't she simply beautiful?"
I offered no reply to the first question. On the second point, however,
I was fortunate enough to be in a position to reassure him. Whatever
else she might be, or might not be, the Countess was certainly very
beautiful.
"I shall have her painted by Collier," he continued, "or another of
those artist fellows. She will be in black velvet, holding the folds of
a curtain in her hand, and I'll hang it in the gallery at the old place,
with all the other family pictures round her. There'll not be another
there to equal her."
In my own heart I wondered what those stately old ladies in frills and
brocades would say to the new-comer. I did not mention the fact,
however, to Rotherhithe. In his present condition he was ready to take
offence at anything, at least where she was concerned.
"And when will the wedding take place?" I enquired. "And where?"
"I can't quite say," he replied; "there's such a lot to be settled
first, you see. I want her to let it be in London, but, so far, she
hasn't given me a definite answer."
"And her respected father? What has he to say upon the subject?"
"Oh, he's pleased enough. I had a telegram from him this morning.
Between ourselves, I think foreigners overdo it a bit, don't you?"
"They certainly express their feelings somewhat more warmly than we
usually do," I said, as if in explanation of my own conduct; "but in
this case one feels justified in launching out a little. Might I ask how
long you have known the lady?"
I put the question listlessly, seeing that the chance of my learning a
little of her past history was a poor one.
"Oh, I have known her a long time," he answered vaguely. "We were
together in Cairo and Algiers, and other places. What a fellow you are,
to be sure, to ask questions! Does it mean that you think----"
He stopped and glared at me, but I soothed him down.
"My dear fellow," I said, "I think nothing at all, except that the
Countess is a most charming lady, and that you will doubtless live a
most happy life together. I am sure I hope you may."
He looked at me queerly for a moment, and then brought his hand down
with a whack upon my shoulder.
"By Jove! Do you know, I believe you have been in love with her
yourself," he said. "Now own up!"
"It is very possible," I answered, feeling that my only safety lay in
answering as I did. "I have been in love with her ever since I have
known her, and with all due respect to you, I shall remain so after she
has become Her Grace the Duchess of Rotherhithe. If you are jealous, you
will have to forbid me the house."
He laughed uproariously, his confidence quite restored by my candour.
Then, with an assurance that I had better not let him catch me flirting
with her, he informed me that it was time for him to be off, as he had
promised to call at Wiltshire House that afternoon.
"One last question," I said, as we walked towards the door, "and I mean
it seriously. What does cousin Conrad say to the arrangement?"
"I don't know what he says in the least, and what is more I don't care,"
he replied, an angry look coming into his face. "Between ourselves,
George, I don't like that young fellow. I shall take care, once I am
married, that he doesn't enter my doors."
"I think you would be wise," I said, and there the matter dropped.
When he had gone, I sat myself down to consider the situation. It
displeased me for more reasons than one. Rotherhithe was my old friend.
I was exceedingly fond of him, and I had no desire that his married life
should prove a failure. Yet what reason had I for supposing that it
would? It is true I had seen a good deal of the Countess lately, but not
sufficient to be able to declare that I knew her intimately. She was a
beautiful woman, an excellent hostess, the possessor of great wealth,
and--though beyond her father I knew nothing of her family--evidently of
gentle blood. This much was in her favour, yet there were other things
which rankled in my memory, and which, had I aspired to the honour of
her hand, I should have wanted explained to me. How was it that no one
had ever heard of her before she appeared to dazzle all London? Was
Count Reiffenburg really her cousin? Who was that mysterious foreigner
who had plainly been threatening her on the morning that I had met her
in the Park? And last, but not least, what was the real story of that
old tramp's entrance into Wiltshire House on the night of the supposed
burglary?
The most alarming question, and the most difficult of all to decide, was
whether it was my duty to say anything to Rotherhithe upon the subject.
He was, in the main, an easy-going, happy-go-lucky fellow, not
overburdened with brains, but in every other respect a high-minded
English gentleman. Yet I knew him well enough to feel sure that in a
case like this he would have been the first to resent--and, looked at
from his own light, quite rightly too--any aspersion that might be
thrown upon the character of the woman he loved. That he _was_ in love
with her there could be no sort of doubt. One had only to look into his
face to see it. But _I_ was also fond of him, and if I knew there were
anything hidden from him which he ought to know, was it not my duty, as
his friend, to risk his anger, and the possible rupture of our
friendship, in order to make him acquainted with it?
For the remainder of the day I debated this question seriously with
myself, but try how I would I was quite unable to arrive at a
satisfactory decision regarding it. This much, however, I _did_
do--common politeness demanded it of me: I sat down and wrote a note of
congratulation to the Countess. Though I knew in my heart it was a
somewhat traitorous proceeding, yet, when the note had been despatched,
I must confess I felt easier in my mind. A twinge of conscience,
however, still remained to plague me. If only I had not taken the walk
that night, or if only I had been too late to see the old man enter the
house, I should have been able to regard the whole affair, if not with
pleasure, at least with a measure of equanimity. Now, however, it was
otherwise.
Next morning a charming little note arrived from the Countess, thanking
me for my good wishes, and referring to herself as one of the most
fortunate women in the world. As a letter it was delightful; as an
expression of the writer's true feelings, well--I was not quite so
satisfied as to its genuineness. Charming though the lady undeniably
was, and sympathetic to an eminent degree, I found it extremely
difficult to imagine her in love. If by chance she were so, however,
Rotherhithe was certainly the last man whom it would have been with. The
news of his engagement had caused quite a stir, even at that time of
almost daily sensations, in the fashionable world. In consequence of
it, however, those who had hitherto been inclined to hold a little aloof
from her, as one whose antecedents were not sufficiently well known to
warrant the intimacy, now that the Duke had, so to speak, stood sponsor
for her, were prepared to admit her into their inmost circle.
As for Rotherhithe he conducted himself like an amiable lunatic,
frequented Wiltshire House to an extent that almost bordered on the
indecent, and was making plans for the future with the impetuous
recklessness of a fifteen-year-old schoolboy. His beautiful home in the
Midlands was to be prepared for occupation, a new yacht was to be built
that would be the finest of her kind, while Rotherhithe House, in
London, was to be refurnished and decorated throughout. Altogether, as
somebody said, the Duke's love-affair would be likely to prove the
costliest hobby he had indulged in since his majority. But as I have
said before, if he desired to marry the Countess, and was convinced that
his happiness lay in that direction, it was no business of mine to
contradict him.
From the tone I have adopted in speaking of this matter it may be
surmised that I was jealous of Rotherhithe's success. Allow me to
assure you, most emphatically, that such was not the case. I am quite
prepared to admit that I admired the Countess, as not only a beautiful,
but also an exceedingly clever woman. As I have once or twice remarked,
however, I am a confirmed bachelor, and I do not think it would be in
the power of the fairest daughter of Eve to induce me to change my
state.
It was in this frame of mind that I entered the portals of Wiltshire
House on the evening of the Countess's dinner. In some ways my interest
had departed from it. I was merely a looker-on at a game which was being
extremely well played, and, knowing something of the rules by which it
is governed, I was able to appreciate the importance of the various
moves, while being in no way dependent upon their skill.
The Countess, looking like the Queen of Beauty, received me in the
drawing-room. Rotherhithe had already arrived, and, as was plainly to be
seen, was ensconced on the summit of happiness.
"I am glad you should be the first to arrive," she said, as if her
_fiance_ counted for nothing, "and, while I have the opportunity, I must
thank you once more for your charming letter, and for the kindly
sentiments it expressed."
"It was awfully nice of you, by Jove!" put in the Duke, and then added
with boyish _naivete_: "Manderville always knows how to do and say the
right thing. He's a past master of tact."
I happened to be looking at the Countess's face as he said it, and
if--as I feel sure I did--I read it correctly, it spoke volumes.
"She does not care about him an atom," I said to myself; and then I
added, "if that's so, God help my poor old friend!"
A few moments later, when we were nearly at the end of our stock of
commonplaces, the other guests arrived. So far as they were concerned,
the dinner was likely to prove a success. Besides the Countess,
Rotherhithe, and myself, there was Lady Deeceford, who, besides being
one of the prettiest women in England, is also one of the wittiest;
Deeceford himself, who had just returned from the Pamirs, and who, while
being one of the geographical lions of the day, was also a well-informed
man of the world; Montague Wordley, the dramatist, whose wit was a
puzzle, even to himself; and pretty Mrs Van Hoden, the American
actress, famous alike for her beauty and her talent. These, with Lady
Susan Pedthorpe, whose powers are too well known to need description,
completed the list.
The honour of escorting our hostess into dinner was given to me, while
Rotherhithe gave his arm to Lady Deeceford; the latter's husband took
Lady Susan; Wordley, Mrs Van Hoden. To attempt a description of the meal
to which we sat down would be impossible; let it suffice that it was
unique in every sense of the word. Looking back over a period of more
years than I care to think about, I am unable to recall one
entertainment that in any way equalled it. The whole thing was original
from end to end. The earth seemed to have been ransacked for our
delectation. The wines were of the choicest vintages, and the waiting
was all that could be desired. By reason, I suppose, of what followed
later, every detail of the entertainment is indelibly impressed upon my
memory. I can recall the smallest items connected with it. The
Countess's Southern beauty, Rotherhithe's jovial countenance, Mrs Van
Hoden's rippling laugh, the perfect modulation of Lady Susan's voice,
even the glitter of a splendid sapphire on one of Lady Deeceford's
shapely fingers, are as deeply engraved upon my memory as if it were but
yesterday. One thing, I must confess, surprised me, while at the same
time it added to my pleasure. That was the absence of our hostess's
cousin, Reiffenburg. Unable to account for it, I was later on induced to
enquire after him.
"He has gone into the country," she replied. "He has heard of some
shooting that would appear to be perfection, and he has gone to prove
it. Conrad is rapidly becoming Anglicized."
"Consequently, discovering a fine day, he enquires what he shall kill,"
I put in.
"That pleasant illusion, I fear, is fast passing away," said Deeceford
from across the table. "With the abolition of bull-baiting,
badger-drawing, cock-fighting, and similar sports, the old order has
changed. Fox-hunting is deteriorating before the steady advance of
barbed wire; deer-hunting is declared to be an inhuman sport, while
pigeon-shooting is fast becoming a purely mechanical performance, played
with an inverted saucer and a spring."
The conversation drifted into another channel, and after that nothing
more was said about the Count Von Reiffenburg's absence. Personally, I
could not help feeling sure that the reason the Countess had advanced to
account for it was far from being the correct one. As I have said
elsewhere, I had long ago arrived at the conclusion that the young man
entertained a more than cousinly regard for the lady; his absence from
the dinner, therefore, was merely an arrangement to ensure his not
meeting his more successful rival. The engagement by this time was known
throughout London, so that I was only voicing a popular sentiment, at
dessert, when I proposed the health and happiness of the affianced pair.
The Countess murmured her thanks, while Rotherhithe declared that it was
jolly good of us to wish them luck, and, by way of adding to the general
cheerfulness, hoped that we should all be as friendly after his marriage
as we had been before. Then the ladies left the room.
Half an hour later we joined them in the drawing-room, where I was
fortunate enough to be able to induce the Countess to play to us. She
complied without hesitation, and, if the truth must be told, her music
was to me the greatest pleasure I received that evening. As I listened
to her, I could not help recalling that memorable afternoon when she
had played to me before. After she had finished, a famous musician, then
in London, and whom she had induced to come to her house, played to us
superbly. To me, however, his performance was insipidity itself compared
with that to which I had just listened. At a quarter to twelve the
various carriages were announced, and the guests departed until only
Rotherhithe and I were left.
"Well, Sir George," said the Countess, as she stood before the
fire-place, one dainty hand up on the mantel-piece and a pretty foot
resting upon the brass bar of the fender, "I hope I have succeeded in
demonstrating to you the fact that, even at the close of the Nineteenth
Century, it is possible to be original in one of the most prosaic
actions of life."
"You have certainly given us a delightful proof," I answered. "When my
turn arrives, I fear I shall find it difficult to equal, much less to
eclipse, your effort."
"I thought nothing was impossible to a Cabinet Minister," put in
Rotherhithe, who had, of course, been informed of our rivalry. "We shall
look forward to seeing what you can do."
"I fear you will be disappointed in the result," I replied. "And now I
must be going. Good-night, Countess. When I say that you have eclipsed
even yourself to-night, I cannot pay you a greater compliment."
"Praise from Sir George Manderville is praise indeed," she quoted
demurely. Then she added with gracious kindness--"Good-night."
I held out my hand to Rotherhithe, but he did not take it.
"Look here, George," he said, "if you are willing to walk home, I'll
tell you what I'll do--I'll come with you. Broughams are not much in my
line. If we walk we can smoke a cigar together."
I would far rather have gone home by myself, but it was impossible to
put Rotherhithe off. I accordingly consented, though I knew very well
what the result would be. Being anxious to leave them alone for a
moment, I strolled into the hall, where Rotherhithe presently joined me.
We donned our hats and coats and set off, my shadow picking me up at the
foot of the steps according to custom.
"Well, old fellow," said Rotherhithe, slipping his arm through mine
after we had turned the corner, "what do you think of her? Isn't she
simply perfect? Don't you think I'm the luckiest fellow on earth?"
"Three questions in one breath," I said; "how on earth do you expect me
to answer them? Of course you're a lucky fellow, and of course we all
envy you your happiness." Then, with an air of seriousness, I continued,
"I suppose, Rotherhithe, you are quite convinced that she is the one
woman in the world for you?"
"Convinced?" he replied, with a short laugh at the absurdity of the
question, "of course, I am convinced. Why, my dear old chap, if I were
to hunt the whole world over, I shouldn't find her equal. You've no idea
how good she is. What's more, do you know, she's the soul of caution.
She's got what I lack--the business instinct."
"Indeed!" I said, for this side of the Countess's character had never
been revealed to me. "So she is business-like, is she?"
"I should think she is. Why, when I spoke to her of what I thought of
doing at Rotherhithe House, that is to say, of pulling a lot of it down,
you know, and rebuilding it, to say nothing of redecorating and
refurnishing it throughout, she wouldn't hear of it. 'Wait,' she said,
'and let us see how we like it. It will be quite time enough when we
have been married a few years to think of making changes in what has
served so long.'"
"A very sensible remark too," I replied. "I am glad she is not going to
lead you into useless expenditure. It's no business of mine, I know, but
that collet of diamonds must have cost a fortune?"
"Thirty thousand pounds," he answered. "But it's worth every penny of it
to see it round her neck. She is passionately fond of diamonds. They are
the only stones she cares for."
Decidedly I began to think the Countess was a business woman. Had I
aspired to the honour of her hand, she would perforce have had to be
content with a single string of pearls. Collets of diamonds, costing
thirty thousand pounds, are the peculiar gifts of millionaires. Now
Rotherhithe, I knew, while a rich man, was far from being overburdened
with money. I wished that he had not done it, though why I should have
done so, it would have puzzled me to say.
When we reached my house, I invited him to accompany me inside; he would
not hear of it, however.
"No," he said, "I'll be getting home now; late hours don't agree with
me. But before we part, old friend, there's one thing I want to say to
you. I'm going to make a rather big settlement on my wife that is to be,
and I want to know if you have any objection to my putting you down as
one of the trustees? If you could manage it, I should be more than
grateful to you. Should anything happen to me, there is nobody else I
know who would look after her interests so well."
I scarcely knew what answer to make. The proposal was one that did not
commend itself to me for several reasons. But what objection could I
raise to it? I was his friend, and presumably hers also. It would be
only natural that he should ask me, and, in the ordinary course of
things, it would be only natural that I should accept. For some vague
reason, however, events seemed to be moving outside the ordinary course
of things, so I determined not to give him an answer then.
"Don't disappoint me, there's a good fellow," he went on. "You can have
no idea what importance I attach to your acceptance of the position."
"Let me have until to-morrow morning to decide," I replied. "It is not
my habit, as you are aware, to do anything in a hurry, and I should like
to think it over before giving my consent. There are many things to be
considered. You may be sure, however, that if I can possibly convince
myself that I shall be really serving your interest and hers by acceding
to your request, that I shall do so. If I did not think so, I should ask
you to find some one else at once, and trust to our old friendship to
make you believe that I am right."
"Very good, then, we will leave it like that, and you shall give me an
answer to-morrow. And now good-night, George. You may not think so, but
this has been the happiest evening of my life." Here we shook hands.
"Let us hope," I said, "that this is only the beginning of your
happiness. You will possess a wife of whom you are sure to be proud; you
have rank, wealth, and innumerable friends. What more could any man
desire? Good-night!"
He waved his hand to me in farewell, and then set off down the street.
When he had disappeared, I beckoned my shadow to me, and bade him
good-night also. Then I, in my turn, retired from the world.
Not feeling in the humour for bed, I went to my study and, contrary to
my usual habit, lit another cigar. I had a variety of papers to look
through, so I seated myself in a comfortable chair and set to work to
peruse them. It was a useless endeavour, however, for try how I would to
rivet my attention upon them, I found my thoughts reverting continually
to the entertainment I had been present at that evening. For more than
an hour I remained in my study, then, feeling that I should be better in
bed, I went upstairs. I had scarcely reached my dressing-room, however,
before the sound of a bell reached my ears. A few minutes later there
was a tap upon the door, and Williams entered with a note. I took it
from him, and looked first at the address and then at the back. Greatly
to my surprise I found that it was from Rotherhithe, to whom I had said
good-bye on the pavement outside the house an hour or so before. The
contents ran as follows:--
DEAR GEORGE,--Something terrible has happened. For the sake of our
old friendship I implore you to come to me at once. I am sending my
carriage to fetch you. For Heaven's sake don't delay a moment
longer than you can help. Ever your friend,
ROTHERHITHE.
What on earth could be the matter? I asked myself. Had the Countess
changed her mind or had Rotherhithe met with an accident? Not knowing
what might be asked of me, I changed my dress clothes for a morning suit
as quickly as possible, informed Williams of the fact that I was going
to Rotherhithe House, and then descended the stairs.
A brougham with servants in the well-known Rotherhithe livery, was drawn
up beside the pavement, and in it I took my place. The door was then
closed and we set off.