XIV

The fickle English weather for once belied its reputation, and the whole

month of May was warm and fine. It seemed that the springtime brought

back Lucy's youth to her; and, surrendering herself with all her heart

to her new happiness, she took a girlish pleasure in the gaieties of the

season. Alec had said nothing yet, but she was assured of his love, and

she gave herself up to him with all the tender strength of her nature.

She was a little overwhelmed at the importance which he seemed to have

acquired, but she was very proud as well. The great ones of the earth

were eager to do him honour. Papers were full of his praise. And it

delighted her because he came to her for protection from lionising

friends. She began to go out much more; and with Alec, Dick Lomas, and

Mrs. Crowley, went much to the opera and often to the play. They had

charming little dinner parties at the _Carlton_ and amusing suppers at

the _Savoy_. Alec did not speak much on these occasions. It pleased him

to sit by and listen, with a placid face but smiling eyes, to the

nonsense that Dick Lomas and the pretty American talked incessantly. And

Lucy watched him. Every day she found something new to interest her in

the strong, sunburned face; and sometimes their eyes met: then they

smiled quietly. They were very happy.

* * *

One evening Dick asked the others to sup with him; and since Alec had a

public dinner to attend, and Lucy was going to the play with Lady

Kelsey, he took Julia Crowley to the opera. To make an even number he

invited Robert Boulger to join them at the _Savoy_. After brushing his

hair with the scrupulous thought his thinning locks compelled, Dick

waited in the vestibule for Mrs. Crowley. Presently she came, looking

very pretty in a gown of flowered brocade which made her vaguely

resemble a shepherdess in an old French picture. With her diamond

necklace and a tiara in her dark hair, she looked like a dainty princess

playing fantastically at the simple life.

'I think people are too stupid,' she broke out, as she joined Dick.

'I've just met a woman who said to me: "Oh, I hear you're going to

America. Do go and call on my sister. She'll be so glad to see you." "I

shall be delighted," I said, "but where does your sister live?"

"Jonesville, Ohio," "Good heavens," I said, "I live in New York, and

what should I be doing in Jonesville, Ohio?"'

'Keep perfectly calm,' said Dick.

'I shall not keep calm,' she answered. 'I hate to be obviously thought

next door to a red Indian by a woman who's slab-sided and

round-shouldered. And I'm sure she has dirty petticoats.'

'Why?'

'English women do.'

'What a monstrous libel!' cried Dick.

At that moment they saw Lady Kelsey come in with Lucy, and a moment

later Alec and Robert Boulger joined them. They went in to supper and

sat down.

'I hate Amelia,' said Mrs. Crowley emphatically, as she laid her long

white gloves by the side of her.

'I deplore the prejudice with which you regard a very jolly sort of a

girl,' answered Dick.

'Amelia has everything that I thoroughly object to in a woman. She has

no figure, and her legs are much too long, and she doesn't wear corsets.

In the daytime she has a weakness for picture hats, and she can't say

boo to a goose.'

'Who is Amelia?' asked Boulger.

'Amelia is Mr. Lomas' affianced wife,' answered the lady, with a

provoking glance at him.

'I didn't know you were going to be married, Dick,' said Lady Kelsey,

inclined to be a little hurt because nothing had been said to her of

this.

'I'm not,' he answered. 'And I've never set eyes on Amelia yet. She is

an imaginary character that Mrs. Crowley has invented as the sort of

woman whom I would marry.'

'I know Amelia,' Mrs. Crowley went on. 'She wears quantities of false

hair, and she'll adore you. She's so meek and so quiet, and she thinks

you such a marvel. But don't ask me to be nice to Amelia.'

'My dear lady, Amelia wouldn't approve of you. She'd think you much too

outspoken, and she wouldn't like your American accent. You must never

forget that Amelia is the granddaughter of a baronet.'

'I shall hold her up to Fleming as an awful warning of the woman whom I

won't let him marry at any price. "If you marry a woman like that,

Fleming," I shall say to him, "I shan't leave you a penny. It shall all

go the University of Pennsylvania."'

'If ever it is my good fortune to meet Fleming, I shall have great

pleasure in kicking him hard,' said Dick. 'I think he's a most

objectionable little beast.'

'How can you be so absurd? Why, my dear Mr. Lomas, Fleming could take

you up in one hand and throw you over a ten-foot wall.'

'Fleming must be a sportsman,' said Bobbie, who did not in the least

know whom they were talking about.

'He is,' answered Mrs. Crowley. 'He's been used to the saddle since he

was three years old, and I've never seen the fence that would make him

lift a hair. And he's the best swimmer at Harvard, and he's a wonderful

shot--I wish you could see him shoot, Mr. MacKenzie--and he's a dear.'

'Fleming's a prig,' said Dick.

'I'm afraid you're too old for Fleming,' said Mrs. Crowley, looking at

Lucy. 'If it weren't for that, I'd make him marry you.'

'Is Fleming your brother, Mrs. Crowley?' asked Lady Kelsey.

'No, Fleming's my son.'

'But you haven't got a son,' retorted the elder lady, much mystified.

'No, I know I haven't; but Fleming would have been my son if I'd had

one.'

'You mustn't mind them, Aunt Alice,' smiled Lucy gaily. 'They argue by

the hour about Amelia and Fleming, and neither of them exists; but

sometimes they go into such details and grow so excited that I really

begin to believe in them myself.'

But Mrs. Crowley, though she appeared a light-hearted and thoughtless

little person, had much common sense; and when their party was ended and

she was giving Dick a lift in her carriage, she showed that,

notwithstanding her incessant chatter, her eyes throughout the evening

had been well occupied.

'Did you owe Bobbie a grudge that you asked him to supper?' she asked

suddenly.

'Good heavens, no. Why?'

'I hope Fleming won't be such a donkey as you are when he's your age.'

'I'm sure Amelia will be much more polite than you to the amiable,

middle-aged gentleman who has the good fortune to be her husband.'

'You might have noticed that the poor boy was eating his heart out with

jealousy and mortification, and Lucy was too much absorbed in Alec to

pay the very smallest attention to him.'

'What are you talking about?'

Mrs. Crowley gave him a glance of amused disdain.

'Haven't you noticed that Lucy is desperately in love with Mr.

MacKenzie, and it doesn't move her in the least that poor Bobbie has

fetched and carried for her for ten years, done everything she deigned

to ask, and been generally nice and devoted and charming?'

'You amaze me,' said Dick. 'It never struck me that Lucy was the kind of

girl to fall in love with anyone. Poor thing. I'm so sorry.'

'Why?'

'Because Alec wouldn't dream of marrying. He's not that sort of man.'

'Nonsense. Every man is a marrying man if a woman really makes up her

mind to it.'

'Don't say that. You terrify me.'

'You need not be in the least alarmed,' answered Mrs. Crowley, coolly,

'because I shall refuse you.'

'It's very kind of you to reassure me,' he answered, smiling. 'But all

the same I don't think I'll risk a proposal.'

'My dear friend, your only safety is in immediate flight.'

'Why?'

'It must be obvious to the meanest intelligence that you've been on the

verge of proposing to me for the last four years.'

'Nothing will induce me to be false to Amelia.'

'I don't believe that Amelia really loves you.'

'I never said she did; but I'm sure she's quite willing to marry me.'

'I think that's detestably vain.'

'Not at all. However old, ugly, and generally undesirable a man is,

he'll find a heap of charming girls who are willing to marry him.

Marriage is still the only decent means of livelihood for a really nice

woman.'

'Don't let's talk about Amelia; let's talk about me,' said Mrs. Crowley.

'I don't think you're half so interesting.'

'Then you'd better take Amelia to the play to-morrow night instead of

me.'

'I'm afraid she's already engaged.'

'Nothing will induce me to play second fiddle to Amelia.'

'I've taken the seats and ordered an exquisite dinner at the _Carlton_.'

'What have you ordered?'

'_Potage bisque._'

Mrs. Crowley made a little face.

'_Sole Normande._'

She shrugged her shoulders.

'Wild duck.'

'With an orange salad?'

'Yes.'

'I don't positively dislike that.'

'And I've ordered a _souffle_ with an ice in the middle of it.'

'I shan't come.'

'Why?'

'You're not being really nice to me.'

'I shouldn't have thought you kept very well abreast of dramatic art if

you insist on marrying everyone who takes you to a theatre,' he said.

'I was very nicely brought up,' she answered demurely, as the carriage

stopped at Dick's door.

She gave him a ravishing smile as he took leave of her. She knew that he

was quite prepared to marry her, and she had come to the conclusion that

she was willing to have him. Neither much wished to hurry the affair,

and each was determined that he would only yield to save the other from

a fancied desperation. Their love-making was pursued with a light heart.

* * *

At Whitsuntide the friends separated. Alec went up to Scotland to see

his house and proposed afterwards to spend a week in Lancashire. He had

always taken a keen interest in the colliery which brought him so large

an income, and he wanted to examine into certain matters that required

his attention. Mrs. Crowley went to Blackstable, where she still had

Court Leys, and Dick, in order to satisfy himself that he was not really

a day older, set out for Paris. But they all arranged to meet again on

the day, immediately after the holidays, which Lady Kelsey, having

persuaded Lucy definitely to renounce her life of comparative

retirement, had fixed for a dance. It was the first ball she had given

for many years, and she meant it to be brilliant. Lady Kelsey had an

amiable weakness for good society, and Alec's presence would add lustre

to the occasion. Meanwhile she went with Lucy to her little place on the

river, and did not return till two days before the party. They were

spent in a turmoil of agitation. Lady Kelsey passed sleepless nights,

fearing at one moment that not a soul would appear, and at another that

people would come in such numbers that there would not be enough for

them to eat. The day arrived.

But then happened an event which none but Alec could in the least have

expected; and he, since his return from Africa, had been so taken up

with his love for Lucy, that the possibility of it had slipped his

memory.

Fergus Macinnery, the man whom three years before he had dismissed

ignominiously from his service, found a way to pay off an old score.

Of the people most nearly concerned in the matter, it was Lady Kelsey

who had first news of it. The morning papers were brought into her

_boudoir_ with her breakfast, and as she poured out her coffee, she ran

her eyes lazily down the paragraphs of the _Morning Post_ in which are

announced the comings and goings of society. Then she turned to the

_Daily Mail_. Her attention was suddenly arrested. Staring at her, in

the most prominent part of the page, was a column of printed matter

headed: _The Death of Mr. George Allerton_. It was a letter, a column

long, signed by Fergus Macinnery. Lady Kelsey read it with amazement and

dismay. At first she could not follow it, and she read it again; now its

sense was clear to her, and she was overcome with horror. In set words,

mincing no terms, it accused Alec MacKenzie of sending George Allerton

to his death in order to save himself. The words treachery and cowardice

were used boldly. The dates were given, and the testimony of natives was

adduced.

The letter adverted with scathing sarcasm to the rewards and

congratulations which had fallen to MacKenzie as a result of his

labours; and ended with a challenge to him to bring an action for

criminal libel against the writer. At first the whole thing seemed

monstrous to Lady Kelsey, it was shameful, shameful; but in a moment she

found there was a leading article on the subject, and then she did not

know what to believe. It referred to the letter in no measured terms:

the writer observed that _prima facie_ the case was very strong and

called upon Alec to reply without delay. Big words were used, and there

was much talk of a national scandal. An instant refutation was demanded.

Lady Kelsey did not know what on earth to do, and her thoughts flew to

the dance, the success of which would certainly be imperilled by these

revelations. She must have help at once. This business, if it concerned

the world in general, certainly concerned Lucy more than anyone. Ringing

for her maid, she told her to get Dick Lomas on the telephone and ask

him to come at once. While she was waiting, she heard Lucy come

downstairs and knew that she meant to wish her good-morning. She hid the

paper hurriedly.

When Lucy came in and kissed her, she said:

'What is the news this morning?'

'I don't think there is any,' said Lady Kelsey, uneasily. 'Only the

_Post_ has come; we shall really have to change our newsagent.'

She waited with beating heart for Lucy to pursue the subject, but

naturally enough the younger woman did not trouble herself. She talked

to her aunt of the preparations for the party that evening, and then,

saying that she had much to do, left her. She had no sooner gone than

Lady Kelsey's maid came back to say that Lomas was out of town and not

expected back till the evening. Distractedly Lady Kelsey sent messages

to her nephew and to Mrs. Crowley. She still looked upon Bobbie as

Lucy's future husband, and the little American was Lucy's greatest

friend. They were both found. Boulger had gone down as usual to the

city, but in consideration of Lady Kelsey's urgent request, set out at

once to see her.

He had changed little during the last four years, and had still a boyish

look on his round, honest face. To Mrs. Crowley he seemed always an

embodiment of British philistinism; and if she liked him for his

devotion to Lucy, she laughed at him for his stolidity. When he arrived,

Mrs. Crowley was already with Lady Kelsey. She had known nothing of the

terrible letter, and Lady Kelsey, thinking that perhaps it had escaped

him too, went up to him with the _Daily Mail_ in her hand.

'Have you seen the paper, Bobbie?' she asked excitedly. 'What on earth

are we to do?'

He nodded.

'What does Lucy say?' he asked.

'Oh, I've not let her see it. I told a horrid fib and said the newsagent

had forgotten to leave it.'

'But she must know,' he answered gravely.

'Not to-day,' protested Lady Kelsey. 'Oh, it's too dreadful that this

should happen to-day of all days. Why couldn't they wait till to-morrow?

After all Lucy's troubles it seemed as if a little happiness was coming

back into her life, and now this dreadful thing happens.'

'What are you going to do?' asked Bobbie.

'What can I do?' said Lady Kelsey desperately. 'I can't put the dance

off. I wish I had the courage to write and ask Mr. MacKenzie not to

come.'

Bobbie made a slight gesture of impatience. It irritated him that his

aunt should harp continually on the subject of this wretched dance. But

for all that he tried to reassure her.

'I don't think you need be afraid of MacKenzie. He'll never venture to

show his face.'

'You don't mean to say you think there's any truth in the letter?'

exclaimed Mrs. Crowley.

He turned and faced her.

'I've never read anything more convincing in my life.'

Mrs. Crowley looked at him, and he returned her glance steadily.

Of those three it was only Lady Kelsey who did not know that Lucy was

deeply in love with Alec MacKenzie.

'Perhaps you're inclined to be unjust to him,' said Mrs. Crowley.

'We shall see if he has any answer to make,' he answered coldly. 'The

evening papers are sure to get something out of him. The city is ringing

with the story, and he must say something at once.'

'It's quite impossible that there should be anything in it,' said Mrs.

Crowley. 'We all know the circumstances under which George went out with

him. It's inconceivable that he should have sacrificed him as callously

as this man's letter makes out.'

'We shall see.'

'You never liked him, Bobbie,' said Lady Kelsey.

'I didn't,' he answered briefly.

'I wish I'd never thought of giving this horrid dance,' she moaned.

Presently, however, they succeeded in calming Lady Kelsey. Though both

thought it unwise, they deferred to her wish that everything should be

hidden from Lucy till the morrow. Dick Lomas was arriving from Paris

that evening, and it would be possible then to take his advice. When at

last Mrs. Crowley left the elder woman to her own devices, her thoughts

went to Alec. She wondered where he was, and if he already knew that his

name was more prominently than ever before the public.

* * *

MacKenzie was travelling down from Lancashire. He was not a man who

habitually read papers, and it was in fact only by chance that he saw a

copy of the _Daily Mail_. A fellow traveller had with him a number of

papers, and offered one of them to Alec. He took it out of mere

politeness. His thoughts were otherwise occupied, and he scanned it

carelessly. Suddenly he saw the heading which had attracted Lady

Kelsey's attention. He read the letter, and he read the leading article.

No one who watched him could have guessed that what he read concerned

him so nearly. His face remained impassive. Then, letting the paper fall

to the ground, he began to think. Presently he turned to the amiable

stranger who had given him the paper, and asked him if he had seen the

letter.

'Awful thing, isn't it?' the man said.

Alec fixed upon him his dark, firm eyes. The man seemed an average sort

of person, not without intelligence.

'What do you think of it?'

'Pity,' he said. 'I thought MacKenzie was a great man. I don't know what

he can do now but shoot himself.'

'Do you think there's any truth in it?'

'The letter's perfectly damning.'

Alec did not answer. In order to break off the conversation he got up

and walked into the corridor. He lit a cigar and watched the green

fields that fled past them. For two hours he stood motionless. At last

he took his seat again, with a shrug of the shoulders, and a scornful

smile on his lips.

The stranger was asleep, with his head thrown back and his mouth

slightly open. Alec wondered whether his opinion of the affair would be

that of the majority. He thought Alec should shoot himself?

'I can see myself doing it,' Alec muttered.