MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS.
“Have _I_ made a mistake? Have I wronged you?” Ralph Meredith asked,
when the door was shut, while he gazed blankly at his companion, and
feeling convinced in his heart that no man could show the emotion which
Lord Carrol manifested at the mention of Star, and willfully betray her.
“If I were not confident that you _had_ made a mistake,” his lordship
returned, drawing himself up with dignity, though he was still very pale
and deeply agitated—“if I did not believe that you share in the
misunderstanding which has been the cause of all Miss Gladstone’s
trouble and my own exceeding sorrow, I could not pass lightly over the
disparaging imputation which you have cast upon me to-night. I am no
traitor, Mr. Meredith. I have never willingly wronged Miss Gladstone,
for I have loved her, and I _do_ love her to-day, with a deathless love.
My plurality of names, as I told you before,” he went on, with a wan
smile, “has been the cause of it all; and if Star has unconsciously been
made a victim on account of it, I also have suffered in no small degree.
Sit down, Mr. Meredith, and let me tell you all about it;” and he
motioned him to a chair.
“Not until I have apologized for my rash words to you, my lord,” Ralph
said, in a manly, straightforward way, and advancing to him, convinced
now of his honor, and that he had never intended Star even a thought of
harm. “Miss Gladstone,” he continued, “confided the story of her grief
to me only a short time before I sailed for Europe, although she did not
enter into particulars very minutely. I think she had not the slightest
idea that I should ever meet you, but I made up my mind at the time that
if I ever did come in contact with ‘Archibald Sherbrooke,’ which was the
only name by which she designated you, that I should make him answer for
the wrong which I believed he had done her. I saw you to-day with a lady
in the chapel of Henry the Seventh, at Westminster Abbey. I heard her
call you by the name that I remembered only too well, and was convinced
I had found Miss Gladstone’s recreant knight. I resolved at once to
remain in London beyond the time I had originally intended, look you up,
and call you to account for what you had done. You were at the concert
in the Albert Hall this evening, but I had no thought of meeting you
when I came hither, at the invitation of my friend Alden. You can
imagine, perhaps, something of the shock which I experienced when he
introduced you as Lord Carrol. This will explain why I refused your
hand, and why I addressed you in the way I did.”
“I cannot blame you in the least, under the circumstances,” Lord Carrol
returned, smiling.
“Your words, however,” Ralph went on, “regarding the young lady in
question, convince me that you are entirely guiltless, and have been as
great a sufferer from an unfortunate misunderstanding as herself. I
trust you will accept my explanation, and also my hand with it,” he
concluded, extending his hand to the young peer.
Lord Carrol grasped and shook it warmly.
“I have no right to harbor any ill-will toward you for espousing so
gallantly the cause of one who is very dear to me,” he said, cordially;
“and perhaps, after all, this meeting, which at first promised to end in
a stormy manner, may be the means of restoring happiness to two very
unhappy people.”
“I feel assured that such will be the case,” Ralph answered, but there
was a keen pain in his heart, notwithstanding.
Lord Carrol now wheeled a chair forward and made him sit down; then,
taking another near him, he related in substance what he had already
told Mr. Richards regarding his relations with Star, the erroneous
conclusions she had jumped at upon learning of his title, her refusal to
allow him to explain his position to her, and her flight on the morning
after her painful discovery.
Ralph Meredith found it hard to conceal the bitterness which he
experienced, as he realized how gladly Star would give herself to her
manly lover when she learned of his fidelity. His heart was still sore
over his recent disappointment, but his nature was too noble, he was too
generous in his love for her, to wish to place a single obstacle in the
way of her happiness, or of the man whom he now deemed worthy of her in
every respect.
He gave Lord Carrol a history of Star’s life during the last year,
telling him of her success as a young authoress, and of the happy change
in her worldly circumstances as the acknowledged ward and heiress of
Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire. He spoke also of the admiration which
her grace and beauty had excited during the past season at Newport.
“I am glad,” Archibald Sherbrooke said, earnestly, and his lip trembled
as he spoke, “that her life has been made so much brighter during the
past year, and I shall always be grateful to Mr. Rosevelt for his
kindness; and yet I am almost selfish enough to wish that _I_ could have
been the one to raise her to a more congenial sphere. I shall go to the
United States at once. I must seek her and set myself right with her as
soon as possible. Will you be so good as to give me Mr. Rosevelt’s
address?”
“With pleasure,” Ralph responded; “but you will not find them in New
York just at present, for they, with my sister—who is a very intimate
friend of Miss Gladstone’s—are traveling in the far West, and will not
return under three or four months.”
Lord Carrol looked thoughtful and disappointed at this intelligence.
“I must wait, then,” he said, with a sigh, “until their return. The time
will seem very long, although I am greatly needed here just now, and it
would be much to my own disadvantage were I to leave before my affairs
are in a more settled state; but I should let no pecuniary consideration
deter me from going to Star if I was sure I should find her. However, I
must submit to the inevitable; and now, Mr. Meredith,” he concluded,
with a genial smile, “what can I do to make your stay in our city
pleasant? I am at your disposal for any length of time.”
“Thank you, my lord. My business will not permit my tarrying much longer
just now; but I intend to return to London in the course of three or
four months, and shall hope to meet you again then,” Ralph answered.
“I shall most certainly see to it that we _do_ meet again,” Lord Carrol
returned; “and now, if you have no engagement for to-morrow, will you do
me the honor to dine with me?”
“It will give me great pleasure to do so. I have no other engagement,”
Mr. Meredith returned.
He was growing to admire Star Gladstone’s handsome lover exceedingly,
notwithstanding the fact that he was his own rival.
“Thanks. Now come with me and let me introduce you to my mother and
sister, who are both here at Stamfield House; and, Mr. Meredith,” the
young lord added, grasping his hand again, and speaking with emotion, “I
cannot be sufficiently grateful to you, for you have put new life and
hope into my heart to-night.”
Ralph tried to feel generously glad for this, but it was not in human
nature not to experience a pang over the happiness which he knew was in
store for him, especially when he knew, too, that it would be at the
expense of his own.
“I am very glad if I have been able to atone in any way for my rudeness
upon first meeting you,” he said, smiling faintly.
“Do not mention it; you were espousing a good cause, and through your
championship I shall regain what is far dearer to me than life; so we
will forget the unpleasantness of a moment, and I trust I may call you
my friend in the future.”
Lord Carrol then led the way back to Lady Stamfield’s drawing-room,
where, seeking his mother and sister, he presented his new friend to
them.
Mrs. Sherbrooke Ralph found to be a handsome, genial matron, with a
large heart and plenty of Christian charity, although it was plainly to
be seen that her two children, in her estimation, were perfect in every
respect.
No one ever before possessed a more noble and devoted son; no one had so
charming a daughter.
Miss Vivien Sherbrooke was truly that; she was even more beautiful than
she had appeared to be when he saw her on the stage in the character of
a songstress.
She was vivacious and witty, and exerted herself to the utmost to be
entertaining to her brother’s new acquaintance, and Ralph actually
forgot himself and the haunting pain which had hitherto pursued him
during all his wanderings, while talking with her and listening to her
bright conversation, and watching her quick, graceful motions.
“Archie tells me that you are coming to dine with us to-morrow, Mr.
Meredith,” she said, as her mother came to tell her that it was time for
them to go.
“Yes, I believe I am to have that pleasure,” he returned, with a glance
of admiration into her sparkling eyes.
“I am glad, for I have a hundred questions to ask you about America
which only a true American can answer. You will be sure to come?”
“I certainly shall,” he replied, thinking that those clear gray eyes,
looking so frankly and smilingly into his, were about as beautiful as
any he had ever seen.