"I am going away because I am too hopeless and miserable to bear my
life longer. Hitherto I have clung to hope and to you through all my
suffering, believing that at least you _had_ loved me. Now I know the
whole bitter truth. I am going to my own friends. I will agree to
any arrangements you like to make, but I do not want any money, except
what I have of my own. I cannot think that you will in any way miss
me, but I trust you will be happier without me than you have been with
me.
"Eugenia."
Mrs Eyrecourt did not speak when she had finished reading this.
Beauchamp, observing her closely, fancied she looked pale and
frightened.
"Can you explain any of this to me?" he asked, impatiently. "Has
anything happened in my absence, to explain it? Or must I think she has
gone out of her mind?"
Gertrude hesitated a little. "There was--we had a rather disagreeable
conversation the day you left," she began. "I don't know who in the
world could have put it in her head--_truly_ I don't, Beauchamp--but all
of a sudden Eugenia challenged me with having been the cause of your
_not_ marrying Roma, and by some peculiar reasoning of her own, from
that she went on to argue that I was the cause of your hasty proposal to
her, which she seems to look upon as the misfortune of her life."
"And what did you tell her?"
"What could I tell her but the truth? She seemed to have a very fair
notion of it to begin with. I could not have deceived her. Certainly
she is the most hot-headed exaggerated person I ever knew. She talked
of having been deceived and all sorts of things. She must have been
infatuated to think that you, with your prospects--and altogether--could
have _deliberately_ chosen her, or that your friends could have approved
of your doing so, though of course both you and they were too honourable
to try to draw back once the thing was actually done."
Captain Chancellor laughed. There was a slight incredulousness in his
laugh which made Gertrude very irate. "Then what you have told me is
about the general substance of what you told her?" he said.
"I suppose so," said Mrs Eyrecourt, sulkily. "I did not begin it. I
do not consider myself in any way responsible for what she has done.
She seemed all right again at luncheon, and as you must have seen, I
never even associated this foolish fit of jealousy of hers with her
sudden visit to her friends."
But Beauchamp was not yet satisfied. For almost the first time in his
life, he felt that he had his sister in his power, and he used it to the
utmost. Little by little he extracted from her a full account of what
had passed between her and his wife, including what she had told Eugenia
of her really mistaken impression of the true relations that had existed
between himself and Roma Eyrecourt, and when he had learnt all that she
had to tell, he turned from her with a bitter "Thank you, Gertrude. You
have certainly done your best to ruin any chances of happiness I had. I
never before had a conception how spiteful a spiteful woman could be.
You disliked Eugenia from the first, because she was my choice and not
yours, and in the pleasure of making her miserable you have cared little
what became of me."
Mrs Eyrecourt was so offended that she first burst into tears, and then
decided upon setting off to join Addie and her mother that very
afternoon, leaving Floss behind her till she sent directions for her
journey home. Captain Chancellor did not care. Before his sister had
fixed her train, he was half-way to Wareborough, where, however,
disappointment awaited him in the shape of the Thurstons' complete
ignorance of Eugenia's whereabouts. The interview with his wife's
relations threatened at first to be a stormy one, for, in his increasing
anxiety and perplexity, he was more than half inclined to blame them for
this new complication. But they were patient and judicious; the sight
of his unfeigned distress inclined Sydney to judge him more leniently
than she had ever done, and new hopes began to spring in her heart, that
if only Eugenia were with them again, all might yet be well. In the
end, Beauchamp went home again to Halswood, by Frank's advice, to wait
there quietly till they heard from their sister.
"I am certain we shall have a letter from her to-morrow or Monday," said
Frank, "for even if she were ill, her maid Rachel, who, we were glad to
find, is with her, would write. And it is better for you to go home,
and look as if nothing were wrong. Your staying here would only make a
talk, and I shall telegraph instantly we hear."
So Beauchamp went home--home to the desolate house where Eugenia had
felt so sure he would never miss her; and the loneliness and anxiety and
wretchedness of the next two days brought him face to face with some
truths hitherto but little recognised or considered in his
pleasure-loving, self-regarding life.
And after all it was Roma's letter, reaching him on Tuesday morning
only, which first brought relief to the fears growing almost more than
he could endure, for, by some mischance, Eugenia's unlucky note to her
sister, too late for Saturday's post from Nunswell, was not received at
its destination till this same Tuesday morning.
At first sight of Miss Eyrecourt's letter, Captain Chancellor could
hardly believe his eyes. "_Roma_ with her," he exclaimed; "Roma, of all
people! How can I reconcile that with Gertrude's story?"
Incomprehensible as it was, however, the news was marvellously welcome.
Half-an-hour later came Frank Thurston's promised telegram, and that
very afternoon, hardly to her surprise, Rachel brought word privately to
Miss Eyrecourt, that Captain Chancellor wished to know how he could see
her.
"He does not want my mistress to be told of his arrival till he has seen
you, ma'am," said Rachel; adding discreetly, "of course with her not
being very strong it might startle her, not expecting my master so
soon."