THE END OF DIPLOMACY
Mr. Arnault's manner as he passed struck both Graydon and Madge as
indicating strong feeling and stern purpose. In order to account for
his action, it is necessary to go back in our history for a short
period. While Madge was receiving such rich compensation for having
become simply what she was, Miss Wildmere had been gathering the
rewards of diplomacy. As we have seen, she had reached the final
conclusion that if Mr. Muir did not fail that day she would accept
Graydon at once; and, during its earlier hours, she had been
complacency itself, feeling that everything was now in her own hands.
Mr. Muir's appearance and manner the previous evening had nearly
convinced her that he was in no financial difficulties whatever--that
her father and Mr. Arnault were either mistaken or else were deceiving
her. "If the latter is the case," she had thought, "they have so
bungled as to enable me to test the truth of their words within
twenty-four hours.
"I am virtually certain," she said, with an exultant smile, "that I
shall be engaged to Graydon Muir before I sleep to-night."
In the afternoon it began to trouble her that Graydon had not
appeared. As the hours passed she grew anxious, and with the shadow of
night there fell a chill on her heart and hope. This passed into alarm
when at last Graydon arrived with his brother and Madge, and greeted
her with the cold recognition that has been described. She had met Mr.
Arnault cordially at first, because there were still possibilities in
his favor; but when her father promptly disappeared, with the evident
purpose to avoid questions, and Mr. Muir and his family at supper gave
evidence of superb spirits instead of trouble, she saw that she had
been duped, or, in any case, misled. Her anger and worry increased
momentarily, especially since Graydon, beyond a little furtive
observation, completely ignored her. She naturally ascribed his course
to resentment at her first greeting of Arnault, his continued presence
at her side, and the almost deferential manner with which he was
treated by her father, who had joined his family at supper, when no
queries could be made.
"I'll prove to Graydon by my manner that I am for him," was her
thought; but he either did not or would not see her increasing
coldness toward Arnault.
Her purpose and tactics were all observed and thoroughly understood by
the latter, however, but he gave few obvious signs of the fact. In his
words, tones, compliments he proved that he was making good all that
he had promised; but the changing expression in his eyes grew so
ominous that Mr. Wildmere saw his suppressed anger with alarm.
Miss Wildmere felt sure that before the evening was over she could
convey to Graydon her decision, and chafed every moment over the
leisurely supper that Mr. Arnault persisted in making, especially as
she saw that it was not his appetite that detained him. The Muir group
had passed out, and to leave him and her father would not only be an
act of rudeness, but also would appear like open pursuit of Graydon.
When at last she reached the parlor, to decline Arnault's invitation
to dance would be scarcely less than an insult; yet, with intensifying
anger and fear, she saw that circumstances were compelling her to
appear as if she had disregarded Graydon's warnings and expectations.
So far from being dismissed, Arnault was the one whom she had first
greeted and to whom she was now giving the evening.
While she was dancing with Arnault, Graydon, with Madge, appeared
upon the floor. She was almost reckless in her efforts to secure his
attention. In this endeavor she did not fail, but she failed signally
in winning any recognition, and the ill-concealed importunity of her
eyes hastened Graydon's departure with Madge, and gave time for the
long interview described in the previous chapter. She grew cold with
dread. It was the impulse of her self-pleasing nature to want that
most which seemed the most denied, and she reasoned, "He is angry
because Arnault is at my side as usual, in spite of all he said. He
is determined to bring me to a decision, and won't approach me at
Arnault's side. Yet I dare not openly shake Arnault off, and he's so
attentive that I must do it openly if at all. Graydon's manner was
so very strange and cold that I feel that I should do something to
conciliate him at once; and yet how can I when Arnault is bent upon
monopolizing the whole evening? He gives me no chance to leave him
unless I am guilty of the shameful rudeness of telling him to leave
me. Oh, if I could only see Graydon alone, even for a moment!"
Arnault was indeed a curious study, and yet he was acting
characteristically. He had virtually given up hope of ever winning
Stella Wildmere. He had wooed devotedly, offered wealth, and played
his final card, and in each had failed. When he left the city he
still had hope that his promise of immediate wealth and Mr. Wildmere's
necessity and influence might turn the scale in his favor; and he
believed that having secured her decision she, as a woman of the
world, would grow content and happy in the future that he could
provide for her. But, be his fate what it might, both his pride and
his peculiar sense of honor made it imperative that he should be her
suitor until the time stipulated for his answer should expire. Up to
twelve o'clock that night he would not give her the slightest cause
for resentment or even complaint. Then his obligation to her ceased
utterly, and she knew that it would.
He had been irritated and despondent ever since Mr. Muir, through
Madge's aid, had so signally checkmated him. But Stella's greeting
had reassured him, and Graydon's manner toward her gave the impression
that she had not been extending encouragement to him. This promising
aspect of affairs speedily began to pass away, however, when he saw
her step to Graydon's side and ask if he was not going to shake hands
with her. He knew how proud the girl was, and by this high standard
measured the strength of the regard which impelled to this advance.
He had since noted every effort that she had made to secure Graydon's
attention, and the truth became perfectly clear. She had utterly lost
faith in his and her father's predictions of financial disaster to
Henry Muir, and would accept Graydon at the earliest opportunity.
He saw that his defeat in Wall Street insured his defeat in the
Catskills, and feared that Graydon had guessed his strategy, and,
therefore, would not approach the girl while he was at her side. There
was no use in his playing lover any longer--he had no desire to do
so--for even he now so clearly recognized the mercenary spirit which
might have brought her to his arms, that such manhood as he had
revolted at it. If she had given him her hand it would have been
secured purely through a financial trick, and even his Wall Street
soul experienced a revulsion of disgust at the thought of a wife thus
obtained. If he could have detected a little sentiment toward him,
some kindly regret that she could not reward his long-continued and
unstinted devotion, he would have parted from her more in sorrow than
in anger; but now he knew that she was wild to escape from him, that
she would instantly break her promise not to accept Muir before the
close of the week, and, to his punctilious business mind, the week did
not end until twelve o'clock Saturday night.
With a sort of grim vindictiveness he had muttered, "She shall keep
her promise. Neither she nor Muir shall be happy till my time has
expired."
Later in the evening, Graydon not returning, the thought occurred
to Arnault, "Perhaps he too has recognized the sharp game she has
played--perhaps Henry Muir has said to him, 'She has been putting you
off to see the result of the sudden calling in of Arnault's loan,'
and now young Muir proposes to console himself with that handsome Miss
Alden;" and a gleam of pleasure at the prospect illumined his face
for a moment. Meanwhile he maintained his mask before the world so
admirably that even Miss Wildmere little guessed the depth of his
revolt. He was the last one to reveal his bitter disappointment and
humiliating defeat to the vigilant gossips of the house. Those who saw
his smiling face and gallantries, and heard his breezy, half-cynical
words, little guessed the storm within. He had been taught in the best
school in the world how to say and look one thing and mean another.
At last an acquaintance approached, and said, "Pardon me, Mr. Arnault,
but I don't propose to permit you to monopolize Miss Wildmere all the
evening;" and then asked for the next dance.
Stella complied instantly, thinking, "Graydon may return now at any
moment, and if he sees that I am not with Arnault will come to me, as
usual."
Arnault bowed politely, looked at his watch, and invited another lady
to dance. Stella had been on the floor but a few moments when not
Graydon, but her father came and said to her partner, "Excuse me, sir.
I wish to speak to my daughter."
Requesting her companion to wait, she followed Mr. Wildmere through an
open window, and when on the piazza he took her hand and put it within
his arm with a firmness that permitted no resistance. Arnault noted
the proceeding with a cynical smile.
"Stella," said her father, in a low, stern tone, "did you not promise
Mr. Arnault his answer this evening?"
"Answer my question first," she replied, bitterly. "Did Henry Muir
fail to-day? Of course he did not. You have been deceiving me."
"I did not deceive you--I was mistaken myself. But I warn you. Graydon
Muir is not at your side. He may not return. Arnault is waiting to
give you wealth and me safety, but he may not wait much longer. You
are taking worse risks than I ever incurred in the Street, and your
loss may be greater than any I have met with."
"Bah!" she replied, in anger. "I might have been engaged to Graydon
Muir this moment had I not listened to your croakings. I'll manage for
myself now;" and she broke away and joined her partner again.
After the dance was over she said, "Suppose we walk on the piazza; I'm
warm." She was cold and trembling. Arnault took his stand in the main
hall, where he and she could see the clock should she approach him
again. The last hour was rapidly passing. Miss Wildmere and her
attendant strolled leisurely the whole length of the piazza, but
Graydon was not to be seen. Then she led him through a hall whence
she could glance into the reception and reading rooms. The quest was
futile, and she passed Arnault unheedingly into the parlor, saying
that she was tired, and with her companion sat down where they could
be seen from the doorway and windows. But he thought her singularly
_distraite_ in her effort to maintain conversation.
"Oh," she thought, "he will come soon--he must come soon! I must--I
_must_ see him before I retire!"
Arnault meantime maintained his position in the hall, chatting and
laughing with an acquaintance. She could see him, and there was little
in his manner to excite apprehension. He occasionally looked toward
her, but she tried to appear absorbed in conversation with the man
whom she puzzled by her random words. Arnault also saw that her eyes
rested in swift, eager scrutiny on every one who entered from without,
and that the two hands of the clock were pointing closely toward
midnight.
The parlor was becoming deserted. Those whom the beauty of the night
had lured without were straggling in, the man at her side was growing
curious and interested, and he determined to maintain his position as
long as she would.
He was detained but little longer. The clock soon chimed midnight.
Arnault gave her a brief, cold look, turned on his heel and went
out, passing Graydon and Madge, who were at that moment ascending the
steps.
"Oh, pardon me," said Miss Wildmere, fairly trembling with dread;
"I had no idea it was so late!" and she bowed her companion away
instantly. At that moment she saw Graydon entering, and she went to
the parlor door; but he passed her without apparent notice, and
bade Madge a cordial good-night at the foot of the stairs. As he was
turning away Miss Wildmere was at his side.
"Mr. Muir--Graydon," she said, in an eager tone, "I wish to speak with
you."
He bowed very politely, and answered, in a voice that she alone could
hear, "You will receive a note from me at your room within half an
hour." Then, bowing again, he walked rapidly away.
She saw from his grave face and unsympathetic eyes that she had lost
him.
Half desperate, and with the instinct of self-preservation, she passed
out on the piazza to bid Arnault good-night, as she tried to assure
herself, with pallid lips, but ready then at last to take any terms
from him. Arnault was not to be seen. After a moment her father
stepped to her side and said:
"Stella, it is late. You had better retire."
"I wish to say good-night to Mr. Arnault," she faltered.
"Mr. Arnault has gone."
"Gone where?" she gasped.
"I don't know. As the clock struck twelve he came rapidly out and
walked away. He passed by me, but would not answer when I spoke to
him. Come, let me take you to your room."
With a chill at heart almost like that of death she went with him, and
sat down pale and speechless.
In a few moments a note was brought to Mr. Wildmere's door, and he
took it to his daughter. She could scarcely open it with her nerveless
fingers, and when she read the brief words--
"MISS WILDMERE--You must permit me to renounce all claims upon
you now and forever. Memory and your own thoughts will reveal
to you the obvious reasons for my action, GRAYDON MUIR,"
she found a brief respite from the results of her diplomacy in
unconsciousness.