RECREANT LOVER.
Mrs. Drelincourt had been dead a year.
Anna and Mrs. Jenwyn were still at Combe Fenton, the Devonshire
village to which they had retired shortly after the death of the
mistress of Wyvern Towers.
On the particular morning to which we have now come, Anna set off for
her customary after breakfast constitutional on the sands. It was her
favorite walk, and one which she rarely missed in fine weather. She
was accompanied by Fanny, a demure looking but rather pretty girl, and
a native of Combe Fenton, who filled the post of maid and attendant to
both the younger and the elder lady.
About a fortnight before this, Mrs. Jenwyn, while gathering ferns, had
slipped and sprained her ankle so severely that she had not yet been
able to use it for longer than a few minutes at a time for walking
purposes. As a consequence, she had been under the necessity of
substituting Fanny for herself as Anna's companion during the latter's
outdoor rambles. In so doing no faintest suspicion entered her mind
that she might be exposing her charge to a risk.
This morning, however, her eyes were destined to be opened.
After Anna's departure the housemaid wheeled her in her bath chair to
a favorite spot in the grounds under a spreading beech, where she was
in the habit of reading and working the time away till the girl's
return. Here she had been some time engaged with her tatting, when she
was startled by the appearance of a man who came suddenly from behind
a thick clump of laurels and rhodendrons, and halting a few yards from
her, took off his soft felt hat and made her a low bow.
He was young, and looked what he was, a superior mechanic. Before Mrs.
Jenwyn could find her tongue he spoke.
"I crave your pardon, ma'am, for intruding upon you in this way," he
began, "but I couldn't very well call upon you at the house, because
the servants there all know me. And now, ma'am, I must ask you to
excuse me if I put a certain question to you. Are you aware that the
young lady who lives here with you is in the habit, morning after
morning, of meeting a young gentleman on the sands of Carthew Bay?"
For a few seconds Mrs. Jenwyn could not speak, so utterly astounded
was she.
Then she said, a little faintly, "No, I am certainly not aware of
anything of the kind."
"That, however, is what takes place. The young gentleman is always
there, waiting for her, and they walk up and down the sands together,
or sit side by side on some of the big stones which are strewn about,
for an hour at a time. Yesterday--excuse me, ma'am, for mentioning
it--he kissed her twice before they parted."
"Do you happen to know how long these meetings have been going on?"
"This will make the eleventh day."
"You seem to have done your spying to some purpose to be able to tell
me all this."
The young man merely screwed up his lips.
"Describe the young gentleman's appearance as nearly as you can."
"He's not so tall as I am by half a foot, but rather stiffly built;
with sandy hair and a light mustache. In one eye he carries a glass."
"Guy Ormsby!" exclaimed Mrs. Jenwyn under her breath. "I felt nearly
sure it must be he; and yet not eighteen months ago I heard him tell
his sister that his regiment was ordered abroad." Aloud she said, "But
how is it, I should like to know, that Fanny Davis has never said a
word to me about these meetings at Carthew Bay?"
"Because, ma'am, she has no doubt been bribed not to tell. She just
perches herself on a bit of rock out of the way of the others, and
reads novelettes all the time they are together. Oh, she's a deep un,
is Fan, and not to be trusted further than one can see her!" He spoke
with a touch of bitterness not observable before.
Like most women, Mrs. Jenwyn was certainly not without her occasional
intuitions.
Looking the young fellow straight in the eyes, she said: "You either
are or have been in love with Fanny Davis, and she has jilted you."
He looked first amazed and then sulky, while his face turned the color
of a peony. "Whether that's so or not," he said, after a brief pause,
"I don't see that it has anything to do with what I came here to tell
you."
"You are quite right," replied Mrs. Jenwyn pleasantly. "One thing has
nothing whatever to do with the other. It was merely a guess on my
part. By the way, what is your name? You need not be afraid of telling
it me, because I shall not speak to any one about our interview."
"My name is John Clisby."
"Thank you. Then, Mr. Clisby, there are two more items of information
which I should feel obliged by your obtaining for me. First of all,
I should like to know the address of our young friend with the
eyeglass--that is to say, at what place he has taken up his quarters
for the time being; and, secondly, what name he is passing under."
"He's staying at the Golden Swan, at the other end of the village, and
has been since he came here, nearly three weeks since. As for his
name, I'll engage to find that out for you by tomorrow."
After a little further talk the young carpenter went his way, fully
satisfied with his morning's work. He told himself that he had merely
been playing a game of tit for tat. After leading him on and trifling
with him for six months, Fanny had finally sent him about his
business, and now he had done his best to be even with her.
"She'll get the sack as sure as her name's Fan D., and serve her jolly
well right," he said to himself with a chuckle, as he took his way
through the shrubbery.
Miss Drelincourt and her maid were back from the bay in time for
luncheon; indeed, Anna's punctuality could always be depended on.
"How innocent and good they both look," said Mrs. Jenwyn to herself,
as they entered the house. "As for the girl, I always misdoubted that
demure face of hers--but Anna! And yet, why wonder? Did I not say to
Mr. Drelincourt that she was a hard one to read? And now, I suppose, a
new factor has come to complicate matters, and will have to be
reckoned with. Oh, what a pity!--what a pity! I would rather Guy
Ormsby were dead and buried than he should have found his way here."
But nothing of what she felt or thought was visible to the others.
Anna was conscious of no change in her, and the day passed over as
quietly and uneventfully as hundreds before it had done.
Next morning Anna and her attendant set out for their usual forenoon
ramble, utterly unsuspicious that Mrs. Jenwyn had any knowledge of the
magnet which drew the former's footsteps unerringly in the direction
of Carthew Bay.
Half an hour later a note, which had been brought to the house by a
boy, was put into Mrs. Jenwyn's hands. It contained two lines only:
The person we spoke about yesterday is passing under the name of Mr.
Harold Vince, but his portmanteau is marked with the letters G. O.
Your obedient servant,
John Clisby.
When Miss Drelincourt, accompanied by Fanny, got back from her
forenoon walk on the day following that of John Clisby's visit to
Rosemount, she found that Mrs. Jenwyn had gone for a drive in the pony
chaise they were in the habit of hiring from a jobmaster in the
village; and, further, that she had left word Anna was not to wait
luncheon for her, as she might possibly be rather late in returning.
It was such an unusual thing for Mrs. Jenwyn to drive out without her
that the girl could not help speculating as to the nature of the
errand which had taken her from home (why had she said no word of her
intention at breakfast?), but no faintest suspicion of the truth
entered her mind.
Mrs. Jenwyn went for a long country drive, and it was close upon two
o'clock before Combe Fenton was reached on her return, by which time
she felt pretty sure Guy Ormsby would be back from his usual
appointment with Anna. Nor was she mistaken. She had requested her
driver to stop at the Golden Swan Hotel, and on inquiring whether "Mr.
Harold Vince" was indoors, she was told, to her satisfaction, that he
was.
By this time her sprain was very much better, and with the driver's
help, and that of a walking stick, she managed to alight and limp
indoors. A minute later there was a tap at the door of "Mr. Vince's"
sitting' room, and in response to his "Come in," it was opened by the
landlady, who the same moment announced, "A lady to see you, sir."
Guy, who, with one leg thrown over the arm of his easy chair, was
indulging in an after luncheon cigar, sprang to his feet, and on
recognizing his visitor, which he did at the first glance, he stood
staring at her for some seconds with a dropped jaw and a face which
had faded to the color of an unripe lemon.
Mrs. Jenwyn waited till the door was shut behind the landlady before
she spoke. Then she said pleasantly:
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ormsby. My intrusion upon you seems to have taken
you a little by surprise, which, perhaps, is hardly to be wondered at.
Still, although your natural timidity has hindered you from calling
upon us at Rosemount, I have no wish to appear unneighborly, and I
know of no reason why I should not call upon you. I trust that you
left them all well at Denham Lodge."
Guy's smile was not a pleasant one to see. Flinging away what was left
of his cigar, he said: "Will you not be seated, Mrs. Jenwyn? I may at
once confess that your visit is a surprise, but not, let me add, an
unwelcome one. May I be permitted to hope that Miss Drelincourt is
quite well?"
He felt that he must talk, but he hardly knew what to say. One of his
first thoughts at sight of her had been, "Can Anna have been such a
fool as to tell this woman that she has agreed to a secret marriage?"
It was a disquieting question.
"As you have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Drelincourt within the
last two or three hours, you are in a better position to judge of the
state of her health than I am, who have not seen her since breakfast
time."
This was not a very promising beginning, as Guy could not but admit.
"Hang it all!" he said to himself. "Where's the good of beating about
the bush? Some specific purpose has brought her here. What is it? The
sooner I find out the better."
After a brief pause, he said aloud: "I perceive, Mrs. Jenwyn, that you
are not unaware that Miss Drelincourt and I have seen each other?"
Mrs. Jenwyn's reply was a grave inclination of the head.
"We have met more than once--several times, in point of fact--at
Carthew Bay. I have no wish to deny that such is the case."
"It would be useless of you to attempt to do so."
"Am I right in assuming that your call upon me today is in reference
to those meetings?"
"You are quite right in your assumption. As you are aware, Miss
Drelincourt is here under my sole charge, and it rests with me to
safeguard her by every means in my power. That being the case, I am
fully justified in demanding of you with what purpose you have been at
the trouble of tracing her to this remote village, and then of
contriving stealthy meetings with her at a time when you knew I was
laid up and not there to look after her. That, Mr. Guy Ormsby, is what
I am justified in demanding to know."
There was no trace of excitement either in her voice or manner, but
the very quietude of her demeanor lent her words an added
impressiveness. Evidently Mrs. Jenwyn was not a woman to be trifled
with.
Guy cleared his voice before replying. "Your demand, as you term it,
Mrs. Jenwyn, certainly lacks nothing on the score of frankness," he
said, "and I will endeavor to be equally frank in my reply to it. I
have been at the pains of tracing Miss Drelincourt, and of following
her to this place, because I am deeply and sincerely in love with her,
and because it is my dearest hope to be able to win her for my wife."
This was probably no more than Mrs. Jenwyn had expected to be told;
indeed, on the assumption that he was a man of honor, no other plea of
justification was open to him.
"You know, as you must have known from the date of your visit to
Wyvern Towers, if not before then, all about poor Anna's mental
affliction, and yet in the face of this terrible visitation you tell
me that you love her and would fain make her your wife! To me such a
thing seems inconceivable. You must be very differently constituted
from others of your sex, Mr. Ormsby--very differently indeed."
"Say what you please, Mrs. Jenwyn, think what you choose--I am
perfectly sincere in what I have told you. I love Anna, and I am here
with the purpose of winning her for my wife. Besides, I believe, with
my poor dead and gone sister, that Anna will grow out of her
affliction, as you call it. If I am not mistaken, that was the opinion
of Dr. Pounceby, the celebrated specialist."
Mrs. Jenwyn shook her head sadly. "I wish I could discern any grounds
for such a belief," she said, "but at present I see none whatever."
Then, after a pause, "Tell me this, Mr. Ormsby: Seeing you were so
bent on making love to Anna, why, after you had discovered her
retreat, did you not come direct to Rosemount, send in your card, and
ask to see her?"
A faint tinge of color flushed his cheeks for a moment, but he
answered quite coolly, "I will tell you why, Mrs. Jenwyn. Because, if
I had presented myself at Rosemount, I should not have been allowed to
see Miss Drelincourt--at least, not alone. I should have had no
opportunity afforded me of pressing my suit, or of saying a twentieth
part of what I wanted to say to her. You, my dear madam, would have
taken jolly good care of that. Such being the state of affairs, no
course was open to me save to act as I did."
Mrs. Jenwyn's thin lips came together for a moment. "You are quite
right, Mr. Ormsby. I should have opposed your suit by every means in
my power. It would have been my duty to do so. Before coming near
Rosemount, you ought to have gone to Mr. Drelincourt, or, at any rate,
have written to him, asking him to sanction your suit with his
sister."
"A sanction I should never have succeeded in obtaining--of that I am
quite sure. Besides, Anna is only his half sister, and there's nothing
in her father's will which gives him the least control over either her
or her property."
"But surely, as her nearest living relative, he has a right to be
consulted in so important a matter, more especially as Anna is still
considerably under age."
"I fail to recognize any such right on his part. Besides, he would
only flout me. I know him--curse him! The things he sometimes said to
me at the Towers used to make me wild with rage, only there was never
anything to lay hold of. He was too cunning for that."
"There are Miss Drelincourt's trustees, through whom her income is
paid her while she is under age."
"SO there are. But why should I go near them? I suppose the old
colonel had got it into his head that his daughter would never marry.
At any rate, there's no clause in his will which empowers her trustees
to alienate a shilling of her income, even should she marry under age
and without their consent. On that point I've satisfied myself."
"You are not a very rich man, I believe, Mr. Ormsby?"
The hot color surged up to the roots of his hair. He half rose to his
feet, and then sat down again as if remembering himself. "Faith,
you're right there, Mrs. Jenwyn," he said, with a short laugh. "I am a
poverty stricken beggar, and no mistake. I freely admit it."
"And of course it would be great pecuniary gain to you to marry any
one with Anna's prospective income?"
"To be sure it would. I should be a fool to deny it. If I marry at
all, I must marry money; that's absolutely essential. So, why should I
not wed Anna? She is, or will be, fairly well off; and then she's a
lovely girl and I'm awfully gone on her."
He finished with a self satisfied smirk and a twist of his mustache,
and then sat staring at Mrs. Jenwyn through his monocle, with his
other eye half shut, as implying that, so far as he was concerned, the
last word had been said, and that the interview might be considered as
at an end.
But Mrs. Jenwyn was by no means of the same opinion.
"Then, am I to understand, Mr. Ormsby, that it is your intention to
persist in your suit, despite anything I can say or urge to the
contrary?"
"That is what I certainly wish you to understand."
"Will nothing move you from your resolve?"
"Nothing whatever."
"What is there to hinder me from taking Anna away and placing her
directly under the charge of Mr. Drelincourt? That is a possibility
you seem to have lost sight of."
"Not at all. The question is, if you were to propose any such measure,
would Anna agree to it? I affirm distinctly that she would not. The
time has gone by, my dear madam, when your wishes were a law to her.
Allow me to tell you this: I have Anna's distinct promise to marry
me."
Under the circumstances, he might perhaps be excused the smile of
exultation and gratified vanity which overspread his features; but,
for all that, Mrs. Jenwyn felt a strong desire to slap his face
vigorously with both hands.
What he had just told her did not surprise her greatly. From the
moment John Clisby stated that he had seen Ormsby kiss Anna she had
known that matters must have come to a serious pass between them.
She sat for a few moments as if considering. Then she said: "If Anna
has indeed given you such a promise as you say she has, the matter at
once assumes a very different complexion. All the more needful is it
that Mr. Drelincourt should at once be communicated with, in order
that either he or her trustees may be in a position to decide where
and with whom Anna's home shall be during the remaining term of her
minority."
"Pardon me, my dear madam, but there will be no need whatever for
either you or any one else to enter into any such arrangements with
regard to Miss Drelincourt's future. In less than a month from now her
home will be with me. The dear girl has consented to make me the
happiest of men as soon as the needful arrangements for our marriage
can be concluded."
He rose and pushed back his chair.
"We love each other; why, then, defer our happiness till she shall be
of age?"
There was a touch of bluster in his way of asking the question, as
though he anticipated some further opposition on Mrs. Jenwyn's part.
Not without a little dismay did that lady learn that matters had gone
so far between the young people.
"It is all the fault of my accident," she said to herself. "But for
that, I should have had her constantly under my eye, and he would have
had no opportunity of meeting her except in my presence, which would
not have suited his purpose at all. But the harm is done, and I am
driven to my last intrenchment. Oh, Anna, Anna, where are your eyes,
that you cannot see through this shallow, selfish pretender--a cad at
heart, if ever there was one--who cares no more for you than for the
flower in his buttonhole, who seeks you only for your money, and who
would break your heart when once he had made you his wife, as surely
as the sun will rise tomorrow morning! But you shall be saved in your
own despite, my poor darling, even if your foolish little heart should
be cracked in the process. There is no help for it--none!"
She had ample time for these and other thoughts while Ormsby crossed
to a corner cupboard, from a decanter in which he poured out a
"Thimbleful" of neat spirits and drank it off, wondering to himself
meanwhile how much longer his unwelcome visitor was going to intrude
her presence upon him. But Mrs. Jenwyn had not done with him.
"Sit down in that chair, Mr. Ormsby," she said, as he turned from the
cupboard, speaking in a tone so peremptory that he could not repress a
start. After staring at her for a second or two, he did as he was
told.
It was not the chair he had occupied before, but one drawn up close to
the narrow table on the opposite side of which she was seated. Leaning
forward, with her arms resting on the table, and her face within a
yard of his, she said: "Listen, Guy Ormsby. I have something to say to
you, the telling of which you have brought on yourself by your own
persistent folly."
Then, after a backward glance, as if to assure herself that the door
was really shut, with lowered voice, and eyes which compelled his to
confront them whether they would or no, she went on to speak to him
for the next five minutes without a break or ever hesitating for a
word. It was evident that she spoke from a heart fully charged, and
while her utterance was so impressive, that which she had to tell him
was of a nature so singular that when she had come to an end Guy might
be excused if for a few seconds he felt rather uncertain whether he
was standing on his head or his heels.
Various emotions had chased themselves across his face during the
telling--simple surprise deepening into wide eyed amazement, and
lurking incredulity ripening into a conviction of the truth of what he
was being told, which for a little space left his cheeks nearly as
bloodless as those of the woman opposite him, whose cold, incisive
tones seemed to cut into his consciousness like a surgeon's knife.
Presently he drew a long, deep breath, like that of a person coming
round after an operation. Then, in a voice as guarded as Mrs. Jenwyn's
own, he said: "And you are prepared to swear that what you have just
told me is the truth?"
"I swear it before Heaven!"
A brief space of silence ensued, which Mrs. Jenwyn was the first to
break.
"And now, Mr. Ormsby, may I ask whether you are still in the same mind
with regard to Miss Drelincourt? Are you still as firmly determined as
before to persist in your suit?"
"No, that I am not," responded Guy, with some emphasis. "What I have
just learned has put that notion wholly out of the question. I'm sorry
for poor dear Anna that matters have gone so far between us; but
what can I do, Mrs. Jenwyn? Tell me that. It's not altogether my
fault--now, is it?--that things have come to the pass they have."
"Certainly not, Mr. Ormsby. You are merely one more victim to the
force of circumstances. You have already admitted that pecuniarily
your position is not a very flourishing one. Of course, you have your
regimental pay, but am I right in assuming that outside that your
income is--what shall I call it?"
"Call it strictly limited, Mrs. Jenwyn, and then you will be
absolutely right," replied Guy, with a little jarring laugh. "In point
of fact, as you have seen fit to tell me so much, I don't mind
admitting to you that I haven't even my regimental pay to fall back
upon. In other words, I've thrown up my commission, and am now a
private gentleman at large, with empty pockets, and a hankering after
the fleshpots of Egypt which I have no longer the means of
gratifying."
"That must be a very uncomfortable state of affairs for you."
"It is; it is."
"Well, now, I have a certain proposition to make to you," said Mrs.
Jenwyn. Guy pricked up his ears and became all attention. "In the
first place, you shall give me your solemn promise never to reveal to
any one the secret which I have just confided to your keeping; and, in
the second place, you shall write Anna a couple of notes which I will
dictate to you. That is all. In return, if you care to accept of a
little present of a hundred pounds, you will be very welcome to it."
"If I care to accept it! My dear--my very dear--Mrs. Jenwyn! In the
present state of my finances a hundred pounds will be like---- But
never mind that. I am yours to command. There are writing materials on
the side table, so that----"
"I am quite ready, Mr. Ormsby."
The first note, dictated by Mrs. Jenwyn and written by Guy, ran thus:
Dearest:
I have just been telegraphed for on account of my brother's illness,
and must leave here at once. I will write you at greater length as
soon as possible. Meanwhile, believe me,
Devotedly yours,
G. O.
It was arranged that this note should be delivered to Anna by
messenger next morning, after she and Fanny should have left the house
for their usual forenoon ramble.
The second note read as follows:
Dear Miss Drelincourt:
After what occurred between us at our last few meetings on the sands
of Carthew Bay, you probably think it due to you that I should have
written you before now; and, indeed, my omission to do so would have
been unpardonable had not my silence been dictated by certain
considerations which I have found it impossible to ignore.
Into the nature of those considerations I have no wish to enter, nor
would it, perhaps, be desirable that I should do so. It will be enough
to state, in as few words as possible, to what conclusion they have
gradually but surely led me. It is to this: That, unwittingly and
unthinkingly, and as one walking blindfold, I have been guilty of the
most deplorable mistake of my life.
Is there any need for me to be more explicit, or to enter into details
which could not fail of being painful to us both? No, I am sure there
is not. Your woman's instinct will have already revealed to you the
nature of the mistake in question.
This I may add, that when I last parted from you I had no faintest
prevision of what was so soon to happen. Perhaps it never would have
happened had circumstances not called me away from Combe Fenton.
Yet who shall say it is not best for the happiness of both that the
discovery should have been made before the time had gone by for
remedying it! That is the light in which I trust you will endeavor to
regard it.
In conclusion, my dear Miss Drelincourt, I can only ask you to believe
in the sincerity of my contrition should my conduct be the cause of
any temporary unhappiness to you. And that, in any case, it will be no
more than temporary is the heartfelt hope of him who now subscribes
himself
Your obedient and devoted servant,
Guy Ormsby.
When the foregoing had been written, it was sealed up, addressed in
full to "Miss Drelincourt, Rosemount, near Combe Fenton, Devon," and
taken charge of by Mrs. Jenwyn.
All that now remained to be done was to arrange for the handing over
of the hundred pounds, and then for Mrs. Jenwyn to take her departure.