At this period of her life Valentine was certainly not in the least in
love with the man to whom she was engaged--she disliked caresses and
what she was pleased to call honeyed words of flattery. Wyndham, who
found himself able to read her moods like a book, soon learned to
accommodate himself to her wishes. He came to see her daily, but he
kissed her seldom--he never took her hand, nor put his arm round her
slim waist; they sat together and talked, and soon discovered that they
had many subjects of interest in common--they both loved music, they
both adored novels and poetry. Wyndham could read aloud beautifully,
and at these times Valentine liked to lie back in her easy chair and
steal shy glances at him, and wonder, as she never ceased to wonder,
from morning to night, why he loved her so much, and why her father
wanted her to marry him.
If Valentine was cold to this young man, she was, however, quite the
opposite to the rector of Jewsbury-on-the-Wold. Mr. Wyndham came to
town, and of course partook of the hospitality of the house in Queen's
Gate. In Valentine's eyes the rector was old, older than her
father--she delighted for her father's sake in all old men, and being
really a very loveable and fascinating girl soon won the rector's
heart.
"I'm not a bit surprised, Gerald," the good man said to his son on the
day of his return to his parish duties. "She's a wilful lass, and has a
spirit of her own, but she's a good girl, too, and a sweet, and a young
fellow might do worse than lose his heart to her. Valentine is open as
the day, and when she comes to me as a daughter, I'll give her a
daughter's place in my heart. Yes, Valentine is all right enough, and
I'll tell Lilias so, and put her heart at rest, poor girl, but I'm not
so sure about Paget. I think you are putting yourself in a very
invidious position, if you will allow me to say so, my boy, coming into
Paget's house as a sort of dependent, even though you are his girl's
husband. I don't like the sound of it, and you won't care for the
position, Gerald, when you've experienced it for a short time.
However--oh, there's my train--yes, porter, yes, two bugs and a rag--I
mean two bags and a rug--Here, this way, this way. Dear, dear, how
confused one gets! Yes, Gerald, what was I saying? Oh, of course you're
of age, my boy, you are at liberty to choose for yourself. Yes, I like
the girl thoroughly. God bless you. Gerry; come down to the old place
whenever you have a spare Saturday."
The younger Wyndham smiled in a very grave fashion, saw to his father's
creature comforts, as regarded wraps, newspapers, etc., tipped the
porter, who had not yet done laughing at the reverend gentleman's
mistake, and left the station.
He hailed a cab and drove at once to his future father-in-law's
business address. He was quite at home now in the big shipping office,
the several clerks regarding him with mixed feelings of respect and
envy. Gerald had a gracious way with everyone, he was never distant
with his fellow-creatures, but there was also a slight indescribable
touch about him which kept those who were beneath him in the social
scale from showing the smallest trace of familiarity. He was
sympathetic, but he had a knack of making those who came in contact
with him treat him as a gentleman. The clerks liked Wyndham, and with
one exception were extremely civil to him. Helps alone held himself
aloof from the new-comer, watching him far more anxiously than the
other clerks did, but, nevertheless, keeping his own counsel, and
daring whenever he had the opportunity to use covert words of warning.
On his arrival, to-day, Wyndham sent a message to the chief, asking to
see him as soon as convenient. While he waited in the ante-room, for in
reality he had little or nothing to do in the place, the door was
opened to admit another visitor, and then Adrian Carr, the young man
whom Valentine had once spoken of with admiration, stepped across the
threshold. The two young men were slightly acquainted, and while they
waited they chatted together.
Carr was a great contrast to Wyndham--he was rather short, but thin and
wiry, without an atom of superfluous flesh anywhere--his shoulders were
broad, he was firmly knit and had a very erect carriage. Wyndham, tall,
loosely built, with the suspicion of a stoop, looked frail beside the
other man. Wyndham's dark grey eyes were too sensitive for perfect
mental health. His face was pallid, but at times it would flush
vividly--his lips had a look of repression about them--the whole
attitude of the man to a very keen observer was tense and watchful.
Carr had dark eyes, closely cropped hair, a smooth face but for his
moustache, and a keen, resolute, bold glance. He was not nearly as
handsome as Wyndham, beside Wyndham he might even have been considered
commonplace, but his every gesture, his every glance betokened the
perfection of mental health and physical vigor.
After a few desultory nothings had been exchanged between the two, Carr
alluded to Wyndham's engagement, and offered him his congratulations.
He did this with a certain guardedness of tone which caused Gerald to
look at him keenly.
"Thank you--yes, I am very lucky," he replied. "But can we not exchange
good wishes, Carr? I heard a rumor somewhere, that you also were about
to be married."
Carr laughed.
"These rumors are always getting about," he said, "half of them end in
smoke. In my case you yourself destroyed the ghost of the chance of
such a possibility coming about."
"I? What do you mean?" said Wyndham.
"Nothing of the least consequence. As matters have turned out I am
perfectly heart-whole, but the fact is, the only girl I ever took the
slightest fancy to is going to be your wife. Oh, I am not in love with
her! You stopped me in time. I really only tell you this to show you
how much I appreciate the excellence of your taste."
Wyndham did not utter a word, and just then Helps came to say that Mr.
Paget would see Mr. Carr for a few moments. Carr instantly left the
room, and Wyndham went over to the dusty window, leant his elbow
against one of the panes, and peered out.
Apparently there was nothing for him to see--the window looked into a
tiny square yard, in the centre of which was a table, which contained a
dish of empty peapods, and two cabbages in a large basin of cold water.
Not a soul was in the yard, and Wyndham staring out ought in the usual
order of things soon to have grown weary of the objects of his
scrutiny. Far from that, his fixed gaze seemed to see something of
peculiar and intense interest. When he turned away at last, his face
was ghastly white, and taking out his handkerchief he wiped some drops
of moisture from his forehead.
"My master will see you now, sir," said Helps, in a quiet voice. He had
been watching Wyndham all the time, and now he looked up at him with a
queer significant glance of sympathy.
"Oh, ain't you a fool, young man?" he said. "Why, nothing ain't worth
what you're a-gwine through."
"Is Carr gone?" asked Wyndham.
"Oh yes, sir, he's a gent as knows what he's after. No putting his foot
into holes with him. He knows what ground he'll walk on. Come along,
sir, here you are."
Helps always showed Wyndham into the chief's presence with great
parade. Mr. Paget was in a genial humor. When he greeted the young man
he actually laughed.
"Sit down, Gerald; sit down, my dear boy. Now, you'll never guess what
our friend Adrian Carr came to see me about. 'Pon my word, it's quite a
joke--you'll never guess it, Gerald."
"I'm sure of that, sir, I never guessed a riddle in my life."
Something in the hopeless tone in which these few words were uttered
made Mr. Paget cease smiling. He favored Gerald with a lightning
glance, then said quietly:
"I suppose I ought not to have laughed, but somehow I never thought
Carr would have taken to the job. He wants me to introduce him to your
father, Gerald. He is anxious to be ordained for the curacy which you
have missed. Fancy a man like Carr in the Church! He says he never
thought of such a profession until you put it into his head--now he is
quite keen after it. Well, perhaps he will make an excellent
clergyman--I rather fancy I should like to hear him preach."
"If I were you," said Gerald, "I would refuse to give him that
introduction."
"Refuse to give it him! My dear boy, what do you mean? I am not quite
such a churl. Why, I have given it him. I wrote a long letter to your
excellent father, saying all sorts of nice things about Carr, and he
has taken it away in his pocket. Her Majesty's post has the charge of
it by this time, I expect. What is the matter, Wyndham? You look quite
strange."
"I feel it, sir--I don't like this at all. Carr and I have got mixed
somehow. He takes my curacy, and he confessed that but for me he'd
have gone in for Val. Now you see what I mean. He oughtn't to have the
curacy."
Mr. Paget looked really puzzled.
"You are talking in a strange way, Gerald," he said. "If poor Carr was
unfortunate enough to fall in love with a girl whom you have won,
surely you don't grudge him that poor little curacy too. My dear lad,
you are getting positively morbid. There, I don't think I want you for
anything special to day. Go home to Val--get her to cheer your low
spirits."
"She cannot," replied Gerald. "You don't see, sir, because you won't.
Carr is not in love with Valentine, and Valentine is not in love with
him, but they both might be. I have heard Val talk of him--once. I
heard him speak of her--to day. By-and-bye, sir--in the future, they
may meet. You know what I mean. Carr ought not to go to
Jewsbury-on-the-Wold--it is wrong. I will not allow it. I will myself
write to the rector. I will take the responsibility, whoever gets my
old berth it must not be Adrian Carr."
Wyndham rose as he spoke--he looked determined, all trace of weakness
or irresolution left his face. Paget had never before seen this young
man in his present mood. Somehow the sight gave him intense pleasure. A
latent fear which he had scarcely dared to whisper even to his own
heart that Wyndham had not sufficient pluck for what lay before him
vanished now. He too rose to his feet, and laid his hand almost
caressingly on the lad's shoulder.
"My boy, you have no cause to fear in this matter. In the future I
myself will take care of Valentine, but I love you for your
thoughtfulness, Gerald."
"You need not, sir. I have something on my mind which I must say now. I
have entered into your scheme. I have----"
"Yes, yes--let me shut and lock the door, my boy."
Wyndham, arrested in his speech, drew one or two heavy breaths.
He spoke again in a sort of panting way. His eyes grew bright and
almost wild.
"I have promised you," he continued. "I'll go through with it. It's a
million times worse fate for me than if I had killed someone, and then
was hung up by the neck until I died. That, in comparison to this,
would be--well, like the sting of a gnat. I'll go through with it,
however, and you need not be afraid that I'll change my mind. I do it
solely and entirely because I love your daughter, because I believe
that the touch of dishonor would blight her, because unfortunately for
herself she loves you better than any other soul in the world. If she
did not, if she gave me even half of the great heart which she bestows
upon you, then I would risk all, and feel sure that dishonor and
poverty with me would be better than honor and riches with you. You're
a happy man during these last six weeks. Mr. Paget. You have found your
victim, and you see a way of salvation for yourself, and a prosperous
future for Valentine. She won't grieve long--oh, no, not long for the
husband she never loved--but look here, you have to guard her against
the possibility in the future of falling in love with another--of being
won by another man, who will ask her to be his wife and the mother of
his children. Though she does not love me, she must remain my widow all
her days, for if she does not, if I hear that she, thinking herself
free, is about to contract marriage with another, I will return--yes, I
will return from the dead--from the grave, and say that it shall not
be, and I will show all the world that you are--what you have proved
yourself to be to me--a devil. That is all. I wanted to say this to
you. Carr has given me the opportunity. I won't see Val to-day, for I
am upset--to-morrow I shall have regained my composure."