Whatever claims Shon had upon the companionship of Sir Duke Lawless,
he knew there were other claims that were more pressing. After the toast
was finished, with an emphasised assumption of weariness, and a hint of a
long yarn on the morrow, he picked up his blanket and started for the
room where all were to sleep. The real reason of this early departure
was clear to Pretty Pierre at once, and in due time it dawned upon Jo
Gordineer.
The two Englishmen, left alone, sat for a few moments silent and smoking
hard. Then the Honourable rose, got his knapsack, and took out a small
number of papers, which he handed to Sir Duke, saying, "By slow postal
service to Sir Duke Lawless. Residence, somewhere on one of five
continents."
An envelope bearing a woman's writing was the first thing that met Sir
Duke's eye. He stared, took it out, turned it over, looked curiously at
the Honourable for a moment, and then began to break the seal.
"Wait, Duke. Do not read that. We have something to say to each other
first."
Sir Duke laid the letter down. "You have some explanation to make," he
said.
"It was so long ago; mightn't it be better to go over the story again?"
"Perhaps."
"Then it is best you should tell it. I am on my defence, you know."
Sir Duke leaned back, and a frown gathered on his forehead. Strikingly
out of place on his fresh face it seemed. Looking quickly from the fire
to the face of the Honourable and back again earnestly, as if the full
force of what was required came to him, he said: "We shall get the
perspective better if we put the tale in the third person. Duke Lawless
was the heir to the title and estates of Trafford Court. Next in
succession to him was Just Trafford, his cousin. Lawless had an income
sufficient for a man of moderate tastes. Trafford had not quite that,
but he had his profession of the law. At college they had been fast
friends, but afterwards had drifted apart, through no cause save
difference of pursuits and circumstances. Friends they still were and
likely to be so always. One summer, when on a visit to his uncle,
Admiral Sir Clavel Lawless, at Trafford Court, where a party of people
had been invited for a month, Duke Lawless fell in love with Miss Emily
Dorset. She did him the honour to prefer him to any other man--at least,
he thought so. Her income, however, was limited like his own. The
engagement was not announced, for Lawless wished to make a home before he
took a wife. He inclined to ranching in Canada, or a planter's life in
Queensland. The eight or ten thousand pounds necessary was not, however,
easy to get for the start, and he hadn't the least notion of discounting
the future, by asking the admiral's help. Besides, he knew his uncle did
not wish him to marry unless he married a woman plus a fortune. While
things were in this uncertain state, Just Trafford arrived on a visit to
Trafford Court. The meeting of the old friends was cordial. Immediately
on Trafford's arrival, however, the current of events changed. Things
occurred which brought disaster. It was noticeable that Miss Emily
Dorset began to see a deal more of Admiral Lawless and Just Trafford,
and a deal less of the younger Lawless. One day Duke Lawless came back
to the house unexpectedly, his horse having knocked up on the road.
On entering the library he saw what turned the course of his life."
Sir Duke here paused, sighed, shook the ashes out of his pipe with a
grave and expressive anxiety which did not properly belong to the action,
and remained for a moment, both arms on his knees, silent, and looking at
the fire. Then he continued:
"Just Trafford sat beside Emily Dorset in an attitude of--say,
affectionate consideration. She had been weeping, and her whole manner
suggested very touching confidences. They both rose on the entrance of
Lawless; but neither tried to say a word. What could they say? Lawless
apologised, took a book from the table which he had not come for, and
left."
Again Sir Duke paused.
"The book was an illustrated Much Ado About Nothing," said the
Honourable.
"A few hours after, Lawless had an interview with Emily Dorset.
He demanded, with a good deal of feeling, perhaps,--for he was romantic
enough to love the girl,--an explanation. He would have asked it of
Trafford first if he had seen him. She said Lawless should trust her;
that she had no explanation at that moment to give. If he waited--but
Lawless asked her if she cared for him at all, if she wished or intended
to marry him? She replied lightly, 'Perhaps, when you become Sir Duke
Lawless.' Then Lawless accused her of heartlessness, and of encouraging
both his uncle and Just Trafford. She amusingly said, 'Perhaps she had,
but it really didn't matter, did it?' For reply, Lawless said her
interest in the whole family seemed active and impartial. He bade her
not vex herself at all about him, and not to wait until he became Sir
Duke Lawless, but to give preference to seniority and begin with the
title at once; which he has reason since to believe that she did. What
he said to her he has been sorry for, not because he thinks it was
undeserved, but because he has never been able since to rouse himself to
anger on the subject, nor to hate the girl and Just Trafford as he ought.
Of the dead he is silent altogether. He never sought an explanation from
Just Trafford, for he left that night for London, and in two days was on
his way to Australia. The day he left, however, he received a note from
his banker saying that L8000 had been placed to his credit by Admiral
Lawless. Feeling the indignity of what he believed was the cause of the
gift, Lawless neither acknowledged it nor used it, not any penny of it.
Five years have gone since then, and Lawless has wandered over two
continents, a self-created exile. He has learned much that he didn't
learn at Oxford; and not the least of all, that the world is not so bad
as is claimed for it, that it isn't worth while hating and cherishing
hate, that evil is half-accidental, half-natural, and that hard work in
the face of nature is the thing to pull a man together and strengthen him
for his place in the universe. Having burned his ships behind him, that
is the way Lawless feels. And the story is told."
Just Trafford sat looking musingly but imperturbably at Sir Duke for a
minute; then he said:
"That is your interpretation of the story, but not the story. Let us
turn the medal over now. And, first, let Trafford say that he has the
permission of Emily Dorset--"