HOME NEWS.
While de Güldenfeldt was pursuing his travels, a prey to morbid thoughts
increased by this tragic event which had touched him so nearly, and
while he was trying to learn that hardest lesson in the world--the
lesson to forget, or in his weaker moments, for man is but human after
all, dreaming dreams and weaving fancies, dangerous and alluring, Pearl,
the chief cause of his depression, yet the subject of those heavenly
dreams and fancies, was pursuing the even tenour of her way in Tokyo.
Pearl likewise had passed through her moments of weakness and regret.
There were times, indeed, when she arrived at the somewhat humiliating
conclusion that, considering all things, there was not much to choose
between her manner of acting and that of the foolish girl whom she had
taken it upon herself so severely to lecture.
She and her young cousin were much in each other's society at this time,
the mere fact of both being placed in fairly similar positions, helping,
perhaps to strengthen the tie of kinship, and that of their mutual
affection one for the other.
It was during one of their early morning rides that Mrs. Nugent told Amy
of de Güldenfeldt's offer, of her rejection thereof, and of the Swedish
Minister's consequent irritation and final disappearance from the centre
of operations.
At this information confided to her, a mischievous gleam sparkled from
Miss Mendovy's eyes.
"Really, my dear Pearl," she said, very fairly imitating her cousin's
voice and manner, "I must speak seriously to you. How could you have
been so foolish as to have treated Monsieur de Güldenfeldt as if he were
a mere boy? I have no patience with you, Pearl. You forget that the
Swedish Minister is a man in a thousand,--a delightful man, a clever
man, and from a worldly point of view an excellent match, etc., etc.,
etc. Don't you think, my dear," she added, turning round in her saddle,
and glancing at Pearl with a face brimming over with laughter, "don't
you think that these, your own words remember, addressed no doubt
perfectly justly to your erring but I assure you long-ago-repentant
cousin, might apply most admirably in your own case? It is rather a pity
you were so 'previous,' I think, wasting your breath on me, instead of
reserving it for your own delinquencies."
"It seems to me," replied Pearl, as she gave a little flick to her mare,
"that you in your eloquence, Miss Amy, are forgetting one vital
difference in the two cases. Whereas you, by your own confession, are in
love with Sir Ralph Nicholson, and what is more, have been in this
blissful condition for ages, I have no feeling for Monsieur de
Güldenfeldt but that of great liking and the very deepest admiration for
his cleverness and wit. This rather alters the situation, don't you
think, you extremely sarcastic and facetious young person?"
"Oh, love!" ejaculated Amy with uptilted nose, "pray who thinks nowadays
of such an out-of-date sentiment as love? What is love, compared to the
advantages of a profitable marriage? Besides, Pearl, if you are not in
love with him, you ought to be. He's a dear man, and you have recklessly
and deliberately thrown away an excellent chance. And for what? An idea,
a mere antiquated worn-out idea. And that's a fact, so it is no use
trying to make out the contrary."
"You are doubtless right, Amy, perfectly right," answered Pearl in an
unusually humble voice, "I know I am never likely to get such a chance
again. Considering my position, it was a stroke of luck I had no right
to expect, and yet--and yet--My dear Amy, it comes to this, it's no use
talking to a girl like you. You've never been married, so how can you in
the least realize what marriage means? I know, to my cost, only too well
what it entails. So is it to be wondered at that I hesitate before
making a second venture, however advisable to your inexperienced eyes
such a marriage may seem?"
They trotted on in silence for some minutes, then Amy replied somewhat
dubiously,
"You are right, Pearl. Of course I can't in the least know the
consequences, good or bad, of matrimony. What is more, as far as I can
see, I am never likely to have the chance of finding out. For I am
decided on one point--nobody but Ralph shall have the honour of calling
me wife, an honour which, so far, that young man seems in no hurry
whatsoever to burden himself with. It is ages and ages since he
condescended to come near me. And when by chance, once in a blue moon,
we do happen to meet, His Excellency as a rule is far too occupied with
some other fascinating member of the fair sex to think it worth his
while to hardly cast me a glance of recognition. Rather different from
the old days, eh, Pearl?"
"You brought it on yourself, my dear cousin."
"I confess, Pearl, I have hitherto looked upon you as a fairly
intelligent woman. Another lost illusion, I suppose. Pray, how does the
fact of my having brought this state of things on myself in the least
alter or improve matters? Bother the men! Don't let's talk any more
about them. The world would certainly be far jollier if they didn't
exist. I see," she added with a serio-comic twinkle in her eye, "there
is only one thing left for me to do, and that is to pray that Sir
Ralph's ultimate fate in the shape of a wife may be a shrew, the plague
of his life, someone who will lead him a nice dance in fact. Then
perhaps he may feel inclined to indulge in some moments of regret that
he did not stick a little longer to dear, amiable, sweet-tempered Amy
Mendovy. Come along, Pearl, let's have a canter, and for one brief
moment forget that disagreeable appendage--man."
But Amy was not fated to be in luck that morning, for shortly afterwards
a sharp turn in the road brought the two ladies face to face with that
particular "appendage" who was evidently engrossing Miss Mendovy's
thoughts. Ralph was accompanied by two extremely pretty girls, all three
on horseback, and apparently, from their peals of happy laughter, in the
highest of spirits and the greatest good humour with themselves and the
world in general.
Amy Mendovy flushed crimson, and with a bow that included the whole
party, she gave a cut to her pony, and trotted quickly on, while Pearl,
calling out to one of the girls, "I hope you have had a nice ride this
lovely morning, Eulalie," followed after her cousin.
"Why did you not stop, Amy?" she asked as she caught her up. "The de
Bourvilles reined in their horses with the intention of having a chat.
They looked so astonished and annoyed when you went tearing past them in
that strange, erratic manner."
"If you find the society of those girls so fascinating, my dear, why did
you pay any attention to my movements, and not stop yourself?" replied
Amy sharply.
"I had to follow you. If I had not done so it would have made your
behaviour appear still more markedly rude," answered Pearl quietly. "As
it is, they may possibly attribute our tearing past them in that
extraordinary manner, to some real necessity for haste."
"I really don't in the least care what they think. The opinions of the
Mesdemoiselles de Bourville never have interested me, nor will they ever
interest me in the very slightest degree. The only thing that distresses
me somewhat is to see two unfortunate girls, neither of whom have the
vaguest notion of sitting a horse, attempting to ride."
"Well, you see, they are merely beginners. No doubt as they go out now
so often with Sir Ralph he will soon teach them to sit straight,"
replied Pearl rather maliciously. "They've got nice figures, and are
both adorably pretty. I'm sure their habits are English made."
"Doubtless," said Amy, with a slight drawl, which she affected when she
wished to appear bored, "but really their riding habits excite me as
little as the owners themselves. Do let us talk of something more
interesting, Pearl."
Pearl smiled quietly to herself as she thought, with a certain
satisfaction, how quickly the remedy which she herself had prescribed
was working on the all-unconscious patient. "I have never seen Amy in
such a temper, or heard her use such an unpleasant tone towards other
girls before," she thought. "Poor child! She's green with jealousy. No
wonder! when in the old days there was never a question of Ralph riding
with anyone but herself. Dear, wise Ralph! if only you continue to play
your cards as well as you have started, there's no reason whatsoever,
knowing my fair cousin as I do, but that you will be married to her
whenever you choose to fix the day."
That same morning, on her return from her ride, Pearl found she was
likely to have far more serious matters than Amy's affairs of the heart
to occupy her mind.
The mail had come in, an event that ordinarily did not greatly excite
Mrs. Nugent. Having shut herself off from all old associations, all
former connections, she seldom, with the exception of an occasional
communication from her banker or lawyer, received much of interest by
the post, the pile of newspapers and magazines, despatched to her
weekly, being her sole and only means of keeping in touch with the outer
world.
But this morning, on entering her cosy little boudoir, one glance at the
writing table showed, lying in a prominent place, a couple of letters,
one from Mr. Hall and the other in a former well-known and altogether
dreaded handwriting. No need to lift the letter from the table to
recognize only too well the once familiar, but now almost forgotten
writing of the husband whom she had divorced. On perceiving it she made
an exclamation of dismay, for a moment hesitating whether she should not
destroy unread this unexpected and most unwelcome missive. Nevertheless,
though vexed and irritated, the sight of the letter aroused no keen
feelings in her mind. Since she had freed herself from him, the writer
himself had grown so completely indifferent--belonging so entirely to
that black chapter of the past, which, until reopened by Nicholson, she
had flattered herself was closed for ever--that she felt, whatever he
might elect to write, whatever insults, whatever injuries might be
addressed to her in this letter, no sentiment but that of a sort of
dreary contempt, a partial and temporary irritation unworthy even of the
name of anger, was now capable of being once more stirred to life.
Indifference to vituperation did not however, carry her so far as to
swamp all natural feelings of curiosity, and when, after a few moments
of deliberation, she lifted the letter by the corner, she examined the
envelope with a certain interest and wonder. The letter was fully
directed to her present name and address, a fact which, on
consideration, caused an incipient fear, and certainly unbounded
astonishment.
So he knew not only of her change of name, but of her whereabouts, by
what occult means she did not wait to consider, but delaying no longer,
Pearl hastily opened the epistle, and read the following contents:
"Dear Pearl,
"I do not for one moment flatter myself that it is likely you
should take the smallest interest in the fate of the man who
once called himself your husband. As, however, I am informed
that surely--and I am personally convinced by no means
slowly--my days are numbered, I am writing before the breath
vanishes for ever from this poor suffering body, to make,
entirely for my own satisfaction, a certain communication to
you.
"I am leaving you--for reasons which it is hardly necessary for
me to enumerate--the complete mistress of my fortune. For fear,
however, that you should be deluded into the belief that this
proceeding is an act of, what you might be pleased to consider
reparation on my part, I wish before the end comes, to entirely
disabuse your mind of that fallacy.
"I am a dying man, it is true, but a worn out carcass does not
necessarily entail a clouded or impaired intelligence. My mind,
believe me, is as clear as when you knew me, and I solemnly here
announce on my death-bed a fact, which except in public you have
heretofore never given me the chance of declaring, that in my
marital relations, I was as deeply wronged, as you no doubt are
perfectly justified in considering I wronged you.
"You obtained your divorce by the breadth of a hair, you will
doubtless remember. The fact that after having achieved your
ends no marriage with Martinworth took place, did not for one
instant throw dust in my eyes, whatever may have been the effect
on that individual himself, or on the many, who at that time,
called themselves your friends. I repeat, that for many years I
possessed the positive conviction that Martinworth was your
lover. In no wise did this fact interfere with me or my plans.
Indeed, the knowledge that you were agreeably occupied entirely
suited my book, and under the circumstances I found it a natural
and convenient arrangement for all parties concerned.
"If, my dear Pearl, you had only shown that cleverness which you
had exhibited for so many years, and if instead of dragging me
into the Divorce Court you had been satisfied to let well alone,
we should have continued a comfortable _ménage à trois_ till the
end of the chapter. That chapter, as far as I am concerned,
would soon have closed, and in three or four years' time you
would have found yourself, while still fairly young and
extremely handsome, playing the satisfactory and the justifiable
_rôle_ of the bereaved, but by no means inconsolable widow. That
awkward impediment the husband, having been conveniently
disposed of underground, no stumbling block would have stood in
the way of legalizing your position, by a marriage at some
fashionable church, to which interesting ceremony lustre would
have been added by the presence, no doubt, of the smartest set
in Town.
"But you were too hasty in your desire to cast off your
shackles. Seeing, however, the precious little use you have made
of your freedom, is it to be wondered at that my breath should
have been taken away by such an exhibition of complete _manque
de savoir faire_. By one, too, whom, when I gave myself the
trouble to think about her at all, I certainly considered
possessed that quality to perfection.
"What? I ask you, have you gained by this most ill-advised step,
on the taking of which, if you had only consulted me, I should
most certainly, for your own sake, have counselled you against?
Have you achieved liberty of action? Certainly not. Before your
divorce you were completely free. A firmer and less compromising
stand in society? Hardly, you must allow, considering the many
doubtful and unpleasant incidents of your life, that to shield
my own reputation my counsel had to bring to light. Undisturbed
union with your lover? Your own subsequent and most inexplicable
behaviour forfeited for ever all chance of such a future.
"Now, in the place of gain, compare your losses. Exile from your
native land. The loss of the protection of your husband's name.
The loss of the constant companionship of an adoring lover, and
while you were my wife, however much you might have thought fit
to scorn that position, the loss of a tangible and by no means
insignificant place in that society, which for over ten years
had been to you as the very breath of your nostrils.
"Oh! poor, blind, benighted fool! I cannot but pity you, Pearl,
my rage and spite having long ago exhausted themselves. It is to
prove to you this truth, namely, that I have no bitterness, no
rancour, that I am acting as I do, leaving you the complete
controller of that fortune, which, from the fact of you having
shared it for so many years, you well know is by no means
inconsiderable. Do as you will with it. As you will see, it is
yours without conditions. You in your turn can leave this wealth
to whom you desire, my own few distant relatives having no claim
whatsoever upon me.
"One word more before I close these lines.
"Once, being no longer master of my actions, I was so
unfortunate as to strike you. It was principally on the fact of
that blow that you obtained your divorce. I apologise to you for
this deed. I can only add that, whatever the provocation, I
should never have acted thus in my sober moments.
"And now, adieu. By the time you receive this I shall, in all
probability be beneath the sod. No doubt you will experience a
certain natural satisfaction in feeling assured that for the
future you no longer can be troubled by
"GUY NORRYWOOD."
arl stood for a long time with this letter clasped tightly in her hand,
Pea prey to strangely mixed feelings. Though, during all the years they
had spent together, Norrywood had evidently not considered it worth his
while to express his opinion, she nevertheless had by no means been in
ignorance of her husband's true sentiments towards her. Before the crash
she in her turn, had scorned to confute or to argue this opinion, though
if she had for a moment supposed that every questionable position, every
compromising action on her part was to have been brought as evidence
against her in her own suit, she certainly would have taken more pains
in those early days, even to the man whom she despised so thoroughly, to
have explained and proved her innocence. But neither she, nor
Martinworth, nor her Counsel had for one moment contemplated such a step
on Norrywood's part, and indeed at one time it was believed the case
would proceed in its course undefended. Judge then of her astonishment
when her husband appeared in Court armed with these many powerful, aye!
deadly weapons against her. Too late then to explain or temporize, and
Pearl in bitterness of spirit realised fully her egregious folly in
having from the very commencement so completely scorned, so entirely
despised her foe.
Bitter memories were aroused in Mrs. Nugent's breast by the perusal of
this letter--memories and regrets and rage that long had remained
dormant, so much so, that she asked herself whether after all, her
philosophy was beginning to play her false. But Norrywood's unvarnished
opinion of her, the complete cynicism of his plain speaking, the crude
bluntness, brutality indeed, of his well weighed and deliberate
conclusions touched her not at all. She had all along been aware of his
opinion, and to some extent she could comprehend his having arrived at
such an unflattering conclusion, and almost forgave him for it. She
felt, however, a slight regret that he should have died unchanged in
this belief, especially as on the whole the letter aroused her
sympathies, and a vague feeling of pity in her breast. She read between
the lines, and in spite of his refutation of the same, she knew that
this will in her favour was an act of reparation--tardy amends for all
he had made her suffer during his lifetime. The act, if not the words,
confessed remorse. Such being the case, and with this barrier of the
tomb between them, she felt that she could forgive him much. She had
never for one instant contemplated the possibility of inheriting his
money. She did not wish for it, and as she restored the letter to the
envelope she deluded herself with the belief that no power on earth
could force her to accept this undesired, this unexpected gift.
But there was still Mr. Hall's letter to be read. It was, she perceived,
dated ten days later than that of her husband, and contained the
contents of his will and the details of his miserable death, which had
taken place suddenly a few days after the writing of this last long
epistle.
"Your former husband," wrote Mr. Hall, "has for the last year
been suffering from an extremely painful, and from the first,
incurable disease. I was surprised that I, and not his own
lawyer, should be called in to draw up his last will and
testament, but his reasons for this act were later on,
explained. I was touched by the great change I perceived in the
poor sufferer's whole character and demeanour, and though
nothing I could say would induce him to change his opinion on
one point,--namely, as to your relations with Lord
Martinworth,--the approach of Death, that great Softener, had
melted the hitherto stony heart, and he spoke gently and kindly
of you, and with a genuine regret for the constant sorrow of
which he had been the cause. Mr. Norrywood's standard of morals,
as we know to our cost, was at no times a high one. Presumably
it was owing to this fact that he appeared to think the
intimacy, which to the last he insisted existed between you and
his lordship, was not otherwise than natural, and by no means
blamable under the circumstances of his own acknowledged
infidelity to you. But what seemed to astonish him beyond words
was the fact of your having gone to the length of putting him
into Court at all. He told me he wished, before he died, to
express what he had so far never had an opportunity of doing,
his opinion of your folly in taking this step. 'Naturally I had
to defend myself,' he said, 'and the consequences have been my
wife's social ruin.' He said much more on this point, and
concluded by asking for your address for the purpose--he told
me--of expressing his sentiments, and of informing you of his
monetary intentions towards you.
"Considering it was the request of a dying man, I felt--in spite
of your strict injunctions to the contrary, and consequently
certain qualms of conscience on my part--that the only thing I
could do in the circumstances was to accede to his request. I
therefore wrote down for him your present name and address, and
I can only trust, my dear young friend, that Mr. Norrywood, in
this his last letter to you, confined himself to facts,
inscribing nothing of a particularly unkind or painful nature.
"You will see by the enclosed copy of the will that Mr.
Norrywood has left you a very wealthy woman. However distasteful
the source may be from which the money springs, remember, my
child, that much good can be done with this large fortune, of
which you are left complete mistress, now and for the future.
Knowing you as I do, I am convinced that your first impulse will
be to refuse this wealth. But I also believe that on impartial
and thoughtful consideration you will understand the immense
folly of such a step. Indeed, a great portion of it having been
settled on you at your marriage, must be yours in any case. So
do not act hastily, but remember that in years to come there may
be others besides yourself who can be benefited by these large
sums.
"I should much like to know your intentions as to the future.
Have you any thoughts of returning home? Your absence has been a
long one. The persons that you dreaded are removed from your
path--one by death and the other by marriage. It is therefore
hardly necessary for me to point out that on inheriting this
fortune your presence, for a short period at least in your
native land, is highly desirable, I may even add, necessary."
Mr. Hall concluded his letter with various business details as to
investments, etc., also with much fatherly and kind advice, which he
considered it his duty to offer, but which no one knew better than he
himself was more likely to be ignored than followed.
Pearl, with puckered brow, was still standing by her writing table,
pondering over these momentous and upsetting communications, when a
_'ricksha_ rattled up to the door, and a moment later Mrs. Rawlinson was
in the room.
"Dearest Rosina," exclaimed Pearl as she embraced her cousin, "what a
wonderful woman you are! You have the blessèd knack of always appearing
on the spot when most needed. I was wishing for you so much, and was
just contemplating ordering the carriage and driving round to Azabu."
"What's the matter now?" enquired Mrs. Rawlinson, as she glanced at the
two letters in Pearl's hand with a certain alarm in her brown eyes.
"I want you to read these letters brought by this morning's mail. No,
this one first."
Rosina took Mr. Norrywood's letter handed to her, and walking to the
window stood with her back to Mrs. Nugent. She read it straight through,
and until she had replaced it in the envelope made no remark.
"Well, I suppose, judging from what he writes of his condition, the poor
man must be dead by this time," and Rosina's cheerful voice as she
turned round contrasted rather ludicrously with the _figure de
circonstance_ conjured up for the occasion.
"Yes," said Pearl quietly, "he is dead."
"It's no use humbugging, and pretending one is sorry when one isn't,"
retorted Mrs. Rawlinson. "To put it mildly, Pearl, that man's death
is--is--what shall we say? Well, let us call it a merciful release.
That's an expression that can hurt no one."
"He's done me no harm for some years, and time softens things," replied
Pearl gently. "I think, too, he was perhaps sorry at the last."
"Hum! death-bed repentance," said Mrs. Rawlinson drily. "I've not much
faith in that sort of thing myself. So easy to say you are sorry when
circumstances over which you have no control make it impossible for you
to have the chance of doing further harm. At any rate, I am glad to see
that his repentance--if repentance it was--took a tangible form, and
that in dying he had the decency to make certain amends for his
disgraceful conduct towards you during his lifetime. You'll be a rich
woman, Pearl. Let us trust, dear, that you will make better use of the
money than he did."
"Yes," said Pearl, "I shall be rich, very rich, if I accept the money."
"If--what?" and Rosina stared.
"If I accept Mr. Norrywood's money," repeated Pearl. "I have by no means
decided to do so, Rosina."
"Are you mad?"
"Not that I am aware of."
"My dear Pearl," and Mrs. Rawlinson settled herself squarely in an arm
chair, "I shall not even give myself the trouble of demanding your
reasons for this totally absurd, ridiculously quixotic hesitation on
your part."
"Such being the case," retorted Pearl with a slight flush, "I shall
likewise, greatly to my relief, be exempted from the trouble of
informing you of them. Nevertheless I am, I confess, somewhat
disappointed, for I flattered myself that you at least, Rosina, would
have understood my motives--my--well--my scruples on this point."
"Well, then, I don't, and that's a fact," replied her cousin tersely.
"The man, as all the world knows, treated you shamefully, made your life
a misery from the very commencement. After putting up for years not only
with neglect and infidelity, but with downright cruelty, you had the
strength of mind to appeal to the law, and to divorce him. He is dying,
and he writes you a letter. And even on his death-bed he cannot resist
insulting you--accusing you of various disgraceful and altogether
impossible actions. He has however, enough decency left in his
composition to apologise for one of the many hundreds of his villainous
acts, and, above all, he makes a certain reparation by leaving you his
fortune. After all, my dear Pearl, a large portion of that fortune is
already yours. He made excellent settlements, I remember, and you have
been profiting by the interest of that sum ever since you left him. I
really can't see the difference if, instead of a portion--the quarter,
the half, whatever has hitherto been yours--you should for the future
take over the whole of the fortune."
Pearl was silent. Rosina's calm unemotional manner of regarding matters
always influenced her more impulsive and excitable nature. She felt
there was much good sense and wisdom in what her cousin said.
"You seem to be of the same opinion as Mr. Hall," she said, after a
minute. "He thinks I ought to keep the money. You will see what he says
in this letter."
"He is a good friend to you, Pearl, that old lawyer," remarked Mrs.
Rawlinson, as after carefully reading the letter, she returned it to
Mrs. Nugent. "I can only impress on you to follow his and my advice.
Above all, don't act in a hurry. What do you intend to do about going
home?"
"Oh! spare me, Rosina! Why, I have only just received these letters. I
haven't thought of making plans. But who knows? If my presence in
England is really necessary for business purposes, I may possibly take a
trip home after the summer. But my absence will be only temporary. I
shall return. While you are here, Rosina dear, Japan will always be my
home."
"Well! there might be worse places," and Mrs. Rawlinson pulled down her
veil, preparatory to departure, "in spite of slight drawbacks in the way
of distance, typhoons, earthquakes, etc. By the way, I wanted to
telephone to you on Wednesday after that awful shock, but the wires were
disarranged. Were you frightened? Did you suffer much loss?"
"Several of my best pieces of Imari china were smashed," replied Pearl,
"and I picked up my big Delft vase in fear and trembling. But it was
uninjured, mercifully. Stranger still, this heavy bronze clock was
thrown off the mantelpiece, and was still going when I picked it up.
Frightened? I should think I was frightened. I and all the Japanese
servants rushed into the garden, and watched the house rocking backwards
and forwards, expecting every moment to see it collapse."
"It was the worst earthquake we've had for years," added Rosina, "but it
was nothing here compared to what it was in the north. I see by the
newspapers whole villages were destroyed, and there has been immense
loss of life. Amy will have told you how Tom retired as usual under the
table. And did you hear how those two American globe-trotters, those
dear old Miss Mordants, each clutching her own particular Chin dog, fled
precipitately from the Grand Hotel, clad in little else than their
stockings and chemises, and took refuge in a _'ricksha_ in the middle of
the Bund? Thus airily clad, with the hood down and the apron up, they
insisted on remaining for several hours. And then poor Nelly Richards,
who was completely lost, and at last, after a long search, was found up
a tree in the garden. I am told no power in heaven or earth would induce
her to desert her tree until dragged down by main force by her
infuriated parent."
"Yes, even earthquakes have their comical side. I heard of a certain
mutual friend of ours who was indulging in a bath at that moment, and
who fled into the street adorned tastefully but extremely simply in a
high hat and a walking-stick," and Pearl laughed, but a second later her
face became once more overclouded, and she sighed deeply.
"Now my dear," said Rosina, as she took her in her arms and kissed her
affectionately, "be your own brave philosophical self, and don't worry
about things. And as for your late husband, the last thing you could
possibly manage to do is to mourn him, you know. Personally, I make no
attempt to disguise how greatly relieved I am that a merciful Providence
has thought fit to remove him from this troublesome world to another,
and,--we'll hope,--a brighter sphere. While he was alive, in spite of
your divorce, one could never feel quite sure that he might not take it
into that evil head of his to annoy you in some way. Why! who knows? He
might have turned up here in Tokyo!"
"There may be, for all you think, a far worse danger threatening me than
the unexpected arrival of a divorced husband," murmured Pearl
oracularly.
She was on the verge of confiding to Rosina the probable arrival in
Japan of Lord Martinworth. She would have done so if it had not been
that, since those few confidential conversations held on Pearl's first
arrival three years ago, the name and even the existence of Martinworth
had, by a sort of tacit consent and mutual understanding, been ignored
by the two women in all later intercourse. Pearl was longing for
Rosina's sympathy and advice in the difficulties she saw before her, but
an incipient feeling of shyness, a kind of _mauvaise honte_, prevented
her from venturing to reopen a subject which for so long had been closed
between them. She therefore held her peace.
"After all," she thought, as she seated herself at her writing table
after Mrs. Rawlinson's departure, "it may simply be a mare's nest of Sir
Ralph's. Dick may never come in the end. A thousand incidents may occur
to cause him to change his mind. And even if he and his wife do come to
Japan, it is just as likely we shall not meet. What scores of
globe-trotters visit this country whom I never see. I can easily abstain
for the next two or three months from accepting invitations to the
English Legation, the one place where we are likely to run across each
other. Yes, after all, I am glad I said nothing to Rosina."
And yet in spite of all her sophistries, deep down in her heart of
hearts, Pearl never doubted for a moment but that it was ordained by
fate that Dick Martinworth should visit Japan, and that once again,
whether for weal or for woe she knew not, their paths in life should
cross.
Mr. Hall's and Rosina's arguments combined carried weight, and the next
mail conveyed a letter from Mrs. Nugent to the former, in which no
mention was made of renouncing the wealth left her. Indeed, enclosed
with the letter was the rough draft of a will, by which, with the
exception of a very substantial legacy to Mrs. Rawlinson, and another to
the old lawyer himself, the whole of Pearl's vast fortune was left
unconditionally to her young cousin, Miss Amy Mendovy.