After that evening I became a regular and welcome visitor at Lord
Elton's house, and was soon on terms of the most friendly intimacy with
all the members of his family, including even the severely pious Miss
Charlotte Fitzroy. It was not difficult for me to see that my
matrimonial aspirations were suspected,--and though the encouragement I
received from Lady Sibyl herself was so slight as to make me doubtful
whether after all my hopes of winning her would ever be realized, the
Earl made no secret of his delight at the idea of securing me as a
son-in-law. Such wealth as mine was not to be met with every day,--and
even had I been a blackleg of the turf or a retired jockey, instead of
an 'author,' I should, with five millions at my back, have been
considered quite as desirable a suitor for the Lady Sibyl's hand.
Rimânez scarcely ever went with me to the Eltons' now, pleading as
excuse much pressing business and many social engagements. I was not
altogether sorry for this. Greatly as I admired and honoured him, his
extraordinary physical beauty and fascination of manner were in
dangerous contrast to my merely 'ordinary good-looking' personality, and
it seemed to me impossible that any woman, seeing much of him, could be
expected to give me the preference. All the same I had no fear that he
would ever voluntarily become my rival,--his antipathy to women was too
deep-rooted and sincere for that. On this point indeed his feelings were
so strong and passionate that I often wondered why the society sirens
who eagerly courted his attention remained so blind and unconscious to
the chill cynicism that lurked beneath his seeming courtesy,--the
cutting satire that was coupled with apparent compliment, and the
intensity of hatred that flamed under the assumed expression of admiring
homage in his flashing eyes. However it was not my business to point out
to those who could not, or would not, see the endless peculiarities of
my friend's variable disposition. I did not pay much heed to them even
so far as I myself was concerned, for I had grown accustomed to the
quick changes he was wont to ring on all the gamut of human feeling, and
absorbed in my own life-schemes I did not trouble myself to intimately
study the man who had in a couple of months become my _fidus Achates_. I
was engrossed at the moment in doing all I could to increase the Earl of
Elton's appreciative sense of my value as a man and a millionaire, and
to this end I paid some of his pressing debts, lent him a large sum of
money without demanding interest or promise of repayment, and stocked
his cellar with presents of such rare old wines as he had not been able
to afford to purchase for himself for many years. Thus was confidence
easily engendered between us, even to that point of affection which
displayed itself in his lordship's readiness to thrust his arm through
mine when we sauntered together down Piccadilly, and his calling me 'my
dear boy' in public. Never shall I forget the bewildered amazement of
the scrubby little editor of a sixpenny magazine who met me face to face
thus accompanied in the Park one morning! That he knew the Earl of Elton
by sight was evident, and that he also knew me his apoplectic stare
confessed. He had pompously refused to even read any of my offered
contributions on the ground that I had 'no name,'--and now--! he would
have given a month's salary if I had but condescended to recognize him!
I did not so condescend,--but passed him by, listening to, and laughing
with my intended future father-in-law, who was retailing an extremely
ancient joke for my benefit. The incident was slight, even
trumpery,--yet it put me in a good humour, for one of the chiefest
pleasures I had out of my wealth was the ability to repay with vengeful
interest all the contempt and insult that had beaten me back from every
chance of earning a livelihood while I was poor.
In all my visits to the Eltons, I never saw the paralysed Countess
again. Since the last terrible visitation of her dread disease, she had
not moved. She merely lived and breathed--no more. Lord Elton told me
that the worst part of her illness at present, so far as it affected
those who had to attend upon her, was the particularly hideous
alteration of her face.
"The fact is," he said, not without a shudder--"she's dreadful to look
at,--positively dreadful!--no longer human, you know. She used to be a
lovely woman,--now she is literally frightful. Her eyes
especially;--they are as scared and wild as if she had seen the devil.
Quite an awful expression I assure you!--and it never alters. The
doctors can do nothing--and of course it's very trying for Sibyl, and
everybody."
I assented sympathetically; and realising that a house holding such a
figure of living death within it must of necessity be more or less
gloomy and depressing to a young and vigorous nature, I lost no
opportunity of giving Lady Sibyl whatever slight pleasures were in my
power to procure, for her distraction and entertainment. Costly flowers,
boxes for the opera and 'first nights' at the play,--every sort of
attention that a man can pay to a woman without being considered
officious or intrusive I offered, and was not repulsed. Everything
progressed well and favourably towards the easy attainment of my
wishes,--I had no difficulties, no troubles of any kind,--and I
voluntarily led a life of selfishly absorbed personal gratification,
being commended and encouraged therein by a whole host of flatterers and
interested acquaintances. Willowsmere Court was mine, and every
newspaper in the kingdom had commented on the purchase, in either
servile or spiteful paragraphs. My lawyers had warmly congratulated me
on the possession of so admirable a property which they, in strict
accordance with what they conceived to be their duty, had personally
inspected and approved. The place was now in the hands of a firm of
decorators and furnishers, recommended by Rimânez, and it was expected
to be in perfect order for my habitation in early summer, at which time
I purposed entertaining a large house-party of more or less
distinguished people.
Meantime, what I had once considered would be the great event of my
life, took place,--namely the publication of my book. Trumpeted forth by
the most heraldic advertisements, it was at last launched on the
uncertain and fluctuating tide of public favour, and special 'advance'
copies were sent to the office of every magazine and journal in London.
The day after this was done, Lucio, as I now familiarly called him, came
in to my room with a mysterious and mischievous air.
"Geoffrey," he said--"I'm going to lend you five hundred pounds!"