By Wit of Woman Part 50

"And I and my feelings are to be used as a p.a.w.n in the game."

"That is the view of a very clever but very young lady who sets great store upon having her way in her own way. But it is not Count Karl's view, Christabel."

"And Gareth?"

"Ah, there has been most extraordinary bungling over that."

"Bungling?" I cried, indignantly, almost contemptuously. "Would you offer me these while speaking in such terms of her?" and I picked up the marguerites and tossed them again down nearer to him.

"Almost you hurt me there," he said with a sigh. "The thing is full of thorns; but of this you may be sure. You would not be asked by me to desert that poor child. What is to be done must be done in the open; but what is best to do--where best seems to mean worst for some one--cannot yet be decided. Frankly I do not yet see the way."

"Does the Duke know of her?"

"I think not---I almost fear not. His faith in Count Gustav is surprising for a man of his experience. But then he is his father."

"He is a sorry, shoddy hero for the Patriots," I exclaimed, with such bitterness that His Excellency lifted a hand in protest.

"He is the only possible leader after his father, Christabel; and for that reason I am going to ask you to hold your hand. I can offer you these now, may I not?" and he held out the marguerites to me with a smile.

"Yes--but I cannot take them yet."

His face clouded. "You have something in your thoughts, yet."

"It is close to twelve o'clock and he has not come," I replied, significantly.

He lifted the letter from Gustav. "We have this. You will wait--after what I have said?"

"Not a minute unless you make me a prisoner."

"Don't, Christabel. That is unjust. Where are you going?"

"To my own house."

"Who is there?"

"At present, Gareth--only."

"Whom do you expect?"

"Count Gustav----and others."

"For G.o.d's sake," he cried, more disconcerted than I had ever seen him; and his white shapely fingers twisted the flowers nervously during the pause that followed. "You have frightened me," he murmured at length.

"The deeds are not of my doing," I said slowly.

"Where is your house?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

"That I may follow you there presently," he answered.

"You have twisted those blooms and wrecked them. Is candour wrecked with the petals, General?"

He looked up and I saw by his glance that he knew I had read his intention.

"You did not mean to come alone," I added.

"It is a case for the Duke himself. You must not take this responsibility alone, Christabel; you must not. The issue of everything is in the balance."

"I may be wrong. Count Gustav may not come."

"You have probably made sure of him. Give me the address. We must know it. You see that, I am sure."

I thought earnestly. "If I give it you, will you wait at home here and do nothing for an hour; and if you bring the Duke will you promise to tell him first of Gareth? I may be back within the hour with nothing done."

"Yes, I give you my word on both points. It will be a trying hour."

I wrote down the address then and handed it to him. "It is twelve o'clock. I must go. If I do not return, I shall look for you in an hour and a-half from now."

"I wish you would let us come at once," he said as he went out to the carriage.

"You might only witness my failure; and I am jealous of my reputation for succeeding."

"I have no smile just now to answer yours," he said, as he handed me into the carriage.

In some respects he had influenced me more than I had let him see during our conversation. Indeed, I scarcely cared to own to myself how differently I viewed the conduct and offer of the Duke.

I was in truth intensely delighted at the news that Karl had asked the Duke's consent to make me his wife. I had known of course that he was willing to set everything else aside if he could prevail upon me to marry him. He had told me no less than that. But I fastened upon this formal request for the Duke's permission almost greedily, as though it gave a fresh practical turn to the position. My heart was indeed only too willing to find any reason or pretext for playing traitor to my resolve.

I told myself over and over again during that drive that the facts were really just what they had been before his Excellency had spoken to me; and that the view which I had taken in those hot, restless, angry hours in the night was the one which I must take.

But I found it increasingly difficult to be consistent. My dear old friend himself would certainly be the last to harbour a single thought in any way dishonouring to me. I trusted him entirely; and he was on the side of my heart's desires. He had also declared dead against the abandonment of Gareth, and had stipulated that whatever was done for her should be done "in the open."

Could I ask more than that? It meant that Count Gustav should not of himself decide what was to be done; but that Gareth and her father should have their part in it. Was I to put myself in her father's place and usurp his duty, merely because I had a fanciful estimate of what was due to me and to my irresponsible opinion of my importance?

Temptation can take very subtle forms.

Moreover, was that same estimate of my own infallibility to force Count Karl upon the Patriots when he was obnoxious to them--as his Excellency had declared? Was I to unsettle still further the political disturbances of the country, just because I thought duty required me to be self-denying and miserable and to lose the man I loved?

That such thoughts could occur to me will show in what a chaos of irreconcileable wishes, hopes, and intentions my mind was during that drive, and how my pride, prejudices, and judgment fought and wrestled with the secret desires of my heart.

I was in the worst possible frame of mind for the work that had to be done. Before his Excellency had spoken to me, my course had seemed quite clearly defined; but for the moment I was in that to me most contemptible of all moods--reluctant to go back and yet half-afraid to go forward. I was thus relieved to hear when I reached the house that Colonel Katona and Karl had not yet arrived.

I went up to Gareth. She was flushed with excitement; but when the colour died down, I could not but see how really fragile and delicate and ill she looked. She welcomed me with tears, and kisses and many questions. Why had I not been before? What had I been doing? Why had I wished her to keep in her room? What was the news I brought with me?

Who was coming, and when? Was it her Karl? Had I told her to keep in her room for fear of being seen by him before I could prepare him for her presence?

Her own eagerness in putting the questions lessened my difficulty in answering them; and she fussed about me lovingly, making much of me, caressing me, and thanking me; chattering all the time like a child in her eager antic.i.p.ation of coming happiness; so that my heart alternately glowed with pleasure that I had held on to my resolve and was heavy with fear lest a crushing disappointment was at hand to blight her love and shut out the sunlight from her bright young life for ever.

Her trust in Gustav was absolute, and her faith in his love unshakable.