A WILL-O’-THE-WISP.
Colonel Dacre thought it very wrong to swear, and always denied himself
this relief upon principle; but this morning, when he opened his eyes
full upon the clock, which had a jeering, jaunty way of pointing at
nine, he certainly did feel as if an occasional indulgence this time
must be a pardonable offense.
He sprang out of bed, and rang at once for the waiter. He was about to
put some questions to him, when the man handed him a couple of letters,
saying:
“I was told to give you them directly you woke, sir. Is there anything
you want, sir?”
“Only have my breakfast ready in half an hour,” answered Colonel Dacre,
with assumed indifference; and the moment the man had closed the door,
he tore open the letter that lay uppermost in his hand.
It was from Lady Gwendolyn, and ran thus:
“DEAR COLONEL DACRE: _La nuit porte conseil_, you say, and the result
is that I think it far better we should not meet. Pardon me if I have
given you pain by this decision. One of these days you will thank me
for having had the courage to deny you. I must mean to do what is
right, for I cannot help telling you that this is the greatest sorrow
of my life.
“GWENDOLYN ST. MAUR.”
The second was from Mrs. O’Hara, and was quite as expressive in its way.
“DEAR LAWRENCE: I see that you take Lady Gwendolyn’s part: her false,
fatal beauty has glamoured you, poor soul! I must needs forgive
you, for the sake of old times; but I should only worry you with my
friendship, now that you have learned what it is to love, so that I
may as well get out of your way quietly. If you ever want to see me
again, I dare say you will be able to find me; but, in any case, I
have too deep and affectionate a recollection of ‘auld lang syne’ to
subscribe myself anything but
Your sincere friend,
“NORAH O’HARA.”
“I have lost my friend and sweetheart both, by lying too late,” said
Colonel Dacre to himself, with a dreary sigh; for he was not dolt
enough even to inquire if the two ladies were still at the “Langham.”
Colonel Dacre smashed the clock before he went down to breakfast, and
only smiled grimly when he saw that five pounds was charged for the
damage in his bill.
On second thoughts, he stayed where he was that day because it was no
use going anywhere else. He was utterly discouraged now. The strength
of Lady Gwendolyn’s will frightened him.
He had fancied that all women were weak and yielding, and here was one
who made a resolution, and kept it, as he believed, for duty’s sake,
although her heart was pulling her the opposite way.
It was quite a revelation, and somehow made him respect all women more
for her sake. He wished now he had held her fast when she was in his
power, and made her marry him right off.
Lord Teignmouth had forfeited all claim to be consulted, and, though
Gwendolyn hesitated and argued now, he had a notion she would not have
been sorry to have had the decision taken out of her hands.
“Gwendolyn is just the kind of woman to admire a man who conquers
her,” Colonel Dacre said to himself. “But the least hesitation or
weakness of purpose would spoil all. She must see in me only the master
who commands--not the lover who pleads--or she will writhe out of my
grasp, somehow, even at the altar rails. Oh! if I had only been wiser,
and more understanding, how happy I might be now!”
He determined to show Lady Gwendolyn that he had some fertility of
resource, and as strong a will as her own, the next time they met; and
with this view he went off to Doctors’ Commons, and bought a special
license. Then, all things being fair in love and war, and the position
being very hopeless under its present aspect, he descended to a ruse,
which, under ordinary circumstances, would have been unpardonable.
He put an advertisement in several of the daily papers, so worded that
only Gwendolyn could understand it, and stating himself to be in such a
condition, both mentally and physically, that if, knowing all, she did
not come to him at once, his death would be on her conscience.
And then he waited.
“You will find me at the hotel where we parted yesterday,” he had said;
and, therefore, we may be sure he did not quit his rooms for a second.
He sent for newspapers and books; but he was far too restless to read.
With his face glued to the window-pane, he watched eagerly every
carriage that drew up to the entrance.
He had suffered breakfast and luncheon to go away untasted; but when
dinner was placed on the table, he felt so strange that it occurred to
him he must be suffering from inanition, and he poured himself out a
glass of sherry, and emptied it at a draft. It felt like liquid fire,
and stung his throat; but the effect was magical.
His sluggish pulses quickened, the blood in his veins seemed to dance
vivaciously to the air of the delicious waltz he had last danced with
Lady Gwendolyn.
The air was so full of her sweet presence he persuaded himself she must
be coming, and began to eat eagerly. He would need all his strength
to-night, and could not afford to waste a single chance. But his
appetite was not as large as his aspirations. He got half-way through
his soup valiantly enough, then a sudden feeling of nausea came over
him, and he pushed away his plate, and rose from the table, resuming
his former place at the window.
It was growing dark now, but he could still distinguish the passers-by;
and when a lady alighted presently from a cab at the door, his heart
gave a great bound and thrill.
For her figure was slender and graceful, like Lady Gwendolyn’s; and she
gathered her skirts over her arm in a way he remembered well. But the
light of the lamp over the door fell full on her face as she turned to
pay the driver his fare, and then he gave a lamenting sigh.
The lady was not half as handsome as Gwendolyn; but she was nearly
twice her age, to make up. After awhile it became so dark that he had
to retire from his post of observation, and then he passed the time
watching the door. Of course, he expected her every minute, and, of
course, she did not come.
Colonel Dacre became in a perfect fever of expectancy and apprehension
as the night advanced; and as he still found it impossible to sleep, he
naturally felt exhausted and faint.
Only that Gwendolyn might come while he was away, and then, of course,
she would find out his ruse, and then there would be an end to his
wooing.
The only chance for him was to be on the spot at the supreme moment,
and take her by storm. So he stayed at home, and when his sensations
became unbearable, he tried his remedy of the night before, and then
stumbled into bed.