MARRIED OR SINGLE?
NEW NOVELS AT ALL LIBRARIES.
=HEART OF OAK: A Three-Stranded Yarn.= By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 3 vols.
=THE PROFESSOR’S EXPERIMENT.= By Mrs. HUNGERFORD. 3 vols.
=THE WOMAN IN THE DARK.= By F. W. ROBINSON. 2 vols.
=THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER.= By L. T. MEADE. 3 vols.
=SONS OF BELIAL.= By WILLIAM WESTALL. 2 vols.
=LILITH.= By GEORGE MACDONALD. 1 vol.
=LADY KILPATRICK.= By ROBERT BUCHANAN. 1 vol.
=CLARENCE.= By BRET HARTE. 1 vol.
=THE IMPRESSIONS OF AUREOLE.= A Diary of To-Day. 1 vol.
=DAGONET ABROAD.= By GEORGE R. SIMS. 1 vol.
=THE KING IN YELLOW.= By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. 1 vol.
=IN THE QUARTER.= By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. 1 vol.
LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY.
MARRIED OR SINGLE?
BY
B. M. CROKER
AUTHOR OF
“DIANA BARRINGTON,” “A FAMILY LIKENESS,” ETC.
[Illustration]
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. III.
LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1895
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
CHAPTER PAGE
XXIX. “MR. WYNNE!” 1
XXX. MARRIED OR SINGLE? 11
XXXI. A FALSE ALARM 31
XXXII. MR. JESSOP’S SUGGESTION 55
XXXIII. “ONE OF YOUR GREATEST ADMIRERS” 65
XXXIV. MR. WYNNE IS A WIDOWER 83
XXXV. INFORMATION THANKFULLY RECEIVED 97
XXXVI. TO MEET THE SHAH-DA-SHAH 119
XXXVII. “GONE OFF IN HER WHITE SHOES!” 134
XXXVIII. DEATH AND SICKNESS 148
XXXIX. WHITE FLOWERS 164
XL. A FORLORN HOPE 178
XLI. “LAURENCE!” 199
XLII. WON ALREADY 218
XLIII. HEARTS ARE TRUMPS 238
MARRIED OR SINGLE?
CHAPTER XXIX.
“MR. WYNNE!”
A few days before their departure for the sunny south, Miss West,
her father, and several visitors were sitting in the drawing-room,
the tall shaded lamps were lit, the fragrant five-o’clock cup was
being dispensed by Madeline; who was not, as Lady Rachel remarked,
in her usual good spirits. Lady Rachel had thrown off her furs, she
had secured a comfortable seat in a becoming light, and was flirting
audaciously with a congenial spirit. Mrs. Leach was of course present,
and an elderly colonel, Mrs. Veryphast (a smart society matron), her
sister, and a couple of Guardsmen--quite a gathering. Mrs. Veryphast
was laughing uproariously, Mrs. Leach was solemnly comparing notes
respecting dressmakers with Mrs. Veryphast’s sister. The colonel, Mr.
West, and Lord Tony, were discussing the share list. The Guardsmen were
devoting themselves to the fair tea-maker, when the anteroom door was
flung open with a flourish, and a footman announced “Mr. Wynne!”
This name was merely that of an ordinary visitor--one of the multitude
who flocked to offer incense to his daughter, a partner and a slave, in
fact, in the ears of every one save two--Lord Tony’s, and Mrs. Wynne’s.
The latter felt as if she had been turned to stone. Had Laurence come
to make a scene? to claim her? She breathed hard, living a whole year
of anxiety in a few seconds of time. The hand that held the sugar-tongs
actually became rigid through fear. She glanced at her father. He, poor
innocent individual, was totally unconscious of the crisis, and little
supposed that the good-looking young fellow now shaking hands with
Madeline was actually his son-in-law!
“Oh, how do you do?” faltered Miss West, and raising a swift,
appealing, half-terrified look to the stranger. “Papa, let me introduce
Mr. Wynne.”
Mr. Wynne bowed, uttered a few commonplaces to the invalid, and stood
talking to him for some time.
Meanwhile, Mr. West noticed with satisfaction the air of refinement
and of blue blood (which he adored) in the visitor’s appearance and
carriage. Wynne was a good name.
No one guessed at the situation, except Lord Tony. His breath was taken
away, he looked, he gaped, he repeated the same thing four times over
to Mrs. Veryphast--who began to think that this jovial little nobleman
was a fool. To see Miss West thus calmly (it looked so at a distance)
present her husband to her father, as he afterwards expressed it,
“completely floored him.” And the old chap, innocent as an infant, and
Wynne as cool as a cucumber, as self-possessed as it was possible to be!
And then suddenly Lady Rachel turned round and saw him, and called
out in her shrill, clear voice, “Why, Mr. Wynne, is it possible! who
would have thought of seeing _you_ here? Come over and sit beside me,”
making room on the Chesterfield couch, “and amuse me.”
“I’m afraid I’m not a very amusing person,” he replied, accepting her
beringed fingers, and standing before her.
“You can be, if you like; but perhaps you now reserve all your witty
sayings for your stories. Are you writing anything at present?”
(Stereotyped question to author.)
“No, not at present,” rather stiffly.
“I did not know you knew the Wests. Maddie, dear,” raising her voice,
“you never told me that you and Mr. Wynne were acquaintances.”
Madeline affected not to hear, and stooped to pick up the tea-cosy, and
hide a face which had grown haggard; whilst Mr. West, who had gathered
that Wynne was a rising man, and that his books were getting talked
about, invited him to come and sit near him, and tell him if there was
anything going on--anything in the evening papers?
“You see, I’m still a bit of an invalid,” indicating a walking-stick;
“shaky on my pins, and not allowed to go to my club. I’ve had a very
sharp attack, and I’m only waiting till the weather is a little milder
to start for the south of France.” He had taken quite a fancy to this
Wynne (and he did not often fall in love at first sight).
Madeline looked on as she handed her husband a cup of tea, by her
parent’s orders, and was spellbound with amazement and trepidation
to see Laurence and her father, seated side by side, amiably talking
politics, both being, as it providentially happened, of the same party.
This was to her almost as startling a spectacle as if an actual
miracle had been performed in the drawing-room before her eyes.
That her attention strayed in one particular direction did not escape
Mrs. Leach’s observation. Could this be----But no, he was far too
presentable, he was evidently one of the Wynnes of Rivals Wynne; she
herself saw the strong family likeness. He was absolutely at his ease,
he scarcely noticed Miss West, though she glanced repeatedly at him,
was looking pale and agitated, talked extreme nonsense, and filled cups
at random.
No, no; this man was _not_ the mysterious friend. No such luck for
Madeline; and, if he had been, he never could have had the nerve to
walk boldly and alone into the very lion’s den. But he probably knew
the real Simon Pure, and was a go-between and messenger. Yes, that was
it. Having thus disposed of her question to her entire satisfaction,
and carefully studied Mr. Wynne, from the parting of his hair to the
buttons of his boots, she turned and exercised her fascinations on the
colonel, who was one of her sworn admirers.
Lady Rachel, who had wearied of her companion, threw him off with an
airy grace--which is one of the finest products of civilization--and,
on pretence of having a little talk with Mr. West, cleverly managed to
monopolize Mr. West’s companion, chatting away most volubly--though
now and then Mr. West, who was well on the road to recovery, insisted
on having _his_ say; and, as he discoursed, Laurence had leisure to
take in the magnificence of his surroundings. The lofty rooms, silken
hangings, velvet pile carpets, priceless old china, and wealth of
exotic flowers. Everything seemed to cry out in chorus, “Money!
money! money! Money everywhere.” Madeline, in a velvet gown, sitting
in the midst of it, mistress of all she surveyed, with a young baronet
on one side and a duke’s heir on the other absolutely hanging on her
words. Her beauty, in its setting of brilliant dress, soft light,
and a thousand feminine surroundings, failed to impress him. It was
for this--looking about, and taking in footmen, pictures, gildings,
silver tea equipage, the heavy scented flowers, soft shaded lamps, the
sparkle of diamonds, the titled, appreciative friends in one searching
glance--that she had deserted--yes, that was the proper word--deserted
him and Harry. Even as he watched her, she was nursing a Chinese lap
dog (a hideous beast in his opinion), and calling the attention of her
companions to her darling Chow-chow’s charms. “Look at his lovely
curled tail!” he heard her exclaim, “and his beautiful little black
tongue!” And, meanwhile, the farmer’s wife was nursing _her_ child, who
did not recognize his mother when he saw her.