ON THE THRESHOLD
His Excellency had at times some very pretty ways. He stepped through
the window now, and, plucking three or four of the finest marguerites,
offered them to me.
"You will accept them--in the sense I have just indicated?" he asked.
"You punish tactfully, General. I suppose you think the rebuke is
warranted. I would rather you gave them to me--to-morrow, say;" and I
turned from the window and sat down.
He laid the blossoms on the table. "We will leave them until our chat
is over. I hope you will take them then."
"I think not. There is only half an hour, you know."
"You are resolved not to give Count Gustav the grace he asks? You
believe there is some purpose behind this note?" and he held it up.
"That is one of the marguerites, and must wait--until to-morrow."
"You shut me out, then? You are a very resolute, self-reliant little
person, you know, Christabel. Is even this letter your doing too?"
"I told you we would wait for the meeting."
"Umph!" he nodded. "Then I suppose it's not much good for me to say
anything. I am sorry," and he sighed.
"I should like to tell _you_ something," I said; "but it might make you
angry; and you have been so kind to me--so much more than kind."
His look relaxed. "You will not make me angry. I am too old to heat
quickly."
"I think you should not have been a party to this Duke's scheme. It is
not honourable to any one concerned--and to me, dishonourable in the
extreme."
"You don't think I would do anything dishonouring you? Why, I would
have--but you remember the question you would not let me ask."
"Is it honourable to me to make a pretence of granting the justice I
seek for my father's memory, while in reality using that very thing
and--and my own feelings, merely as a means of doing yet another wrong
to another man? To fool me thus and make a sport of me for these
wretched, sordid policy purposes? Why, you yourself spoke of it
contemptuously as no more than a Greek gift."
He showed no irritation at my warm words, but on the contrary smiled
and pressing his finger tips together said: "I suppose it will sound
strangely to you--but I can still, from my side, offer you those
marguerites in the sense I indicated."
"Candour?" I almost threw the word at him.
"Are we not at a little disadvantage? We are not calling spades,
spades. May I do that?"
"Certainly, so far as I am concerned."
"Then I will. Count Karl has loved you ever since he knew you in New
York. You love him now--yes, don't protest; it is quite true. He
wishes above all things in the world to make you his wife. The Duke
knows this and he consents to the marriage. The Duke knows and
consents because--I am going to surprise you--Count Karl himself told
him and asked his consent. The Duke came yesterday to see you for
himself: deeply prejudiced against you, because of Count Gustav's
misrepresentations: but you conquered him; as I told you last night you
had. He resolved to grant you what you desired, to have your father's
title revived----"
"As a bribe," I burst in impulsively.
"And justice done, that the way might be clear for the marriage. That
he told you the truth in regard to Count Stephen's death is itself a
proof that he means to keep his word. Now, what is there dishonourable
to you in that?"
"What of the Greek gift?" I quoted against him.
"You should look at that dispassionately. Count Karl is impossible as
the leader of the Patriots. You tell me he is misunderstood; and very
possibly you may be right. But the fact is what I say--the Patriots
would not follow his lead: and thus only Count Gustav remains to us.
It may be unjust; but there is always some injustice in popular
movements. What then remains? Either the whole movement must be
wrecked, or Count Gustav must be brought through this trouble. That
was the Greek gift."
"And I and my feelings are to be used as a pawn in the game."
"That is the view of a very clever but very young lady who sets great
store upon having her way in her own way. But it is not Count Karl's
view, Christabel."
"And Gareth?"
"Ah, there has been most extraordinary bungling over that."
"Bungling?" I cried, indignantly, almost contemptuously. "Would you
offer me these while speaking in such terms of her?" and I picked up
the marguerites and tossed them again down nearer to him.
"Almost you hurt me there," he said with a sigh. "The thing is full of
thorns; but of this you may be sure. You would not be asked by me to
desert that poor child. What is to be done must be done in the open;
but what is best to do--where best seems to mean worst for some
one--cannot yet be decided. Frankly I do not yet see the way."
"Does the Duke know of her?"
"I think not---I almost fear not. His faith in Count Gustav is
surprising for a man of his experience. But then he is his father."
"He is a sorry, shoddy hero for the Patriots," I exclaimed, with such
bitterness that His Excellency lifted a hand in protest.
"He is the only possible leader after his father, Christabel; and for
that reason I am going to ask you to hold your hand. I can offer you
these now, may I not?" and he held out the marguerites to me with a
smile.
"Yes--but I cannot take them yet."
His face clouded. "You have something in your thoughts, yet."
"It is close to twelve o'clock and he has not come," I replied,
significantly.
He lifted the letter from Gustav. "We have this. You will wait--after
what I have said?"
"Not a minute unless you make me a prisoner."
"Don't, Christabel. That is unjust. Where are you going?"
"To my own house."
"Who is there?"
"At present, Gareth--only."
"Whom do you expect?"
"Count Gustav----and others."
"For God's sake," he cried, more disconcerted than I had ever seen him;
and his white shapely fingers twisted the flowers nervously during the
pause that followed. "You have frightened me," he murmured at length.
"The deeds are not of my doing," I said slowly.
"Where is your house?"
"Why do you wish to know?"
"That I may follow you there presently," he answered.
"You have twisted those blooms and wrecked them. Is candour wrecked
with the petals, General?"
He looked up and I saw by his glance that he knew I had read his
intention.
"You did not mean to come alone," I added.
"It is a case for the Duke himself. You must not take this
responsibility alone, Christabel; you must not. The issue of
everything is in the balance."
"I may be wrong. Count Gustav may not come."
"You have probably made sure of him. Give me the address. We must
know it. You see that, I am sure."
I thought earnestly. "If I give it you, will you wait at home here and
do nothing for an hour; and if you bring the Duke will you promise to
tell him first of Gareth? I may be back within the hour with nothing
done."
"Yes, I give you my word on both points. It will be a trying hour."
I wrote down the address then and handed it to him. "It is twelve
o'clock. I must go. If I do not return, I shall look for you in an
hour and a-half from now."
"I wish you would let us come at once," he said as he went out to the
carriage.
"You might only witness my failure; and I am jealous of my reputation
for succeeding."
"I have no smile just now to answer yours," he said, as he handed me
into the carriage.
In some respects he had influenced me more than I had let him see
during our conversation. Indeed, I scarcely cared to own to myself how
differently I viewed the conduct and offer of the Duke.
I was in truth intensely delighted at the news that Karl had asked the
Duke's consent to make me his wife. I had known of course that he was
willing to set everything else aside if he could prevail upon me to
marry him. He had told me no less than that. But I fastened upon this
formal request for the Duke's permission almost greedily, as though it
gave a fresh practical turn to the position. My heart was indeed only
too willing to find any reason or pretext for playing traitor to my
resolve.
I told myself over and over again during that drive that the facts were
really just what they had been before his Excellency had spoken to me;
and that the view which I had taken in those hot, restless, angry hours
in the night was the one which I must take.
But I found it increasingly difficult to be consistent. My dear old
friend himself would certainly be the last to harbour a single thought
in any way dishonouring to me. I trusted him entirely; and he was on
the side of my heart's desires. He had also declared dead against the
abandonment of Gareth, and had stipulated that whatever was done for
her should be done "in the open."
Could I ask more than that? It meant that Count Gustav should not of
himself decide what was to be done; but that Gareth and her father
should have their part in it. Was I to put myself in her father's
place and usurp his duty, merely because I had a fanciful estimate of
what was due to me and to my irresponsible opinion of my importance?
Temptation can take very subtle forms.
Moreover, was that same estimate of my own infallibility to force Count
Karl upon the Patriots when he was obnoxious to them--as his Excellency
had declared? Was I to unsettle still further the political
disturbances of the country, just because I thought duty required me to
be self-denying and miserable and to lose the man I loved?
That such thoughts could occur to me will show in what a chaos of
irreconcileable wishes, hopes, and intentions my mind was during that
drive, and how my pride, prejudices, and judgment fought and wrestled
with the secret desires of my heart.
I was in the worst possible frame of mind for the work that had to be
done. Before his Excellency had spoken to me, my course had seemed
quite clearly defined; but for the moment I was in that to me most
contemptible of all moods--reluctant to go back and yet half-afraid to
go forward. I was thus relieved to hear when I reached the house that
Colonel Katona and Karl had not yet arrived.
I went up to Gareth. She was flushed with excitement; but when the
colour died down, I could not but see how really fragile and delicate
and ill she looked. She welcomed me with tears, and kisses and many
questions. Why had I not been before? What had I been doing? Why had
I wished her to keep in her room? What was the news I brought with me?
Who was coming, and when? Was it her Karl? Had I told her to keep in
her room for fear of being seen by him before I could prepare him for
her presence?
Her own eagerness in putting the questions lessened my difficulty in
answering them; and she fussed about me lovingly, making much of me,
caressing me, and thanking me; chattering all the time like a child in
her eager anticipation of coming happiness; so that my heart
alternately glowed with pleasure that I had held on to my resolve and
was heavy with fear lest a crushing disappointment was at hand to
blight her love and shut out the sunlight from her bright young life
for ever.
Her trust in Gustav was absolute, and her faith in his love unshakable.
"He will be so glad. Does he know yet I am here?"
"No, Gareth, not yet."
"I think I am glad of that," she laughed. "What a great start he will
give, and how his eyes will open, and what a light of love will be in
them when I run up and put my arms round him."
"Pray God he may," was my thought. I still nurtured the hope that what
he had once said to me was true; and that so far as there was room for
love in his selfish heart, Gareth filled it. It was largely on that
hope, indeed, I was building.
"He will be so glad that--do you know what I have thought, Christabel?"
"No, dear."
"I am going to be very cunning. I am going to use that moment of his
delight to urge him to take me to my father and tell him everything.
Do you think he will do it?"
"It might be better----" I began, when I stopped suddenly as a new
thought occurred to me.
"What might be better, Christabel? Tell me; I am so anxious about
this. I have been thinking about it ever since I guessed what your
news was, and that you were going to bring Karl to me. Tell me, what
would be better?"
"I was thinking it would be better if you could first have done
something for him; have won his own father to be reconciled to your
marriage."
"Oh, I dare not do that," she cried, shrinking like a frightened child.
"Besides, I don't know who is his father."
"I do. He is a very great man--Duke Ladislas of Kremnitz."
"I have never seen a Duke in all my life and couldn't speak to one to
save it."
I scarcely heard her, for I was thinking what would be the effect of a
meeting between this sweet simple-souled child, and that stern,
hard-faced, eagle-eyed old man. I pictured the scene if, his
Excellency having told the Duke of Gustav's marriage, I were to lead
her in to him and say--"This is Gareth."
"You're not thinking a bit of what I'm saying, Christabel," she cried
presently. "And you're looking dreadfully solemn. This might be a
funeral, instead of one of the happiest days of my life. But don't let
us talk any more about dukes--and such people. I couldn't do what you
say without telling Karl first."
"Oh, by the way, that's a little mistake about his name you make,
Gareth," I said, as if it were a very trifling matter. "He is not
called Karl by his friends and his family--but Gustav. The mistake
must have been made at first; and I expect he liked you to call him
Karl, as the name you first used."
"What nonsense, Christabel. Why we were married as Karl and Gareth."
She was almost indignant.
"I suppose he was just humouring you. But his brother's name is Karl.
Perhaps they both have that name; and he liked you to call him by it,
because no one else did."
For a moment a great doubt clouded her bright eyes. "Do you think you
have made a strange mistake, Christabel, and that it is not my Karl who
is coming?"
"No dear, I have made no mistake. I could not do that. I only tell
you this, that you may not be surprised if you hear others speak to him
as Gustav, and look for you to do the same. If I were you, I should
call him Gustav before others, and use the other name when you are
alone."
"But it is such an extraordinary thing."
At that moment Mrs. Perry knocked at the door and called me.
"I must go now, Gareth."
Her eyes were shining and her face alight with love and nervous
anticipation. "Is it Kar--Gustav?"
"No, dearest. Not yet. He may be some little time yet. You will wait
here patiently till I come for you?"
"Not patiently," she cried with the rueful pout of a child.
I kissed her. "Courage and a little patience, Gareth," I whispered; my
arms about her and her head on my shoulder.
"Yes. I'll try to be patient--but you don't know what it is to wait
like this in such suspense."
"I'll come for you the instant I can," I assured her, and went out to
Mrs. Perry.
"The two gentlemen are here, Miss Christabel."
"I'll go down to them;" and I ran down, with no very clear thought of
what I was to say to either Colonel Katona or to Karl, until I knew for
certain that Gustav would really come.
And there was no news yet from James Perry.