"Oh, that 'twere I had been false--not she!"
In the meantime the unconscious Rupert was strolling up and down in
front of the house waiting for his uncle to come out, and intending to
take him into his confidence and ask for his good offices with Ruth's
guardians. It was well for her that he had no suspicion of what was
passing; for little as she guessed it, he would have greatly resented
her treachery towards Cheriton as well as towards himself. But Rupert
was in high spirits, and when Mr Lester joined him, he told his tale
with the best grace that he could. His uncle was pleased with the news,
and questioned him pretty closely upon all its details, shook his head
over the previous difficulties which Rupert admitted, told him that he
was quite right to be open with him, congratulated him when he owned to
having met with success with the lady herself, and, pleased with being
consulted, threw himself heart and soul into the matter.
As they came up towards the back of the house, they met Alvar, who,
rather hastily, asked if they had seen Cheriton.
"He went to take a walk. I am afraid he will be tired," he explained.
"Eh, Alvar, you're too fidgety," said his father good-humouredly.
"There's Cheriton, looking at the puppies."
Alvar looked, and beheld a group gathered in the doorway of a great
barn, the figures standing out clear in the sunshine against the dark
shadow behind. Nettie was standing in the centre with her arms
apparently full of whining little puppies; the mother, a handsome
retriever, was yelping and whining near. Buffer was barking and dancing
in a state of frantic jealousy beside her. Bob and Jack were disputing
over the merits of the puppies. Dick Seyton, with a cigar in his mouth,
was leaning lazily against the barn door, while Cheriton, looking, to
Alvar's anxious eyes, startlingly pale, was standing near.
"But say, Cherry, say," urged Nettie, "which of them are to be kept?
Don't you think this is the best of all?"
"That," interrupted Bob, "that one will never be worth anything. Look,
Cherry, this one's head--"
"Bob, what are you about here at this time in the morning?" said his
father. "I told you I must have some work done these holidays. Be off
with you at once."
"Cherry said yesterday he would come and help me," growled Bob.
"_I_ want him," said Mr Lester. "Got a piece of news for you, Cherry.
No secret, Rupert, I suppose?"
"I'll tell Cherry presently," said Rupert, thinking the audience large
and embarrassing.
Cheriton started, and the unseeing look went out of his eyes, and for
one moment he looked at Rupert as if he could have knocked him down.
Then the reflection of his own look on Alvar's face brought back the
instinct of concealment, the self-respect that held its own, while all
their voices sounded strange and confused, and he could not tell how
often his father had spoken to him or how long ago.
"I think I can guess your news," he said. "But I must go in. Come back
to the house with me, Rupert."
He spoke rather slowly, but much in his usual manner. Rupert was aware
that the news might not be altogether pleasant to him; but he had the
tact to turn away with him at once; while Alvar watched them in utter
surprise, the wildest surmises floating through his mind. But what
Cherry wanted was to hear whether Rupert would confirm what Ruth had
told him; somehow he could not feel sure if it were true.
"How long have you been engaged?" he said; "that was what you were going
to tell me, wasn't it?"
"My uncle is frightfully indiscreet," said Rupert, with a conscious
laugh. "Nothing has been settled yet with the authorities; but we have
understood each other for some time. She--she's one in a thousand, and
I don't deserve my luck."
Rupert was very nervous; he had always thought that Cheriton had a
boyish fancy for Ruth, though he was far from imagining its extent, and
he was divided between a sense of triumph over him and a most real
desire not to let the triumph be apparent, or to give him unnecessary
pain. Being successful, he could afford to be generous, and talked on
fast lest Cherry should say something for which he might afterwards be
sorry.
"I suppose we haven't kept our secret so well as we thought," he said,
laughing, "as you guessed it so quickly. All last spring I was afraid
of Alvar's observations."
"Did Alvar know? He might have--he might--?" Cheriton stopped
abruptly, conscious only of passion hitherto unknown. He never
marvelled afterwards at tales of sudden wild revenge. In that first
hour of bitter wrong he could have killed Rupert, had a weapon been in
his hand, have challenged him to a deadly duel, had such a thought been
instinctive to his generation. Rupert did not look at him, or the wrath
in his eyes must have betrayed him. He longed to revenge himself, to
tell Rupert all; even his sense of honour shook and faltered in the
storm. "She promised _me_! She kissed _me_!" The words seemed to
sound in his ears, something within held them back from his lips.
Another moment, and Alvar touched his arm.
"Come in, Cherito, the wind is cold," he said. "Come in with me."
Rupert, glad to close the interview, little as he guessed how it might
have ended, turned away, saying, with a half-laugh, "I must go and check
Uncle Gerrald's communications; they are _too_ premature."
Then Cheriton felt himself tremble from head to foot; he knew that Alvar
was talking, uttering words of vehement sympathy, but he could not tell
what they were.
"You came in time--you came in time to save me!" said Cheriton wildly,
as his senses began to recover their balance. He turned away his face
for a few moments, then spoke collectedly.
"Thank you. That is all over now! You see I'm not strong yet. You
will not see me like this again. The one thing is to prevent any one
from guessing, above all my father."
"But, my brother, how can you--you cannot conceal from all that you
suffer?" said Alvar, dismayed.
"Cannot I? I _will_," said Cheriton, with his mouth set, while his
hands still trembled.
"Why? _You_ have done no wrong," said Alvar. "Are you the first who
has been deceived by a faithless woman? She is but a woman, my brother;
there are others. You feel now that you could stab your rival to
revenge yourself. Ah, that will pass; she's only a woman. Heavens! I
tore my hair. I wept. I told all my friends of my despair; it was the
sooner over. You will find others."
"We usually keep our disappointments to ourselves," said Cheriton
coldly. "I could not forgive any betrayal. Now I'll go in by myself.
I'll come down to lunch. As you say, I'm not the first fellow who has
been made a fool of."
"What will he do?" thought Alvar as he reluctantly left him. "He would
forgive his rival sooner than himself. They pretend to feel nothing, my
brothers, that gives them much trouble. If I were to tell a falsehood
to please them, they would despise me; but Cherito will tell many
falsehoods to hide that he grieves."
Cheriton gathered himself up enough to hide his rage and grief, hardly
enough in any way to struggle with them, and the suffering was as
uncontrollable and as exhausting as the pain and fever of his late
illness. It shut out even more completely the remembrance of anything
but his own sensations. And it was all so bitter--he felt the injury so
keenly--he had not yet power to feel the loss. He kept up well,
however, and during the next two or three days his father saw nothing
amiss; while Alvar, though anxious about his health, regarded the misery
as a phase that must have its way. But Nettie declared that Cherry was
cross, and Jack, who had lately acquired the habit of noticing him, felt
that he was not himself. It was difficult to define; but it seemed to
him as if his brother never looked, spoke or acted exactly as might have
been expected. Things seemed to pass him by.
The twelfth of August proving hopelessly wet and wild, even Mr Lester
could not think his joining the shooting party allowable, and Cheriton
expressed a proper amount of disappointment; but Jack recollected that
when they had all been speculating on the weather the night before,
Cherry had hardly turned his head to look at it. He would not let Alvar
stay at home with him, and felt glad to be free from observation.
In the meantime matters had not gone much more pleasantly at
Elderthwaite. Ruth was in such dread of discovery that even in Rupert's
presence she could not be at ease. Her conscience reproached her, and
she was by no means sure that Rupert was quite unsuspicious, for he
talked a good deal about his cousin, and once said that he thought him
much changed by his illness. Neither was she happy with Virginia,
towards whom a certain amount of confidence was necessary, as she could
not lead her to suppose that all had been freshly settled with Rupert;
and Virginia, who was usually reticent and shy, questioned her closely
as to Rupert's behaviour and modes of action. Indeed she marvelled at
her cousin's ignorance, for Alvar seemed to her to imply displeasure in
every look. He came seldom to Elderthwaite, and, when there, scarcely
spoke of Cherry. Ruth could only hurry her return to her grandmother,
which was to take place in a few days; but an Oakby dinner-party, in
honour of the engagement, could not be avoided. Ruth dared not have a
head-ache or a cold, and in a tremor most unlike her usual self she
prepared to meet her two lovers face to face. If Cheriton had any mercy
for her, or any feeling for himself, he would avoid her. How little she
had once thought ever to be afraid of Cherry! But he was there, with a
flower in his coat, and plenty of conversation, apparently on very good
terms with Rupert, and facing the greeting with entire composure. He
even ate his dinner; he sat, not opposite Ruth, but low down on the
other side of the table, while she had Alvar for her neighbour--a very
silent one, as Virginia, on his other side, remarked with a sigh. It
would have been natural for her to talk to Rupert, who sat on the other
side of her, but she felt Cheriton's eyes on her in all their peculiar
intenseness of expression. Ruth was very sensitive, and they seemed to
mesmerise her; she grew absolutely pale, and she knew that Rupert saw
it. How could Cheriton be so cruel!
Her white face and drooping lip flashed the same thought to Cheriton
himself. What a coward he was thus to revenge himself! He turned his
head away with a sudden rush of softening feeling. Disappointed love
and jealousy had, she told him, driven her mad--what were they making of
him? At least it was more manly to let her alone.
"Cheriton, I want a word with you," said Rupert, turning into the
smoking-room when the party was over. "Of course, you have a right to
refuse to answer me, but--I can't but observe your manner. Do you
consider yourself in any way aggrieved by my engagement?"
It did not occur to Cheriton that, if Rupert had had full trust in Ruth,
he would never have put such a question. He was conscious of such
unusual feelings that he knew not how far he stood self-betrayed in
manner. Rupert was his cousin, almost as intimate as a brother, and he
could not resent the question quite as if it had come from a stranger.
It could have been answered by a short negative, leaving the sting that
had prompted it where it had been before. Full of passion and
resentment as Cheriton still was, he could not _now_ have broken his
word and deliberately betrayed the girl who had betrayed him.
He was silent for a minute; still another part was open. At last he
looked up at Rupert and said,--
"I made her an offer--she has refused me. Don't mind my way--there's an
end of it."
"Cherry, you're a good fellow, a real good fellow--thank you!" said
Rupert warmly. "I'm sorry, with all my heart."
"Don't think about me," repeated Cheriton rather stiffly. "But I'll say
good-night."
He was so obviously putting a great force on himself that Rupert,
feeling that he could not be the one to offer sympathy, would not detain
him; but as he gave his hand a hearty squeeze, Cherry, with another
great effort, said,--
"I _do_ wish her--happiness," then turned away and hurried upstairs.