‘Are you living,’ he repeated, ‘or--or--dead?’
In the excitement of his subsequent conversation with Lady Ilfracombe
he had forgotten the suspicions she had communicated to him with regard
to this woman, and now stood before her, dazed and trembling. Men who
are given to drinking are always terribly afraid of the supernatural.
‘Don’t alarm yourself,’ replied Nell scornfully, ‘I am alive.’
‘_Alive!_ Then Lady Ilfracombe was correct when she assured me she had
met you. Though she had never seen you before, your description tallied
so exactly with the girl she saw here that she felt certain you must be
the same person.’
‘She was right,’ said Nell quietly.
‘And how did it all happen?’ asked Jack Portland eagerly. ‘You will
forgive my curiosity, when you remember that your death was not only
currently reported, but, as it was supposed, proved beyond a doubt.
We--that is, Ilfracombe and all your friends--felt your loss very much.
It was terrible for us to think you had come to so sad an end. You will
believe so much, will you not?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘But you are standing, Miss Llewellyn; pray sit down. You will not
be afraid to bestow a few moments on me in order to satisfy my great
curiosity. Tell me first, how is it we find you here?’
‘That is easily accounted for, Mr Portland. Usk is my native place. I
was born at Panty-cuckoo Farm. Mr and Mrs Llewellyn are my father and
mother. So it was only natural, when I lost the home I thought was
mine, that I should return to them.’
‘But how was it that the rumour of your death became so widely
circulated?’
‘Oh, don’t talk of that,’ she said wearily. ‘I _did_ throw myself into
the water. I thought it would be better for all concerned, myself
especially; but some well-meaning people pulled me out again, and when
I found that the world believed me to be gone, I thought it just as
well not to undeceive it. That is all. Of course I had no idea you
would ever come here, or meet me again. As it is, all I wish is that
you should leave Usk without betraying my secret to my parents.’
‘You may depend on me, Miss Llewellyn,’ said Portland. ‘But does
Ilfracombe know of your proximity?’
A gleam of pleasure lighted up her features.
‘Yes. I met him yesterday, quite by accident, and he was as surprised
to see me as you are. But he was glad--very glad.’
(‘Hullo!’ thought Jack to himself; ‘then this accounts for his sudden
determination to go?’)
But aloud he said,--
‘Of course he would be, as we all are. And now, may I ask what you were
doing in my room, Miss Llewellyn?’
‘Yes,’ she answered boldly. ‘I came down here in your absence to see if
I could find the packet of letters which you refused to give to Lady
Ilfracombe.’
‘The packet of letters!’ he exclaimed, completely startled out of his
usual prudence. How can you know anything about her letters? Who can
have told you?’
‘No one has told me. My bedroom window is up there, and I overheard
you talking to her to-night. I did not miss a single word of your
conversation.’
‘By George!’ cried Portland. ‘Well, then, there would be no use in my
disguising the matter. She has been a horrid little flirt; but there’s
no harm about her now. Understand that plainly.’
‘Then why did you tempt her to meet you here to-night? You must know
what a rupture it would make between her and the earl if it became
known?’
‘I shall take good care it does not get known. But I want to pay her
out for her past conduct to me. She is the sort of lady that it is as
well to keep the whip hand over.’
‘When you want to make money out of her husband. Yes; I understand
perfectly. So you have not let poor Ilfracombe out of your clutches
yet, Mr Portland. How much longer is he to be fleeced?’
‘You speak boldly, Miss Llewellyn; but, if I remember rightly, you
always used to do so.’
‘In _his_ cause, yes.’
‘And so you meant to steal my property, eh? and restore it to her
ladyship?’
‘If it were possible. But I begin to be afraid you spoke the truth when
you said the letters were not here. They are not in the dispatch-box,
at all events. Oh, Mr Portland, if you have them, do give them to me.’
‘In order that your heartless little rival--the woman who has
supplanted you with Ilfracombe--may go scot-free? What do you suppose
she will do for you in return? What she has already done--persuaded her
husband to leave Usk at once. They go to-morrow!’
Nell drew a long breath.
‘To-morrow? Oh, that is soon. Nevertheless let her have back her
letters, Mr Portland, if only in return for all the kindness _he_
has shown you. You could never use them against her. It would be
impossible; and withholding them might urge her on to confide the
matter to her husband, which would mean a break-up of your long
intimacy with him.’
‘By Jove! you are an eloquent pleader, Nell!’ exclaimed her companion,
looking at her admiringly, ‘and there’s more good in your little finger
than in her ladyship’s whole body. You’re doing this for Ilfracombe’s
sake, I can spot that fast enough; but if you believe all her
protestations about loving him you are easily gulled. She cares for no
one but herself; she never did; but she’s in a mortal fright lest I
should peach and make ructions between them. Which there would be, I
can assure you, when I tell you that if it were in my power, I would
not marry the woman who wrote such letters as I have in my possession.
By George! you should see them. They would make your eyes open. You
would not have written such epistles to save your life.’
‘Perhaps not,’ she answered quietly. ‘Letter-writing was never much in
my line. But if what you say is true, it is all the more necessary that
they should be destroyed. Give them to me, Mr Portland, I implore you,
for the old time’s sake.’
‘Do you know what you are asking, Miss Llewellyn? To be allowed to do
the best turn in your power (or the power of anyone) to the woman who
inveigled Ilfracombe from you; to make a heartless, reckless girl, who
is only afraid of imperilling her position in society, at her ease for
evermore; to set her free to bamboozle some other man as she bamboozled
me.’
‘Oh, no, no. I do not believe that. She loves her husband. You might
hear it in the very tone of her voice.’
‘_The very tone of her voice!_’ echoed Jack Portland sneeringly. ‘What
a judge of character you must be. Why, Nora Ilfracombe is a thorough
actress, and can change her voice at will. How Ilfracombe can ever have
been so infatuated as to make her his countess beats me. And to see him
lolling on the sofa by her side, and devouring her with his eyes is
sickening. He’s over head and ears in love with her, and she wants to
keep him at her feet. That’s the long and the short of it.’
‘But you told her just now that it was _I_ whom he loved,’ cried Nell
quickly.
‘Did I? That was only to make her ladyship waxey. Ilfracombe has
forgotten all about you long ago--’
‘I--I--think you are mistaken,’ replied Nell in a constrained tone;
‘but you cannot blame the countess for wishing to keep him as much with
her as possible. And--and--since it is all over for you and me, Mr
Portland--since you have lost _her_, and I have lost _him_--would it
not be better and nobler to leave them alone for the future, and put no
obstacle in the way of their happiness?’
‘And what would you do with the packet of letters if I did deliver them
over to you?’
‘I would take them to her at once and give them her on the promise that
she would never be so foolish as to meet you secretly again.’
‘And you think she would thank you--that she would be grateful?’
‘_He_ would, if he knew it,’ she replied.
‘Ah, it’s all for _him_ still, though he cast you off, like a worn-out
glove. You women are inexplicable creatures. It seems to me that the
worse you are treated the closer you stick.’
‘Never mind that. Will you give me the letters?’
‘I will, on one condition.’
‘What is it?’
‘Nell, do you remember what I said to you once in Grosvenor Square and
you were so angry with me for saying? I knew then that Ilfracombe was
contemplating marriage, and that you would be left without a home, and
I loved you. Yes, you may stare as you like, but it is the truth. Such
love as it is in my nature to feel, I have felt, and do feel, for you.
I admire you--not only personally, but your courage, your pride, your
determination. I admire the ease with which you accepted your equivocal
position under Ilfracombe’s roof--the humility with which you deferred
to his will, even when it came to leaving you alone in London for four
months whilst he gallivanted after Miss Nora Abinger.’
‘Oh, spare me, Mr Portland, spare me!’ cried Nell,’let the past alone,
it is too painful a recollection to me. I know I was furious with you.
I had a right to be, but my high spirits are all gone. If it were so, I
should not stay to listen now.’
‘But I am not going to say one word that the most virtuous matron in
England might not hear. I repeat that you are the only woman for whom
I have ever experienced any genuine feeling, and if you really want
to save your late friend from a very painful humiliation (which will
inevitably come some day, by the exhibition of those letters), I will
give them to you to do with as you will--if you will marry me.’
‘_What?_’ she exclaimed, starting backward.
‘I mean what I say. I know that my former proposal was a different one,
but I have altered my mind since them. I offer to marry you--to give
you my name, which is, at all events, that of a gentleman, though I’m
afraid a rather shady one, and--Lady Ilfracombe’s letters.’
‘But Mr Portland, you do not know what you are asking. My heart is
not the least changed since those days. Ilfracombe’s conduct--his
marriage--have made no difference to me. I wish they had. I wish I
had got over my trouble, and could go to you, or any man, with a clear
conscience and say, “I love you.” But I cannot, I never shall. My
soul is bound up in that of Ilfracombe. He is _my_ husband--not that
woman’s. I think of him every day; pray for him every night by that
name. I know he has deserted me, but I have never deserted him, and
there were reasons in his case that made marriage a necessity. It has
not destroyed his love for me; that is as true and strong as ever. And
it would be impossible to me, whilst his love lasts, to be any other
man’s wife.’
‘Who told you that Ilfracombe loves you still--that is, if he ever
loved you.’
‘He told me so himself, only last night when we met in the meadow. He
said he wished he had married me when he felt disposed to do it, years
ago.’
‘If he said that, he’s a scoundrel and a liar,’ cried Jack Portland.
‘Mr Portland, how dare you speak so? No one shall call Lord Ilfracombe
such names in my presence. He was never dishonest or untrue. He was
always the best and kindest and most generous of men to me--just as you
heard his wife say this evening--and whoever speaks against him must be
my enemy.’
‘I am not that,’ replied Jack Portland. ‘Now, look here, Miss
Llewellyn. The facts are these: Ilfracombe, whatever he may have
said to you is simply infatuated with his wife. He defers to her
will--follows her about like a lamb with a blue ribbon round its
neck--and obeys her in everything. No one who sees him can help
observing how madly in love he is. That is my hold over her. Ilfracombe
loses a great deal of money to me. I don’t deny it. His money is
useful to me, and it is in my power to ruin him if I choose. Indeed I
have done a little that way already. Two years ago in Malta I met his
wife, then Nora Abinger, and had a pretty hot flirtation with her.
There was no real harm in it, but there was not much bloom left on the
plum for the next comer, and she compromised herself in so many ways
that no prejudiced person would think our acquaintanceship had been
an innocent one. A case of circumstantial evidence, certainly, but
so are most cases that end fatally for the actors in them. Well, to
speak plainly, this is how I stand with the earl and countess. I could
ruin them both to-morrow if I chose, and it is for you to render me
harmless--draw the dragon’s teeth, in fact, and transform him into a
lamb.’
Nell had grown very white as Portland alluded to Ilfracombe’s affection
for his wife, but still she shook her head and repeated,--
‘I couldn’t--indeed, I couldn’t’
‘When I spoke to you last,’ persisted Portland, ‘things were quite
different. Then you expected your lover to return to you any day, and
you were horrified at the idea of stepping from one equivocal position
to another. Now all is changed. Ilfracombe will never live with you
again. You are sure of that. He has left you unprotected, and thrown
you back upon a life for which he unfitted you without any prospects
for the future--a ruined woman, yet with all the instincts of a lady.
And I offer you marriage--an honest position if nothing else, and a
return to some of the luxuries of life to which you have been so long
accustomed. Is it not worth thinking over?’
Nell looked at Jack Portland steadily. She had always hated and
despised him, and never more so than at the present moment--but he held
the fate of Ilfracombe in his hands. He could ruin his fortunes and
destroy his domestic happiness--and he put it in her power to save him.
What if she could do it? Would it be a greater sacrifice than flinging
herself into the water had been? Could it be a crueller fate than
that which she endured now? Could anything--even marriage with Jack
Portland, prove more bitter than her present existence and the bare
outlook for the future?
‘What security would you give me--in case of my complying with your
proposal--that my sacrifice would not be wasted, that you would not
continue to lead Ilfracombe into extravagance and folly until you had
ruined him?’
‘Your best security would lie in the possession of her ladyship’s
letters,’ was the reply. ‘She has such a wholesome dread of my
producing them at present that she dares not influence her husband to
give up my acquaintance. But Madam Nora hates me too genuinely to delay
setting her own machinery in motion one minute after she knows she has
no more to fear from me. Set your mind at ease on that score, Miss
Llewellyn. The whole matter lies in a nutshell--my possession of those
letters. They are the locks of Samson--the heel of Achilles. Once take
them out of my hands and I am powerless to harm--my vulnerable spot is
found.’
‘Tell me all your conditions,’ continued Nell in a low voice.
Jack Portland’s eyes glistened as he exclaimed eagerly,--
‘They shall not be difficult ones, my dear. If you will consent to come
with me and be married at the registrar’s office the letters are yours.’
‘No, no, I will not trust you, Mr Portland. I must have the letters
first.’
‘I have greater faith than you have. I believe I _can_ trust you. You
are too noble a woman to deceive me.’
‘If I say I will marry you I will marry you. You may rely on that. My
worst enemies never called me a liar. But I promise nothing more.’
‘I ask for nothing more,’ replied Mr Portland. ‘Come, I will make a
bargain with you, Nell. I will ride into Newport to-morrow morning and
get the licence. We must give them twenty-four hours’ notice; and the
next day we will be married, and as soon as the ceremony is over the
letters shall be placed in your hand. Will that satisfy you?’
‘No; I must be allowed to examine them first, to make sure they are the
original ones, and I must have your attestation in writing that you
have never received any others from Miss Abinger, and that if at any
time such should crop up they will be forgeries. Else how can I be
sure that it--it--might not all be in vain?’
‘You know how to drive a hard bargain, Nell, but I agree. Give me
yourself, and I am willing to give up everything on earth in exchange.
So it is a bargain then. To-morrow, or rather to-day (for the dawn is
breaking), is Thursday, and to-morrow, Friday, will be our wedding day.’
‘An unlucky day,’ said Nell, with a slight shiver. ‘But I have not
promised yet. You must give me till this afternoon to think it over, Mr
Portland. It has been too hurried a proposal.’
‘Oh, come, I say, that’s too bad. You’ve as good as said you’d consent.
I’m in downright earnest, Nell, ‘pon my soul I am, and as far as in
me lies I’ll make you a good husband. Now don’t be afraid. I know you
never had a great opinion of me, but I’m going to reform now, on my
word I am, and turn over a new leaf if you’ll only help me. Come now,
say it’s a settled thing.’
‘Not till this afternoon,’ she reiterated. ‘Be here at two o’clock, and
I will give you my final answer then. But only under the conditions
I have named. I must have the letters beforehand to examine, and the
assurance that you have kept none of them back, and then you shall
deliver them to me in the registrar’s office. On no other terms will I
meet you there.’
‘All right, I agree to them. But now you had better go, or Lennox may
come rushing in. Good-night. Are you not going to kiss me before you
leave?’
Nell shook her head.
‘There will be time for that afterwards,’ she said gravely. ‘And don’t
forget, Mr Portland, that I have held back nothing from you to-night,
and that I come to you with no disguise. You have seen into my heart.
If you elect to buy an empty casket don’t blame the seller.’
‘I shall blame no one and nothing,’ he replied. ‘I am only too pleased
to get you on any terms. I see you do not believe me when I say I love
you, and have loved you all along. You think such a word from my lips
a sacrilege, but still it is true, and I shall try to make you love me
in return. I am a wild, reckless, perhaps dishonourable fellow, but I
have one soft spot in my heart, and that is for you. I shall be here
without fail at two o’clock this afternoon. Mind you have your answer
ready. And mark you, Nell,’ he continued rather fiercely, ‘if it is
“No” the fate of the Ilfracombes is sealed. I shall not be able to bear
the disappointment. I shall lay it at his door, and I will take my
revenge without delay. You understand?’
‘Yes, perfectly. And I _think_ my answer will not be “No.”’
She passed away through the narrow passage as she spoke, and Jack
Portland stood and watched her disappear with a new feeling in his
heart.
As for Nell, when she had reached the sanctuary of her own room,
her thoughts were not of this extraordinary engagement to marry--so
suddenly and unexpectedly entered into, and with all men in the world,
Jack Portland--she did not think of the sacrifice she was about to
make, and for her rival, Lady Ilfracombe. No, her whole mind was bent
on solving one question, the only thing which affected her in the whole
transaction--did Lord Ilfracombe really love his wife, as Mr Portland
said he did? What incomprehensible animals women are! She loved this
man with her whole soul. She desired his happiness and welfare above
all earthly things. She had been ready to throw her life away when she
heard he had deserted her. She was ready now, for his sake, and to
save the honour of his name, to take upon herself a marriage the very
thought of which she loathed and abhorred; but she could not bear the
idea that he was happier in his love for his wife than he had been with
her, that he had forgotten, in fact, the days which they had spent
together, or was glad that they were gone. Her inward cry still was,
‘Tell me you love me best of all the world, and the other woman can
have your title and your money.’
To hear Jack Portland expatiating on the earl’s infatuation for his
countess had been the bitterest thing Nell had yet been called upon
to bear--the motive which had made her consent, against her will, to
become his wife. But yet she did not quite believe it. She recalled
Ilfracombe’s affectionate words of the evening before, his pleasure at
meeting her again, his regret that he had not done the right thing by
her years before, and was resolved to know the truth for herself before
she finally sealed her fate by consenting to Mr Portland’s proposal.
As she cogitated thus, all in a cold tremble and flutter, Nell came
to the desperate resolve to seek an interview with the earl, and tell
him of this proposal, and ask his advice whether she should marry or
not. Then she should see, she said to herself, by his look, his manner,
his sorrow or his joy, if he loved her still. But he would not let her
marry, she felt certain of that, and smiled as she thought of it; but
then the letters, those fatal letters, what would become of him and
the countess if she declined? She sat by the window until it was time
to dress herself anew without being able to arrive at any satisfactory
conclusion.