THE PRICE OF KNOWLEDGE
"I can never thank you sufficiently for all you've done, old man," said
Stanley to Kent-Lauriston, as the latter stood beside him, a few moments
later.
"Which means," said his friend, "that you are going to ask me to do you
another favour."
"How well you understand human nature," replied the Secretary, smiling
sadly. "Yes, it's quite true; I want you to go to--_her_--you
understand, for me. I meant to go myself, but after what Darcy has told
me, it's impossible."
"It's infinitely better to leave the affair in my hands. It will be
easier for both of you."
"I'm sure of it. You once said to me, you may remember, that it required
more skill to break than to make an engagement, and I'm certain that
you'd do this with great tact, and that I should blunder. You'll make it
as easy for her as you can, I know--perhaps she'll save you any
awkwardness by breaking it off herself. From what she said yesterday, I
should think it possible."
"I trust so."
"Here are her letters to me--you'll take them back."
"I will. Do you feel sure of yourself?"
"You need have no fears on that account. I think Madame Darcy was right
when she told me once that she was certain that I'd never loved."
"What reason did she give for that statement?"
"Reason--that's just it, she said I'd reasoned about my love, therefore
it couldn't be real."
"Madame Darcy is a very clever woman."
"And a very charming one."
"I fully agree with you, but of course she has her drawbacks."
"You think so?"
"Her present position is, to say the least, equivocal; and as a
divorcee----"
"Oh, come, Kent-Lauriston, can't you let anyone alone? I never think of
those things in connection with her. She's just Madame Darcy--that's
all. She forms her own environment; one is so completely dominated by
her presence, that other circumstances connected with her don't occur to
one."
"In other words, you do not reason."
"Kent-Lauriston!"
"There, I won't say it--only you admit that so far I've known you better
than you've known yourself.-- Yes?-- Well, do not forget what I once
told you before. You can never love a woman whom you cannot respect, and
no woman who respects herself would permit even a hint of a man's
affections until she was free to receive them. Any such premature
attempt would be fatal to his suit."
"Thank you," said Stanley, "I won't forget;" and then, with a touch of
his old humour, which the responsibilities of the last few days had
nearly crushed out, he added: "You're not going to try to save me
again?"
"No, thank you, one experience of that sort has been quite enough,"
replied Kent-Lauriston, laughing.
"Now about this present matter," continued the Secretary. "I don't want
you to think me callous or shallow, because I don't appear all broken
up; it has hit me very hard. I admit I was a fool, that I took for real
passion a sort of sentimentalism born of pity; but, nevertheless, I was
honest in my self-deception, and I assure you, even though you may laugh
at me, that could I restore her to the innocent girl I believed her to
be a few days ago; could I even be assured that she'd join this
conspiracy to help a friend, and not as a cold-blooded speculation; I'd
gladly marry her with all her faults, and give up my life to leading her
into better paths."
"I do not laugh at you, my boy," said Kent-Lauriston. "I respect you for
it, I believe you, too; but, as I said in our first interview on this
subject, you're too good for her; and she has underrated what she is not
fitted to understand."
"There, go now," said the Secretary. "If I talk of this any more, I
shall be unnerved, and I've need of all my self-control to-day. Go and
do the best you can. Be gentle and tender for my sake. I suppose I
ought to face the matter myself, but I can't bear to. I simply can't
look her in the face--now I know----" and he bent his head, choking back
a sob.
His friend pressed his hand silently, and left the room.
* * * * *
"Just one moment, if you please, Colonel Darcy," Kent-Lauriston had
said, overtaking that officer as he was crossing the park, about an hour
after his interview with Stanley.
"I can't stop just now, I'm in a hurry."
"Oh, yes, you can--you can spare me a minute--a minute for an old
acquaintance, who knew you when you were only a Lieutenant, like our
friend Kingsland; a Lieutenant in Derbyshire, who had aspirations for
the hand of Lord ----'s daughter."
"Which you frustrated, damn you! I haven't forgotten."
"Or the evidence which led to such an unfortunate result? Affairs of
that sort are not outlawed by the lapse of years; you understand?"
"What do you want of me? Speak! My time is of value."
"Yes, I know--about forty thousand pounds."
"Humph! Go on, will you. I'll tell you what you want, only be quick
about it."
"I merely want to know the exact and real truth of Miss Fitzgerald's
connection with this bribery and corruption business."
"I told your friend, the Secretary."
"I know what you _told_ him, he's just retailed it to me; but you will
pardon me, if I state that, as an observer, of human nature, I don't
believe it."
"I've said what I've said," replied the Colonel, surlily.
"Let us see if we can't arrive at a mutual understanding," continued
Kent-Lauriston, suavely. "You wish to injure the girl and make her
marriage with my friend impossible, because you think she's betrayed
you. I wish to render the marriage impossible, because I don't care to
see this young man make a fool of himself by marrying a girl who's after
his money, and who has nothing to offer in return. Our ends are
identical, our motives only are different. Do you follow me?"
The Colonel nodded.
"Now," resumed Kent-Lauriston, "you've told a very clever circumstantial
story, which has ruined her in Stanley's eyes, and has stopped the
match, as we both wished. Its only flaw lies in the fact that it is not
true. If he finds this out, he'll marry her in spite of us; but he is
much less likely to find it out if I know the real state of the case,
and, as a corollary, the weak points of your narrative, and so am able
to prevent the discovery. Do you believe me?"
"I never knew you to tell a lie--it's not in your line."
"Quite so. Therefore, will you tell _me_ the truth?"
"The truth, then, is that Belle didn't instigate the plot. I got her out
of a scrape some years ago, and she was grateful, and lent me a hand
with this, purely out of friendship. She doesn't expect to get a penny
in reward. It was her idea, however, of using Kingsland to forward the
stuff."
"Kingsland knew nothing about it?"
"Nothing at all. He thought the chests contained stereopticon slides."
"That's the real truth then?"
"Yes, but if you blow it to Stanley, I'll tell him your share in this
little arrangement."
Kent-Lauriston looked at him, coldly. "You said you were in a hurry,
Colonel Darcy," he remarked. "Don't let me detain you."
* * * * *
"I consider it providential," said the Marchioness.
Mrs. Roberts said nothing. It was this trait that rendered her so
admirable as a hostess and a friend.
"Of course," continued her Ladyship, "I had long known that there was
some sentiment between my dear Isabelle and Lieutenant Kingsland, and if
I had supposed there was anything serious, they would at once have had
my blessing, and--er--a wedding in St. George's, and--everything that
religion requires. Their secret marriage was childish and
ridiculous--because it was not opposed."
Mrs. Roberts still held her peace.
"I say," continued the Dowager, "that it was not opposed; of course Mr.
Stanley----"
"Ah," said her hostess, seeing that she was expected to intervene: "Mr.
Stanley--what of him?"
"Well, you see, my dear Mrs. Roberts, he's a most excellent young man;
but he comes from a Catholic country--and--er--the influence is so
insidious, that, on consideration, I didn't really feel--that my duty as
a mother would permit me to countenance the match further."
Mrs. Roberts said nothing, she had been ill-used in this particular, she
felt, and withheld her sympathy accordingly.
The Dowager appreciated the position, and acted promptly.
"Your dear niece, Miss Fitzgerald, such a charming girl," she continued,
"doubtless feels as I do. Her throwing Stanley over unreservedly was
most commendable, and reflected much credit on your influence, dear Mrs.
Roberts."
Her hostess was mollified, and showed it. The Dowager's position
promised to turn defeat into triumph.
"You're most kind, I'm sure," she murmured. "Belle was naturally guided
by me," and then changing a dangerous subject, she continued, "It is so
sad that Lieutenant Kingsland's honeymoon should be darkened by his
uncle's death."
Her Ladyship dried an imaginary tear, and added:--
"If one believes in Providence, one must of course believe that these
things are for the best."
"Here comes the Secretary," said Mrs. Roberts. "Does he know?"
"I must tell him," replied the Dowager. "It's my painful duty."
Mrs. Roberts precipitately left the room.
"Dear Mr. Stanley," murmured the Dowager, "I was just on the point of
sending for you; you've come most opportunely. I feel I must speak to
you about my dear daughter. She is a sadly wilful girl, and I fear----"
"Don't speak of it, your Ladyship. I know, that is, I've heard; and
permit me to offer my congratulations on your daughter's recent marriage
to Lieutenant Kingsland," he said, throwing into his voice what he
trusted might pass for a note of resignation.
"Dear Mr. Stanley," said the Dowager, infinitely relieved, "you are so
tactful, so generous----"
"I hope she'll be happy."
"Oh yes--yes--we must hope so." And her Ladyship sighed deeply. "_You_,
of course, know what I wished from my heart."
"I'm going away," he said abruptly, "this afternoon in fact. I'm
assigned on a diplomatic service, which, for the present, may take me
out of England, so you'll make my adieux to Lady Isabelle, will you
not?"
"I--er--trust you do not contemplate doing anything--foolish?"
"You may set your mind at rest on that score."
"You relieve me immensely--you'll excuse me if I'm too frank. I've come
so near being a--er--mother to you, I feel a peculiar interest in your
welfare. May I venture to express the hope, that you'll not commit
yourself with that young Irish person?"
"Your ladyship may feel quite easy-- Miss Fitzgerald and I have never
been more than friends, and in the future----"
"Of course one must be kind; but a young man cannot be too careful. I
assure you in regard to the young woman in question, that I was told in
strict confidence--the most shocking----"
"Pardon me," he interrupted, "but I couldn't think of violating your
strict confidence," and he passed by her out of the room.
"That young man," said the Dowager, in summing him up to a friend, "has
tact, but lacks reserve."