A WOMAN'S WOMANLINESS.
The Imperial Cherry garden party was fixed that year for the 21st of
April, the day proving one of the most perfect of a perfect Japanese
spring.
Pearl had been prevented from attending both the spring parties that had
taken place since her arrival. Therefore, though suffering from a
certain depression of spirits which, in spite of her efforts to the
contrary, possessed her at times, she found herself looking forward with
considerable pleasure to the coming event.
As a member of the Rawlinson family she had a right to an invitation.
She accompanied her cousins, and as they drove towards the Hama-Goten
Palace, Mrs. Rawlinson's critical eyes rested admiringly on Pearl's
beautiful face, and on the almost equal loveliness of her young niece
seated opposite to her. Her heart swelled with natural pride as she
complacently smoothed out the creases of the purple shot silk that in
various forms and shapes had graced many an Imperial garden party.
"There's not the slightest doubt," she ejaculated, "but that my niece
and my cousin will be two of the prettiest and best dressed women at the
party to-day. You are both of you, my dears, looking perfectly charming.
Don't you agree with me, Tom? Come now, say something, you tiresome
person. Pay your relatives a compliment for once in a way."
Mr. Rawlinson opened his lazy eyes with somewhat of an effort.
"Both Pearl and Amy are quite vain enough of their looks without any
compliments from me," he grunted. "The only thing unusual that I observe
about them to-day is that the things they are wearing on their heads
look, if anything, a shade more absurd and grotesque than they do even
on ordinary occasions. My dear Rosina, I do wish you would leave me
alone, and make the proper use of your parasol, instead of employing it
for the sole purpose of poking me in the ribs. It is bad enough to be
dragged to this infernal garden-party, without being massacred before I
get there."
This last remark was accompanied with a twinkle in the very kindly eyes.
Tom Rawlinson was somewhat of a rough diamond, and he affected a certain
gruffness both in speech and manner. His bark, however, was well known
for being considerably worse than his bite, and many there were who
could vouch for his open-handedness in their moments of distress and
need, his ever-ready helpful generosity, and above all, that priceless
treasure in this unfeeling world--a warm heart.
"Now don't call the garden-party names, my dear, just because you would
prefer to be wasting this beautiful day in that stupid, stuffy office of
yours. And, Amy, don't pay any attention to what your uncle says. Your
hat is very pretty. I am sure it ought to be, as nothing was considered
good enough for your ladyship but a fabrication from Paris. By the bye,
Pearl, do you know anything about Sir Ralph Nicholson? Is he still here?
He never comes our way now. What's the matter with him? I have seen him
once since his return, and he appeared considerably changed from the
genial, pleasant fellow that I remember him."
Both Pearl and Amy reddened at Mrs. Rawlinson's questions. Neither
conscience was entirely free from guilt.
"Yes," answered the former hesitatingly, "he is still here. He came to
see me yesterday, and said that he would be at the party to-day. But
here we are," she added, as with a certain relief she saw the entrance
to the Palace gardens.
"Oh, Pearl, isn't it lovely?" exclaimed Amy. "I never saw the cherry
trees so beautiful as they are this year."
They walked through the picturesque grounds, planted with the
world-famed cherry tree, heavy with its fragrant mass of blossom.
Interspersed was the graceful _momiji_, or spring maple, clothed in its
luxurious mantle of brilliant red, forming with the dark foliage of the
lofty pines, and the varied greens of rare and ancient trees in all
their rich and perfect beauty, an enchanting contrast to the cloudless
azure sky above. Pearl for a moment, in her admiration of these beauties
of nature, perfected by the cunning art of man, forgot to be anxious and
unhappy. Her sweet face was no longer grave, and her eyes shone, as,
giving herself up to the enjoyment of the hour, she experienced the
charm of gazing at a landscape glorified at that moment by glowing,
brilliant sunshine, and scented by the delicate odour of a myriad
faintly-tinted, profusely clustering blooms.
Her eyes revelled in the unrivalled beauty of these lovely grounds, and
only when she arrived at the waiting place beneath the ancient and
wide-spreading trees, and was quickly surrounded and greeted by her many
friends, did she realise that she was there not merely to admire, but,
in her turn, to be equally admired.
She was in an animated conversation with the Minister of Foreign Affairs
and the Belgian and Spanish _Chefs de Mission_, when Amy came up to her.
"Fancy, Pearl," she exclaimed, "Baron de Pennett has just told me that
Monsieur de Güldenfeldt is still away at Sendai and Hakodate, and all
sorts of out-of-the-way places. You are guilty of keeping him away like
this," she added in a whisper. "He loves these functions as a rule. But
no doubt he has forgotten all about you by this time. Men are strange
animals. Talk about the fickleness and changeableness of women indeed!
Just look at the pronounced way Sir Ralph is flirting with that
strong-minded looking female in magenta. Not that I care a bit, you
know. Though I can't say I particularly admire his taste, do you?" And
Amy's dark orbs flashed disdainfully.
Pearl let her eyes travel in the direction indicated, and, as she
looked, a puzzled expression came into them. "I seem to know that face,"
she said musingly. "Where can I have seen it before?"
She was still pondering, when her thoughts were interrupted by a man's
voice behind her enquiring, in a strong foreign accent, "Madame Nugent,
may I be allowed to have the honour of presenting an old friend of mine
to you?" and turning, Pearl with no previous warning of the ordeal
before her, met Lord Martinworth face to face.
The meeting was so unexpected,--for she had gathered from Sir Ralph that
it would still be some weeks before the Martinworth's arrival,--that
Pearl found herself murmuring commonplaces, and mechanically bowing, as
she would have murmured and bowed to a complete stranger. Later on she
realised how dazed, how completely lost she had been at the moment. It
was only on perceiving the deathly pallor of the face before her that
she remembered that she was in public, that a thousand eyes were upon
her, and with a supreme effort she partially succeeded in recovering her
presence of mind.
Lord Martinworth had been standing conversing with Count Carlitti, a
member of one of the Foreign Legations and a former acquaintance whom he
had unearthed in Tokyo, when the latter caught sight of Pearl's tall
figure and straight back, clad in a perfectly cut gown. He had already
announced himself as one of her many admirers, though, having only
lately arrived in Japan, he was unacquainted as yet with the gossip of
his new post. Always talking himself, and never giving another a chance
to put in a word, he was so far, in ignorance of Mrs. Nugent's history.
He had heard vaguely that she was separated from her husband, a fact
which he considered much in her favour, for in the opinion of this
vivacious gentleman every pretty woman profited much, certainly as far
as he personally was concerned, in being placed in a position more or
less irregular or equivocal. At any rate, if unfortunately a husband did
happen to exist, the more such an inconvenient appendage remained in the
background, the greater approval was the lady of the hour likely to find
in Count Carlitti's soft brown eyes.
Those eyes were ever on the look out for a pretty face or a rounded
bust. His taste in female beauty was considered, certainly by himself if
by no one else, indisputable. So when at the Club he had once given out
that there was no doubt whatsoever but that Mrs. Nugent was _la plus
belle femme de Tokyo_, no one troubled, even if they disagreed, to
contradict one who counted himself such an experienced judge of the
correct and classic lines of feminine loveliness.
"I must, _mon ami_," he said to Martinworth, "present you to _une
beauté--mais une beauté incomparable!_ Madame Nugent is English. You see
that beautiful, straight back, and leetle head poised so haughtily? Ah,
I perceive you admire! But wait, _mon ami_, till you see her face. And
when you will have seen her face, wait a leetle longer till you have
seen her _en robe de bal! Quelles epaules mon cher, ah! quelles
epaules!_ Then tell me if we do not possess a gem in _ce triste Tokyo_."
The introduction promptly followed, and shortly afterwards Count
Carlitti was heard relating that _la parfaite beauté de cette Madame
Nugent_ had made such an impression on _ce brave Martinworth_ that he
had actually trembled, and turned ashen from the violence of his
emotions.
"My triumph is complete," he was saying to Tom Spence, a junior member
of the English Legation. "_C'etait le coup de foudre!_"
"_Coup de foudre_, by Jove! I should just think it must have been,"
exclaimed Spence. "Why, my dear fellow, Martinworth is the very man with
whom Mrs. Nugent (that's not her real name, you know) was mixed up with
in that divorce-suit two or three years ago. She came out here, they
say, to get rid of him. And now you go and introduce them to each other
as if they had never met before! Ha, ha, ha! upon my word, that's the
best joke, the rummest situation I have ever heard of!"
"_Mon Dieu_," exclaimed Carlitti, with a shrug of his shoulders, "if
women change their names, how is it possible to know the right--what do
you call it--co-respondents--that belong to them? _Mais sapristi! quelle
guigne!_"
"What is the matter, Count?" asked Lady Thomson, who, with her husband
the English Minister, at that moment joined the two young men. "You look
quite upset. An unusual state of things for you."
"Carlitti has just been distinguishing himself by introducing Lord
Martinworth to Mrs. Nugent," explained the amused Spence. "He evidently
wished for a sensation."
The British Minister was a very dignified person, and no one realised
better than His Excellency himself that he was assisting in a prominent
position at an important Court function. At his Secretary's words
however, he screwed up his mouth into the form of a button, and a sound
very like a whistle issued from his lips.
"My dear Carlitti, what a terrible situation! You mean to say you didn't
know about the divorce, and all the rest of it?"
"_Mais naturellement, Monsieur le Ministre, je n'en savais rien._ I
desired to make a pleasure to _mon ami Martinworth_, for he knows
himself well _en beauté de femme_. And I was assured that he would
admire _la belle Madame Nugent. Aprés tout j'avais raison, je connais
bien son gôut._"
"Yes! you are quite right, Count," murmured the English wife of one of
the German Secretaries, equally remarkable for her extreme prettiness,
her sharp tongue, and her very many indiscretions, "Lord Martinworth
certainly knows something about the good points of _le beau sexe_. As
for Mrs. Nugent, he has had in her case, I am told, many years of
leisure in London to study this particular example. Well, now he can
re-commence, and can still further improve himself in what you dear,
foolish men tell us is an absorbing and inexhaustible occupation,--the
study of the female heart. Dear Mrs. Nugent's heart must be so very,
very interesting. It is a pity that, so far, this boring, dull Tokyo has
never provided her with an adorer, to help to solve its mysteries."
"Don't, I pray you, waste your pity where it is not required, my dear
little Countess," laughed Lady Thomson. "Mrs. Nugent could have had, I
feel assured, as many adorers as she desired. But you know as well as I
do, that in spite of her somewhat difficult position she does not lay
herself out for admiration and that sort of thing. She is certainly not
a bit of a flirt. By the bye," she added _sotto voce_ to her husband,
"do you think I ought to say anything to her about that horrid man's
death, and the fortune? Or shall I ignore the whole subject? What do you
think about it?"
"By all means hold your tongue," replied the cautious diplomatist. "To
refer to the fellow's death would be in the worst possible taste. Why, I
see she doesn't even wear mourning, and quite right, too. It would be
the height of hypocrisy. Come along, my dear. Collect the wives of my
secretaries and those other ladies whom it is your duty to introduce to
the Empress, for it will soon be our turn to be received in audience. We
must take our place."
For the rest of that afternoon Count Carlitti retired into the
background, and this usually volatile gentleman was extremely silent and
considerably suppressed. Allowing for a certain amount of exaggeration,
the description he gave Tom Spence of Lord Martinworth's demeanour at
the moment of introduction was far from being incorrect. If, instead of
bounding away after someone else, Carlitti had remained a little longer
on the spot, his surprise would have been greatly increased by hearing
the one word, "Pearl," issuing in deep, astounded tones from the man's
lips, and by witnessing the intense look of joy that, after the first
shock of amazement, illumined the handsome but somewhat stern features.
To show emotion at an unexpected meeting, neither words nor violent
outbursts of excitement are necessary. Lord Martinworth and Pearl Nugent
met, and had at one glance, recognised each other. She had let her
trembling hand lie in his for a moment, while that one look, that one
word, had passed between them. She could not have spoken if her life had
depended on the opening of her lips, and she felt it indeed a cause of
thankfulness when the Court Chamberlains chose that moment to divide the
crowd, forming it into two lines facing each other, and when in the
necessary confusion, Martinworth was separated from her side.
The _Corps Diplomatique_ took up their stand in line, by order of
precedence, the rest of the crowd placing themselves beyond and behind,
where they could obtain the best view. The military bands repeated one
after the other, the very solemn and impressive National Anthem, while
their Imperial Majesties, accompanied by the Princes and Princesses of
the Blood and all the Court, walked slowly by between the two lines of
their respectful subjects, and that of the _Corps Diplomatique_,
acknowledging graciously the deferential salutations of this large
gathering of people. Immediately on the passing of the Court, the _Corps
Diplomatique_ took their place in the procession. The crowds of guests
followed, and Pearl found herself leaning heavily on Nicholson's arm,
walking, in a sort of trance across the picturesque bridges, and along
the lovely verdure-shaded paths.
Ralph had been an anxious and interested spectator of the meeting
between his two friends. He was exchanging banalities with Lady
Martinworth--the recollection of whose face had proved so great a puzzle
to Pearl--when he had observed the greeting, and his kind heart had
beaten sympathetically at what he knew must indeed be a terrible ordeal
to both.
He witnessed Pearl's sudden dismay, the dazed and frightened look, and
the nervous clutch of the handle of her parasol. Unceremoniously
deserting his companion, he made his way towards Mrs. Nugent, and when
everyone started to follow in the procession he without a word, simply
drew her arm through his, holding her up through all that long and
silent promenade.
When the Imperial party at length arrived at the marquee prepared for
them, and the crowd was waiting expectantly on the turf outside, Ralph
succeeded in obtaining a chair for his companion. Pearl by this time had
regained a certain amount of control, and was so far composed that she
could watch with interest their Imperial Majesties receiving the members
of the _Corps Diplomatique_, and accepting the various presentations
that are made to them on these occasions.
While this ceremony was still proceeding, Amy Mendovy occupied with her
own affairs, and all unconscious of the event that had just taken place,
came up to her cousin.
"You lucky woman," she said, "to have got a chair. I am simply dead with
fatigue. But, Pearl," she added, struck with her cousin's pallor and
gazing at her with anxiety, "how terribly pale you look. Are you not
well, dear?"
"Mrs. Nugent felt the sun a little. I have persuaded her to sit down,"
replied Nicholson, who with open parasol was still standing guard over
Pearl.
Amy raised her eyebrows, and instead of glancing at him gazed somewhat
superciliously down her straight nose. She was feeling deeply offended
with Ralph. He had not approached her the whole of that day, and--as she
had confessed to Pearl--had indeed scarcely honoured her with his
society, at home or abroad, since the memorable piano incident.
Ralph Nicholson was following strictly to the letter Pearl's advice, and
was feeling extremely pleased with himself in consequence.
"After all, what clever creatures women are," he thought. "Now, unless
it had been put into my dull head, I should never have dreamt of this
very easy plan of getting round the little witch. I should simply either
have cut it, or else like an idiot have rushed off and proposed again.
Either of which proceedings would, according to Mrs. Nugent, have proved
fatal to my chances. Now I see My Lady is just wild with me. She won't
even look at me. She saw me at work though, as I intended she should do,
on that queer fish, Lady Martinworth, who, by the bye, is not half a bad
sort and capital company to boot. _Tant mieux_, Miss Mendovy. Your
punishment will last considerably longer, I can tell you!"
Thus thought Ralph, as he stood at the back of Pearl's chair,
complacently twirling his moustache, and furtively watching the lady of
his dreams.
He found her looking more charming, more seductive than ever to-day, in
her pretty gown and extremely becoming hat. Her dark eyes were flashing,
the rich colour in her cheeks was coming and going with suppressed
excitement, as completely ignoring Nicholson's presence, she bent down
and wrapped a lace scarf around Pearl's shoulders.
"I think," said Sir Ralph, this time addressing himself to Pearl, "if
you will excuse me, Mrs Nugent, as you have Miss Mendovy with you now,
and as I see many of your acquaintances making their way towards you, I
will just go and give Lady Martinworth a look. I see her casting signals
of distress. She knows no one here in all this crowd, you know. And she
is awfully nice."
So with a grin, and a parting glance at the back of Amy's dark head, off
he went.
Pearl watched him go. Then she looked at Amy, who had turned, with
apparently great animation, to address one of her numerous admirers hard
by.
"I hope," she thought, "he won't over-act it. Men can never do things by
halves. And of course, two can play at that game."
The truth of which remark Miss Mendovy was determined to prove. For,
during the rest of the afternoon she succeeded in attaching to her
charming person a by no means unworthy suitor, a certain good-looking
Secretary of Legation, who long had been known to sigh hopelessly for
her hand.
Pearl never quite recalled how she got through the rest of the ceremony.
Afterwards she remembered vaguely catching a somewhat distant view of
their Imperial Majesties seated at a table within the tent, discussing
their repast in solitary grandeur. Near them were placed the Imperial
Princes and Princesses, and beyond were little tables at which were
seated the Ministers of State, and the members of the _Corps
Diplomatique_ with their wives and families. She had a dim recollection
of someone forcing her to swallow a fragment of _paté de foie gras_ and
a glass of champagne, and she once remembered raising her eyes and
finding those of Lady Martinworth fixed with a look of mocking enquiry
and scrutiny upon her face.
This expression on Lady Martinworth's countenance was an additional
shock to the many that Pearl was fated to experience that afternoon.
Fortunately shortly after this incident, the Imperial party broke up,
thereby allowing the guests the liberty to take their departure, or the
long strain on Pearl's nerves, and the dread that Martinworth would
again approach her, would inevitably have culminated in a breakdown.
As it was, her first action on reaching the shelter of her home was a
characteristic one of her sex. She shut herself into her drawing room,
and walking straight up to the glass over the mantelpiece, she gazed at
herself for fully two minutes. In spite of the pallor of her cheeks this
close examination apparently did not prove otherwise than satisfactory,
for there was a slight smile about the lips as she drew the long pins
from her hat, and laid her head back on the pillows of the sofa.
She was anxious to collect her thoughts, and if possible, to devise some
plan for the immediate future. Whether that plan would ever have been
formed it is difficult to say. As it was, her cogitations were speedily
interrupted by the simple fact of a violent ring at the door bell.
Pearl was on her feet in an instant, and her hand was pressed against
her heart to still its beating.
Who could it be? Was it?---- Yes, it must be Martinworth, who had
probably ascertained without difficulty her whereabouts, and had lost no
time in following her.
She experienced a strange sensation--a mixture of disappointment and
relief when she realized it was not Martinworth's voice, but a woman's,
that she heard in the hall.
The next moment Lady Martinworth entered the room.
She made a considerable noise as she strode with long steps toward
Pearl, who was standing erect, with a slight look of defiance in her
wide-open eyes.
"How do you do, Mrs. Norrywood," she exclaimed, holding out a large
hand. "I saw you at the garden party, easily found out where you lived,
and thought it best to come on here without delay, to have a necessary
yarn with you. No objection, I suppose, to my bearding you in your den
like this?" she added, with a broad, decidedly good-natured smile.
Pearl drew herself up, and threw her head back in a manner peculiar to
herself. She felt completely mistress of her actions, quite ready for
the fray, as she answered calmly:
"Before proceeding further in our interview, Lady Martinworth," the name
stuck in her throat, "I think it best that you should be aware that I am
known here under the name of Nugent. Will you not sit down?"
"Thanks. Oh! so you have changed your name," was the reply. "Well,
perhaps it is just as well in the circumstances."
"I am glad it meets with your approval. May I offer you a cup of tea, or
perhaps a cigarette? You smoke, I believe?"
"Thanks, yes, I smoke. Oh! Egyptians, I see. Fearfully doctored, you
know. Couldn't think of drinking tea. I ate enough of that spread this
afternoon to last me for a week. Pretty sight, but I was dying to get
away to have a smoke, and now, like a good Samaritan, you have come to
my rescue." Another broad smile.
Then followed a silence which Pearl for one was determined not to break.
Lady Martinworth threw herself back in her chair, stuck her feet out
before her, and made rings with the cigarette smoke.
"Pretty place, this Tokyo. Been here long?" at length she ejaculated.
"I have lived here rather more than three years," replied Pearl quietly.
"Have you come to see me for the purpose of obtaining some information
about the place or the people?"
"Nothing further from my thoughts, I assure you. You like it better than
London, I suppose? Uncommonly dull place to live in, though, I should
think. But no accounting for tastes. I didn't know you were here, you
know, or of course I shouldn't have been such a brute as to have come to
Japan and disturbed your peace of mind."
Pearl slightly lifted her eyebrows, and looked her companion straight in
the face.
"And may I enquire," she asked suavely, "in what possible way you would
be likely to do that?"
Lady Martinworth tossed her cigarette into the grate, and rising from
her armchair, went and perched herself on the music stool.
"In bringing Martinworth here attached to my apron strings, of course.
Hard luck on you both, I call it. Not very pleasant for me, either, you
know. Why, he'll detest me more than ever now, which is saying a good
deal."
Pearl seated herself in a chair near the music-stool on which her
visitor was twirling herself round and round, accompanied by that
teeth-edging squeak with which music-stools seem chronically to be
affected. She laid her hand on the stool to try to stop the movement.
"Lady Martinworth," she said, "do you not think it would be wiser for us
both to keep Lord Martinworth's name out of this conversation? He and I
are old friends. We meet again after some years, and we----"
"Oh, I say," interrupted her companion rudely, "stop that. I don't want
a long jobation about your and Martinworth's friendship, you know. I
know all about _that_. Read the whole case from the beginning to the end
with the greatest interest. I made up my mind years ago to marry Dick,
but of course everyone knew he was otherwise engaged, and when you got
your divorce, it was given out that he would marry you. And so he would
have done, if you had not bolted like the little idiot you were. Well,
''tis an ill wind that blows no one any good.' You no sooner made
yourself scarce than I seized my opportunity. I needn't tell you _he_
never asked me to marry him. I saved him that trouble. And here I am
Lady Martinworth, whereas you are.----By the way, by what outlandish
name did you say you called yourself?"
Pearl rose and calmly went towards the door, which she threw open.
"Lady Martinworth," she said, very slowly and very icily, "no doubt my
education has been sadly neglected, but I must confess, in private
matters of this kind, I have only been accustomed to dealing with
ladies. As therefore, it is absolutely impossible for me to cope with a
person of your calibre, I must beg of you to do me the favour of leaving
my house directly."
But Lady Martinworth did not stir from her seat. On the contrary, the
eternal smile grew broader on the somewhat homely features. She took a
single eyeglass from the breast pocket of her coat, and rubbing it with
a silk handkerchief, stuck it calmly into her left eye, gazing meanwhile
complacently at Pearl.
"Bravo, bravo!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands, "you really did that
very well, you know. What an actress you would make, with your figure
and _grand air_. No wonder Martinworth fell in love with you. I admire
his excellent taste, 'pon my word, I do. Poor old fellow, it is hard
lines on him, that after having been your slave for so long he should
now have to fall back on _me_. Never mind, we won't talk about him if
you don't like it. Do be a sensible woman. Come and sit down, and leave
that door to take care of itself. I'm not going just yet, you know, for
I have something I want to say to you."
Much to her own astonishment, Pearl found herself obediently following
her ladyship's request. She closed the door, and came once more and sat
down by her side.
If she had been asked to do so, she could not have defined her
sentiments towards this strange woman, who all unbidden, had forced
herself into her presence. Coarse, utterly wanting in tact and delicacy
as she seemed to be, there was something about her very honesty and good
nature that attracted Pearl. She found herself trying to analyse her
companion's character, wondering what there was in it, and in the
situation altogether, that was tending to change her sentiments towards
her visitor. Was it sympathy she asked herself--a feeling of sorrow that
was now taking possession of her?
She answered gently, "Forgive me for my brusqueness. If there is
anything you wish to say to me, I shall be willing to listen to you. Can
I be of use to you in any way?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Lady Martinworth rose from her seat and
clasped Pearl's two hands.
"Yes," she said, "you can be of great use to me, if you will. You can be
my friend. Will you?"
There was no reply, for Pearl was deeply considering this extraordinary
request. What did it mean? Was the woman sincere, or was it merely a
clever move on her part to secure the alliance of a person who otherwise
might be an impediment, a dangerous rival? The ups and downs of a stormy
existence had developed in Pearl a certain mistrustfulness, a
suspiciousness of disposition, otherwise unnatural to her, and
considering the circumstances of the case, she felt in no wise inclined
to jump at this unexpected proposal. While she was debating in her mind
what reply to make, Lady Martinworth spoke again.
"Well, I see you don't like the notion," she said, moving towards the
window. "Why should you? I suppose you and I haven't an idea or a taste
in common. I have never had a woman friend in my life, and have never
wanted to have one. Till now I have always looked on women as poor
creatures. But somehow you seem different from the rest. I liked the way
you went to that door and wanted to turn me out. Real plucky I call it,
and one so seldom sees pluck in a woman. Then the way you left it when I
asked you to do so showed me you had a heart, for I saw you were feeling
sorry for me. I've got a heart too, whatever you may think of me. Yes,
Mrs. Nugent, I've got a heart. One that is full of love for my husband,
too, though he little knows it."
As Lady Martinworth uttered these last words, she might have been called
almost pretty. A wonderfully tender light lit up the small eyes, and the
wide mouth smiled very sweetly as she continued:
"And that is just it, that is just why I ask you to be my friend. I love
my husband. He doesn't care a rap about me, you know. No! not one little
bit. In fact, I know there are times when he downright detests me. I
well know he is just as devoted to you as ever he was. Of course he has
adored you for years. You are a good woman, I know you are, in spite of
that nasty speech I made about the divorce case. With your pretty face
and unhappy married life you must, of course, have had heaps of
temptations, and yet, as I look at you, I feel convinced you have always
kept as straight as a die. You have got such nice true eyes. Yes, 'pon
my word, I like you, Mrs. Nugent. I feel you are a trump, and it would
make me thoroughly happy if you would do me the kindness of calling me
your friend. Cannot you make an effort in that direction? Do try. I know
I am not a very attractive person, but one thing I swear to you, I am
neither mean nor petty, and I am sure that, so far, I have never
willingly done a shabby action. Of course, those qualities are not much
to boast of, but they are all I possess, so I enumerate them, and I do
so want a friend--oh! I do so want a friend."
At these words Lady Martinworth suddenly hid her face in her hands and
burst into a flood of tears.
Pearl began to think there was to be no end to the surprises of that
day. Now, behold! as a climax to every excitement, Lady Martinworth,
succumbing, like any other member of her sex, to an hysterical attack of
nerves. It was this womanly, weak action that conquered Pearl, and if
Lady Martinworth had but known it, she could not have chosen better
tactics to have achieved her ends.
Pearl understood that in spite of those mannish ways and the abrupt
speech, in spite of the general roughness and uncouthness, in spite of
all these outward traits that on ordinary occasions would have gone so
far towards repelling a gentle nature such as her own, that nevertheless
she had there, seated in her house in the abandonment of grief, a
friendless, miserable woman, with a woman's heart and a woman's
weakness. Realizing this, Pearl kissed her and put her arms about her,
as only a woman knows how to kiss and soothe, and comfort another of her
sex.
Half an hour later, a grateful and transformed Lady Martinworth departed
from Mrs. Nugent's house, and Pearl was left once more to her thoughts.
Poor Pearl! they could hardly be reckoned pleasant thoughts. She
perfectly well understood that she was being entangled in a net, that
net of circumstances which is oft-times so strangely and so strongly
woven that to the unfortunate victim entrapped within there appears no
possible loophole of escape.
She thought of this interview just past, and asked herself where would
it lead her? An hour ago she considered herself the natural enemy of the
wife of the man she loved. Now, to her bewilderment, she found she had
vowed eternal friendship and protection to this woman, who in the usual
order of things, according to all natural laws, she ought to treat, if
not with great dislike, certainly with fear, avoidance and distrust.
And yet, strange to say, she did not in the least regret her action, for
she pitied with all her heart the woman who in such a genuine outburst
of grief, had prayed for her friendship. All the chivalry of Pearl's
generous nature was aroused when she thought of this poor, friendless,
heart-broken woman crying to her for help--to her who, from Lady
Martinworth's own confession, was still the sole recipient of Dick
Martinworth's love. Lady Martinworth had thrown herself, as it were, on
her protection, and Pearl then and there vowed to herself, that as far
as it lay in her power, as far as strength would be given her to carry
out her intentions, she would not prove her false.
She had she knew well, a difficult task before her, and she did not
disguise from herself the fact that in this matter there would be not
only herself, not only her own strength, her own endurance to be
reckoned with, but Martinworth, from whom she had fled, and who was here
once more on the spot. He knew his power, and he would surely use it. Of
that she had no doubt. Her dread of that power, of that determination of
will, was as great now as had been the case in former years. After
all,--as she had written of herself in her farewell letter at that
time,--she was but a woman--a helpless, loving woman, weak and frail. On
that occasion, when she had thought, rightly or wrongly, her
disappearance was for his benefit, her love had given her the almost
superhuman strength to fly from him. Now she had only herself to think
of, and one other forlorn woman--a stranger,--who had prayed to her for
help. Could she hope to be given a second time the power to resist his
undeniable influence over her? Could she resist his importunities,--his
prayers? He was so strong, so very strong, and she was so loving, so
lonely, and so weak.
Again the bell rang. This time it was Lord Martinworth who entered the
room, and with his arrival, Pearl knew that her resolutions, her force
of will, would be put straightway to the test.