BOB RELATES TO ME SOME PARTICULARS OF
RONALD ELSDALE'S DELUSION.
I listened to the blind gentleman's footsteps as he slowly descended
the stairs, and I asked Bob if he considered it safe to allow his
nephew to go home unaccompanied.
"Quite safe," replied Bob. "When a man loses the sense of sight he
acquires other senses which have not been precisely defined; he seems
to have eyes at his fingers' ends. And Ronald prefers to be alone."
"Can you account," I inquired, approaching a subject which I knew was
in Bob's mind, and to which he was unwilling to be the first to refer,
"for his impression that there was another presence in the room beside
ourselves?"
"I cannot," said Bob curtly; "nor can you."
"I do not pretend that I can; but it has set me thinking. Would you
object to let me into the secret of the delusion under which he
labors?"
"There can be no harm in my doing so," he replied, after a pause. "In
a certain way it is a love story, of which I believe Ronald has seen
the end, a belief which is not shared by him. The incidents are few,
and he sets store upon them, as most young men do who have been in
love. It commenced about six years ago, when Ronald, fagged with
overwork, went for a summer ramble on the Continent. He spent a few
days in Paris, and then took the morning train to Geneva. It is a long
travel from Paris to Geneva, and to anyone not cheerfully inclined a
wearisome one. A happy spirit is required to enjoy a dozen hours boxed
up in a railway carriage, but probably this day was to Ronald the
happiest, as it was certainly the most eventful, in his life. For
traveling in that train were a young lady and her father, a widower, I
believe, though upon this point I cannot speak with certainty, nor can
I tell you the gentleman's name, for the reason that Ronald has never
mentioned it to me. The lady's was Beatrice, and that is all I know.
In the course of that eventful day Ronald found opportunity to make
himself of service to the young lady, but his attentions did not
appear to be as agreeable to the father as they were to the daughter.
It could not be doubted that she accepted them very readily, and that
Ronald was as attractive to her as she was to him. From what I have
gathered I should say that it was a case of love at first sight on
both sides. Ronald, as you have seen, is a handsome young fellow, who
would be likely to win favor with ladies all the world over, and at
the time I am speaking of he was not oppressed by the fear of losing
his sight.
"When they were within a short distance of Geneva he asked Beatrice at
which hotel they were going to put up, and she replied that she did
not know. He inquired of her father, and that gentleman said he had
not made up his mind.
"'I hope we shall meet again,' said Ronald to Beatrice. 'Where do you
go from Geneva?'
"'To Chamounix, of course,' she replied. 'I have never been in
Switzerland before. Have you?'
"'Oh, yes,' he said. And then he described to her some of the most
beautiful spots in Switzerland, and you may be sure that those
beautiful spots were the places he intended to visit, and for which he
had taken a circular ticket.
"'Perhaps I shall see you in Chamounix,' he said. 'Do you remain long
in Geneva?'
"She could not inform him, and he had perforce to live on hope; for,
to a fishing inquiry he put to Beatrice's father as to their probable
length of stay in Geneva, the reply he received was that no definite
plan of travel had been laid out. They might remain in Geneva a week
or a fortnight, or they might leave it the next day. Even at this
early stage of his acquaintanceship with Beatrice, Ronald discovered
that her father did not wish to be intruded upon by strangers. It was
dark when the train stopped at the Geneva station, and all Ronald's
offers of assistance with the luggage were refused. However, he had
the satisfaction, when he shook hands with Beatrice and wished her
goodnight, of receiving from her something more than a careless
pressure, and he marched to his hotel with the determination not to
lose sight of her.
"It was his intention to go to Cluses by rail, and thence by diligence
to Chamounix. 'They will take a carriage, of course,' he thought, 'but
we shall travel on the same day and arrive in Chamounix the same
evening.'
"I have no doubt that he dreamt of Beatrice that night, and that, in
his fancy, he saw her fair face in the depths of the beautiful lake
the next morning. But that is all he saw of her in Geneva, for though
he made diligent search and most industrious inquiries he could not
discover the hotel at which Beatrice and her father were staying.
"I know," continued Bob, "that you have formed a favorable opinion of
Ronald, but still you can have no idea of the stability of his
character and of certain traits in it which distinguish him from most
men. Once let an idea take firm possession of him and it is next to
impossible to dislodge it. He dwells upon it, strengthens it by
self-argument, and begets a strong faith in it. He is not easily
discouraged and he seldom gives way to despair; he is, in a word,
extraordinarily tenacious, and he was tenacious in this, the first
serious love affair in his life. As he has expressed it to me, he felt
that fate had brought him and Beatrice together, and that fate would
not separate them. These are comfortable convictions; they rob life of
many small miseries. Thus strengthened and fortified, Ronald continued
his search for Beatrice in Geneva, and was not dashed because of the
non-success that attended it. On the third day he determined to go on
to Chamounix, and if they were not there to wait for their arrival. In
so small a village as Chamounix Beatrice's father could scarcely hope
to conceal his daughter from Ronald's eyes. On he went, and discovered
that he was before them. There is but one road from Cluses to
Chamounix, and from three to six o'clock on the afternoon of every
successive day there was no more indefatigable pedestrian on that road
than Ronald Elsdale. At length his patience was rewarded. An hour
before the diligence was due he saw on the road which crosses the Arve
a carriage, in which were seated Beatrice and her father. He did not
wish to be seen by them so early on their arrival and he stepped out
briskly before them to the Chamounix village. Their carriage drew up
at the Hotel d'Angleterre and in the course of half an hour they left
the hotel for a stroll. The moment they were out of sight he entered
and engaged a room, and maneuvered to have his seat at the dinner
table placed next to theirs. They were greatly surprised to see him,
and I need scarcely say that of the two Beatrice was by far the better
pleased. Such chance meetings, however, as these between tourists on
the Continent are common enough, and, as Ronald is unmistakably a
gentleman, Beatrice's father could not but receive him politely. In
the course of conversation over the dinner table Beatrice informed
Ronald that they intended to remain in Chamounix for at least a week.
"'We are not quite sure,' said Beatrice's father quickly.
"'Oh, yes, we are,' said Beatrice. 'It was a binding promise.'
"He made a grimace, but did not reply.
"I mention these small matters," said Bob, breaking off here, "so that
you may rightly understand the attitude adopted by the elder gentleman
toward my nephew, and it certainly seems to be not open to doubt that
he did not regard Ronald with a favorable eye.
"In the course of that week at Chamounix some understanding must have
been arrived at by the young people which caused them to consider
themselves engaged, but I believe there was nothing absolutely
definite between them at the time. Beatrice and her father left
Chamounix for Lucerne, and Ronald followed; but he was as unsuccessful
in his endeavors to find them in Lucerne as he had been in Geneva. He
went from place to place in the hope of meeting them, and it was not
until a fortnight had elapsed that he had the happiness of tracking
them to Como. To make short of a long story, Beatrice's father could
no longer affect ignorance of the feelings which existed between
Ronald and Beatrice, and in a conversation with Ronald he expressed
open disapproval of my nephew's attentions. The only effect this
opposition had upon Ronald was to deepen his love for Beatrice, and it
appeared to be the same with the young lady. In one of the interviews
between the gentlemen, Beatrice's father did not hesitate to declare
that Ronald was following his daughter for her money, which Ronald
indignantly denied, the truth being that he had no idea that Beatrice
was in any way an heiress; and, except that she was a lady, and her
father a gentleman, he was entirely ignorant of their social position.
"From this point of Ronald's story, what I have to relate must be
conveyed in more general terms. I gather that when the tour was ended
the young people met occasionally and corresponded; and also that
every obstacle that he could devise was placed in their way by
Beatrice's father. Thus passed twelve months or so, at the end of
which time the young lady mysteriously disappeared; and all Ronald's
efforts to trace her were of no avail. It was in the midst of this
trouble that his sight began to fail him, and then it was that he was
assailed by the doubt whether, threatened with blindness, he had any
right to marry. Had it not been for this impending visitation he had
sufficient confidence in his prospects to warrant him in setting up a
home to which he could bring a wife. But now all was changed, and the
best he could hope for was that his exertions would enable him to
support himself and his mother in fair comfort. If he had known how to
communicate with Beatrice he would have explained this frankly to her,
but he did not know where to address her; and consequently Beatrice's
father was thus far master of the situation. As you have seen, Ronald
was not spared the affliction; the most experienced specialists could
do nothing for him; he finally lost his sight, and I am afraid there
is no hope of his regaining it.
"Misfortunes never come singly, and they did not come singly to
Ronald. About a year after blindness fell upon him he heard that
Beatrice was dead, and that before her death she had been for some
time in London. If her love for him had been lasting and sincere it
was strange that, being in London, she had made no effort to see him
and had not even written to him. There would have been no difficulty
in her doing one or the other, because she was acquainted with his
address; and here comes in one of his delusions. Notwithstanding her
silence he believes that she was faithful to him. Upon this you may
reasonably ask, 'Why, then, did he himself not endeavor to meet
her--why did he discontinue his efforts to ascertain where she was
living?' His answer is that he could not offer her a home, that he
dared not ask her to share his lot, and that it was his duty to set
her free entirely. There is a lack of logic in the method of his
reasoning. By his own action he wishes her to believe herself in no
way bound to him, and at the same time he believes that she is
faithful to the vows they exchanged. Lovers are seldom logical, and my
nephew is no exception to the rule.
"But this is a trifling delusion in comparison with one I am now about
to mention.
"Beatrice did not die a natural death. Retiring to rest one night,
apparently in good health, she was found dead in her bed the next
morning. Bear in mind that I do not vouch for the exact correctness of
the particulars I am giving you. Ronald has always been exceedingly
reticent upon the subject, and it is only from chance observations
that have fallen from him that I have gathered and put together what I
am now relating. She met her death by asphyxiation. Putting out the
gas before getting into bed she must have accidentally turned it on
again, for her room was filled with its fumes. In the face of all
this, what will you think of my nephew when I tell you that he is
under the delusion that Beatrice still lives?"
With the spectral cat in full view of me, I replied:
"Seeing what I see, I cast no doubt upon any man's delusions. It is
warm here, Bob, let us go on the roof; perhaps this lady here would
like a mouthful of fresh air."