London seemed very noisy and tumultuous to Katherine when they returned
to Berkeley Square, and the routine of her work came almost as a relief.
What would be the outcome of this visit to Valfreyne? She could not
guess. That the Duke loved her she knew--but with what kind of love?
With an almighty passion which one day would break all barriers and seek
for fulfilment? Or with a restrained emotion which, when the temptation
of her presence was removed, would settle down? But of what matter
really whether he loved her with the one or the other, since both were
equally forbidden and useless!
And she?--What were her feelings? She knew in her heart that if she were
to permit herself to indulge in natural emotion, she could shower upon
him a love that in its white heat of devotion and passion would make
that which she had formerly given to Lord Algy appear but a puny
schoolgirl thing.
She must not give way to any such feelings, though; the pain was quite
bitter enough as it was--and nothing but stern discipline of mind and an
iron self-control could make it bearable at all.
She felt restless during that week--on tenterhooks to know if she should
see the Duke; hot and cold as she went into a room. But he did not come
and she heard casually that he was still at Valfreyne. And on Saturday
morning they went down to Blissington until the Monday afternoon, as
was their custom at each week-end.
Lady Garribardine watched Katherine critically and knew that she was
suffering, and so she was unusually kind and witty and sarcastic, and
acted as a tonic. She had a shrewd way of looking at men and things
which always delighted Katherine, and they seemed to grow closer friends
than ever.
"You are a great comfort to me, girl," she said. "I can talk to you and
air all my notions as I could to a man--and you do not answer upon
another subject. For you know, my dear, that if the basis of your
argument with nine women out of ten happens to be that the sea is salt,
they will reply that on the contrary the moon is made of green cheese!
You mildly protest that it is the taste of the sea, not the composition
of the moon which is in question, and then they say they totally
disagree with you and that the sun is warm! You are done!--There is
nothing left for you but to smile and talk of clothes!"
Katherine laughed delightedly. How well she knew this style of argument!
Matilda had always practised it.
"I believe I owe to my dear lady the faculty of seeing a little
differently."
"Not at all!--You always were as sharp as a needle. I may merely have
encouraged you perhaps."
"It is through your kindness and sympathy that I have emerged and broken
away from the stultifying bonds of my class. Oh! if you only knew how
deep is my gratitude!"
She was very seldom moved like this, and Lady Garribardine looked at her
closely.
"Tut, tut, child--you were made for great things, and it is because I
realised this at once, almost, that I have sympathised with you. I could
not have kept you back any more than I could have created qualities in
you. I could merely have delayed your upward progress or, as I hope I
have done, advanced it. The spirit in you is God-given and I have
nothing to do with it."
Katherine's eyes softened with love and reverence! Her dear, dear friend
and benefactress!
When she was alone, Lady Garribardine thought deeply over everything,
their respect and affection were mutual. It troubled her a little to see
the girl so quiet--Mordryn had played quite fairly, she hoped--but
yes--he could never do otherwise. She guessed what was the reason of the
estrangement--if estrangement there was--on his side, and it caused her
no permanent concern.
"When a man feels as Mordryn feels, no class prejudice in the world will
keep him from the woman in the end! Only let him suffer enough and then
give them an opportunity to meet, and all will be well!"
Thus she mused--And what a weight off her mind it would be to see them
happily married! So that her conscience might be at rest, and she could
feel that she had more than made up for her action of long ago.
Yes--Katherine Bush was a peerless creature, and would be the brightest
jewel in any crown. Not a trace of the jealousy or antagonism, which
once or twice for the fraction of a second had sprung up from natural
hereditary instinct and class prejudice, remained in her heart. Her
clear and wise judgment had sifted and weighed all the pros and cons. No
two human beings on earth were more suited to one another than her
humble secretary from Bindon's Green and this great nobleman. And she
could launch Katherine successfully, and make her accepted without
question. And after the marriage, she could safely leave to the girl's
own superb tact and common sense the task of maintaining the position of
Duchess with illustrious distinction. So that the only barrier left to
be overcome was Mordryn's tiresome prejudice about class. That most
annoyingly obstinate sense of duty, and _noblesse oblige_--duty to his
rank and to his race. But his mind was not narrow, and once he could
have time freely to think out what real nobility meant, he would realise
that highness of birth was not essential at all.
Lady Garribardine knew the Duke's nature so well; she was aware that if
she spoke to him upon this subject and sought to influence him more than
her speech at the picnic had already done, his desire being so forcibly
upon her side, he would then still more determinedly make up his mind
not to be convinced from the fear that he was allowing inclination to
weaken his sense of duty.
To leave fate to manage matters was the best plan, and to be ready to
give a helping hand at the critical moment.
Mordryn was certainly suffering deeply or he would have returned to
London, instead of staying on at Valfreyne.
Not by word or insinuation did she ever indicate to Katherine that she
had remarked the Duke's interest in her, or the apparent cooling of it.
Indeed, since that day at the Easter party when she had lightly spoken
of his coming to the schoolroom, she had never mentioned him to her
secretary in connection with herself at all. So on the surface
everything was calm and peaceful, and life flowed in its accustomed
stream.
Mordryn must be made to come to Berkeley Square again as of old, and he
must not be allowed to see Katherine for some time. He must get into the
way of dropping in as usual without fear.
And in the third week after Whitsuntide, the Duke returned to town and
did dine there, and Miss Bush was nowhere to be seen. He had spent very
miserable days down in his beautiful home. He had not reached the stage
of reason yet, he was merely fighting desire with all his might--while
daily it grew stronger.
How cold her hand had been when they had said a polite good-bye on the
Tuesday morning; he could feel it through the glove! How pale her face
had looked, too! He hoped to God she was not suffering; that would be
too cruel, and he could not feel guiltless if it were so. He had
certainly played upon her feelings, although in the most subtle manner,
which made his conduct the more cowardly and inexcusable. This thought
brought extreme discomfort, and plunged him into frantic work. He filled
all his hours with the business of his estate, in order to banish
memory, but with no great success, so at last he came up to London,
determined to crush out every weakness. But when he went to Berkeley
Square to dine he felt agitated, and he knew that he was fearing and yet
hoping to see Katherine.
But he caught no glimpse of her, nor was she even mentioned, it was as
though she had never been. He grew anxious--had she left Seraphim's
service? This must be ascertained immediately, before he left the house.
"Miss Bush is not dining to-night, Seraphim?" he said, after dinner,
when he had a moment with his hostess. "I hope she is well?"
"Yes, thanks," and Her Ladyship turned the conversation at once, so
that he was left with this meagre information.
As he drove away to St. James's, he found himself thinking incessantly
of the girl.
She had understood. She was so fine, she had grasped the situation
completely--had she not herself explained to him the duty he owed to his
race?
But a woman who could take such an abstract view must surely have a very
wonderful soul! Every one of her ideas had shown the highest sense of
duty, the most profound grasp of what was meant by _noblesse oblige_. He
remembered even her remark about his attending the House of Lords, how
she had said it was cowardly of him to shirk his work there just because
he so despised modern views. In what high esteem, too, she was held by
Seraphim--a woman not to be imposed upon by any mere charm, and one who
would bring the most critical judgment to bear upon every question
before she would accord her friendship.--And that Katherine had Lady
Garribardine's friendship in full, he knew.
He went into his library which looked out on the Green Park, and he
opened the window side and walked on to the terrace. In the distance the
roar of Piccadilly thundered by, but his immediate neighbourhood was
quiet and he could think.
He reviewed every minute incident from the beginning of his acquaintance
with Katherine that night not so very long ago at the house of Gerard
Strobridge. She had admitted that it was she herself who had desired
this meeting after she had heard him speak. That proved that she had
been drawn to him even then. And how attractive she had appeared, how
cultivated and polished, how clever and refined! And to think that such
achievement was the result of steadfastness of purpose! A will to
compass an ideal against extraordinary odds. An intelligence great
enough to realise that facts alone count, and that no assumption of the
rights of ladyhood, or demonstration in words, would convince anyone,
but only the inward reality of fineness of soul directing outward
action. How much more meritorious and to be respected was her
achievement then than if these things had been her natural heritage! She
had obtained a state of perfection through deliberate intention in a far
greater degree than anyone he knew but Seraphim. Her every idea,
thought, expression and point of view, accorded exactly with his own.
Her sense of duty was paramount. Her level-headedness, and her common
sense, and her balance were such as he had never before seen in woman.
And she was young and beautiful, and in perfect health. No nervous
fancies beset that evenly poised brain.
Suddenly, as he stared up into the deep blue starlit sky, it seemed that
the scales fell from his eyes, and fog was lifted from his inner vision
of the soul.
This beloved creature--daughter of an auctioneer and granddaughter of a
butcher--was truly and really an aristocrat in the purest and truest
sense of the term. And just because he could trace his pedigree back for
countless generations, who was he to stand aside and not give her her
due when her spirit and character were so infinitely above him? (Thus
love engenders humility in noble hearts!)
Where in the whole world could he find one so worthy to share his great
name and great estate? He laughed aloud in glee! It would not be giving
way to temptation for personal joy to think of her as his Duchess, but
it would be conferring the greatest honour upon his house that it had
ever known.
He marvelled at his blindness--marvelled at his pitifully conventional
point of view. How had it ever weighed with him a second? How had he not
realised at once the utter paltriness of the designation of aristocrat
unless the inner being carries out what that word is intended to convey?
He thought of his wife Laura, with her stupid, mean little brain,
developing into madness. He thought of Gerard's wife Beatrice--of what
use was she to any man? He thought of his own cousin, Dulcie Dashington,
with her vulgar barmaid's instincts, and her degradation of her great
state, and he thought of all the crew of frivolous, soulless, mindless
worldlings who had flung themselves at his head at Blissington, any one
of whom society would call a well-bred lady suitable for him to marry
and take to his home!
And then he thought of Katherine's simple dignity. She had not tried to
entrap him. She had not been insulted at his holding back, she had
understood. In her humility of greatness, she had _understood_ what
would be likely to be his view--or rather the view of his class.
But now he saw the truth, and the truth was that she stood out a star
among womankind and none other was worthy to tie the latchet of her
shoe.
He would not hesitate another second. He would telephone in the morning
to Seraphim and propose himself for Saturday, and then he should see
her--this sweet Katherine--and talk to her and tell her the truth. And
if she would so honour him then she should be his own.
The vision exalted him. He let his imagination, curbed and denied
expression for so long, have full rein. She was not cold by nature, she
would not have to simulate passion like Julia Scarrisbrooke! Hers, if
she felt it at all, would be real. She had experienced that part of love
before. He even thought of this without a pang, for that was past--and
something told him that she was not indifferent to him now. How
enchanting to make her really love him--how divine to teach her all the
shades of that "something beyond" which she had asked him about!
And then their life together there at Valfreyne! Yes, this was the true
kind of strength which she had spoken of, the strength which breaks down
all shams.
And to think how near he had been to allowing the stupid, blind,
hypocritical ideas of his world to part them forever! He must have been
mad, since he had known her worth always, from the first day. Seraphim
would help him after all--had she not told him not to go against his
conscience, but only against custom and tradition and any other man-made
barrier? And now conscience was with him, and he would break every bar
which divided him from his heart's delight!
Lady Garribardine's surprise was great on receiving the telephone
message in the morning: Might His Grace speak to Her Ladyship
personally?
Katherine repeated the message of the servant.
Certainly His Grace might.
Katherine handed the receiver and was preparing to leave the room, but
Lady Garribardine made a sign for her to stay while she sat up in bed.
"Is that you, Mordryn--Oh!--Why, of course you may come down to-morrow!
Yes--London is hot. It will only be a dull party--Gwendoline and the
Colvins and old Tom Hawthorne. I was merely going for rest myself. You
don't mind, you would like that?--Oh! very well, come either by motor or
the three o'clock train. All right--good-bye."
Then she looked at Katherine who met her eyes with a perfectly unmoved
face.
"The Duke proposes himself to come to us to-morrow at Blissington, he is
bored with London, and out of sorts."
But no joy appeared on the secretary's countenance; in fact she turned a
shade paler, as she asked if she should transmit any orders to the
housekeeper about his room.
"She feels things like the devil," Her Ladyship thought. "But Mordryn
has evidently come to his senses, so they will presently settle the
matter all right."
Katherine was glad that her duties now took her out shopping, she felt
she must be in the open air and free to think.
What did this mean? Why was he coming to Blissington so suddenly? Would
it produce a climax in her fate?
And as Mordryn had done the night before on his terrace overlooking the
Green Park, so she too reviewed all their acquaintance and what it had
grown to mean to her--something very bitter sweet.
Should she allow herself a fool's paradise for just a day? Should she
let him make love to her, if that was his intention in coming to
Blissington? But no, she must be firm with herself and act always as she
thought right. But her mind was in a turmoil, and she felt tired and
excited. The picture held out nothing but pain.
If he came and made love to her, she would have to cut his protestations
short. And if he ignored her, that would hurt still more. She devoutly
wished she might run away.
At luncheon the next day, after their arrival at Blissington, Her
Ladyship said rather irrelevantly:
"You look thoroughly tired out, girl. I advise you to take a rug and a
book and go out under the chestnut trees in the beautiful air, and have
a nap--and don't come in for tea if you do not want to, there are so few
of us I can manage by myself."
And Katherine, glad to escape, did as she was bid.