A Double Knot Part 82

Every word burned into her mind, and she seemed to be mentally repeating it constantly, even as some familiar tune will keep on humming in the brain.

"If you are not there by ten o'clock there will be the report of a pistol heard."

Marie felt that he would keep his word.

Over and over and over again, with dreary reiteration, those words kept recurring, and then, as the day wore on and she went to her room, she found herself repeating them aloud.

She bathed her burning temples, but found no relief. She threw herself upon a couch, and tried to obtain rest, but those words kept on, and she repeated them as if they were a lesson, till everything seemed dreamlike and strange, and she wondered whether she had really met Glen that morning.

At last she dropped into a feverish, uneasy sleep, the result of her weariness, but the words kept on, and she felt that she was repeating them as she went straight on towards a thick darkness, whose meaning she could not penetrate. All she knew was that she was irresistibly impelled towards that darkness, and it made her shudder as she drew nearer and nearer, till she felt that her next step would be into this strange mystery, when she found herself confronted by Ruth.

"Are you ill, dear?"

"No, not ill; only weary in spirit, dear. There, I am better now. But tell me about yourself. Have you seen Montaigne lately?"

"Yes," said Ruth with a shiver. "He seems to watch and follow us. He was in Piccadilly this morning as we came back from the Academy."

"The insolent!" said Marie calmly. "Is it time to dress?"

"Oh no," cried Ruth, looking curiously at her cousins ashy face. "You have been to sleep, and forgotten how time goes."

"Have I? Yes, I suppose I have. Let me see, there is no one coming to dinner to-night?"

"No, not to-night," said Ruth, gazing with wondering eyes at her cousin.

"No, no, of course not! My brain feels hot and confused to-day. I shall be better soon!"

She rose, and then descended with Ruth to the drawing-room, chatting calmly with her over the five o'clock tea, and seemed as if she had forgotten the morning's incident. This went on till the dressing-bell rang, when, placing her arm round her cousin, she went with her upstairs to their several rooms, kissing her affectionately, and bidding her not be late.

Marie looked perfectly calm when they met again in the drawing-room, where Lord Henry was awaiting their descent, and as Ruth entered she saw her cousin half seated upon one of the arms of a lounge, resting her soft white arm upon her husband's shoulder as she bent down and kissed him tenderly upon the forehead.

She did not start away, but rose gravely, and directly after, dinner was announced, and Lord Henry took Ruth down.

The dinner pa.s.sed off much as usual. The conversation was carried on in the quiet, calm way customary at that house, and Lord Henry smiled gravely and pleasantly first at one, then at the other, as he retailed to them, in his simple, placid manner, some piece of news that he had heard at the club, to which Marie listened with her quiet deference to her husband, whose slightest word seemed always to rouse her to listen.

When they rose Lord Henry left his chair in the most courtly way to open the door for them, Marie drawing back for Ruth to pa.s.s out first, while she hesitated, before placing her arms round her husband's neck. She kissed him on his forehead, holding him tightly to her for a moment or two, and then she pa.s.sed into the hall and began to ascend the stairs, looking handsomer than she had ever looked to him before, as she went up with the soft glow of the lamp shining down upon her pale face.

As she reached the first landing she smiled back at him in a strange way, hesitating for a moment or two before pa.s.sing out of his sight.

"G.o.d bless her," said the old man, with tears in his eyes. "I wish I was years younger--for her sake."

He returned to his chair, poured out his customary gla.s.s of port-wine, and sat sipping it in a calm, satisfied spirit. So happy and at rest did he feel, that, for a wonder, he finished that gla.s.s and poured out another, which he held up to the light and examined with all the air of a connoisseur.

Then sip after sip followed, with the dark ancestral paintings seeming to look down warningly at him from the wall, till he finished that second gla.s.s and began to doze. Then the doze came to an abrupt conclusion, and his lordship started up, for he thought he heard the closing of a door, but his eyelids dropped lower and lower till they were shut, and this time he slept deeply--so deeply that he did not hear the butler enter with his cup of coffee, which the old servitor placed softly upon the table, and then went out.

"Eh? What?" exclaimed Lord Henry, starting up.

"Beg pardon for waking your lordship," said the butler, holding out a silver salver, upon which was a reddish--brown envelope; "but here is a telegram."

"Telegram? Bless me!" exclaimed the old man, fumbling in rather a confused way for his gla.s.ses. "I hope--nothing wrong!"

His hands trembled as he opened the envelope and took out the message, while as he read the pencilled words his jaw dropped, and the old butler took a step forward.

"My lord!"

These words brought him to himself.

"That will do, Thompson. I will ring."

The old butler glanced at his master uneasily, but obeyed, and then Lord Henry, with palsied hand, held the sham telegram to the lamp and read once more:

"From Smith, West Strand.

"To Lord Henry Moorpark,

"300, Saint James's Square.

"If you care for your honour, follow her ladyship. She has gone to keep an appointment at Channel Hotel."

He crushed the paper in his hand, and caught at the table for support.

Then he recovered, and drew himself up proudly.

"It is a lie--a scandal!" he said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "The dog who could send that slur against my wife deserves to be hung!"

He tottered slightly at first as he walked, but he kept pulling himself together, twitching his head and crushing the paper more tightly in his hand, as he went slowly towards the door.

He would not hurry, he was too proud and full of trust and belief in Marie for that; and thrusting the telegram into his pocket, he, in his usual leisurely way, touched the bell for the dessert to be cleared away, threw open the door, and gave his customary cough as he crossed the hall before mounting the handsome staircase, step by step, where Marie had turned when she left him a short time before.

The old man held his head up more and more erect as he went on, and when the butler came from below in answer to the bell, he noted that his lordship was humming in a low voice a s.n.a.t.c.h of an air that was often played in the square by the organs.

He was too chivalrous to believe the message, and in the calmest manner possible he placed his hand upon the door-k.n.o.b, turned it, entered the softly-lit drawing-room, closed the door in his usual gentle way, and crossed towards Marie's chair, where she would be seated by the steaming urn, with Ruth reading aloud as was her wont.

"I have been thinking, my dear--" he said.

Then he stopped, perfectly calm, though both chairs were empty, and his lips quivered slightly.

"It is a lie--a cruel lie! G.o.d bless her! I'll not believe it!"

He muttered this as he went on, and was about to ring the bell, when he hesitated. Should he?--should he not?

It would be braver and better to do so, he thought, and would show his calm confidence to his servants.

But why should he trouble them? Poor sweet! her head had been aching a good deal that day, she said, and she had gone to lie down. Ruth, perhaps, was with her. He would go up and see.

He went slowly up to the bedroom--tapped; there was no answer, and he softly entered, to find the lights burning and something white upon the toilet-table--something white that caught his eye on the instant, and involuntarily he said: