IN THE SCALES
It was a declaration of war. Of all women in the world--and this is
saying a great deal--Maud was perhaps the least disposed to accept
anything like usurpation, or assumption of undue authority, especially
on the part of one in whose character she had detected an element of
weakness. Tom Ryfe, notwithstanding his capabilities, was a fool, like
most others, where his feelings were touched, and proved it by the
injudicious means he used to attain the end he so desired.
Locked in her own room, she read his letter over and over again, with
a bitter curl of her lip, that denoted hatred, scorn, even contempt.
When a man has been unfortunate enough to excite the last of these
amiable feelings, he should lose no time in decamping, for the game is
wholly and irretrievably lost. Mr. Ryfe would have felt this, could
he have seen the gestures of the woman he loved, while she tore his
letter into shreds--could he have marked the carriage of her haughty
head, the compression of her sweet, resolute lips, the fierce energy
of her white, cruel hands. Maud paced the floor for some half-dozen
turns, opened the window, arranged the bottles on her toilet-table,
the flowers on her chimney-piece, even took a good long look at
herself in the glass, and sat down to think.
For weeks she had been revolving in her mind the necessity of breaking
with Tom Ryfe, the policy of securing position and freedom by an early
marriage. That odious letter decided her; and now it only remained to
make her choice. There are women--and these, though sometimes the
most fascinating, by no means the most trustworthy of their sex--who
possess over mankind a mesmeric influence, almost akin to witchcraft.
Without themselves feeling deeply, perhaps for the very reason that
they do _not_, they are capable of exercising a magic sway over those
with whom they come in contact; and while they attract more admirers
than they know what to do with, are seldom very fortunate in their
selection, or happy in their eventual lot. Miss Bruce was one of these
witches, far more mischievous than the old conventional hags we used
to burn under the sapient government of our first Stuart, and she knew
a deal better than any old woman who ever mounted a broom-stick the
credulity of her victims, the dangerous power of her spells. These she
had lately been using freely. It was time to turn their exercise to
good account.
"Mr. Stanmore _would_, in a moment," thought Maud, "if I only gave him
the slightest hint. And I like him. Yes, I like him very much indeed.
Poor Dick! What a fool one can make a man look, to be sure, when he's
in love, as people call it! Aunt Agatha wouldn't much fancy it, I
suppose; not that I should care two pins about that. And Dick's very
easy to manage--too easy, I think. He seems as if I couldn't make him
angry. I made him _sorry_, though, the other day, poor fellow! but
that's not half such fun. Now Lord Bearwarden _has_ got a temper, I'm
sure. I wonder, if we were to quarrel, which would give in first. I
don't think I should. I declare it would be rather nice to try. He's
good-looking--that's to say, good-looking for a _man_. It's an ugly
animal at best. And they tell me the Den is such a pretty place in the
autumn! And twenty thousand a year! I don't care so much about the
money part of it. Of course one must have money; but Selina St. Croix
assured me that they called him The Impenetrable; and there wasn't a
girl in London he ever danced with twice. _Wasn't_ there? He danced
with me three times in two hours; but I didn't say so. I suppose
people _would_ open their eyes. I've a great mind--a _very_ great
mind. But then, there's Dick. He'd be horribly bored, poor fellow! And
the worst of it is, he wouldn't _say_ anything; but I know exactly how
he'd look, and I should feel I was a least! What a bother it all is!
But something must be done. I can't go on with this sort of life; I
can't stand Aunt Agatha much longer. There she goes, calling on the
stairs again! Why can't she send my maid up, if she wants me?"
But Miss Bruce ran down willingly enough when her aunt informed her,
from the first floor, that she must make haste, and Dick was in the
large drawing-room.
She found mother and son, as they called themselves, buried in a
litter of cards, envelopes, papers of every description referring to
"Peerage," "Court Guide," visiting-list--all such aids to memory--the
charts, as it were, of that voyage which begins in the middle of
April, and ends with the last week in July. As usual on great
undertakings, from the opening of a campaign to the issuing of
invitations for a ball, too much had been left to the last moment;
there was a great deal to do, and little time to do it.
"We can't get on without _you_, Miss Bruce," said Dick, with rising
colour and averted eyes, that denoted how much less efficient an
auxiliary he would prove since she had come into the room. "My mother
has mislaid the old visiting-list, and the new one only goes down to
T: so that the U's, and the V's, and W's will be all left out. Think
how we shall be hated in London next week! To be sure it's what my
mother calls 'small and early' like young potatoes, and I hear there
are three hundred cards sent out already."
"You'll only hinder us, Mr. Stanmore," said Maud. "Hadn't you better
go away again?" but observing Dick's face fall, the smiling eyes
added, plainly as words could speak, "if you _can_!" She looked pale
though, and unhappy, he thought. Of course he felt fonder of her than
ever.
"Hinder you!" he repeated. "Why, I'm the mainstay of the whole
performance. Don't I bring you eight-and-twenty dancing men? all at
once if you wish it, in a body, like soldiers."
"Nonsense, my dear," interrupted Aunt Agatha. "The staircase will be
crowded enough as it is."
Maud laughed.
"But are they _real_ dancing men?" she asked, "not 'dummies,'
'duffers,'--what do you call them? people who only stand against the
wall and look idiotic. They're no use unless they work regularly
through, as if it was a match or a boat-race. I don't call it dancing
to hover about, and be always wanting to go down to tea or supper, and
to haunt one and look cross if one behaves with common propriety--like
some people I know."
Dick accepted the imputation.
"_I'm_ not a dancing man," said he, "though my eight-and-twenty
friends are. I cannot see the pleasure of being hustled about in a hot
room with a girl I never saw before in my life, and never want to see
again,--who is looking beyond me all the time, watching the door for
another fellow who never comes."
"Then why on earth do you go?" asked Miss Bruce simply.
"_You_ know why," he answered in a low voice, without raising his eyes
to her face.
"O! I dare say," replied Maud; but though it was couched in a tone of
banter, the smile that accompanied this pertinent remark seemed to
afford Dick unbounded satisfaction.
Mrs. Stanmore looked up from her writing-table.
"I can't get on while you two are jabbering in that corner." (She had
not heard a word either of them said.) "I'll take my visiting-list
up-stairs. You can put these cards in envelopes and direct them. It
will help me a little, but you're neither of you much use."
She gathered her materials together, and was leaving the room. Dick's
heart began beating to some purpose; but his step-mother stopped at
the door and addressed her niece.
"By the bye, Maud, I'd almost forgotten. I'm going to Rose and
Brilliant's. Fetch me your diamonds, and I'll take them to be cleaned.
I can see the people myself, you know, and make sure of your having
them back in time for the ball."
The girl turned white. Dick saw it, though his mother did not. He
observed, too, that she gasped as if she was trying to form words
which would not come.
"I am not going to wear them." She got it out at last with difficulty.
"Not wear them! nonsense!" was the reply. "Bring them down, my dear,
at any rate, and let me look them over. If you don't want it, you
might lend me the collar--it would go very well with my mauve satin."
Maud's eyes turned here and there as if to look for help, and it was
Dick's nature to throw himself in the gap.
"I'll take them, mother," said he. "My phaeton's at the door now.
You've plenty to do, and it will save you a long drive. Besides, I can
blow the people up more effectually than a lady."
"I'm not so sure of that," answered Mrs. Stanmore. "However, it's a
sensible plan enough. Maud can fetch them down for you, and you may
come back to dinner if you're disengaged."
So speaking, Mrs. Stanmore sailed off, leaving the young people alone.
Maud thanked him with such a look as would have repaid Dick for a far
longer expedition than from Belgravia to Bond Street.
"What should I do without you, Mr. Stanmore?" she said. "You always
come to the rescue just when I want you most."
He coloured with delight.
"I like doing things for _you_," said he simply; "but I don't know
that taking a parcel a mile and a half is such a favour after all. If
you'll bring it, I'll start directly you give the word."
Miss Bruce had been very pale hitherto, now a burning blush swept over
her face to the temples.
"I--I can't bring you my diamonds," said she, "for the first of those
thirty reasons that prevented Napoleon's general from bringing up his
guns--I haven't got them: they're at Rose and Brilliant's already."
"Maud!" he exclaimed, unconsciously using her Christian name--a
liberty with which she seemed in nowise offended.
"You may well say 'Maud'!" she murmured in a soft, low voice. "If you
knew all, you'd never call me Maud. I don't believe you'd ever speak
to me again." "Then I'd rather not know all," he replied. "Though it
would have to be something very bad indeed if it could make me think
ill of you! Don't tell me anything, Miss Bruce, except that you would
like your diamonds back again."
"They _must_ be got back!" she exclaimed. "I _must_ have them back by
fair means or foul. I can't face Aunt Agatha, now that she knows, and
can't appear at her ball without them. O! Mr. Stanmore, what shall I
do? Do you think Rose and Brilliant's would _lend_ them to me only for
one night?"
Dick began to suspect something, began to surmise that this young lady
had been "raising the wind," as he called it, and to wonder for what
mysterious purpose she could want so large a sum as had necessitated
the sacrifice of her most valuable jewels; but she seemed in such
distress that he felt this was no time for explanation.
"Do!" he repeated cheerfully, and walking to the window that he might
not seem to notice her trouble. "Why do as I wish you had done all
through. Leave everything to _me_. I was going to say 'trust me,' but
I don't want to be trusted. I only want to be made use of."
Her better nature was conquering her fast.
"But indeed I _will_ trust you," she murmured. "You deserve to be
trusted. You are so kind, so good, so true. You will despise me, I
know--very likely hate me, and never come to see me again; but I don't
care--I can't help it. Sit down, and I will tell you everything."
He did not blush nor stammer now, his voice was very firm, and he
stood up like a man.
"Miss Bruce," said he, "Maud--yes, I'm not afraid to call you Maud--I
won't hear another word. I don't want to be told anything. Whatever
you have done makes no difference to me. Some day, perhaps, you'll
remember how I believed in you. In the meantime tell my mother that
the diamonds will be back in time for her ball. How late it is! I must
be off like a shot. Those horses will be perfectly wild with waiting.
I'm coming to dinner. Good-bye!"
He hurried away without another look, and Maud, burying her head in
the sofa-cushions, burst out crying, as she had not cried since she
was a child.
"He's too good for me!--he's too good for me!" she repeated, between
the sobs she tried hard to keep back. "How wicked and vile I should be
to throw him over! He's too good for me!--too good for me by far!"