A few days after Ida Raughton had been indulging in those summer
noontide meditations, Walter Cundall arrived at his house in Grosvenor
Place. Things were so well ordered in the establishment of which he
was master, that a telegram from Liverpool, despatched a few hours
earlier, had been sufficient to cause everything to be in readiness
for him; and his servants were so used to his coming and going that
his arrival created no unusual excitement.
He walked into his handsome library followed by a staid, grave
man-servant, and, sitting down in one of his favourite chairs, said:
"Well, West, what's the news in London?"
"Not much, sir; at least nothing that would interest you. There are a
good many balls and parties going on, of course, sir; and next week's
Ascot, you know, sir."
"Ascot, is it? Yes, to be sure! We might take a house there, West, and
have some friends. The four-in-hand could go over from Cookham----"
"Beg pardon, sir, but I don't think you'll be able to entertain any of
your friends this year--not at Ascot, any how. Sir Paul Raughton's man
and me were a-talking together, sir, last night at our little place of
meeting, and he told me as how Sir Paul was going to have quite a
large party down at his place, you know, sir, to celebrate--to
celebrate--I mean for Ascot, sir."
"Well?"
"Well, of course, sir, you'll be wanted there too, sir. Indeed, Sir
Paul's man said as how his master had been making inquiries about the
time you was a-coming back, sir, and said he should like to have you
there. And of course they want to cele--I mean to keep it up, sir.
Now, I'll go and fetch you the letters that have come since I sent you
the last mail."
While the servant was gone, Walter Cundall lay back in his chair and
meditated. He was a handsome man, with a dark, shapely head, and fine,
well-marked features. He was very brown and sunburnt, as it was
natural he should be; but, unlike many whose principal existence has
been passed in the Tropics, there was no sign of waste or languor
about him. His health during all the years he had spent under a
burning Caribbean sun had never suffered; fever and disease had passed
him by. Perhaps it was his abstemiousness that had enabled him to
escape the deadly effects of a climate that kills four at least out of
every ten men. As he sat in his chair he wondered why Providence had
been so unfailingly good to him through his life; why it had showered
upon him--while he was still young enough to enjoy it--the comforts
that other men spent their lives in toiling to obtain, and then often
failed at last to get.
"And now," he said to himself, "let Fortune give me but one more gift,
and I am content. Let me have as partner of all I possess the fairest
woman in the world; let my sweet, gentle Ida tell me that she loves
me--as I know she does--and what more can I ask? Ah, Ida!" he went on,
apostrophising the woman he loved, "I wonder if you have guessed how,
night after night during these long six months, I have sat on my
verandah gazing up at the stars that look like moons there, wondering
if your dear eyes were looking at them in their feeble glory here? I
wonder if you have ever thought during my long absence that not an
hour went by, at night or day, when I was not thinking of you? Yes,
you must have done so; you must have done so! There was everything in
your look, in your voice to tell me that you loved me, that you were
only waiting for me to speak. And, now, I will speak. I will deprive
myself no longer of the love that will sweeten my life."
The man servant came back with an enormous bundle of letters that made
Cundall laugh when he saw them.
"Why, West!" he exclaimed, "you don't imagine that I am going to wade
through these now, do you?"
"I think they're mostly invitations, sir," the servant answered, "from
people who did not know when you would be back."
"Well, give them to me. I will open a few of those the handwriting of
which I recognise, and Mr. Stuart can go through the rest to-morrow."
Mr. Stuart was one of Cundall's secretaries, who, when his employer
was in town, had sometimes to work night and day to keep pace with his
enormous correspondence, but who was now disporting himself at
Brighton. When Cundall was away it was understood that this gentleman
should attend four days a week, two at Grosvenor Place, and two at his
agent's in the City, but that on others he should be free. As, with
his usual generosity, Cundall gave him five hundred a year for doing
this, his post was a good one.
The valet came down at this moment to take his master's orders, and to
say that his bath was ready.
"I shall dine quietly at the club to-night," Mr. Cundall said, "and
then, to-morrow, I will make a few calls, and let my friends know I
have returned. Is there anything else, West?"
"No, sir. Oh, I beg pardon, sir! I had almost forgot. Lady Chesterton
called the day before yesterday to ask when you would be back. When I
told her ladyship you were expected, she left a note for you. It's in
that bundle you have selected, I think, sir."
Cundall looked through the letters until he found the one in question,
and, on opening it, discovered that it contained an invitation for a
ball on that evening. As Lady Chesterton was a hostess whom he liked
particularly, he made up his mind that he would look in, if only for
an hour. It was as good a way as any of letting people know that he
was back in town, and his appearance at her house and at the club
would be quite enough to do so.
It was eight o'clock when he entered the latter institution, and his
arrival was hailed with a chorus of greeting. A man of colossal wealth
is, of course, always welcome amongst his intimates and acquaintances,
but, if he is of a reflecting nature, it may be that the idea
sometimes occurs to him that he is only appreciated for his
possessions, and that, behind his back, there is no such enthusiasm on
his behalf as is testified to his face. He does not know, perhaps, of
all the sneers and jeers that go on about Cr[oe]sus and Sir Gorgius
Midas, but it is to be supposed that he has a very good idea of the
manner in which his fellow men regard him. With Walter Cundall it was
not thus; men neither scoffed at his wealth nor at him, nor did it
ever occur to him to think that he was only liked because of that
wealth. There was a charm in his nature, a something in his pleasant
words and welcoming smile that would have made him, in any
circumstances, acceptable to those with whom he mixed, even though it
had not been in his power to confer the greatest benefits upon them.
There are many such men as he was, as well as many whom we detest for
their moneyed arrogance; men whose lawns and parks and horses and
yachts we may enjoy, but with whom, if they could not place them at
our disposal, we should still be very happy to take a country walk or
spend an hour in a humble parlour.
He was surrounded at once by all kinds of acquaintances, asking
questions as to when he had arrived, how he had enjoyed the voyage,
what May had been like in the Tropics, what he was going to do in the
Ascot week, and a dozen others, some stupid and some intelligent.
"I hardly know about Ascot," he said laughingly, after having answered
all the others. "When my old servant, West, reminded me that it was
next week, which I had entirely forgotten--by-the-bye, what won the
Derby?--I thought of taking a house and having a pleasant lot down,
but now I hear that I am wanted at Sir Paul Raughton's."
"Of course you are!" one very young member said, "Rather! Why, you
know that----"
"They are going to have a jolly party there," an elder one put in; "no
one knows how to manage that sort of thing better than Sir Paul."
Then he turned to the younger man and said, as he drew him aside, "You
confounded young idiot! don't you know that he was sweet on Miss
Raughton himself, and won't like it when he hears she is engaged to
Lord Penlyn? What do you want to make him feel uncomfortable for?
He'll hear it quite soon enough."
"I thought he knew it," the other one muttered.
"I imagine not; and I fancy no one but you would want to be the first
to tell him."
There was undoubtedly this feeling amongst the group, by whom Cundall
was surrounded. Not one of these men, except the boyish member, but
was aware that, before he went abroad six months ago, London society
was daily expecting to hear that he and the beautiful Ida Raughton
were engaged. Now they understood, with that accuracy of perception
which men of the world possess in an extraordinary degree, that her
recent engagement to Lord Penlyn was unknown to him, and they
unanimously determined--though without any agreement between
them--that they would not be the first to open his eyes. He was so
good a fellow that none of them wanted to cause him any pain; and that
the knowledge that Miss Raughton was now engaged would be painful to
him, they were convinced.
Two or three of them made up a table and sat down to dinner, and
Cundall told them that he was going to Lady Chesterton's later on. But
neither here, nor over their coffee afterwards, did any of his friends
tell him that he would meet there the girl he was thought to admire,
attended in all probability by her future husband, Lord Penlyn.
As, at eleven o'clock, he made his way up the staircase to greet his
hostess, he again met many people whom he knew, and, by the time he at
last reached Lady Chesterton, it was rapidly being told about the
ball-room that Walter Cundall was back in town again.
"I declare you look better than ever," her ladyship said as she
welcomed him. "Your bronzed and sunburnt face makes all the other men
seem terribly pale and ghastly. How you must enjoy roaming about the
world as you do!"
He answered her with a smile and a remark, that, after all, there was
no place like London and that he was getting very tired of rambling,
when he turned round and saw Ida Raughton coming towards him on the
arm of Lord Penlyn.
"How do you do, Miss Raughton?" he said, taking her hand and giving
one swift look into her eyes. How beautiful she was, he thought; and
as he looked he wondered how he could ever have gone away and left her
without speaking of his love. Well, no matter, the parting was over
now!
"How are you, Penlyn?" he said, shaking him cordially by the hand.
"When did you return?" Ida asked. Until this moment she had no idea
that he was back in England.
"I landed at Liverpool late last night," he answered, "and came up to
town to-day. Lady Chesterton, hearing of my probable arrival, was kind
enough to leave an invitation for me for to-night."
Before any more could be said the band began to play, and Lord Penlyn
turned round to Cundall and said:
"I am engaged for this dance, though it is only a square one. Will you
look after Miss Raughton until I return?"
"With pleasure, or until some favoured partner comes to claim her.
But," turning to her, "I presume you are also engaged for this dance,
'though it is only a square one.'"
"No," she said, "you know I never dance them."
"Shall we go round the rooms, then?" he asked, offering her his arm.
"It is insufferably hot here!"
Lady Chesterton had moved away to welcome some other guests, and so
they walked to another part of the room. As Ida looked up at him, she
thought how well and strong he seemed, and recalled the many dances
they had had together. And she wondered if he was glad to be back in
London again?
"How cool and pleasant the conservatory looks!" he said, as they
passed the entrance to it. "Shall we go in and sit down until you are
claimed for the next dance?"
She assented, and they went in and took possession of two chairs that
were standing beneath some great palms and cacti.
"I should think that after the heat you have been accustomed to you
would feel nothing in England," she said.
"In Honduras we are suitably clad," he answered, laughing, "and
evening dress suits are not in much request. But I am very glad to be
wearing one again, and once more talking to you."
"Are you?" she said, raising her eyes and looking at him. She recalled
how often they had talked together, and how she had taken pleasure in
having him tell her of the different parts of the world he had seen;
parts that seemed so strange to her who had never been farther away
from home than the Tyrol or Rome.
"Indeed I am! Do you think I should go to the Tropics for pleasure?"
"I suppose you need not go unless you choose," she said; "surely you
can do as you please!"
"I can do as I please now," he answered, "I could not hitherto. I will
tell you what I mean. Until a month ago the property I owned in
Honduras required my constant attention, and necessitated my visiting
the place once at least in every two years. But, of late, this has
become irksome to me--I will explain why in a moment--and my last
visit was made with a view to disposing of that property. This I have
made arrangements for doing, and I shall go no more to that part of
the world. Now," and his voice became very low, but clear, as he
spoke, "shall I tell you why I have broken for ever with Honduras?"
"Yes," she said. "You have told me so often of your affairs that you
know I am always interested in them. Tell me."
As she spoke, the band was playing the introduction to the last
popular waltz, and the few couples who were in the conservatory left
for it. A young man to whom Ida was engaged for this dance came in to
look for her, but, seeing that she was talking to Walter Cundall,
withdrew. It happened that he did not know she was betrothed to Lord
Penlyn, but was aware that, last season, every one thought she would
soon be engaged to the man she was now with. So he thought he would
not disturb them and went unselfishly away, being seen by neither.
Then, as the strains of the waltz were heard from the ball-room, he
said:
"It is because I want to settle down in England and make it my home.
Because I want a wife to make that home welcome to me, because I have
long loved one woman and have only waited until my return to tell her
so. Ida, you are that woman! I love you better than anything in this
world! Tell me that you will be my wife!"
For answer she drew herself away from him, pale, and trembling
visibly, and trying to speak. But no word came from her lips.
"Why do you not answer me, Ida?" he asked. "Have I spoken too soon?
But no! that is not possible--you must have seen how dearly I loved
you! how I always sought your presence--you must----"
Then she made a motion to him with her fan, and found her voice.
"You cannot have heard," she said, "no one can have told you that----"
"That what! What is there to tell? For God's sake speak, Ida!"
"That I am engaged."
"Engaged!" he said, rising to his feet. "Engaged! while I have been
away. Oh! it cannot be, it is impossible! You must have seen, you must
have known of my love for you. It cannot be true!"
"It is true, Mr. Cundall."
"True!" Then he paused a moment and endeavoured to recover himself.
When he had done so he said very quietly, but in a deep, hoarse voice:
"I congratulate you, Miss Raughton. May I ask who is the fortunate
gentleman?"
"I am engaged to Lord Penlyn."
He took a step backward and ejaculated, "Lord Penlyn! Lord----"
Then once more he recovered himself, and said: "Shall I take you back
to the ball-room? Doubtless he is looking for you now."
"I am very sorry for your disappointment," she said, looking up at him
with a pale face; his emotion had startled her, "very sorry. I would
not wound you for the world. And there are so many other women who
will make you happy."
"I wanted no other woman but you," he said.