Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 78

Stephen smiled, and waved his hand.

"A mere fancy," he said, lightly. "My dear Jack is apt to take these matters as very serious, but he generally manages to get over them. And now what will you take to drink, Mr. Rolfe?"

Gideon Rolfe waved his hand and put on his hat.

"I leave the letter with you," he said. "Good-night."

Stephen filled a wine gla.s.s with brandy, and drank it off, his hand shaking. Then he eyed Jack's letter curiously, and at last held the envelope over the steam of the hot water, and drew it apart.

"A very sensible letter," he muttered, as he read. "Ambiguous, but all the better for that. Really, anyone reading this, would conclude that Jack had made up his mind to marry Lady Bell, and was ashamed to say so."

Then he reclosed the envelope, and went to bed, and slept the sleep of the just.

Meanwhile Jack strode around the streets of London, his brain in a whirl, half mad with "the desperation of despair," as a poet has it.

At last he reached home, and found the rooms dark and lonesome, and Leonard in bed.

He sat down and wrote a short note to Lady Bell, telling her that things had turned up which prevented him coming to Earl's Court--giving no reason, but just simply the fact. Then he turned out, and he walked about till daylight.

When he came in Leonard was at breakfast, and stared aghast at Jack's haggard face and changed appearance.

"My dear old man," he commenced, but Jack cut him short.

"Len, I'm the most miserable wretch in existence. Don't ask me the why and the wherefore; but all is over between me and Una."

"Impossible!" said Leonard.

"Impossible, but true," retorted Jack. "All is over between us, and if you value our friendship you will not mention her name again."

"But----" said Leonard.

"Enough," said Jack. "I tell you that it is so."

"Moss has been here again," Leonard said.

"I don't care."

"But, my dear fellow----"

"I don't care," said Jack, stolidly. "A hundred Mosses wouldn't matter to me now. Let him do his worst."

"You don't know what his worst is," said Leonard. "He has got you in his power."

"All right," said Jack, coolly. "Let him exercise it to his uttermost."

Leonard had never seen Jack like this.

"Listen to me," he said. "If Moss does all he can do, he can expel you from any club in London, can make you an utter out-cast. Come, Jack, be reasonable."

"I can't be reasonable!" retorted Jack. "I am utterly ruined and undone.

With Una everything that is worth living for has gone. I care nothing for Moss or anything he can do."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

"In another hour he will be here," said Una, as she stood at her dressing-room window, and looked out upon the lawns and park of Hurst, where they stretched down toward the road.

"Another hour!" and at the thought, a smile--yet scarcely a smile, but a suitable light like a sun ray stole over her face.

The great poet Tennyson has, in one of his greatest poems, portrayed a girl who, all unconscious of the bitter moments awaiting her, decked herself in her brightest ribbons to receive her expected lover.

Bright ribbons are out of fashion now, but Una had paid some, for her, extraordinary attention to her toilet. Jack was never tired of calling her beautiful; had even gone so far as to speak of her loveliness, and it had raised no vanity in her; but this evening she felt she would like to appear really and truly beautiful in his eyes, so beautiful that even Lady Bell's spirited face should be forgotten.

She had chosen the dress he liked best; had selected, with unusual care, a couple of flowers from the costly bouquet, which, morning and evening, was sent to her room from the hot-houses, and had decked herself in the locket and bracelet, and ring which Jack had given her.

Mrs. Davenant had made her many presents of jewelry, some of it costly, and even rare; but she would not wear anything but Jack's own gifts tonight.

"He will come fresh from Lady Bell's diamonds and sapphires, and would think little of mine, beautiful as they are; but he will like to see his locket and his bracelet, and will know that I love him best."

Not once, but twice and thrice she had moved from the window to the gla.s.s, and looked into it. Not with any expression of pleased vanity, but rather with merciless criticism. For the first time, she would like to be as beautiful as Jack thought her. For the last few days she had been rather silent, and somewhat pale. Stephen's cunning hints respecting Jack and Lady Bell had had their effect; but tonight's expectation, and the nearness of Jack's approach, had brought a faint rose-like tint to her cheeks, and her eyes shone with the subtle light of love and hope.

Mrs. Davenant looked up at her as she entered the drawing-room and smiled affectionately.

"How well you look tonight, dear," she said, as she kissed her and drew her down beside her. "I'm inclined to believe Jack, when he says that you grow more beautiful than ever."

"Hush," said Una, but with a blush. "Jack says so many foolish things, dear."

"If he never said anything more foolish than that he would be a wise man," said Mrs. Davenant. "How long would he be now, dear?"

Una glanced at the clock.

"Just forty minutes," she said simply.

Mrs. Davenant smiled and patted her hand.

"Counting the very minutes," she murmured, gently. "What a thing love is! What would life be without it?"

"Death," said Una, with a grave smile. "Worse than death."

Mrs. Davenant sighed.

"Jack is a happy man," she said. "I wonder whether Stephen will come down this evening?"

"Do you not know?" said Una, absently.

"No," replied Mrs. Davenant. "I thought, perhaps, he might have told you."