A Last Walk and a Last Appeal
Monday, of course, meant the breaking up of the party and the conclusion
of Nina's mission. She had done what she could and she was delighted to
think that for once in her misguided career she had actually performed a
service not wholly selfish.
As Carleigh emerged from the breakfast-room, where he and his aunt were
among the last, Lady Bellingdown slipped her arm through his, saying:
"Well, my dear boy, we've done you good, haven't we?"
He glanced back over his shoulder to indicate whom he had in mind--for
Nina had come down but a minute before--last of all--and said, smiling:
"She's a wonder."
"Isn't she? Doesn't she say the most startling things? She's a bomb made
animate."
"One is always wondering what will come next," he declared. "I'm
wondering it just now."
As he proposed it himself, he might very easily have foreseen it without
waste of speculation. They took a long walk--the last of their series of
long walks.
"And now," said lover to loved as they went at swinging pace through the
park, the staghound as usual at their heels, "where do you go next?"
"Carfen," she answered. "Just beyond the border of Carlisle."
"I know them," he announced delightedly. "I'll get myself asked."
But Nina shook her head. "Don't," she adjured. "Because if you do, I'll
leave."
He stopped short in his stride. "In Heaven's name, why?" he asked, his
astonishment and dismay undisguised.
"Because I will not have you ruined with your fiancee," was her calm
answer.
"My dear girl, I have no fiancee. That's all over."
"Oh, no, it isn't."
"Oh, yes, it is."
She freed the hand he had been holding and then slipped it into his
again. Then they walked on.
"Love's never over," she observed wisely. "You'll only care the more for
her later." Then she raised her eyes and beheld him deeply crimson.
"With me it's all over," he declared in a voice that shook with mingled
feelings. "You don't know of what you speak. It couldn't possibly be
made up. I couldn't marry her. I couldn't possibly live in the house
with--with--" He stopped short.
"It will straighten out," said Nina calmly. "Such things do, you know."
"Not this kind. Wait--look!" He opened his coat, thrust his hand within,
and drew a jewel from some hidden pocket. It was a ring which he held
out to her.
She took it from him, and her eyes opened very wide. For a brief space
she gazed at him pensively and silently.
"Of what are you thinking?" he asked.
"I was wondering if you had it always with you."
"Always."
"Does your man transfer it from one suit to another?"
He had not expected just that question, but he repeated himself.
"Always," he said a bit stiffly, and added: "Do you want it?"
"Her ring?" she cried with an arrogant little laugh. "No, indeed."
He looked at her and then at the ring in her fingers. It was a rather
remarkable pearl, surrounded by faintly bluish diamonds.
"Pearls mean tears," she said.
"Then throw it away!" he commanded irritably. "I don't want it, either."
He saw her, without another word, toss it off into the forest mold. In
spite of his command he had not expected that. It gave him a start.
"Perhaps the stones were not real," she said lightly. "Were they?"
"Yes," was all that he could answer.
"What an effective bit that would make on the stage," she suggested. "A
man bidding a woman throw away a rope of pearls if she would not accept
them as a gift from him, and she taking him at his word and pitching
them into the sea."
"You are a strange creature," he commented. "Fancy chucking off a ring
in that manner!" It was very plain to be seen that he was annoyed.
"I know," she said seriously. "And I'd chuck myself away just as gaily
if it were possible to do it completely. I was on the verge of doing it
once in India. I thought anything would be better than the things that
were."
"Why didn't you, then?"
"I couldn't. I was prevented. My whole life was changed again at that
very instant."
"And what happened?"
"The man I was going to chuck myself away on cut his throat."
Carleigh gasped. "Killed himself?"
"Not quite," Nina answered coolly. "He was prevented, too. But he
carries the scar. Every time he shaves he must think of me."
"My dear girl," he remonstrated. He was still thinking of the ring. It
was of such value that he began to question whether she was quite in her
right mind. "You do let one in for thrilling experiences. That I must
say."
"Now as then," she admitted, stopping short. "I've been very horrid,"
turning her head until her eyes looked directly into his. "I'm not just
myself to-day. I don't know why I threw your pearl away. Come back with
me and I'll pick it up."
"Can you find it, do you think?" he asked, palpably pleased.
"Of course. I threw it on the bare roots. I meant to pick it up on our
way back."
He was smiling now, as transparent as any schoolboy. "You are most
awfully odd, you know," he said, vastly solaced. "But if we pick it up,
you must let me put it on."
"No, no."
"Yes, yes."
"Well, if you insist. But it will mean nothing."
When they reached the spot both looked searchingly about. Carleigh went
down on his knees and soiled his sensitive hands delving among the bare
roots. Nina tossed aside bits of mold with the toe of her boot. But the
ring was not found.
"Never mind; it's been a thrilling experience. You said so yourself,"
she remarked lightly. "And it isn't every day that a man gets a really
new sensation, you know. And that was utterly new to you, I'm sure."
But Carleigh was far from accepting it with the same indifference. He
made an effort to appear nonchalant, but throughout the rest of their
walk he again and again relapsed into silence. The loss of the ring
would not be kept down.
When finally they returned to Bellingdown it was to find the house full
of smoke. The party lunched in the murk, choking between bites.
"That chimney always draws badly," her ladyship informed everyone with
the utmost calm.
Then all the doors were opened, and they had coffee in the
billiard-room.
Carleigh ate no luncheon and drank no coffee.
"They've had trouble," whispered Lady Grey to Kneedrock significantly,
as they stood together by one of the billiard-room windows. "See!" she
added, pointing. "He's been walking alone. I do wonder if he really did
offer himself and if she really did refuse him."
Carleigh came in a few moments later, and he was evidently depressed.
"I'm perfectly sure she refused him," Lady Grey decided. But Kneedrock
only shrugged his broad, burly shoulders.
Carleigh had been to search more carefully for the ring. But he had not
succeeded. And now it came to him gloomily that should he ever renew
his engagement with Rosamond Veynol--of course he had no intention of
doing so; but if he ever should--he would have to invent some lie and
tell it her.
Still, losing the ring--and losing it under such very unpleasant
conditions--was the first circumstance that had ever presented the
possibility of a renewal to him in a concrete form.
After he had gone up to his room Nina rose from the deep seat where she
had been buried in the current _Revue des Deux Mondes_, and crossed to
where Nibbetts--Charlotte Grey having left him--now stood alone by the
window, staring out over the desolate garden.
"I want to speak to you, Hal," she said earnestly, and turning, saw that
the others--all in a waiting mood, as they were about to go--were
clustered before the fire. "I want to speak to you, seriously," she
emphasized, and laid a hand on his arm.
"It's no use, Nina," he returned roughly, shaking off the plaintive
hand. "I am the one man you can't cajole. Don't touch me."
But she still stood there, her eyes downcast. "I want to be good, Hal,"
she declared, her tone all contrition. "You know how hard I try. I'm
trying uncommonly hard this time; but he's so tempting.
"Please do me a favor. I'm not asking much. I'm not really. Chain him
up, won't you? Don't--oh, don't let him follow me. No good can come of
it. He'll never go back to them if I spoil him any more. Interfere. You
can if you will. Do--please, do!"
A look of utter disgust spread over the man's face.
"You make me so devilish angry," he growled below his breath. "One
expects this kind of thing from men. But not from women."
"Men go a bit further than I do," she rejoined. "But never mind that. I
beg you to do something. Disable him, why don't you? It will be a mercy
to us all. He isn't strong enough to stand it, you know. Take him away,
at least."
Kneedrock hunched his great shoulders. "The weakling!" It was as if the
word were an oath. "And you! Weaker still, yet filled to the brim with
the very devil."
"I know I'm bad," she said, in the simplest possible way. "But it's not
my fault, Hal. It's the spoiled joy that was never allowed. I'm all for
love, and I've never had it. That's all."
"Love!" he sneered with bitterest contempt. "What rot for you to speak
of love! Poor Darling, with his brains blown out! The silly ass! I
wonder he doesn't--" He had meant to say "haunt you," but he stopped
short.
"He does," she replied, quite as if he had finished. "But live men do it
more. Listen, Hal--rough as you are you've always been very good to me.
Only you and I know how good. Be good again. Take him away. Otherwise I
can't promise, and--you know I can't marry him."
"Why don't you marry him, damn it?" he asked cruelly.
She looked up into his face wistfully. "Why don't I?" and there was a
quaver in her voice. "Ah, why don't I?"
He made no answer.
"Love is the only safeguard that I have," she continued. "If I didn't
love--" she paused.
"Couldn't Carleigh hold you to--to something?"
"Nothing could hold me."
"Oh, hell!" growled the honorable viscount with excessive force.
She smiled serenely. "You will get him away, I know. He's such a boy.
You'll do that for me, won't you, Hal?"
"His grace's car," announced the butler, quietly. And the duke started
up, loquaciously, as usual.
"I say, we must be getting on. Good-by, old man! I have enjoyed myself.
Good-by, Lady Bellingdown! Come, Doody! Good-by, Lady Grey! Come, Doody!
Good-by, Wally! Good-by, Nibbetts! Good-by! Good-by! Good-by! I say,
Doody, we must be getting on."
For answer to Nina's question, Kneedrock turned on his heel and strolled
after the departing duke and duchess.
* * * * *
Later the viscount came upon Carleigh in the smoking-room.
"I'm glad of this," he said, taking a chair near him. "I want to talk
with you. I suppose you've said good-by to Mrs. Darling."
Sir Caryll was looking white and disturbed. "I didn't see her," he
returned a little thickly. "I'd no idea she was leaving so soon."
"That's her way," Kneedrock made clear. "It isn't polite, or kind, or
considerate. But it's her way. I don't know why others put up with it,
I'm sure. It's enough that I know why I do."
Carleigh didn't seem to be listening.
"She asked me to say something to you," the other man went on, picking
up a copy of the _Tatler_ and fingering its leaves. "Something rather
nasty. But I said that I'd say it." He could lie perfectly.
"Something rather nasty?" repeated Sir Caryll, staring.
It happened fortunately that they were quite alone.
"Yes"--Kneedrock nodded--"just that. She wants me to carry you off. You
see she's singular when it comes to men. She likes new ones. Nothing
like the _Tour de Nesle_, of course; but just the novelty of the open
play amuses her. You see, you have had your turn. That's the long and
short of it. She's tired. She wants you to go away."
For a little Carleigh seemed turned to stone. "But she's gone herself,"
he said finally.
"Oh, yes. Of course she's gone. But you'll follow. Everybody does. I
did. And she doesn't want that."
"How do you know?"
"She told me she doesn't. Besides, I know Mrs. Darling. Come, now, you'd
better regard her wishes. I've a box of my own six miles from here, and
I'm starting in a few minutes. Say you'll join me. I'll tell you some
things, and it will be your salvation."
He paused and waited, but the younger man was still dazed.
"You'll make that other affair straight and marry some day if you break
this off while you can. But if you don't stop you'll damage yourself
badly. Take my word."
"And she asked you to say this to me?" It was an awful blow to the
young baronet's pride. He couldn't quite believe it.
"She did. And it's nothing new for me, either. I'm quite used to saying
this sort of thing to friends of hers. It's an old story.
"They had her down to divert your mind and bring you to your senses.
She's done it, and now she's through. She's bothered with you until
she's tired. A man doesn't last her very long."
Sir Caryll's face turned quickly crimson purple. "I've bored her, you
mean?" he questioned in a tone of scorching outrage.
"Well, yes, since you put it that way," answered Kneedrock. "Or,
perhaps, she's getting too fond of you. We'll never know the truth. No
one knows the truth about a single thing in connection with her."
He held up his left hand and showed a nasty scar near the wrist between
thumb and forefinger.
"Nobody knows just how I happened to get that, for example, except her.
Nobody knows about her husband's death. I know that I'm generally
supposed to have shot him. But I didn't. I wouldn't shoot a husband--too
risky business nowadays. _Autres temps, autres moeurs._"
"Good God!" cried Caryll Carleigh.
"I don't blame you," the honorable viscount said with a sympathetic
emphasis that was most unusual for him. "I know how rough it is for you
just after your other scrape. But women are made that way."
The younger man lifted his eyes in appeal to the elder.
"Do you understand her, or anything about her?" he asked with pathetic
simplicity.
Kneedrock shook his head.
"Come with me," he urged, putting down his paper as he spoke. "Come with
me. I'll put you up for a couple of days and you can think it over."
"The duchess has asked me to Puddlewood on Thursday," came the reply, a
bit heavily.
"That will be quite all right. Fits in fine."
There was a little pause and Sir Caryll got up and moved uneasily toward
the window. There, with his back turned, he halted, shifting his weight
nervously from foot to foot and pulling at his mustache.
"It's no use," Kneedrock flung after him. "No use at all. She will never
marry. She will never marry any one. She couldn't put up with it, don't
you know."
Carleigh turned sharply about. "Did she ever kiss _you_?" he cried.
"Could _you_ forget it?"
"Kiss me!" calmly and indifferently. "My dear boy, of course she did.
She thinks no more of kisses than other women do of touching finger-tips
and saying: 'How are you?' She doesn't take osculation seriously, old
chap."
Then there was another pause.
At its end Carleigh, speaking very low, said: "Thanks, my dear fellow.
You've done your best and I'm grateful. But--I think I'll follow her."
And he did.