Eileen slept little. The dramatic possibilities of the interview with
Colonel Doherty were too agitating and too numerous. This time the
marionette-play needed writing. Who should receive him when he called?
Eileen O'Keeffe or Nelly O'Neill?
Either possibility offered exquisite comedy.
Eileen--as plain as possible--with a high, black dress, drooped lids,
stiffly brushed hair, even eyeglasses perhaps, with a deportment redolent
of bread-and-butter and five-finger exercises, could perhaps disenchant
him sufficiently to make him moderate his matrimonial ardour, even to
hurry off apologetically to his serio-comic Circe round the corner. What
a triumph of acting if she could drive him to her rival! Then as he went
through the door--to loosen her hair, throw off her glasses and whistle
him back to Nelly O'Neill!
The part was tempting; it bristled with opportunities. But it was also
too trying. He might begin by taking lover's liberties, and the strain of
repulsing him would be too great. Besides, she wasn't clear how to play
the opening of the scene. But then there was another star part open to
her.
Nelly O'Neill's _role_ was much easier: it played itself. She had only
to go on with the episode. And the way the episode went on would also
serve to determine finally her attitude when the moment came to throw off
the mask and turn to governess. The only difficult moment would be the
first--to obfuscate him immediately with the notion that he had mixed up
the two addresses. Even if she failed and he realised his ghastlier
blunder, it would only precipitate the dramatic duel which she must face
sooner or later. All these high-strung possibilities deadened the
horrible pain she knew her soul held for her, as soldiers carry wounds to
be felt when the charge is over. She fell asleep near morning, her battle
planned, and slept late, a sleep full of strange dreams, in one of which
her drunken father counted her, and couldn't decide how many she was.
"It's two I am, father asthore, only two, Eileen and Nelly," she kept
crying. But he counted on.
Towards four in the afternoon she posted herself at the window. It was
absolutely necessary to the comedy that she should open the door to him
herself. At last a cab containing him halted at the door. She
flew down, just supplanting the butler.
"How good of you, Colonel!" she cried. "But where is the Major?"
It was exquisitely calculated. She had pulled the string and the
marionette moved with precision. A daze, a flash, a stammer--all the
embarrassment of a man who believes that in a day-dream he has given
a second address first.
"Miss--Miss O'Neill," he stuttered, mechanically removing his hat.
"Nelly to my friends," she smiled fascinatingly. "Come in!" Christopher
Sly was not more bewildered when he opened his eyes on the glories of his
Court.
"What--what is this address?" he blurted, as she prisoned him by closing
the door.
"Why?... Oh, I know. Ha! ha! ha! You've come to the Crescent instead of
the Terrace."
"That confounded cabman! I'm sure I told him the Terrace."
"Don't swear. He's more accustomed to the Crescent. So many pros coming
home late, and all that!"
He hesitated at the foot of the stairs. "I really think I ought to call
there first...."
Now all the coquette in Nelly O'Neill rose to detain him, subtly tangled
with the actress. She pouted adorably. "Oh, now you're here, can't you
put her second for once?"
"I didn't say it was a _her_."
"A she," corrected the governess, instinctively. Nelly hastened to add,
"No man leaves a woman for a man."
"This is such an old appointment," he pleaded in distress.
"I see. You want to be off with the old love before you are on with the
new."
"Nothing of the kind, I assure you."
"What! Not even the new?"
"Oh, that part!" He smiled and followed her up. "You won't mind my going
soon?"
"The sooner the better if you talk like that!" She threw open the door of
her little sitting-room. How well the Show was going!
"A soda and whisky, Colonel? I suppose that's your idea of tea." She
had the scene ready. She had got it all up like a little play, writing
down the articles on a sheet of paper headed "Property List": "Cigars,
cigarettes, syphons, spirits, sporting-papers," all borrowed from Master
Harold Lee Carter to entertain a visitor.
But at the height of the play's prosperity, while the Colonel clinked
tumblers with Nelly, came a _contretemps_, and all the farce darkened
swiftly to drama as the gay landscape is overgloomed by a thundercloud.
It all came from Mrs. Lee Carter's benevolent fussiness, her interest in
the man who had come to marry her governess. A servant knocked at the
door, stuck her head in, and said, "Mrs. Lee Carter's compliments, and
would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you," said Eileen, hurriedly.
But as the door closed, the Colonel's glass fell to the ground, and he
rose to his feet. His bronzed face was working wildly.
"Mrs. Lee Carter!" he gasped. "You--you are Eileen!"
"Here's a mess," she said coolly, stooping to wipe up the carpet.
"Eileen! Explain!" he said piteously.
"It's you that ought to be explaining. I've all I can do to pick up the
nasty little bits of glass."
"My brain reels. Who _are_ you? What _are_ you? For God's sake."
"Hush! Who are _you_? What are _you_?"
"I know what I was--your lover."
"Whose? Mine or Nelly's?"
"Good God, Eileen! You saw how anxious I was to get to you. That I was
subtly drawn to Nelly is only a proof of how you were in my blood. But
you're not really Nelly O'Neill. This is some stupid practical joke.
Don't torture me longer."
"It tortures you that I should be Nelly O' Neill!" All the confessed
sweetness of her position came up into clear consciousness: the lights,
the laughter, the very smell of the smoke endeared by a thousand
triumphs. How dared he speak of Nelly O'Neill as though she couldn't be
touched with a pitchfork! Yes, and Bob Maper, too--her anger ricocheted
to him--with his priggish notions of saving her from black bogs! And
who was it that now stood over her like a fuddled accusing angel? She
pulled out his letter and read viciously:--
"'A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.'"
"I was dying to rush to you--you wouldn't see me. And the Major dragged
me--"
"Through all that mud? All those Indian escapades?"