In the end Lord Hurdly prevailed, and that end was swifter in coming
than Bettina would have believed to be possible. She had allowed
herself a week to wait in London, and for the first day or two of
that week she lived in dread lest Lord Hurdly should come to her and
renew the arguments which she was quite determined to combat. As the
days passed and he did not come, she began to fear that the
opportunity of final decision on the momentous question of her choice
between these two men would not again be offered her. Her better
nature still held her to her pledge to Horace, but already she had
come to feel that, but for his disappointment at losing her, she
would have accepted Lord Hurdly's proposal, as it offered a full and
immediate fulfilment of her dreams of ambition, and the other
postponed these indefinitely, while it promised comparatively little
in any other direction.
Toward the end of the week Lord Hurdly called, and, without any
reference to his own hopes and intentions, spoke, with what seemed to
be a considerable hesitation and regret, of his young cousin's
character and mode of life, which he declared were known, to every
one except Bettina, to be exceedingly capricious--even light. He
dwelt upon the fact, well known to Bettina, of his earnest desire
that his cousin and heir should marry, and gave as a reason for this
desire, what he declared to be the accepted fact, that Horace was
inclined to a dissipated manner of living, which he hoped marriage
might correct.
Poor Bettina! She had believed the young man, to whom she had pledged
herself, to be the very opposite of all this. Yet how absolutely
ignorant concerning him she really was! And the rector of her church,
who was supposed to vouch for him, knew in reality as little as she.
How easily she might have been mistaken in him! And yet, and yet,
there was a still, small voice in her heart which confirmed her in
her resolve to believe in him until she had proof that such a belief
was ill founded.
"With his past I have nothing to do," she said to Lord Hurdly, with a
certain show of pride. "If it has been lower than my ideal of him, I
regret it; but I am entirely sure that since he has known me and had
my promise to be his wife he has been true to all that that promise
required of him."
"This being your conclusion," Lord Hurdly answered, "you force upon
me the necessity of showing you a letter which I have to-day received
from a friend in St. Petersburg, and which I would, without strong
reason to the contrary, have gladly spared you the pain of reading."
With these words, he handed Bettina a letter.
It was signed with a name unknown to her, but written evidently in
the tone and manner of an intimate friend. The first page or two
referred to matters wholly indifferent to her--public affairs and the
like--but toward the end were these words:
"Are you as set as ever in your determination not to marry?
Pity it is that such a noble name and fortune as yours
should not pass on to a son of your own, instead of to one
who, it is to be feared, will do little to honor it. I see
him here, at court and everywhere, accurately fulfilling
the rather unflattering predictions which I long ago made
concerning him. There is a story that he became engaged to
be married during his travels in America, and I hear that he
owns up to it and speaks of being joined by his _fiancée_
and married on this side. I hope it may not be so. Certainly
his present manner of living argues against the rumor,
unless--a supposition I am reluctant to believe--he proposes
to keep up, as a married man, the habits which are so
readily forgiven to a bachelor, though not to a husband."
There was more, but Bettina read no further. This was enough. She had
turned away to a window, that she might read this letter unobserved
by Lord Hurdly, who had considerately walked to the other end of the
room.
When at last she approached him and gave him back the letter, she was
very pale, but her manner was wholly without indecision and her voice
was resolute as she said:
"I thank you, Lord Hurdly, for the service which you have rendered
me. This letter has made my future course quite clear. I shall write
to your cousin to-day that everything is at an end between us. And
now will you be good enough to leave me? I wish to make my
arrangements to return to America at once."
Even as she said the words, the bitter barrenness of this
prospect--the old dull life, without the dear presence which had been
its one and sufficient palliation--rose before her mind and appalled
her. Perhaps Lord Hurdly saw in her face some change of expression
which he construed as favorable to himself, for he hastened to say:
"Will you not, before taking so rash a step, consider the proposal
which I have made to you? I can offer you the substance of which the
other was only the shadow, and I can pledge to you the stable and
unalterable devotion of a man who has lived long enough to know his
own mind, and who declares to you that you are the only woman whom he
has ever desired to put in the position of his wife."
It was impossible not to feel some consciousness of satisfaction at a
tribute which her own knowledge of facts convinced her to be sincere,
but Bettina's heart and mind were still too preoccupied to meet him
in the way he wished. She repeated her request that he would leave
her, and so earnest and distressed was her manner that he complied,
leaving behind him an impression of the deepest solicitude for her,
and the most earnest desire on his part to atone for the wrong which
his kinsman had done her.
Bettina threw herself upon the lounge and abandoned herself to a fit
of weeping--so overwhelming, so despairing, so heart-breaking that
she could scarcely believe that she, who had thought that all her
power of deep suffering had been exhausted, could still find it in
her to care so much for any other grief.
The worst of it was that, now it was quite evident that she was
forever divided from Horace, the charm of his manner and appearance,
the tenderness of his love-making, came back to her with a power
which they had never exercised upon her in reality. Never, surely,
had a man existed who was, to appearance at least, more frank,
sincere, ardent, and deeply in love than he had seemed to be with
her. It made his perfidy appear the greater. Nothing but the sight of
that letter could have made her believe it; but that, taken in
connection with the rareness and coolness of his recent letters to
her, made it all too plain that the ardent flame of his love had
burned out, and that he had repented his impetuosity, now that he had
had time to think of the sacrifice which it entailed.
This was indeed great for a man in his position, ambitious in his
career, and with his foot already on the ladder that led to success.
She even began to doubt whether he would have fulfilled his
obligations to her when it came to the point.
She got out his letters and read them over. How passionately loving
were the early ones--how cool and constrained the more recent! The
contrast struck her far more now in the light of recent events. It
really seemed as if he might be trying to get out of the engagement.
At this thought pride came to her rescue. She felt herself grow hard
and cold, and her composure returned completely. She would never let
him know what she had heard, for that might make it seem as if she
gave him up from compulsion. She sat down and wrote quickly a few
formal sentences, saying that she had mistaken her own feelings, and
that she wished to break the engagement. She added that she was
returning immediately to America, as indeed she was intending to do
at the time of the writing of this letter.
After it had gone, and was on its way to St. Petersburg, a mental
condition of such abject misery settled down upon her that the
thought of the endless days and nights of idle monotony which would
be her lot if she returned home, and the awful void of her mother's
absence, became intolerable. She could not do it. She must find some
way of escape from such a fate.
Just as she was casting about for such a way, Lord Hurdly came to
see her. The escape which he offered had in it many elements of the
strongest attractiveness for her. Since she could not be happy, as
she believed, why might she not get from life the satisfaction which
comes from the holding of a great position, the opportunity of being
admired and wielding a powerful influence? It was a prospect which
had always charmed her; and now, with no alternative but lonely
isolation and bitter weariness, was it strange that she decided to
accept Lord Hurdly's offer?
And if it was to be, what need was there to wait? Wounded in her
pride as she was by the revelation of Horace which she had received,
she relished the idea of becoming at once what he had proposed to
make her--and afterward repented of. She was fully convinced in her
mind that he had repented, and her blood beat faster as she thought
of his consternation on hearing of this marriage. She felt eager that
he should hear of it at once.
And so indeed he did. On the heels of his receipt of Bettina's letter
her marriage to Lord Hurdly was announced by cable--not to him, but
through the newspapers.
Then into his heart there entered also the exceeding bitterness of a
lost ideal. She became to him, as he had become to her, the image of
broken faith, capricious feeling, and overweening worldly ambition.
Yet in the heart of the man, who had loved completely and supremely,
as Bettina never had, there was a feeling which made him say to
himself, with a conviction which he knew to be immutable, that
marriage was not for him. The present Lord Hurdly had said the same,
and had changed his mind. For himself he knew that he should not, for
all of love that he was capable of feeling had been given to the
woman who had cast him off.