THE OLD LOVE STORY
"Oh--one simply wonders a little!" I stammered.
Major Murray's face changed. "Of course, there's one idea which presents
itself instantly to the mind," he said. "But it's such an obvious one! I
confess I had it myself at first--just for a moment. I even asked
Rosemary, because--well, she might have been in trouble that wasn't her
fault. I asked her if she were sure that she was free to marry--that
there was no legal hitch. I said that if there were, she must tell me
the truth without fear, and I would see if it couldn't be made right.
But she assured me that, so far as the law is concerned, she's as free
as though she were a girl. I believe her, Lady Courtenaye; and I think
you would believe if you could have looked into her eyes then. No,
there's another reason--not obvious like the first; on the contrary,
it's obscure. I wish you'd try to get light on it."
"I'll try if you want me to," I promised. "But I don't expect to
succeed."
Major Murray looked more anxious than I had seen him since Mrs.
Brandreth appeared on deck that second day at sea. "Hasn't she confided
in you at all?" he asked.
"Only"--I hesitated an instant--"only to tell me of her love, and her
engagement to you." This was the truth, with one tiny reservation. I
couldn't give Rosemary away, by mentioning the "obstacle" at which she'd
hinted.
"She never even told you about our first engagement, eight years ago?"
he persisted.
"No."
"Well, I'd like to tell you that, if the story won't bore you?"
"It will interest me," I said. "But perhaps Mrs. Brandreth mightn't----"
"She won't mind; I'm sure of that, from things she's said. But it's a
subject easier for me to talk about than for her. She was travelling in
Italy with an aunt--a sister of her mother's--when we met. She was just
seventeen. I fell in love with her at first sight. Do you wonder? It was
at Bellagio, but I followed her and the aunt from place to place. The
aunt was a widow, who'd married an American, and I imagined that she
wasn't kind to her niece--the girl looked so unhappy. But I did Mrs.
Brandreth an injustice----"
"Mrs. Brandreth?" I had to interrupt. "Rosemary was already----"
"No, no! The aunt's name was Mrs. Brandreth. The man Rosemary married a
few weeks later was the nephew of her aunt's American husband. When I
asked Rosemary to be my wife, I heard the whole story. Rosemary told me
herself. The aunt, Mrs. John Brandreth, came to England to visit her
sister. It wasn't long after her husband had died, and she wasn't
strong, so the nephew--Guy Brandreth--travelled with her. He was a West
Point graduate, it seems; probably you know that West Point is the
American Sandhurst? He was still in the Army and on long leave. He and
the aunt both stayed at Mrs. Hillier's house in Surrey, and--I suppose
you can guess what happened?"
"A--love affair?" I hesitated.
"Yes. It didn't take Brandreth long to make up his mind what he wanted,
and to go for it. He proposed. Rosemary said 'Yes.' It was her first
love. But Brandreth had been practically engaged to an American girl--a
great heiress. He hadn't much himself beyond his pay, I fancy. Money was
an object to him--but Rosemary's beauty bowled him over, and he lost his
head. Bye and bye, when he began to see the light of common sense again,
and when he realized that Rosemary wouldn't have a red cent of her own,
he weakened. There was some slight lover's quarrel one day. Rosemary
broke off the engagement for the pleasure of hearing Brandreth beg to be
taken back. But he didn't beg. He took her at her word and went to
London, where the American girl had arrived. That same night he wrote
Rosemary that, as she didn't want him, he had offered himself to someone
who did. So ended the love story--for a time. And that's where I came
in."
"Rosemary went to Italy?" I prompted him.
"Yes. Her aunt felt responsible, and carried the girl away to help her
to forget. Rosemary told me this, but thought she had 'got over it,' and
said she would marry me if I wanted her. Of course, I did want her. I
believed--most men would--that I could teach her to love me. She was so
young. And even then I wasn't poor. I could give her a good time! The
poor child was keen on letting Brandreth know she wasn't mourning his
loss, and she'd heard he was still in London with his fiancee and her
millionaire papa. So she had our engagement announced in the _Morning
Post_ and other London papers."
"Well--and then?" I broke into a pause.
"Guy Brandreth couldn't bear to let another fellow have the girl. He
must have loved her really, I suppose, with what was best in him.
Anyhow, he asked for his release from the heiress, and found out from
Mrs. Hillier where her daughter was. As soon as he could get there, he
turned up at the Villa d'Este, where Rosemary and her aunt were staying
then."
"And you--were you there?"
"No. If I had been, perhaps everything would have been different. I was
in the Army, and on leave, like Brandreth. I had to go back to my
regiment, but Rosemary'd promised to marry me on her eighteenth
birthday, which wasn't far off. I'd made an appointment to go and see
Mrs. Hillier on a certain day. But before the day came a telegram
arrived from the aunt, Mrs. Brandreth, to say that Rosemary had run away
with Guy.
"It was a deadly blow. I went almost mad for a while--don't know what
kept me from killing myself, except that I've always despised suicide as
a coward's way out of trouble. I chucked the Army--had to make a
change--and went to California, where an old pal of mine had often
wanted me to join him. I knew that Brandreth was stationed down south
somewhere, so in California I should be as far from him and Rosemary as
if I stayed in England. Well--now you know the story--for I never saw
Rosemary or even heard of her from that time till the other day on board
this ship. Does what I've told help you at all to understand the
condition she wants me to make about her name, in my will?"
"No, it doesn't," I had to confess. "You must just--_trust_ Rosemary,
Major Murray."
"I do," he answered, fervently.
"I wish I did!" I could have echoed. But I said not a word, and tried to
remember only how sweet Rosemary Brandreth was.
Before it was time for us to witness the will I repeated to Jim all that
Murray had told me, and watched his face. His eyebrows had drawn
together in a puzzled frown.
"I hope she isn't going to play that poor chap another trick," he
grumbled. "It would finish him in an hour if she did."
"Oh, she _won't_!" I cried. "She loves him."
I was sure I was right about _that_. But I was sure of nothing else.