ANGELA.
"So it was not you after all, sir," said Captain Somers, surveying Heron
with some surprise, and then glancing towards a secluded corner, where
Brian and Elizabeth were absorbed in an apparently very interesting
conversation. "Well, I must have made a mistake. I didn't know anything
about the other gentleman."
"Oh, we kept him dark," returned Percival, lightly. "My cousin didn't
want her affairs talked about. They make a nice couple, don't they?"
"Ay, sir, they do. Mr. Vivian made a mistake, too, perhaps," said
Captain Somers, with some curiosity.
"We're all liable to make mistakes at times," replied Percival, smiling.
"I don't think they've made one now, at any rate."
And then he left Captain Somers, and seated himself on a chair, which
happened to be close to the one occupied by Angela Vivian. Brian and
Elizabeth were still within the range of his vision: although he was not
watching them he was perfectly conscious of their movements. He saw
Brian take Elizabeth's hand in his and raise it gently to his lips. The
two did not know that they could be seen. Percival stifled a sigh, and
twisted his chair round a little, so as to turn his back to them. This
manoeuvre brought him face to face with Angela.
"They look very happy and comfortable over there, don't they?" he said.
"I think they will be very happy," she answered.
"I shouldn't wonder." He moved restlessly in his chair, and looked
towards the sea. "You know the story," he said. "I suppose you mean she
will be happier with him than with me?"
"She loves him," said Angela scarcely above her breath.
"I suppose so," he answered, dryly. Then, after a pause--"Love is a
mighty queer matter, it seems to me. Here have I been trying to win her
heart for the last five years, and, just when I think I am succeeding,
in steps a fellow whom she has never seen before, who does in a month or
two what I failed to do in years."
"They have a great deal to thank you for," said Angela.
Percival shook his head.
"That's a mere delusion of their generous hearts," he said. "I've been a
selfish brute: that's all."
It seemed easier to him, after this, to discuss the matter with Angela
from every possible point of view. He told her more than he had told
anyone in the world of the secret workings of his mind; she alone had
any true idea of what it had cost him to give Elizabeth up. He took a
great deal of pleasure in dissecting his own character, and it soothed
and flattered him that she should listen with so much interest. He was
always in a better temper when he had been talking to Angela. He did
most of the talking--it must be owned that he liked to hear himself
talk--and she made a perfect listener. He, in turn, amused and
interested her very much. She had never come across a man of his type
before. His trenchant criticisms of literature, his keen delight in
politics, his lively argumentativeness, were charming to her. He had
always had the knack of quarrelling with Elizabeth, even when he was
most devoted to her; but he did not quarrel with Angela. She quieted
him; he hardly knew how to be irritable in her presence.
The story of Kitty's marriage excited his deepest ire. He was indignant
with his sister, disgusted with Hugo Luttrell. He himself told it, with
some rather strong expressions of anger, to Brian, who listened in
perfect silence.
"What can you say for your cousin?" said Percival, turning upon him
fiercely. "What sort of a fellow is he? Do you consider him fit to marry
my sister?"
"No, I don't," Brian answered. "I am sorry to say so, but I don't think
Hugo is in the least to be relied on. I have been fond of him, but----"
"A screw loose somewhere, is there? I thought as much."
"He may do better now that he is married," said Brian. But he felt that
it was poor comfort.
They went straight back to England, and it was curious to observe how
naturally and continuously a certain division of the party was always
taking place. Brian and Elizabeth were, of course, a great deal
together; it seemed equally inevitable that Percival should pair off
with Angela, and that Mrs. Norman, Rupert Vivian, and Mr. Fane should be
left to entertain each other.
It was on the last day of the voyage that Brian sought out Percival and
took him by the arm. "Look here, Heron," he said. "I have never thanked
you for what you have done for me."
Percival was smoking. He took his pipe out of his mouth, and said,
"Don't," very curtly, and then replaced the meerschaum, and puffed at it
energetically.
"But I must."
"Stop," said Heron. "Don't go on till you've heard me speak." He took
his pipe in his hand and knocked it meditatively against the bulwarks.
"There's a great deal that might be said on both sides. Do you think
that any of us have acted wisely or rightly throughout this business?"
"I don't think I have. I think Elizabeth has."
"Oh, Elizabeth. Well, she's a woman. Women have a strange sort of
pleasure in acting properly. But I don't think that even your Elizabeth
was quite perfect. Now, don't knock me down; she's my cousin, and I knew
her years before you did. She's your cousin, too, by the way; but that
does not signify. What I wanted to say was this:--We have all been more
or less idiotic. I made a confounded fool of myself once or twice, and,
begging your pardon, Brian, I think you did, too."
"I think I did," said Brian, reflectively.
"Elizabeth will take care of you now, and see that you have your due
complement of commonsense," said Percival. "Well, look here. I've been
wrong and I've been right at times; so have you. I have something to
thank you for, and perhaps you feel the same sort of thing towards me. I
think it is a pity to make a sort of profit and loss calculation as to
which of the two has been the more wronged, or has the more need to be
grateful. Let bygones be bygones. I want you and Elizabeth to promise me
not to speak or think of those old days again. We can't be friends if
you do. I was very hard on you both sometimes: and--well, you know the
rest. If you forgive, you must also forget."
Brian looked at him for a moment. "Upon my word, Percival," he said,
warmly, "I can't imagine why she did not prefer you to me. You're quite
the most large-hearted man I ever knew."
"Oh, come, that's too strong," said Heron, carelessly. "You're a cut
above me, you know, in every way. You will suit her admirably. As for
me, I'm a rough, coarse sort of a fellow--a newspaper correspondent, a
useful literary hack--that's all. I never quite understood until--until
lately--what my position was in the eyes of the world."
"Why, I thought you considered your profession a very high one," said
Brian.
"So I do. Only I'm at the bottom of the tree, and I want to be at the
top."
There was a pause. A little doubt was visible upon Brian's face:
Percival saw it and understood.
"There's one thing you needn't do," he said, with a sort of haughty
abruptness. "Don't offer me help of any kind. I won't stand it. I don't
want charity. If I could be glad that I was not going to marry
Elizabeth, it would be because she is a rich woman. I wonder,
by-the-bye, what Dino Vasari is going to do."
They had not heard of Dino's death when Percival left England.
"If I were you," Percival went on, "I should not stand on ceremony. I
should get a special licence in London and marry her at once. You'll
have a bother about settlements and provisions and compromises without
end, if you don't."
Brian smiled, and even coloured a little at the proposition. "I could
not ask her to do it," he said.
"Then I'll ask her," said Percival with his inimitable _sang-froid_. "In
the very nick of time, here she comes. Mademoiselle, I was talking about
you."
Elizabeth smiled. The colour had come back to her cheeks, the brightness
to her eyes. She was the incarnation of splendid health and happiness.
Percival looked from her to Brian, remarking silently the gravity and
nobleness of his expression and the singular refinement of his features,
which could be seen so much more plainly, now that he had returned to
his old fashion of wearing a moustache and small pointed beard, instead
of the disfiguring mass of hair with which he had once striven to
disguise his face. Percival was clean shaven, except for the heavy,
black moustache, which he fingered as he spoke.
"You are my children by adoption," he said, cheerfully, "and I am going
to speak to you as a grandfather might. Elizabeth, my opinion is, that
if you want to avoid vexatious delays, you had better get married to
this gentleman here before you present yourself in Scotland at all. You
have no idea how much it would simplify matters. Brian won't suggest
such a thing; he is afraid you will think that he wants to make ducks
and drakes of your money----"
"His money," said Elizabeth.
"Well, his or yours, or that Italian fellow's--I don't see that it
matters much. Why don't you stop in London, get a special licence, and
be married from Vivian's house? I know he would be delighted."
"It is easy to make the suggestion," said Brian, "but perhaps Elizabeth
would not like such haste."
"I will do what you like," said Elizabeth.
"Let me congratulate you," remarked Percival to Brian; "you are about to
marry that treasure amongst wives--a woman who tries to please you and
not herself. Well, I have broken the ice, settle the matter as you
please."
"No, Percival, don't go," said Elizabeth. But he laughed, shook his
head, and left them to themselves.
As usual he went to Angela, and allowed himself to look as gloomy as he
chose. She asked him what was the matter.
"I have been playing the heavy father, and giving away the bride," he
said. And then he told her what he had advised.
"You want to have it over," she said, looking at him with her soft,
serious eyes.
"To tell the truth, I believe I do."
"It is hard on you, now."
"Not a bit," said Percival, taking a seat beside her. "I ought not to
mind. If I were Luttrell, I probably should glory in self-sacrifice, and
say I didn't mind. Unfortunately I do. But nothing will drive me to say
that it is hard. All's fair in love and war. Brian has proved himself
the better man."
"Not the stronger man," said Angela, almost involuntarily.
"You think not? I don't think I have been strong! I have been wretchedly
weak sometimes. Ah, there they come; they have settled it between them.
They look bright, don't they?"
Angela made no answer, she felt a little indignant with Brian and
Elizabeth for looking bright. It was decidedly inconsiderate towards
Percival.
But Percival made no show of his wound to anybody except Angela. He
seemed heartily glad when he heard that Elizabeth had consented to the
speedy marriage in London, he was as cheerful in manner as usual, he
held his head high, and ate and drank and laughed in his accustomed way.
Even Elizabeth was deceived, and thought he was cured of his love for
her. But the restless gleam of his eye and the dark fold between his
brow, in spite of his merriment, told a different tale to the two who
understood him best--Brian and Angela.
The marriage took place from Rupert's house, according to Percival's
suggestion. It was a quiet wedding, and the guests were very various in
quality. Mr. Heron came from Scotland for the occasion, Rupert and his
sister, Mrs. Norman, Captain Somers and the two seamen--Jackson and
Mason, were all present. Percival alone did not come. He had said
nothing about his intention of staying away, but sent a note of excuse
at the last moment. He had resumed his newspaper work, and a sudden call
upon him required instant attention. Elizabeth was deeply disappointed.
She had looked upon his presence at her wedding as the last assurance of
his forgiveness, and she and Brian both felt that something was lacking
from their felicity when Percival did not come.
They started for Scotland as soon as the wedding was over, and it was
not until the following week that Brian received a bulky letter which
had been waiting for him at the place where he had directed Dino Vasari
to address his letters. He opened it eagerly, expecting to find a long
letter from Dino himself. He took out only the announcement of his
death.
There was, however, a very lengthy document from Padre Cristoforo, which
Brian and Elizabeth read with burning hearts and tearful or indignant
eyes. In this letter, Padre Cristoforo set forth, calmly and
dispassionately, what he knew of poor Dino's story, and there were many
things in it which Brian learnt now for the first time. But the Prior
said nothing about Elizabeth. When Brian had read the letter, he leaned
over the table, and took his wife's hand as he spoke.
"Did you ever see him?" he asked.
"I saw a young man with Mr. Colquhoun on the day when he came to
Netherglen. But I hardly remember his face."
"You would have loved him?"
"Yes," she said, "for your sake."
"And now, what shall we do? Now we are on our guard against Hugo. To
think that any man should be so vile!"
"Our poor little Kitty!" murmured Elizabeth. "Surely she has found out
her mistake. I could never understand that marriage. She looked very
unhappy afterwards. But we were all unhappy then."
"I had forgotten what happiness was like until I saw your face again,"
said Brian.
"But about Hugo, love?" she said, replying to his glance with a smile,
which showed that for her at least the fullest earthly bliss had been
attained. "Can we not go to Netherglen and send him away? I do not like
to think that he is with your mother."
"Nor I," said Brian. "Let us go and see."
That very evening they set out for Netherglen.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Percival Heron was calling at the Vivians' house in
Kensington. Angela, who had hitherto seen him in very rough and ready
costume, was a little surprised when he appeared one afternoon attired
in clothes of the most faultless cut, and looking as handsome and idle
as if he had never done anything in his life but pay morning calls. He
had come, perhaps by accident, perhaps by design, on the day when she
was at home to visitors from three to six; and, although she had not
been very long in London, her drawing-room was crowded with visitors.
The story of the expedition to the Rocas Reef had made a sensation in
London society; everybody was anxious to see the heroes and heroines of
the story, and Percival soon found himself as much a centre of
attraction as Angela herself.
She watched him keenly, wondering whether he would be annoyed by the
attention he was receiving; but his face wore a tranquil smile of
amusement which reassured her. Once he made a movement as if to go, but
she managed to say to him in passing:--
"Do not go yet unless you are obliged. Rupert is out with Mr. Fane."
"I did not come to see Rupert," said Percival, with a laugh in his
brilliant eyes.
"I have something to say to you, too," she went on seriously.
"Really? Then I will wait."
He had to wait some time before the room was cleared of guests. When at
last they found themselves alone, the day was closing in, and the wood
fire cast strange flickering lights and shadows over the walls. The room
was full of the scent of violets and white hyacinths. Percival leaned
back in an easy chair, with an air of luxurious enjoyment. And yet he
was not quite as much at his ease as he looked.
"You had something to say to me," he began, boldly. "I know perfectly
well what it is. You think I ought to have come to the wedding, and you
want to tell me so."
"Your conscience seems to say more than I should venture to," said
Angela, smiling.
"I had an engagement, as I wrote in my letter."
"One that could not be broken?"
"To tell the truth, I was not in an amiable mood. If I had come I should
probably have hurt their feelings more than by staying away. I should
have said something savage. Well,"--as he saw her lips move--"what were
you going to say?"
"Something very severe."
"Say it by all means."
"That you are trying to excuse your own selfishness by the plea of want
of self-control. The excuse is worse than the action itself."
"I am very selfish, I know," said Percival, complacently. "I'm not at
all ashamed of it. Why should I not consult my own comfort?"
"Why should you add one drop to the bitterness of Brian's cup?"
"I like that," said Percival, in an ironical tone. "It shows the extent
of a woman's sense of justice. I beg your pardon, Miss Vivian, for
saying so. But in my opinion Brian is a lucky fellow."
"You forget----"
"What do I forget? This business about his identity is all happily over,
and he is married to the woman of his choice. I wish I had half his
luck!"
"You have forgotten, Mr. Heron," said Angela, in a tone that showed how
deeply she was moved, "that Brian has had a great sorrow--a great loss.
I do not think life can ever be the same to him again--as it can never
be the same to me--since--Richard--died."
Her voice sank and faltered. For an instant there was a silence, in
which Percival felt shocked and embarrassed at his own want of thought.
He had forgotten. He had been thinking solely of Brian's relations with
Elizabeth. It had not occurred to him for a long time that Angela had
once been on the point of marriage with the man--the brother--whom Brian
Luttrell had shot dead at Netherglen.
He said, "I beg your pardon," in a constrained, reluctant voice, and sat
in silence, feeling that he ought to go, yet not liking to tear himself
away. For the first time he was struck by the beauty of Angela's
patience. How she must have suffered! he thought to himself, as he
remembered her sisterly care of Brian, her silence about her own great
loss, her quiet acceptance of the inevitable. And he had prosed by the
hour to this woman about his own griefs and love-troubles! What an
egotist she must think him! What a fool! Percival felt hot about the
ears with self-contempt. He rose to go, feeling that he should not
venture to present himself to her again very easily. He did not even
like to say that he was ashamed of his lapse of memory.
Angela rose, too. She would have spoken sooner, but she had been
swallowing down the rising tears. She very seldom mentioned Richard
Luttrell now.
They were standing, still silent, in this attitude of expectancy--each
thinking that the other would speak first--when the door opened, and Mr.
Vivian came in. Percival hailed his arrival with a feeling between
impatience and relief. Rupert wanted him to stay, but he said that he
must go at once; business called him away.
"There is a letter for you, Angela," said Vivian. "It was on the
hall-table. Fane gave it me. I hope my sister has been scolding you for
not coming to the wedding, Heron. It went off very well, but we wanted
you. Have you heard the latest news from Egypt?"
And then they launched into a discussion of politics, from which they
were presently diverted by a remark made by Angela as she laid her hand
gently on Rupert's arm.
"Excuse me," she said. "I think I had better show both you and Mr. Heron
this letter. It is from Mrs. Hugo Luttrell."
"From Kitty!" said the brother. Rupert's face changed a little, but he
did not speak. Angela handed the letter first to Percival.
"Dear Miss Vivian," Kitty's letter began, "I am sorry to trouble you,
but I want to know whether you will give a message for me to Mr. Brian
Luttrell. Mrs. Luttrell is a little better, and is able to say one or
two words. She calls for 'Brian' almost incessantly. I should be so glad
if he would come, and Elizabeth too. If you know where they are, will
you tell them so? But they must not say that I have written to you. And
please do not answer this letter. If they cannot come, could not you? It
is asking a great deal, I know; but Mrs. Luttrell would be happier if
you were with her, and I should be so glad, too. I have nobody here whom
I can trust, and I do not know what to do. I think you would help me if
you knew all.--Yours very truly,
"Catherine Luttrell."
Percival read it through aloud, then laid it down in silence. "What does
she mean?" he said, perplexedly.
"It means that there is something wrong," answered Rupert. "Are your
people at Strathleckie now, Percival?"
"No, they are in London."
"Why don't you go down? You have not seen her since her marriage?"
"Hum. I haven't time."
"Then I will go."
"And I with you," said Angela, quickly. But Rupert shook his head.
"No, dear, not you. We will write for Brian and Elizabeth. And, excuse
me, Percival, but if your sister is in any difficulty, I think it would
be only kind if you went to her assistance."
"Yes, Mr. Heron," said Angela. "Do go. Do help her if you can."
And this time Percival did not refuse.