LADY TRACY.
Outside the house I came face to face with the original of the
miniature. So startled and surprised was I by her unexpected
appearance that I could not repress an exclamation, and she turned her
eyes full upon me. She was seated upon a horse, while a mounted groom
behind her held the bridle of a third horse, saddled, but riderless.
'Twas evident that she had come to the house in Marston's company, and
now waited his return. My conviction that Marston had handed the
miniature to Ilga was, I thought, confirmed beyond possibility of
doubt, and I scanned her face with more eagerness than courtesy,
hoping to discover by those means a clue to her identity. For a moment
or so she returned my stare without giving a sign of recognition, and
then she turned her head away. It was clear, at all events, that she
had no knowledge or remembrance of me, and though her lips curved with
a gratified smile, and she glanced occasionally in my direction from
the tail of her eye, I could not doubt that she considered my
exclamation as merely a stranger's spontaneous tribute to her looks.
Indeed, the more closely I regarded her, the less certain did I myself
become that I had ever set eyes on her before. I was sensible of a
vague familiarity in her appearance, but I was not certain but what I
ought to attribute it to my long examination of her likeness. However,
since Providence had brought us thus opportunely together, I was
minded to use the occasion in order to resolve my perplexities, and
advancing towards her:
"Madam," I said, "you will, I trust, pardon my lack of ceremony when I
assure you that it is no small matter which leads me to address you. I
only ask of you the answer to a simple question. Have we met before
to-day?"
"The excuse is not very adroit," she replied, with a coquettish laugh,
"for it implies that you are more like to live in my memory than I in
yours."
"Believe me!" said I eagerly, "the question is no excuse, but one of
some moment to me. I should not have had the courage to thrust myself
wantonly upon your attention, even had I felt----"
I broke off suddenly and stopped, since I saw a frown overspread her
face, and feared to miss the answer to my question.
"Well! Even had you felt the wish. That is your meaning, is it not?
Why not frankly complete the sentence? I hear the sentiment so seldom,
that of a truth I relish it for its rarity."
She gave an indignant toss of her head, and looked away from me,
running her fingers through the mane of her horse. I understood that
flattery alone would serve my turn with her, and I answered boldly:
"You are right, madam. You supply the words my tongue checked at, but
not the reason which prompted them. In the old days, when a poor
mortal intruded upon a goddess, he paid for his presumption with all
the pangs of despair, and I feared that the experience might not be
obsolete."
She appeared a trifle mollified by my adulation, and replied archly,
making play with her eyebrows:
"'Tis a pretty interpretation to put upon the words, but the words
came first, I fear, and suggested the explanation."
"You should not blame me for the words, but rather yourself. An
awkward speech, madam, implies startled senses, and so should be
reckoned a more genuine compliment than the most nicely-ordered
eulogy."
"That makes your peace," said she, much to my relief, for this work of
gallantry was ever discomforting to me, my flatteries being of the
heaviest and causing me no small labour in the making. "That makes
your peace. I accept the explanation."
"And will answer the question?" said I, returning to the charge.
"You deserve no less," she assented. "But indeed, I have no
recollection of your face, and so can speak with no greater certainty
than yourself. Perchance your name might jog my memory."
"I am called Morrice Buckler," said I.
At that she started in her saddle and gathered up the reins as though
intending to ride off.
"Then I can assure you on the point," she said hurriedly. "You and I
have never met."
I was greatly astonished by this sudden action which she made. 'Twas
as though she was frightened; and I knew no reason why any one should
fear me, least of all a stranger. But what she did next astonished me
far more; for she dropped the reins and looked me over curiously,
saying with a little laugh:
"So you are Morrice Buckler. I gave you credit for horn-spectacles at
the very least."
Something about her--was it her manner or her voice?--struck me as
singularly familiar to me, and I exclaimed:
"Surely, surely, madam, it is true. Somewhere we have met."
"Nowhere," she answered, enjoying my mystification. "Have you ever
been presented to Lady Tracy, wife of Sir William Tracy?"
"Not that I remember," said I, still more puzzled, "nor have I ever
heard the name."
"Then you should be satisfied, for I am Lady Tracy."
"But you spoke of horn-spectacles. How comes it that you know so much
concerning me?"
"Nay," she laughed. "You go too fast, Mr. Buckler. I know nothing
concerning you save that some injustice has been done you. I was told
of a homespun student, glum and musty as an old book, and I find
instead a town-gallant point-de-vice, who will barter me compliments
with the best of them."
"You got your knowledge, doubtless, from Hugh Marston," I replied,
with a glance at the door; "and I only wonder the description was not
more unflattering."
"I did not mean him," she said slowly. "For I did not even know that
you were acquainted with"--she paused, and looked me straight in the
face--"with my brother."
"Your brother!" I exclaimed. "Hugh Marston is your brother?" And I
took a step towards her. Again I saw a passing look of apprehension in
her face, but I did not stop to wonder at it then. I understood that
the indefinable familiarity in her looks was due to the likeness which
she bore her brother--a likeness consisting not so much of a distinct
stamp of features as of an occasional and fleeting similarity of
expression.
"I understand," said I, more to myself than to her.
She flushed very red in a way which was unaccountable, and broke in
abruptly.
"So you see we have never seen one another before to-day. For the last
year I have been travelling abroad with my husband, and only came to
London unexpectedly this morning."
Her words revealed the whole plot to me, or so I thought. Secured from
discovery by the pledge of secrecy which he had exacted from Ilga,
Marston had shown this miniature of his absent sister, and invented a
story which there was no one to disprove. Looking back upon the
incident with the cooler reflection which a lapse of years induces, I
marvel at the conviction with which I drew the inference. But although
now I see clearly how incredible it was that a man of Marston's
breeding and family should so villainously misuse the fair fame of one
thus near to hand, at the time I measured his jealousy by the violence
of my own, and was ready to believe that he would check at no barriers
of pride and honour which stood between him and his intention. Events,
moreover, seemed to jump most aptly with my conclusion.
So, full of my discovery of his plot, I said a second time, "I.
understand;" and a second time she flushed unaccountably. I spoke the
words with some bitterness and contempt, and she took them to refer to
herself.
"You blame me," she began nervously, "for marrying so soon after
Julian died. But it is unfair to judge quickly."
The speech was little short of a revelation to me. So busy had my
thoughts been with my own affairs, that I had not realised this was in
truth the woman who had been betrothed to Julian, and who had betrayed
him to his shameful death. I looked at her for a moment, stunned by
the knowledge. She was, as her portrait showed her to be, very pretty,
with something of the petted child about her; of a trim and supple
figure, and with wonderfully small hands. I remarked her hands
especially, because her fingers were playing restlessly with the
jewelled butt of her riding-whip; and I did not wonder at her power
over men's hearts. A small, trembling hand laid in a man's great palm!
In truth, it coaxes him out of very pity for its size. For my part,
however, conscious of the evil which her treachery had done to Julian,
ay, and to myself, too, I felt nothing but aversion for her, and,
taking off my hat, I bowed to her silently. Just as I was turning
away, an idea occurred to me. She knew nothing of her brother's plot
to ruin me in Ilga's estimation. Why should I not use her to confound
his designs?
"Lady Tracy," said I, returning to her side, "it is in your power to
do me a service."
"Indeed?" she asked, her face clearing, and her manner changing to its
former flippancy. "Is it the new fashion for ladies to render services
to gentlemen? It used to be the other way about."
"As you have sure warrant for knowing," I added.
The look of fear which I had previously noticed sprang again into her
eyes; now I appreciated the cause. She was afraid that I knew
something of her share in Julian's death.
"It has been my great good fortune," she replied uneasily, "when I
needed any small services, to meet with gentlemen who rendered them
with readiness and forbearance."
She laid a little stress upon the last word, and I took a step closer
to her.
"You cannot be aware, I think, who lodges in this house."
"I am not," she replied. "Why? Who lodges here?"
"Countess Lukstein."
She gave a little faltering cry, and turned white to the lips.
"You need have no fear," I continued. "I said Countess Lukstein, the
wife, or rather, the widow. For a widow she has been this many a
month."
"A widow!" she repeated. "A widow!" And she drew a long breath of
relief, the colour returning to her cheeks. Then she turned defiantly
on me. "And what, pray, is this Countess Lukstein to me?"
"God forbid that I should inquire into that!" said I sternly, and her
eyes fell from my face. "Now, madam," I went on, "will you do me the
favour I ask of you?"
"You ask it with such humility," she answered bitterly, "that I cannot
find it in my heart to refuse you."
"I expected no less," I returned. "Let me assist you to dismount."
She drew quickly away.
"For what purpose? You would not take me to--to his wife."
"Even so!"
"Ah, not that! Not that! Mr. Buckler, I beseech you," she implored
piteously, laying a trembling hand upon my shoulder. "I have not the
courage."
"There is nothing to fear," I said, reassuring her. "Nothing
whatsoever. Your brother is there. That guarantees no harm can come to
you. But, besides, Countess Lukstein knows nothing of the affair. No
one knows of it but you and I."
She still sat unconvinced upon her saddle.
"How is it you know, Mr. Buckler?" she asked, in a low tone.
"Julian told me," I answered, perceiving that I must needs go further
than I intended if I meant to get my way. "Cannot you guess why? I
said the Count was dead. I did not tell you how he died. He was killed
in a duel."
She looked at me for a moment with a great wonder in her eyes.
"You!" she whispered. "You killed Count Lukstein?"
"It is the truth," I answered. "And the Countess knows so little of
the affair that she is even ignorant of that."
"Are you sure?"
"Should I come here a-visiting, think you, if she knew?"
The words seemed somewhat to relieve her of apprehension, and she
asked:
"To what end would you have me speak to her? What am I to say?"
"Simply that you and I have met by chance, for the first time this
morning."
"Then she couples your name with mine," she exclaimed, in a fresh
alarm. "Without ground or reason! Your name--for you killed him--with
mine. Don't you see? She must suspect!"
"Nay," I answered. "It is the strangest accident which has led her to
link us together in her thoughts. She can have no suspicion."
"Then how comes it that she couples us who are strangers?"
I saw no object in relating to her the device of her brother, or in
disclosing my own passion for the Countess. Moreover, I bethought me
that at any moment Marston might take his leave, and I was resolved
that Lady Tracy should speak in his presence, since by that means he
would be compelled to confirm her words. So I broke in abruptly upon
her questioning.
"Lady Tracy, we are wasting time. You must be content with my
assurances. 'Tis but a little service that I claim of you, and one
that may haply repair in some slight measure the fatal consequences of
your disloyalty."
She slipped her foot from the stirrup, and, without touching the hand
I held out to assist her, sprang lightly to the ground. It may be that
I spoke with more earnestness than I intended.
"What mean cowards love makes of men!" she said, looking at me
scornfully.
The remark stung me sharply because I was fully sensible that I played
but a despicable part in forcing her thus to bear testimony for me
against her will, and I answered angrily:
"Surely your memory provides you with one instance to the contrary;"
and I mounted the steps and knocked at the door.
Otto Krax answered my summons, and for once in his life he betrayed
surprise. At the sight of Lady Tracy, he leaped backwards into the
hall, and stared from her to me. Lady Tracy laid a hand within my arm,
and the fingers tightened convulsively upon my sleeve; it seemed as
though she were on the point of fainting. I bade the fellow, roughly,
to wait upon his mistress, and inquire whether she would receive me,
and a friend whom I was most anxious to present to her. With a
curiosity very unusual, he asked of me my companion's name, that he
might announce it. But since my design was to surprise Hugh Marston, I
ordered him to deliver the message in the precise terms which I had
used.
So changed indeed was the man from his ordinary polite impassivity,
that he abruptly left us standing in the hall, and departed on his
errand with no more ceremony than a minister's servant shows to the
needy place-seekers at his master's levee. We stood, I remember
particularly, in a line with the high window of which I have already
spoken, and the full light of the noontide sun fell athwart our faces.
I set the circumstance down here inasmuch as it helped to bring about
a very strange result.
"Who is the man?" whispered Lady Tracy, in an agitated voice. "Does he
know me?"
"Nay," said I, reassuring her. "It may be that he has seen you before,
at Bristol, for he was Count Lukstein's servant. But it is hardly
probable that the Count shared his secret with him. And the matter was
a secret kept most studiously."
"But his manner? How account for that?"
"Simply enough," said I. "The person who slandered us to the Countess,
gave her, as a warrant and proof, a miniature of you."
"A miniature!" she exclaimed, clinging to me in terror. "Oh, no! no!"
"Gott im Himmel!"
The guttural cry rang hoarsely from the top of the stairs. I looked
up; Otto was leaning against the wall, his mouth open, his face
working with excitement, and his eyes protruding from their sockets. I
had just sufficient time to notice that, strangely enough, his gaze
was directed at me, and not at the woman by my side, when I felt the
hand slacken on my arm, and with a little weak sigh, Lady Tracy
slipped to the floor in a swoon.
I stooped down, and lifting her with some difficulty, carried, or
rather dragged her to a couch.
"Quick, booby!" I shouted to Otto. "Fetch one of the women and some
water!"
My outcry brought Ilga onto the landing.
"What has befallen?" she asked, leaning over the rail.
"'Tis but a swoon," I replied; "nothing more. There is no cause for
alarm."
"Poor creature!" she said tenderly, and came running down the stairs.
"Let me look, Mr. Buckler. Ailments, you know, are a woman's
province."
I was kneeling by the couch, supporting Lady Tracy's head upon my arm,
and I drew aside, but without removing my arm. Ilga caught sight of
her face, and stopped.
"Oh!" she cried, with a gasping intake of the breath; then she turned
on me, her countenance flashing with a savage fury, and her voice so
bitter and harsh that, had I closed my eyes, I could not have believed
that it was she who spoke.
"So you lied! You lied to me! You tell me one hour that you have never
had speech with her, the next I find her in your arms."
"Madame," I replied, withdrawing my arm hastily, "I told you the
truth."
The head fell heavily forward upon my breast, and I sought to arrange
the body full-length upon the couch.
"Nay," said the Countess. "Let the head rest there. It knows its
proper place."
"I told you the truth; believe it or not as you please!" I repeated,
exasperated by her cruel indifference to Lady Tracy. "I never so much
as set eyes upon this lady before to-day. I know that now. For the
first time in my life, I saw her when I left you but a few minutes
ago. She was waiting on horseback at your steps, and I persuaded her
to dismount and bear me out with you."
"A very likely plausible story," sneered Ilga. "And whom did your
friend await at my steps?"
"Her brother," I replied shortly. "Hugh Marston."
"Her brother!" she exclaimed. "We'll even test the truth of that."
She ran quickly to the foot of the stairs, as though she would ascend
them. But seeing Otto still posted agape half-way up, she stopped and
called to him.
"Tell Mr. Marston that his sister lies in the hall in a dead faint!"
Otto recovered his wits, and went slowly up to the parlour, while the
Countess eyed me triumphantly. But in a moment Marston came flying
down the stairs; he flung himself on his knees beside his sister.
"Betty!" he cried aloud, and again, whispering it into her ear with a
caressing reproach, "Betty!" He shook her gently by the shoulders,
like one that wakes a child from sleep. "Is there no help, no doctor
near?"
One of the Countess's women came forward and loosed the bodice of Lady
Tracy's riding-habit at the throat, while another fetched a bottle of
salts.
"It is the heat," they said. "She will soon recover."
Marston turned to me with a momentary friendliness.
"It was you who helped my sister. Thank you!" He spoke simply and with
so genuine cordiality that I could not doubt his affection for Lady
Tracy; and I wondered yet the more at the selfish use to which he had
put her reputation.
After a while the remedies had their effect, and Lady Tracy opened her
eyes. Ilga was standing in front of her a few paces off, her face set
and cold, and I noticed that Lady Tracy shivered as their glances met.
"Send for a chair, Hugh!" she whispered, rising unsteadily to her
feet.
"'Twere wiser for you to rest a little before you leave," said the
Countess, but there was no kindliness in her voice to second the
invitation, and she did not move a step towards her.
"I would not appear discourteous, madame," faltered Lady Tracy, "but I
shall recover best at home."
"I will fetch a chair, Betty," said Marston, and made as though to go;
but with a terrified "No, no!" Lady Tracy caught him by the coat and
drew his arm about her waist, clasping her hand upon it to keep it
there. 'Twas the frankest confession of fear that ever I chanced upon,
and I marvelled not that Ilga smiled at it. However, she despatched
Otto upon the errand, and presently Marston accompanied his sister to
her home.
Ilga and myself were thus left standing in the hall, looking each at
the other. I was determined not to speak, being greatly angered for
that she had not believed me when I informed her Lady Tracy was
Marston's sister, and I took up my hat and cane and marched with my
nose in the air to the door. But she came softly behind me, and said
in the gentlest tone of contrition:
"I seem to spend half my life in giving you offence and the other half
in begging your pardon."
And contrasting her sweet patience with me against the cold dislike
which she had evinced to Lady Tracy, I, poor fool, carried home with
me the fancy yet more firmly rooted than before, that her antagonism
to the original of the miniature was no more than the outcome of a
woman's jealousy.