My blood so flew to my head that for a second or two I was giddy, and
saw nothing through the rain of sparks which hung like a veil before my
eyes. But in an instant I came to myself, wrenched back to a clear
vision of things by sheer necessity to act. Somebody would have to do
something, if the situation were not to ruin the princess's whole
evening; and after all he had suffered, whatever happened, Eagle March
must be saved from the pain of public humiliation. Yet who was to do
anything? Who was to save him?
Only a few persons knew that to arrange a meeting between Sidney
Vandyke, Diana, Milly, and Captain Eagleston March, was about as tactful
as to invite the King of Belgium to dine with the German Kaiser. Only a
few persons knew, and those most concerned were the very ones who would
do least to shield Eagle's feelings.
The princess began gayly to explain that here was her great "surprise"
at last: the two heroes of whose classic escape the whole world had
heard. The "Elusive Mars," as he had been called, was in reality Captain
March, who had refused to make use any longer of his _nom de guerre_.
But in the midst of explanations, as she would gently have led Eagle
toward Diana (oh, horror! she had evidently planned to send these two in
to dinner together!), suddenly she realized that some freezing spell had
turned her principal guests to figures of ice.
Eagle, struck with deadly pallor under the brown mask sun and wind had
given him, stiffened involuntarily and held back. Sidney had gone
crimson, and then yellow-white; Diana--with a shocked face drained of
colour--looked ready to faint; while Milly, in all her new pride of
importance, flung up her head and stared insultingly. This
transformation had taken place with the announcement of the officers'
names; and it took Prince and Princess Sanzanow no longer than is needed
in the counting one--two--three to notice it. Living all their lives in
an atmosphere of diplomacy as they did, even their great tact and
presence of mind failed for a few dismal seconds to cope with the
emergency, it being so utterly unforeseen, and such a blow to them that
their cherished "surprise" should be not only a dead failure but a
brutal catastrophe.
They must have realized in a flash that these people whom they had
brought together were bitter enemies. They must, in a rush of emotion,
have blamed themselves and each other for not finding out in time what
perhaps they might have suspected or known without telling had they not
been foreigners and comparative strangers in London society. As a matter
of fact, they could not have known unless they had catechized Americans,
which it would never have occurred to them to do; but no doubt the
thought came to their minds, and they must have cursed their
"inspiration" for that "pleasant surprise."
I saw Princess Sanzanow's eyes appeal in despair to her husband. But the
situation was too complicated even for him to solve in a second, for the
worst was yet to come. Thinking to compliment Di, and honour the man who
had brought their nephew out of captivity, they had arranged that
Captain March should take Lady Diana Vandyke in to dinner. The
expression on her face and the stiffening of his muscles had shown this
plan to be impossible, to say nothing of Major Vandyke's mad-bull glare.
Now, at an instant's warning, there would have to be a general post, and
changing of partners; and the most desperate difficulty of all must have
lain in the princess's complete ignorance of the facts. She stood there
among the company she had invited to meet each other as if blindfolded,
not knowing which ones, or how many, were affected by the vendetta.
I saw and divined this between two heartbeats, for I was one of those
who knew the undercurrents hidden from strangers; and in such moments
one thinks quickly. Of all the guests, I was the least important, and
the youngest except the Sanzanow boy; yet I felt that I was the only
person present who could or would act in time. I made up my mind to risk
seeming rude or shockingly bold. There was just one thing I could think
of to do, and I did it.
Into the midst of that brief, freezing pause, I plunged. Almost running
forward, I held out both hands to Eagle. "Oh, dear Princess!" I gasped.
"We are the best and oldest friends, Captain March and I. We've known
each other since--since I was a child; and we met in Belgium when he was
'Monsieur Mars.'"
Eagle grasped my hands so tightly that I should have had to cry out if I
had worn rings, and Princess Sanzanow gave me such a look of touching
gratitude that I was sure I had been lucky enough to do the right thing.
"Oh, I am so glad!" she breathed. "Then, if you are great friends, you
will want to go in to dinner together, and I must let you do so."
She had the air of having just been saved from drowning; and I was the
straw which had thrust itself out in the nick of time for her to catch.
Having accomplished my mission as a straw, I gave my attention wholly to
Eagle, but though I tried not to notice, I was dimly conscious, all the
same, of what was going on around me. I saw Major Skobeleff, the young
Russian officer whose escape Eagle had aided--Prince Sanzanow's
nephew--talking to Milly; and noticed that Stefan Stefanovitch had been
given to Di as a substitute for Captain March. Somehow or other the
princess juggled her guests about so that three minutes after the crash,
when dinner was announced, all could "set to partners" without
confusion. There was a French duchess--a refugee from Paris--present,
whom the prince had to take in, and the princess had the duke. That
arrangement couldn't be upset; and the only quite ridiculous effect of
the whirlwind was to give young Prince Paul to a widow old enough to be
his grandmother.
I had rushed into talk with Eagle before we stopped shaking hands; but
he had not been able to answer the call of conventionality so soon; and
it was not till after we were seated at table that he could control
himself to speak. On his other side was Prince Paul's elderly dinner
companion. On my other side was the new military attaché who had taken
the count's place in the Embassy, a man past the soldiering age; and as
he had Madame Pavlova to talk to, for him I did not exist. Eagle and I
could speak to each other as if we were alone together in a forest
haunted with far-off voices.
"What a fool I was to come here!" he said. "I ought to have known."
"Don't be sorry," I whispered. "Think how glad I am to see you. And
there's no reason--no reason in the world--why you should wish to keep
out of _their_ way. You have nothing to be ashamed of--but very proud."
"I _am_ glad to see you again," he answered. "Don't imagine I'm not! But
I meant to see you, anyhow. I've known for weeks where you were. I made
that kind old parson who piloted you home promise to wire to an address
I gave, when you got safely back to England. And afterward he wrote to
tell me what fine work you were doing. This is the first time I've been
out anywhere except for an invalid crawl or two. It's only three days
since we left the nursing home in Fitzroy Square, where Prince and
Princess Sanzanow visited us several times. Skobeleff is their nephew,
you know. They asked us both to stay with them, and Skobeleff is being
moved here by his servant to-night; but I made an excuse not to
come--said it would hurt the feelings of an old friend who had offered
to lend me his chambers in Whitehall Court to finish getting well in.
The Sanzanows wouldn't take a refusal for dinner this evening, though.
It made no difference my telling them who I really am, March instead of
Mars. I thought they were sure to know something of my story. They said,
when I tried to cry off, that it was going to be a small dinner--just a
few friends who would like to meet Skobeleff and me, so I let myself be
persuaded. This is the result!"
As we spoke together, the conversation around us murmured vaguely in my
ears. I heard it without listening, as one can hear an undertone of
murmuring sea beneath all other sounds. People were talking of the one
inevitable subject, the war, with variations; the New Patriotism which
has made the Tory Lion and the Liberal Lamb lie down together in peace,
side by side, paying each other compliments; the good-girl tactics of
the suffragettes; the surprising slump in murders and every sort of
crime; possible raids of Zeppelins; and the amusingly persistent legend
of Russians in France; the same things which were being discussed at
that very moment, no doubt, in every household high and low, from one
end of Great Britain to the other, but always new and ever interesting,
yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow. I glanced at Di and Major Vandyke and
Milly, to see how they were bearing themselves, and I was not pleased
with what I saw.
The princess had distributed her guests at three small tables, and, of
course, had separated Di and Sidney. I had to crane my head round a
floral monoplane, which was our centrepiece, to catch sight of them at
their separate tables; and even so, I had but a glimpse now and then of
a profile. But the expression of those profiles, and the earnest,
confidential way in which they turned toward their neighbours, convinced
me that they were not talking war-talk. Milly faced me where I sat, and
though the tables were lit by amber-shaded wax candles which gave an
ivory effect to the women's complexions, the primrose light could not
subdue Milly's colour. As a rule, she was rather pale, but to-night
cheeks and ears were flushed deep rose colour. She looked excited and
childishly angry, her greenish-gray eyes dilated and her lips pouting.
Had she not been conscious of her new honours as a married woman and a
countess, I don't think she would have dared display her feelings at a
dinner-party of so much importance. Once or twice she stared with
narrowed gaze across the room at Eagle March, then turned to one of her
two companions in such a way as almost to advertise the fact that she
was speaking of him. She would make little impression, I thought, on
Major Skobeleff if she tried to prejudice him against Eagle; but it
might be different with the man on her other side, who knew nothing of
Captain March save what she had to tell; and even Skobeleff--though
surely he would not believe evil of his comrade--could not help
remembering. I could imagine Milly whispering: "What an awful _faux pas_
for the princess to have brought Major Vandyke and Captain March
together in her house, where they can't get away from one another for
hours, without being rude to her and the prince! Why, the man was such
an enemy of Major Vandyke's that he actually betrayed his country in the
hope of ruining his superior officer. It's a long story, but I can tell
it to you if you like. Captain March had to leave the United States army
in the most dreadful disgrace!"
She looked so like a spiteful, green-eyed cat, that I seemed to hear the
words hissed out; and as the man whose ear approached her lips was one
of the famous gossips of London, I could imagine, too, how the story
would spread and grow. Milly would certainly tell Prince and Princess
Sanzanow, also, before she went home, what a dreadful thing they had
done in asking "that notorious Captain March" to be their guest, and
especially to meet Major and Lady Diana Vandyke. Sidney, too, if he
could pile anything more on the injuries of the past, would be sure to
do his best.
As I thought these thoughts my cheeks began to burn even more hotly than
Milly's. I had been questioning Eagle about his adventures, and he had
been answering in the laconic way most brave men have when teased to
talk of themselves; but for a minute, keen though I was, I lost the
thread of narrative I had begun eagerly drawing out. This was when I met
Milly's eyes and flung a challenge from mine to hers. "Dare to hurt him
with your lying tongue, and somehow, surely as you live, I'll make you
repent. Don't dream that my affection for Tony can stand between you and
me," was the warning I sent.
Silently we defied each other in the savage and primitive way which we
female human things have merely modernized, not modified, since the days
of Lilith up to the days of suffragettes. I was asking myself what
punishment I could devise and inflict, if necessary, to fit Milly's
crime, and how I--so small and powerless--could dig myself into a
defensive trench between Eagle and Sidney Vandyke, when I realized that
Eagle's eyes were studying my flushed face. They were sad eyes, yet
there was a faint glint of laughter in them.
"You little fighter!" he said. "You never throw down the cudgels you've
taken up in my defence."
"No, and never will!" I answered, defiance in my voice even for him,
because my blood had been set on fire and the flame would not die down.
"You're very young!" he said, with a faint sigh. "So young that you
haven't learnt not to hurl yourself against stone walls. Learn the
lesson from me, child. Public opinion is a stone wall, the thickest and
highest in the world. The tiny bubble of my reputation was wafted
against it by an evil wind, and burst forever. If I was fool enough once
to hope that I could mend it, I know now that I was mistaken. Broken
bubbles are like Humpty Dumpty: they can't be put together again; and I
don't mean to break my head in the place where the bubble burst, or let
you break yours."
"We shan't break _our_ heads," said I. "We'll break other people's
wicked heads, that deserve to be broken; and they're aching hard already
with sheer rage, because you've made a beautiful new bubble for
yourself, ever so much bigger and brighter than the old one they tried
to burst. Only _tried_, because they may find that it didn't smash when
it seemed to! Then if the old bubble is saved, there'll be two, solid as
crystal and brilliant as rainbows--_boomerang_ bubbles--that will come
blowing back to break the brutes who wanted to burst them!"
Captain March laughed out aloud, and I saw Sidney turn involuntarily
with a slight, nervous start, as if he fancied that the laugh must be
directed against him. "Irish Peggy, you're inimitable!" said Eagle.
"Look out for your metaphors, or you'll be turning my bubble into a
bull!"
"Hang metaphors!" I retorted. "I wish I _could_ turn the bubble into a
bull, not an Irish, but a wild one, and _set_ it at two or three people.
Perhaps I shall yet! And what has made you suddenly change your mind,
Eagle? At Liége, in hospital, you told me how you hated Sidney Vandyke
and felt as if you could choke his life out."
"I haven't changed my mind," he said. "I hate Vandyke now as I hated him
then, more if possible. That's not Christian, but I can't help it, or
else I don't try to help it; I'm not sure which. If by killing Vandyke I
could get back what he took from me, I should do my best to kill him.
But I am just cool enough, where he is concerned, to realize that I
can't help myself by hurting him; rather the contrary. That's where we
come to the stone wall. So I'm not going to smash what he has left of my
head on the stones he piled up against me. To do that would be giving
the enemy great satisfaction, wouldn't it?"
"Perhaps!" I had to agree with a sigh.
"But if the circumstances ever change in my favour," Eagle went on, his
pleasant face hardening into grimness, "and I can get revenge without
putting myself in the wrong, God help Vandyke!"
"I hope He _won't_ help him, when that time comes!" I exclaimed. "And I
believe it will come. Something often tells me so--tells me that I----"
"That you--what?" Eagle prompted me as I broke off.
"That I shall have some hand in the--the retribution, whatever it may
be. It's what I always pray for."
Eagle gazed straight at me, with eyes which had changed sadly since the
day they first met mine in the Wardour Street shop. I had thought them
full of romance and dreams then. Their look was harder and older now,
the look of a man who has been down very near to the gates of hell, and
by desperate fighting has battled his way up the heights again, but not
so high as to forget the red glare that singed his eyeballs. My heart
ached, because it seemed impossible that the peace of dreams and romance
could ever come back. I was glad--glad, that Eagle's heart hadn't
softened toward Sidney Vandyke, who was as bitterly his enemy to-night
as ever; but I was sorrowful because the beautiful youth of a man's soul
had been scorched in the furnace fire.
"I can't bear to think your friendship for me should harden or embitter
you, Peggy," Eagle said. "Nothing is worth that! I oughtn't to talk to
you as I've been talking now. I shan't again. Forgive me, and forget.
Help _me_ to forget! Forgetfulness is the best thing that can happen to
me now. I realize that in my sensible moments. But it's hard to be
sensible always."
How I wished I could help him even in so small and humble a fashion! At
least, I could try to draw his thoughts away for the moment from the
unhealed wound violently torn open. It was a temptation to dwell on it,
to look at it and feed my anger; but on his wistful hint I threw the
temptation off. Instead of returning to our interrupted talk of his
adventures as I wished to do, I answered Eagle's questions about life at
"The Haven," and told him pathetic or funny stories of our refugees.
"I'm getting to be quite a weird combination of Red Cross nurse,
nursery-governess, and nursemaid," I said. "I really ought to design
some special sort of costume suited to my _métier_, but I've never had
time to think one out yet! Meanwhile, I wear a badge which keeps up my
courage, and gives me back my strength whenever I'm tired. You couldn't
guess what it is!"
"The flag of the Allies?" he ventured.
"No. The chevron you gave me when you made me your corporal. Do you
remember?"
I saw by his eyes that he was touched. A gleam of the old light flashed
into them, and brightened his smile. "Do I remember?" he echoed. "Yes, I
remember, Peggy, only too well. And I remember the day you flew with me
from Hendon in the poor old _Golden Eagle_, heaven rest her ashes! The
day when--when Lady Diana failed me, and your pluck and presence of mind
saved us both from coming to grief. I remember lots of other things
you've probably forgotten; and I use the memories for balm."
I had to look down suddenly to hide the tears that stung my eyelids. But
I winked them away in an instant, and was bracing myself to make him
laugh by mimicking the man who had introduced us: Nebuchadnezzar of
Wardour Street.
When great hothouse peaches and amethyst bunches of grapes were brought
by the footman, I knew that soon Princess Sanzanow would smile at the
French duchess, and we should all troop away to leave the men. I was
sure that Eagle would not join the ladies conventionally in the
drawing-room, and I did not want that summons to mean a long good-bye. I
asked hastily, therefore, if he would come and see me and the Miss
Splatchleys and our Belgians at "The Haven," when he had grown a little
stronger.
"I'm strong enough now," he said. "Write to-morrow to tell me when I may
come, and let it be soon, for the minute I'm fit I shall go back to the
front, of course."
"Of course," I repeated firmly, though my heart felt as if it had been
squeezed by a mailed fist. "I will write the first thing in the morning,
and send you a formal, written invitation from dear Miss Emma and Miss
Jane."
"Do. My address is 21a Whitehall Court. You won't forget, will you?"
"No, I won't forget," I assured him, with a secret smile.
"Because I shall beg the princess as she passes to forgive me if I go
without bidding her farewell in the drawing-room. Being a bit of a crock
still gives me a good excuse, and--she'll understand and be glad to be
rid of me."
Even as he spoke, the signal I'd been expecting was given by our
hostess. We all rose, smiling at our neighbours, and the men stood while
we women trailed to the door. I, being last of all the guests, saw the
princess pause as Captain March took a step forward; and I knew that he
was bidding her farewell.
Then I went on, and in the drawing-room found Di waiting to pounce,
anger for me in her eyes, a smile for everybody else on her lips.
"How dared you!" she whispered. "How _dared_ you treat that man as if he
were your best friend!"
"Because he is," I answered bluntly.
"Then you're no friend of ours! Sidney and I will _never_ forgive you
for this night--trying to put us both in the wrong as you have!"
"It's an honour not to be forgiven for that," I flung back at her. "Now
I'm going to tell the princess that I have to get back early to my
Belgians, and I shall have a taxi called to take me away because, after
this, I can't even accept from Sidney a lift in his motor."
"You must accept it," whispered Diana furiously, "if only to take the
things we're giving you out of his house. It _is_ his house, you know;
and though you're my sister, I can't expect him to ask you into it again
as a visitor, after your deliberate insult to us both to-night. Your
being no more than a child has excused some things, but it can't excuse
this; for you haven't acted like a child. You've acted like a malicious
woman, and--I think we've reached the end."
"I think so, too," I replied. "Don't be afraid. I shan't trouble either
of you after to-night. I'll not go in your motor, but I'll go to your
house and fetch my trunk. As for the things you were giving to the
refugees, I'll take them or not, as you like."
"I'd like to have the rubbish out of the way and see the last of it,"
said Diana; and looked as if she would gladly see the last of me.
I apologized prettily to the princess, explaining how early were the
hours of "The Haven," and how much there was to do there. She forgave me
with all her gracious charm, pressing my hand as if to show her
gratitude for a certain incident which could not be mentioned in words;
and five minutes later I was spinning alone in a taxi toward Park Lane.