"By the way, I thought you were going out of town to live? As you seem
to have changed your mind, I suppose it is all right about the
Amsterdam?"
I would not dare to join a club now. I stammered out something about
talking it over another time, and left the room. I begin to hate him.
He suspects the truth, and knows that I am in his power, and enjoys
it.
_February 4th._--Added to the mortifications I am exposed to, the
feeling that I am a sham grows on me. I impose on every one wherever I
go. This thought has robbed me of my peace of mind. However poor I was
before, I had nothing to be ashamed of. Now I am a man with a
_Secret_.
_February 5th._--I have realized this too late. Last night I was sent
for to fill a place at a dinner-table where fourteen had been
expected, and at the last minute one had failed. Mr. Courtland, the
gentleman at whose house the dinner was given, treated me politely
before his guests, yet with him I felt all the odium of my position. I
was there as a convenience, and nothing else. My relation to him was
purely a business one. The house was on Washington Square, and was
old-fashioned but magnificent. The dining-room was hung with tapestry,
and we sat around the dinner-table in carved arm-chairs. I made a
pretence of talking to the old lady whom I took in to dinner, and whom
I had met before, but in reality my attention was absorbed by a
beautiful young girl who sat opposite to me. She had dark hair,
brilliant coloring, and deep-set brown eyes. She wore an oddly
old-fashioned gown of yellow satin, cut square in the neck. I found
that she was Mr. Courtland's niece and heiress, and lived with him. He
was a widower without any children. After dinner, when the men went
into the drawing-room, I determined to leave. Mr. Courtland's manner
was too much for my self-respect. Miss Courtland stood by the piano,
and every one was begging her to sing.
"My music has gone to be bound," she said, "and I cannot sing without
it."
Her uncle would not accept this refusal, and produced a portfolio of
old music. His niece selected a duet for soprano and tenor, and said
that she would sing if any one would take the tenor; she stood with
the music in her hand, looking dubiously at the circle of men around
her. Not one could sing. Mrs. Delancey, my companion at the
dinner-table, looked at me.
"Mr. Valentine sings, Helen. I am sure he will be happy to sing with
you."
Miss Courtland turned to me with a smile that was positively
bewildering. "Will you sing this duet with me, Mr. Valentine?"
Mr. Courtland flashed a furious glance at me, which said, "Don't dare
to sing with my niece." Of all my humiliations this stung me the most.
Mr. Courtland, however, seemed to regret having shown so much feeling,
for his manner changed.
"I hope you will oblige us by singing, Mr. Valentine," he said,
stiffly.
Of course I sang, although I was tempted to refuse, and leave the
house instead. How could I refuse Miss Courtland? Her voice was
exquisite--sympathetic. It made me feel as though I could confide in
her. What if I should! Yes, and be cut the next time we met. I felt
painfully the chasm that divided us, gentle and cordial as she was,
and left as soon as the song was over. I wonder whether I shall see
her again?
_February 13th._--I have been out several times this week, and twice
have met Miss Courtland. Her uncle never goes out, and Mrs. Delancey
chaperons her. She always seems glad to see me, and certainly has the
most charming manners. Never mind the fact of my being a whited
sepulchre. Let me enjoy the goods the gods have sent me. That
confounded Morton! he is always at Miss Courtland's elbow, and when he
succeeds in engaging her to dance before I do, he looks at me with his
insolent smile.
_February 15th._--Morton's malice is unspeakable. Feeling convinced as
I do that he suspects my secret, it is positive torture to see him
talk to Miss Courtland as he did last night. He evidently spoke of me,
and she listened to him, looking at me meanwhile with a surprised
expression. That man has me in his power.
_February 20th._--I feel that it is unprincipled to send Miss
Courtland flowers, for two reasons--first, because I cannot do it and
pay my bills as well; secondly, because it adds to my deception in
making a friend of her, and yet I cannot resist the temptation to show
her my admiration.
_February 21st._--Matters are coming to a climax. Last night Miss
Courtland said, with a dignified sweetness that was irresistible: "Mr.
Valentine, I have noticed that you have never been to see me. I have
not asked you, because I supposed you would feel at liberty to come
after having dined with my uncle."
"I assure you, Miss Courtland," I said, "I should of course have done
so, but the truth is I have had a slight misunderstanding with your
uncle, and I do not feel that I can go to his house."
Of course I added a lie to the rest of my duplicity. Her face was
lighted with a charming smile. "That is no reason for not coming; you
owe my uncle a call at all events. I will be at home to-morrow--no,
Thursday afternoon. Come in about five o'clock, and I will give you a
cup of tea. My uncle is never at home until six o'clock, and when he
does come in, never sees visitors. Even if you do meet him, it will be
a good opportunity to make your peace with him."
In a kind of dream I recklessly consented.
Morton came pushing up at that moment.
"By the way, Miss Courtland," he said, "will you be at home Thursday
afternoon? If so, with your permission, I will call upon you."
Of course he had overheard me, and wished to irritate me. Fortunately
some one spoke to Miss Courtland at that moment, and she turned away
without having heard Morton. For once my anger flamed out. I caught
him by the arm, and held it like a vise.
"Be careful," I said, between my teeth. "This sort of thing may go too
far."
He gave me a furious look, and shaking me off, left the room.
_February 22d._ TWO A.M.--My brain is reeling. My world is upside
down. There is no use in trying to sleep. I will write down what has
happened. It may calm me. This evening when I entered the house where
I was to entertain others at the expense of my self-respect, I found I
was before the time. The rooms were empty, with the exception of my
hostess, a very old lady, who held a formidable ear-trumpet in her
hand. Preceding me down the brightly lighted room was a gentleman.
There was something unpleasantly familiar in the cut of his coat and
the carriage of his head. It was my evil genius, Morton. I made up my
mind to wait until some one else came, before going in. As I stood in
the background this scene was enacted before me:
Morton bowed. The old lady looked blankly at him.
"I am Mr. Morton, madam," said he.
She continued to stare at him, and then held out her trumpet. Morton
took it, and repeated his words into its depths.
"Horton?" she said, interrogatively.
"Morton," he called.
"Oh yes, Lawton--Mr. Lawton."
"Morton!" he fairly shouted.
"Oh yes," she said, intelligence breaking over her face. "Morton--Mr.
Morton, from the Globe office. Where's the other? There were to have
been two. Just take care of yourself, please, for a moment. I have to
go and see about something."
She tottered out of the room, and Morton, turning, confronted me. He
saw that I had overheard all. Before I could speak he came toward me
with an air of desperation.
"For Heaven's sake don't betray me, Valentine, now that you know
my secret," he exclaimed. "I have felt from the first that you
suspected--that I was in your power. I throw myself on your mercy.
In your safe and prosperous condition you don't know--you can't
know--what a frightful position I am in."
My face must have changed in some ghastly manner as he spoke, for he
stopped and looked at me with deepening consternation.
"What is it? What's the matter?" he asked.
I saw my mistake, and tried to look unconcerned, but at that moment
the old lady came back into the room.
"Oh, there's the other," she said, as she saw me. "His name's
Valentine, so that's all right."
Several people came into the room, and she went forward to greet them.
Morton looked at me in dazed silence for a minute; then he seemed to
master his astonishment by a mighty effort.
"So," he said, huskily, "we are quits. I am in your power, but you are
equally in mine. Be careful how you interfere with me."
We did not speak again together during the evening. What is to be the
end of this? To-morrow I go to see Miss Courtland, and I have made up
my mind to confess everything. Perhaps she will think no worse of me.
The queen still loved Ruy Blas after she found he was a lackey.
What nonsense am I dreaming of?
_February 23d._--The game is up. I went this afternoon to Mr.
Courtland's house, and found Miss Courtland at home, alone. She was in
a dim little room, with the firelight nickering on her beautiful face.
She saw that I was constrained and anxious, and at once asked me the
reason. Something in her kind manner broke down my composure.
"Miss Courtland," I said, "how would you feel if I were to confess
that I have been deceiving you--that I am not what I seem to be?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, anxiously.
"Tell me first," I said, "that whatever I tell you, you will still be
my friend, and will believe me when I say that I have not wished to
deceive you--that I have bitterly regretted it."