When he was left alone the Duke swore sharply to himself. He was not a
man accustomed to the use of strong language--but occasions arose in
life sometimes when a good sound oath seemed to relieve tension!
Then he paced up and down his long room. His imagination was on fire. He
could see Katherine--he dwelt on the name "Katherine"--in the baboon
embrace of old John Townly--loathsome picture!
Yes, of course, she would adorn any position, and Dullinglea was only a
very moderate house. He could see her tall, slender, graceful figure
sweeping in rich velvets through much larger rooms than it contained.
Such rooms, for example, as these, his own at Valfreyne!
She would sit to-night between young Westonborough and old Barchester,
but in a place where a gap in the flowers would give him, the host, a
continuous view of her.
Then he went off to dress, in a fiery mood!
Katherine, meanwhile, had been looking over "Eothen," and noting the
marked passages, which she found to be the same mutual favourites they
had discovered that night at Gerard's.
Had her host underlined them since then, or were they marked before?
Then she peeped at "Abelard and Héloise" and turned over all the leaves.
None of them had any pencillings, but her eye caught this sensible
paragraph, and it stiffened her jaded spirit, and made her feel more
calm:
"'How void of reason are men,' said Seneca, 'to make distant evils
present by reflection, and to take pains before death to lose all the
comfort of life.'"
She was here at a splendid party as a guest like everyone else, and she
must enjoy it and forget anything but the pleasure of the moment. But
oh! if the Duke would only talk to her!
She wore the new white frock and looked quite beautiful, and some of the
lilies of the valley shone in her belt.
Lady Garribardine was extremely pleased with her appearance and patted
her arm.
"To-morrow Sir John Townly is coming over from Hornwell, child, and I
want you to be agreeable to him for me, as I shall be very busy. You
must take him for a little walk."
Her Ladyship knew that however irksome it would appear to Katherine, her
command would be obeyed!
The Duke's eyes were full of suppressed passion at dinner, and his wit
was caustic. Katherine could not hear it, but could see his face, and
the puzzled expression which now and then came over the two ladies on
either side of him; and once she met his gaze, and there was pain and a
challenge in it. Excitement rose in her before dessert came. She
knew--she felt--he was conscious of her presence--and that it was not
indifference which kept him from her side. What was it all leading to?
It was very evident that he was determined not to succumb to whatever it
might be. It was also evident that he certainly did experience emotion.
Katherine felt unhappy, but this must not prevent her from talking
politely and sympathetically to the ladies she happened to be sitting
next to in the great drawing-room, until the men came in. She remarked
how protective and gracious her own dear Ladyship was being to her,
saying a word in passing and making her feel at home and an equal and a
guest. She must be very grateful for these things and not look ahead.
Why had this new and sudden sense of values come over her? This
realisation of the frightful obstacle created by the blemish of the
three days? At the dinner at Gerard's she had not so much as remembered
them, their meaning had come in a flash with the thrill of the Duke's
kiss of homage upon her hand. Had she been contemplating union with Sir
John, she would have looked upon them as a fortunate experience to guide
her in her knowledge of men. So this was some psychological witness to
the demands of the spirit of--love! Of love that desires to give only
the pure gold untarnished to the lover.
She felt like a caged bird, and her triumphant evening of pleasing
women, and earning the admiration of all who spoke to her, tasted only
as Dead Sea fruit.
Now the Duke, when the men left the dining-room, walked straight
to his own sitting-room. He was a man of rapid action and supreme
self-confidence. He opened the inner door softly and listened--there was
no sound, he could move with impunity. There was no one in the passage
room, but there was not a moment to be lost; the housemaids, he knew,
would be coming round almost immediately with the cans of hot water for
the night. He crossed the space and deliberately entered the green room,
turning on the light as he did so.
He hastily looked about at the books--Yes, she had put the two special
ones by her bed. And "Abelard and Héloise" was underneath; he pulled it
out and quickly found a passage he wanted and with his gold pencil he
scored it deeply underneath, and putting the volume on the top he
swiftly left the room and was again in his own, and on his way to the
white drawing-room. The whole affair had not taken two minutes. And with
the knowledge of this fact accomplished, he looked almost serene as he
sat down by a great lady's side and determinedly avoided looking at
Katherine.
So the evening passed without speech between them beyond good-night, and
Miss Bush retired sorrowfully to bed.
But she could not sleep, and kept on the light to read. There were
"Eothen" and "Abelard and Héloise" close to her side, their order of
placing reversed, since she had left them, this change effected by the
housemaids, no doubt. And the love letters being on the top, she opened
them first. She read many exquisite thoughts, and was just thinking of
sleep when she turned a page and suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, for
this is what she read:
"I wish to heaven you had not such a power over me." And the passage was
deeply underlined.
Her heart beat to suffocation. There had been no such mark in this place
when she had read this very page before dinner. How had it come
there?--Who--Who?--But there was only one person who could have done
such a thing--the Duke!
She bent nearer the lamp and devoured the lines again, and then she
passionately kissed the words and turned out the light.
Next day, Sunday, a number of the party went to church, their host among
them--but Katherine and Lady Garribardine did not accompany them. They
were seated on the tennis lawn watching a game when the church-goers
joined the group.
Three magnificent cedars of Lebanon made a great patch of shade, and
here the chairs were placed. The Duke took one and stretched himself on
it as though fatigued. His grey felt hat was tilted over his eyes. He
made a pleasing picture of length of limb and grace and distinction--the
same curious emotion crept over Katherine again as she had already
experienced--half quiver, half shock--a strong desire to be very close
to him, to touch him, to feel herself caressing and caressed. His hands
were clasped idly upon his knee, and his voice as he spoke softly to a
lady was lazy and complacent. Oh! how extremely bitter the whole
situation was proving to be!
The emerald ring seemed to flash green fire as a tiny glint of sunlight
struck it; it caught the attention of the sprightly dame to whom His
Grace was talking.
"What a very wonderful ring that is you wear, Duke. Has it a history?"
"Yes, a very remarkable one."
Katherine listened, deeply interested, she had so often wondered about
this ring, too.
"It has been in the family since the last Crusade. It came back with the
tradition attached that it was the famous graven emerald seal which
Theodoras made for Polycrates, tyrant of Samos, about 590 B. C., and
which was in vain thrown into the sea to be lost! It was brought back to
Polycrates in the body of a fish next day. Such exampled luck was
considered to be ominous by his ally, Amasis, who broke off all alliance
with him in consequence. And truly enough, he was not long after
murdered from jealousy of his good fortune! The ring then disappeared
and was supposed later to have been found by a Roman who handed it down
for generations until it somehow got back into Greece, and when wrecked
there on his way home from Palestine, the Rievaulx of the day obtained
it from its owner, how, history does not say, and it has always been
with us ever since--a strange belief attaching to it--that if life is
happy it must not be worn, but that if things have gone ill then it is
safe to wear it for the rest of time."
He put out his hand for the lady to look at the stone and a knot of
interested people drew near.
"You see," His Grace continued, "it is deeply graven with a lyre--and
sometimes it seems to be dull and sometimes it flashes angrily."
"Are you not afraid to wear it?" some tactless person said.
The Duke replied gravely--"Why should I be? I have amply fulfilled all
the conditions attached," and then the company, remembering the dark and
ugly shadow of the mad Duchess, which had hung over his life for so many
years, all seemed to talk at once and so the slightly awkward moment
passed.
But Katherine thought deeply upon the subject as she sat in a wicker
chair.
Yes, how ill his life had gone, and he was now fifty-three years old,
and if it were true that he felt enough to have taken the trouble to
score that sentence in her book, his present frame of mind could not be
altogether happy either, and she sighed--why was happiness so often a
forbidden fruit?
For a second before lunch she happened to be standing near him, and so
some kind of words were necessary for politeness' sake.
"I hope you find your room comfortable, Miss Bush, and that you have all
that you want."
She looked straight into his eyes, and there was a world of meaning in
hers as she answered.
"Everything, thank you--and I am especially interested in the books. The
last guest who slept there must have taken liberties with your volumes
and put strange pencillings under some of the paragraphs, which I only
discovered last night."
"It was a man who occupied the room lately. What presumption he showed!"
"Yes, I wondered if you knew about it, the most significant marking is
in the letters of 'Abelard and Héloise.' The scribbler had a turn for
sentiment, it would seem, and probably was suffering from hallucinations
as to his own state, which he imagined to be one of subjection."
"No, he was a level-headed fellow, who was not particularly happy,
though. I remember, and no doubt he found solace in reading about the
despairing passion of those two, and in underlining that passage which
records _Abelard's_ rebellion against pain so like his own."
Katherine sighed. "Happiness, alas! lies in the hand only of the very
strong," and she passed on to another group.
And the Duke frowned a little as they went in to lunch.
Sir John Townly came over in the afternoon, as he had been invited to
do, and Lady Garribardine intimated to her secretary that now she must
take this incubus off her hands; so Katherine obediently proposed a
stroll round the wonderful tulip beds, which were in full bloom. And
Mordryn saw them go off together from the window where he stood.
"I really do not think it looks so ridiculous after all," Lady
Garribardine remarked to him reflectively, complacence in her tone. "He
is quite a fine figure of a man except for his perfectly bald head, and
that does not show now in his hat."
The Duke made an exclamation of disgust.
"Poor Miss Bush!"
"I do hope she won't be foolish, but she has been so odd lately; I
cannot understand these girls."
"Odd?"
"Yes--sad-looking and quiet--Of course I would not force her into
anything she did not like, but still, Sir John would be better than some
attractive and penniless young guardsman with nothing to offer but
love's young dream.--There are one or two who come over from Windsor who
rather hang about."
"Oh! yes, certainly," emphatically agreed the Duke, and then he thought
of another sentence in that book which seemed such a bond between them,
one where _Abelard_ wrote, "What a comfort I felt in seeing you shut
up!" Yes, to marry old Sir John would almost be the equivalent of a
convent. But not quite! There was always the thought that, however old,
he would still be the undisputed possessor of this most desirable piece
of womanhood! His would be the right to clothe and feed her, and give
her jewels. His to hold her in his arms. The realisation of all this was
maddening to Mordryn, for he no longer disguised from himself that he
profoundly desired to exercise these rights himself. And she had said
that happiness only lay in the hands of the very strong.--Yes, but how
could one define strong? Strong in fidelity to tradition and family and
race and class? Or strong to break all barriers and seize that thing a
man's heart cries out for passionately, his mate, his soul's and his
body's mate? These were problems which were distressingly agitating to
think over, and distracted his mind from the duties towards guests.
What a time she spent in pointing out those tulips to that old fool!
What pompous gallantry his attitude expressed! Of course the girl must
be bored to death. Why had she been "odd" lately, "quiet and sad"? Oh,
how divine it would be to go off to the Belvedere presently and see the
sunset from over there by the lake, and ask her many things, and then as
they looked on the water from the marble terrace, if the falcon's eye
grew sweet again and soft, to read dear messages there, and fold her to
his heart!
She was so subtle, she understood every shade in anything he said, they
had the same tastes and the same likings in books and art. She did not
know Italy and France; what supreme pleasure to wander there, and
discover their manifold beauties to her! And above all, she was young
and fresh and passionate--who could doubt it who looked into her fair
face, or knew anything about type? If she loved him she would never be
cold, but would amply repay him for his long starvation and abstinence
from joy. The lonely splendour of Valfreyne would then become a happy
home filled with interest and affection. How was he going to get through
another twenty years of dull duty after his twenty-five of anguish and
grief? He supposed he might live to be eighty, even, the Monluces were a
tenacious race!
Here Lady Garribardine deemed it prudent to divert his thoughts; she
realised that the moment for the final good which would draw him over
the brink into happiness had not yet come, so she spoke of soothing
things, and then amused him and coaxed him into a more peaceful state;
only again to see him restive when the pair eventually came in from the
tulip beds.
Katherine looked tired and depressed, but Sir John had an air of
gratification about him which made Mordryn feel that he could willingly
have punched his head!
His good manners alone enabled him to bid a cordial farewell to the poor
man when presently he left.
The sun was declining and the colours were opal over the lake. The
duties of host to so many charming ladies restrained the Duke and he had
the mortification of seeing Katherine and another girl go off with two
of the young men in two canoes on the topaz waters, and by the time he
went to dress he was almost desperate.
Katherine was in black to-night, and a red rose was in her belt. Where
had she got it from? Had that insupportable young Westonborough, whom
she had been in the canoe with, given it to her? Surely Bilton had not
been so remiss as not to have seen that fresh lilies were put in the
green room!--But perhaps she preferred the red rose; women were
incredibly fickle and capricious!
Lady Garribardine perceived the expression of fierceness in his eyes,
and so contrived that even a single sentence with Katherine was
impossible. And thus the evening passed and good-nights were said, and
there remained only the one more day!