A LOST CHANCE.
"Dr Dudley, let me introduce you to Miss Maclean."
Almost any hostess would have effected that introduction under the
circumstances. Ralph and Mona were the two people in the crowded
little drawing-room who made their presence felt; who, unconsciously
to themselves, suggested grave reponsibilities on the part of their
hostess; therefore by all means let them entertain each other.
Mona bowed, as she would have done to a stranger, and Dudley seated
himself by her side. Without a moment's hesitation he began to
discuss a book that lay on the table, and never had Mona admired his
gift of utterance more. It was not that he said anything peculiarly
brilliant, but he talked so easily and fluently that even she could
not tell whether his self-possession was real or assumed. She would
have been in less doubt on the subject, perhaps, if she had trusted
herself to meet his eye when he entered the drawing-room. As it was,
she was determined not to be outdone, so for nearly half an hour the
stream of conversation ran lightly on.
At length several people rose to go, and, in the slight stir this
involved, Ralph and Mona were left alone and unnoticed for a moment,
in the oriel window.
In an instant the conversation ceased and their eyes met.
"Dr Dudley," Mona said impulsively, in a very low voice, "what have I
done?"
The same honest eyes as of old--the eyes that had smiled and deceived
him.
"Done?" he said coldly, with an accent of surprise. "Nothing
whatsoever. I was under a stupid misapprehension as to the terms on
which we stood; but I have long since seen my mistake. That is all."
He was annoyed with her for opening the subject there and
then,--forgetting that women cannot always choose their
opportunities,--but even as he spoke, his lips quivered; a terrible
struggle was concealed beneath the calmness of his manner. One word
more from her might have dragged aside the flimsy veil; but she, too,
had her pride.
"Well, I am afraid I must go," she said, as Miss Davidson returned to
her remaining guests. "Don't let me hurry you, Lucy; I must get that
book you mentioned out of the library, Dr Dudley."
She bowed to him with a frank cordiality that was far more cutting
than his coldness, shook hands with her hostess, and went away.
Lucy, of course, accompanied her, and Dudley was left to reap what he
had sown.
But Mona could not bear even Lucy's society to-day, and she made an
excuse for parting from her before they had gone many hundred yards.
Then her lithe figure straightened itself defiantly.
"Two chances I have given him," she said to herself; "and now, come
what come may, he shall make the third himself!"
When Mona came in from hospital a few days later, she was met by the
announcement that a gentleman had called to see her, and had said he
would return in the evening.
"Did he leave no name?" she asked in some surprise.
"No, ma'am, he said it was of no consequence."
Mona bethought herself of Mr Reynolds.
"Was he an old gentleman?" she said.
"Oh no, ma'am; a youngish gentleman, tall and thin."
Mona's heart leaped. "Show him up to my sitting-room when he comes,"
she said quietly.
She went to her lecture as usual that afternoon, but found it
difficult to give her full attention to the varieties, causes, and
treatment of aneurism. The moment the class was over she hurried
home, dressed with more than usual care, rearranged her flowers,
dined without knowing what was on the table, and then seated herself
in her rocking-chair with a book.
But she did not read. She proceeded to make a leisurely, critical
survey of the room. It looked very pretty just then in the soft
evening light, and at worst it was a picturesque, suggestive place.
She rose to her feet and redraped a curtain; then she glanced with
satisfaction at the soft folds of her gown, and seated herself again
with a sigh. How sensible of him it was to come to her quietly, here
in her own territory, where they could talk over everything
thoroughly, and explain all misunderstandings!
A loud rat-tat-tat resounded through the house. Alas! she knew that
imperious knock only too well! A minute later Sir Douglas and her
aunt entered the room.
"You do look well," he said, holding her at arm's-length before he
kissed her. "I never saw you with such a colour."
"And your rooms are so charming," said Lady Munro. "I like them a
great deal better than ours in Gloucester Place."
Mona laughed. She was well used by this time to her aunt's figures
of speech.
"We are on our way to dinner at the Lacys', and as we had ten minutes
to spare----"
"For a wonder!" growled Sir Douglas.
"----Douglas was determined to look in upon you."
Mona smiled across brightly at her uncle, but she fervently hoped the
ten minutes would be over before Dr Dudley arrived. It was at least
fortunate that the engagement was dinner.
The ten minutes, however, still had half their course to run when
Mona heard a timid knock at the street-door.
"That can't be his," she said to herself. But she did not find it
easy to preserve her self-control when she heard footsteps coming
up-stairs.
A moment later the door was thrown open, and the parlour-maid
announced--
"Mr Brown from Kilwinnie."
Mona's heart stood still, but the situation had to be faced.
"How kind of you to come and see me!" she said, going forward to meet
him. "Aunt Maud, Uncle Douglas, this is my friend Mr Brown."
She laid the least possible deliberate emphasis on the words "my
friend," and she turned to her uncle right proudly as she said them.
Sir Douglas had risen from his chair when she did, and now he bowed
somewhat formally. The lines of his mouth were a little hard.
Possibly he found it difficult to suppress a smile.
Mona made a motion of her hand towards an easy-chair, and Mr Brown
seated himself on the edge of it, wiping his brow with a large silk
handkerchief.
"I was coming up to town on business," he said shyly, "so I got your
address from Mrs Easson."
"Oh yes. How is Mrs Easson?"
"She wasn't very well a week or two back, but she seems pretty much
in her usual again."
Mona turned to her aunt. "Mr Brown is a fellow-enthusiast of mine on
the subject of botany," she said. "He is the greatest living
authority on the fauna and flora of the district in which he lives.
I want him to write a book on the subject."
"Indeed!" said Lady Munro, with a pretty assumption of interest.
Mr Brown shook his head. "No, no," he said, "Professor Bristowe was
saying that; but you would need to be familiar with the whole county
before you could write a book it would be worth while reading, and I
never have time to get very far. It's only once a-week that I can
get an afternoon away from the shop, and now I shall have less time
than ever." He looked rather sheepishly at Mona, and added, "They've
just over-persuaded me to take the Provost-ship."
"I am glad to hear they have shown so much sense," she answered
cordially. "I don't know whether you are to be congratulated or not,
but I am quite sure they are."
"Oh, I don't know that. They could easily have got somebody who was
more of a hand at speeches, but they would take no refusal, so to
say."
There was a pause.
"I suppose you have just come up to town?" Sir Douglas remarked
affably; and Mona looked at him with infinite gratitude.
"I came up last night." He looked again at Mona. "I was here once
before, to-day."
She smiled. "I heard that somebody had called, but I did not know it
was you. I am sorry you had the trouble of coming twice. I suppose
you find London a great deal warmer than Kilwinnie?"
"It's warm everywhere just now." He turned to Sir Douglas, with an
idea that his next remark was peculiarly suited to masculine ears.
"It's very poor weather for the turnips."
"Ah! I suppose it is," Sir Douglas said, so genially that Mr Brown
took courage, and looked at Mona's aunt.
Lady Munro's Indian shawl had fallen back, and the draper made a
mental valuation of her heavy silk dress. It would be no use keeping
a thing like that in his shop. Then his eye fell on Sir Douglas, and
for the first time in his life he realised that a man could wear
evening-dress without making a fool of himself. From the easily
fitting swallow-tail his eye passed to the spotless, dazzling
shirt-front, and, with something of a blush, he pulled the sleeves of
his tweed coat over the cuffs which his sister had so carefully
trimmed before he left home.
"I am afraid we shall have to go," Lady Munro said, glancing at
Mona's carriage clock; and, as she rose, she looked somewhat
pointedly at Mr Brown.
The hint was lost on him, however. He bowed awkwardly to Lady Munro,
and waited till Mona returned to the sitting-room.
"Miss Maclean," he blurted out hastily, "you will be disposed to
laugh at me when I tell you I came here to ask you to be my wife. I
knew you were far above me, but I had no notion of the like of this.
You've no need to tell me that it can never be, but if ever you stand
in need of a plain man's friendship, you know who to come to."
He held out his hand, forgetful of the frayed cuff, and Mona's eyes
filled with tears as she took it.
"It is true it can never be, Mr Brown," she said--"not because I am
above you, but because I don't love you as a good woman will some
day. But I shall be proud and grateful, as long as I live, to think
that so good a man has honoured me with his love."
She went with him to the door, and with a few common-place words they
parted.
For the first time in her life Mona felt something of a contempt for
Dr Dudley.
"What a fool I am," she thought, "to break my heart for you, when at
least two greater men have wanted to make me their wife!"
But, even as she spoke, she knew that her words were not perfectly
just.