Four weeks had passed since Malcolm Stratton's insane attempt--four
weeks of an utterly prostrating illness from which he was slowly
recovering, when, one morning, Guest entered the room where Brettison
was seated by his friend's couch, and made an announcement which wrought
a sudden change in the convalescent.
"I expected it," he said quietly; and then, after a pause, "I will go
with you."
Guest opened and shut his mouth without speaking for a few moments.
Then:
"Go--with me? You go with me? Why, it would be madness."
"Madness, madness, old fellow," said Stratton feebly, "but I tell you I
am quite strong now."
"Very far from it," said Brettison.
"And I say so too," cried Guest. "Look here, old fellow, do you mean to
assert that you are _compos mentis_?"
"Of course," said Stratton, smiling.
"Then I say you are not," cried Guest, "and Mr Brettison will second
me. You are weak as a rat in spite of all our watching, and feeding,
and care."
"All this long, weary month," sighed Stratton. "Heaven bless you both
for what you have done."
"Never mind about blessings; be a little grateful to Mr Brettison, who
has been like a hundred hospital nurses rolled into one, and give up
this mad idea."
"But it is not mad," pleaded Stratton. "I only want to go to the
church. I am quite strong enough now. I want to see her married, that
is all. Mr Brettison, you see how calm I am."
"Yes, very," said the old botanist, smiling sadly. "Calm with your
temples throbbing and your veins too full. My dear boy, if you go to
that wedding, you will over-excite yourself and we shall have a serious
relapse."
"If I do go?" said Stratton quietly. "I shall certainly have it. I
mean to go."
He rose from the couch on which he had been lying, walked into the
bedroom, and closed the door.
"Did you ever see such a mule, Mr Brettison?" cried Guest as soon as
they were alone. "I was a fool to come in and tell him I was going; but
I thought he had got over it, and he knew it was to-day."
"You are going as one of the friends?"
"Yes, Miss Jerrold asked me," said Guest, rather consciously; "and of
course he would have known afterward, and reproached me for not telling
him. What is to be done?"
"Certainly not thwart him," replied Brettison. "I was going out into
the country to-day."
"Collecting?"
"Yes, my dear sir, a little. My great hobby, Mr Guest. But I will not
go. We should do more harm than good by stopping him, so I'll go to the
church with him."
"But I dread a scene," said Guest. "Suppose he should turn wild at
seeing her lead up the aisle. Fancy the consequences. It would be
cruel to the lady. It is not as if she had jilted him."
"Never cared for him a bit, did she?" whispered Brettison.
"H'm! Well, sir, I don't quite like to say. At all events, Miss Myra
Jerrold accepted this Mr Barron before poor old Malcolm spoke a word,
and I am convinced that she felt certain he did not care for her."
"An unfortunate business, Guest. Poor lad! poor lad! But there, he
recovered, and any opposition would, I am sure, throw him back."
"But the lady?"
"Have no fear; Malcolm Stratton will, I am sure, be guilty of no insane
folly. I know him better than you, Guest."
"I think not," said the young man, smiling.
"We will not argue the point," replied the old botanist, taking Guest's
hand. "We both think we know him better than anyone else, and after all
have not half sounded the depths of his nature."
"Well, I leave him to you," said Guest. "I have no time to spare. I'm
off now, old fellow," he cried, approaching the bedroom door.
"All right," cried Stratton cheerfully as he came back and held out his
hand. "My kindest regards to Edie. Don't be afraid, old fellow; I am
going to behave sensibly. You need not fear a scene."
"But I--"
"Don't deny it, lad. Off with you," said Stratton, smiling at his
friend's confusion; and he accompanied him out on to the landing. "God
bless her!" he said. "I wish her every happiness with the man of her
choice. It's all over now, and I can bear it like a man."
They shook hands and parted, and when, an hour later, Guest saw Myra
enter the room, where he was just snatching a hurried word with Edie, he
was startled at the white, set face, and strange, dreamy eyes, which
looked in his when he spoke to her.
But what had been a bitter fight was at an end, and all its secrets
hidden in the bride's own breast. For a time, as it had dawned upon her
that there was something warmer than friendship in her breast for
Malcolm Stratton, she shrank in horror from the idea of pledging herself
to the man she had accepted; but she fought with and crushed down her
feelings. Stratton must, she felt, despise her now, and she was engaged
to Barron. It was her father's wish, and she had promised to be this
man's wife, while that he loved her he gave her no room to doubt.
"I _will_ do my duty by him," she said proudly to herself as she took
her father's arm; and as Guest was driven in another of the carriages to
the church, he thought to himself that his friend had been blind in his
love, for Myra was hard and unemotional as her cousin was sweet and
lovable he misjudged her again as he saw her leave the church leaning
upon her husband's arm, while now he was privileged to escort Edie, one
of the four bridesmaids, back to Bourne Square.
"She never would have cared for poor old Malcolm," he said to himself as
he followed the newly married couple with his eyes, Barron careworn and
nearly as pale as his wife, but looking proud, eager, and handsome, as
he handed Myra into the carriage.
"The happy pair," whispered Edie as she placed her little hand upon
Guest's arm. "Get me to the carriage, please, as quickly as you can, or
I shall cry and make a scene."
"Yes, yes," he whispered back. "This way; but, Edie, I've been looking
all round the church and can't see him. Did you catch sight of
Stratton?"
"No," said the girl with some asperity, "and did not wish to. I could
only see that poor girl going through the ceremony, and I felt all the
time I could read her thoughts. O Percy Guest, if she only had not had
so much pride, or Malcolm Stratton had been as bold as he was shrinking
and strange, this never could have been!"
Back at Bourne Square, with all the hurry and excitement of a wedding
morning. The house crowded with friends, and Sir Mark all eagerness to
do the honours of his place well to all. Carriages thronged the
roadway; a couple of policemen kept back the little crowd, and the
admiral's servants, re-enforced by half a dozen of Gunter's men, had a
busy time supplying the wants of the guests.
"Well, you two," said a voice, suddenly, behind Edie, who was listening
to a remark made by Guest, "don't look in that dreamy way at everyone.
I've been watching you for ever so long. Don't you know that this is
the happiest day of Myra's life?"
"No, aunt," said Edie shortly; "do you?"
Miss Jerrold shrugged her shoulders.
"Go and keep near her, my dear, till they leave. I haven't the heart.
Edie, am I a wretchedly prejudiced old maid, or is there something not
nice about that man?"
"Ah, there you are, Edie," cried the admiral excitedly. "Myra is just
going to cut the cake. Mr Guest, take my sister and give her some
champagne. Edie, my dear, I don't like poor Myra's looks. I must see
to the people, and have a word with James Barron before they start; and
I've got to speak, too, and how to get through it I don't know."
"What do you want me to do, uncle?"
"What I told you, my dear," cried the old man testily. "Go and keep
with my poor darling till the last."
Edie crept to her cousin's side and stayed there during the admiral's
speech, one which contained more heart than head; listened with heaving
breast to the toast of the bride's health, and to the well-spoken, manly
reply made by James Barron. And so on till the time when the bride
might slip away to change her dress for the journey down to Southampton,
the wedding trip commencing the next day on board the great steamer
outward bound for the West.
"Guest, my lad," said the admiral, drawing the young man aside,
"servants are all very well, but I'd be thankful if you'd see yourself
that Mr Barron's carriage is up to the door in time. Myra is not well,
and she has sent a message to me to beg that she may be allowed to slip
away quietly with few good-byes. I suppose the people will have all the
satin slipper and rice throwing tomfoolery."
"You may depend upon me, Sir Mark," said Guest eagerly; and he set about
his task at once, greatly to the butler's disgust.
The minutes went swiftly then; the guests gathering on the staircase and
crowding the hall, while the carriage, with its servants, stood waiting,
with an avenue of people down to the door.
Guest was on the step seeing that the wraps and various little articles
needed on the journey were handed in. Barron, looking flushed and
proud, was in the hall, with his hand grasped by Sir Mark, and a murmur
of excitement and a cheer announced that the bride was coming down, when
the bridegroom's carriage began to move on.
The sudden starting of the horses made Guest turn sharply.
"Hi! Stop! Do you hear?" he shouted, and several of the servants
waiting outside took up the cry, "Coming down." But the carriage moved
on and a four-wheeled cab took its place, amid a roar of laughter from
the crowd.
At the same moment three businesslike looking men stepped into the hall,
and before the butler and footmen could stop them they were close up to
the foot of the staircase.
Sir Mark turned upon them angrily, but one of them gripped his arm and
said quickly:
"Sir Mark Jerrold?"
"Yes. What is this intrusion?"
"Upstairs, sir, quick. Stop the young lady from coming down."
The man's manner was so impressive that it forced Sir Mark to act, and
he shouted up the broad staircase:
"Edie! one moment--not yet."
Then, as if resenting the fact that he should have obeyed this man, he
turned sharply in time to hear the words:
"James Dale--in the queen's name. Here is my warrant. No nonsense; we
are three to one."
The bridegroom was struggling in the policemen's arms, and in the hand
which he freed there was a revolver.