A Fool and His Money Part 52

She smiled. "A husband is dear at any price."

"I shouldn't put it just that way," I protested. "A good American husband is a necessity, not a luxury."

"Well, to go back to what I started to say, Aline is very bitter about matrimony as viewed from my point of view. I am sorry to say I attribute her att.i.tude to your excellent counselling."

"You flatter me. I was under the impression she took her lessons of Tarnowsy."

"Granted. But Tarnowsy was unfit. Why tar all of them with the same stick? There are good n.o.blemen, you'll admit."

"But they don't need rehabilitation."

"Aline, I fear, will never risk another experiment. It's rather calamitous, isn't it? When one stops to consider her youth, beauty and all the happiness there may be--"

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. t.i.tus, but I think your fears are groundless."

"What do you mean?"

"The Countess will marry again. I am not betraying a secret, because she has intimated as much to my secretary as well as to me. I take it that as soon as this unhappy affair is settled, she will be free to reveal the true state of her feelings toward--" I stopped, somewhat dismayed by my garrulous turn.

"Toward whom?" she fairly snapped.

"I don't know," I replied truthfully--and, I fear, lugubriously.

"Good heaven!" she cried, starting up from the bench on which we were sitting in the loggia. There was a queer expression in her eyes.

"Hasn't--hasn't she ever hinted at--hasn't she mentioned any one at all?"

"Not to me."

Mrs. t.i.tus was agitated, I could see that very plainly. A thoughtful frown appeared on her smooth brow, and a gleam of anxiety sprang into her eyes.

"I am sure that she has had no opportunity to--" She did not complete the sentence, in which there was a primary note of perplexity and wonder.

It grilled me to discover that she did not even so much as take me into consideration.

"You mean since the--er--divorce?" I inquired.

"She has been in seclusion all of the time. She has seen no man,--that is to say, no man for whom she could possibly entertain a--But, of course, you are mistaken in your impression, Mr. Smart. There is absolutely nothing in what you say."

"A former sweetheart, antedating her marriage," I suggested hopelessly.

"She has no sweetheart. Of that I am positive," said she with conviction.

"She must have had an army of admirers. They were legion after her marriage, I may be pardoned for reminding you."

She started. "Has she never mentioned Lord Amberdale to you?" she asked.

"Amberdale?" I repeated, with a queer sinking of the heart. "No, Mrs.

t.i.tus. An Englishman?"

She was mistress of herself once more. In a very degage manner she informed me that his lordship, a most attractive and honourable young Englishman, had been one of Aline's warmest friends at the time of the divorce proceedings. But, of course, there was nothing in that! They had been good friends for years, nothing more, and he was a perfect dear.

But she couldn't fool me. I could see that there was something working at the back of her mind, but whether she was distressed or gratified I was not by way of knowing.

"I've never heard her mention Lord Amberdale," said I.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Had I but known, the mere fact that the Countess had not spoken of his lordship provided her experienced mother with an excellent reason for believing that there was something between them. She abruptly brought the conversation to a close and left me, saying that she was off for her beauty nap.

Alone, I soon became a prey to certain disquieting thoughts. Summed up, they resolved themselves into a condition of certainty which admitted of but one aspect: the charming Countess was in love with Amberdale. And the shocking part of it all was that she was in love with him prior to her separation from Tarnowsy! I felt a cold perspiration start out all over my body as this condition forced itself upon me. _He_ was the man; _he_ had been the man from the beginning. My heart was like lead for the rest of the day, and, very curiously, for a leaden thing it was subject to pain.

Just before dinner, Britton, after inspecting me out of the corner of his eye for some time, advised me to try a little brandy.

"You look seedy, sir," he said with concern in his voice. "A cold setting in perhaps, sir."

I tried the brandy, but not because I thought I was taking a cold.

Somehow it warmed me up. There is virtue in good spirits.

The Countess was abroad very early the next morning. I discovered her in the courtyard, giving directions to Max and Rudolph who were doing some spading in the garden. She looked very bright and fresh and enticing in the light of an early moon, and I was not only pleased but astonished, having been led to believe all my life that a woman, no matter how pretty she may be, appears at her worst when the day is young.

I joined her at once. She gave me a gay, accusing smile.

"What have you been saying to mother?" she demanded, as she shook hands with me. "I thought you were to be trusted."

I flushed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Countess. I--I didn't know it was a secret."

She looked at me somewhat quizzically for a moment. Then she laughed softly. "It is a secret."

"I hope I haven't got you into bad odour with your--"

"Oh, dear me, no! I'm not in the least worried over what mother may think. I shall do as I please, so there's the end of it."

I swallowed something that seemed to be sticking in my throat. "Then it is true that you are going to marry?"

"Quite," she said succinctly.

I was silent for a moment. "Well, I'm--I'm glad to know it in time,"

I said, rather more gruffly than was necessary.

She smiled too merrily, I thought. "You must not tell any one else about it, however."

"I can promise that," I said, a sullen rage in my soul. "Devils could not drag it out of me. Rest easy."

It occurred to me afterwards that she laughed rather jerkily, you might say uneasily. At any rate, she turned away and began speaking to Max.

"Have you had your breakfast?" I asked stupidly.

"No."

"Neither have I. Will you join me?"