The Man Who Rose Again Part 24

"In my letter," said John Castlemaine, "I explained why no wedding could take place to-day, why from henceforth my doors must be closed to you."

"You did not say this last night."

"Much has happened since then."

"Nothing can have happened since then to justify such treatment as I have received."

"Perhaps not," replied John Castlemaine quietly, "but information concerning past events has reached me since last night which will justify any treatment."

Leicester's calm was beginning to leave him.

"Olive," he cried, "surely after what was said last night between us you will not----"

"You will kindly address whatever remarks you wish to make to me,"

interrupted John Castlemaine. "I do not wish my daughter to have any intercourse with you whatever."

"Then will you give me an explanation of--of this--fiasco," said Leicester. He still spoke quietly, but any one could detect the tone of anger that had come into his voice.

"Nothing in the shape of a fiasco exists," said the older man.

"Personally, I do not imagine that any explanation is needed, but, for form's sake, I will make it. You were received into this house as a gentleman. I do not think that any of the servants, to say nothing of myself, have ever regarded you in any other light. I am an old-fashioned man, Mr. Leicester, and when I know that a man has acted as no gentleman could or would act, I simply forbid him my house, and I give my servants instructions accordingly."

"Since when have I ceased to have the right to be treated like a gentleman?" asked Leicester.

"Since I knew that you made my daughter the subject of a wager," replied John Castlemaine, with quiet scorn. "Since you wagered a hundred pounds that you would win her as your wife."

The blow had fallen; the blow which Leicester had feared. That which had haunted him for months had come to pa.s.s. The truth had leaked out, and both Olive Castlemaine and her father knew the worst. He knew it was no use making any denials, or urging any extenuating circ.u.mstances. There was enough of truth in the charge to justify Mr. Castlemaine's every word.

"I do not think I need to say more," went on John Castlemaine. "I see that you quite understand. You cannot wonder therefore that I have nullified all arrangements for--what we expected to take place to-day.

That is all, I think. There is no need to prolong an interview which, whatever it is to you, is very painful to me."

But Leicester was not to be put off so easily. He felt that it was for him to confess everything, and then fight to the very last. Besides, he felt he had not been treated fairly. At least he should have been allowed to justify his position before having the door closed in his face.

"However much truth there may be in what you say," he said, speaking still quietly, "I think the right of explanation is due to me. Nay more, I think I might have been allowed to answer whatever charges were made against me before--before the church caretaker had his orders."

"I could not see how any man could desire to make explanations," said John Castlemaine. "Personally, I think I should have thought less badly of you if shame had kept you away. The information I have received was so exact, so convincing, so well authenticated, that there was no room for doubt. Your whole behaviour, your every visit has been an insult to my daughter."

"Insult?"

"Insult. I can use no milder term. Still, you mention explanation. If I gave you no chance to make it before annulling arrangements, I give it now. Much against my will, it is true; but I give it."

The words gave Leicester a ray of light. If this interview was against Mr. Castlemaine's will, then Olive must have influenced him. He turned towards her eagerly.

"You at least will hear me," he said; "you will understand what your father cannot."

"I think I told you to address your remarks to me," said John Castlemaine coldly; "my daughter wishes no further intercourse with you."

During their conversation Olive had remained standing by the fireplace, her face rigid, her eyes fixed on the window. Nevertheless, it was evident she had heard all that was said. At her father's words she aroused herself and said:

"No, let him say what he will; it will be interesting."

Leicester felt the scorn of her words. At that moment he felt that she regarded him as a creature beneath contempt. Still, he was fighting for life, nay, more than life.

"I will admit," he said, "that appearances are against me." Here he hesitated like a man who could not find words to express his thoughts.

He looked around almost helplessly, but only silence followed his words.

"Who gave you this--this information?" he demanded.

"That is no concern of yours or mine at present," she replied, "seeing even you cannot deny the truth of what my father has repeated."

"There--are extenuating circ.u.mstances," he stammered.

"Yes, I suppose there were," she said coldly. "You were drunk; at least I suppose that is the extenuating circ.u.mstance to which you refer. While you were in this condition you said that all women were base, and without honour. You said they could be all bought with a price. It seems that my price was the position which you could offer me. Satisfy my ambition, and then I would consent to be the wife of any man who might choose to ask me."

Never until then did he realise the meaning of what he had done. Even in the hours when he had regretted his wager most, he never felt its purport as he felt it then. Her words burnt him like hot iron, but he still spoke quietly.

"You put the case unfairly," he said; "it has never occurred to me in that light."

"Then give it your own version," she said; "as I said, it will be interesting."

He tried to speak, but could not. He tried to think of some means whereby he could put the whole sordid business in a more favourable light, but his tongue refused to obey his will. Nothing but the horrible naked truth as she had put it appeared to him.

She looked up at him scornfully.

"You do not answer," she went on in the same quiet, bitter tones. "You admit, then, that I was the subject of a wager, the wager being that you could satisfy my ambition, and that therefore I could be won as your _wife_! Of course I feel greatly--honoured. Who would not? I believe that I was suggested by this other--gentleman. Then being thought a fit subject for a wager, my price being a hundred pounds, you set to work to gain admission to this house. Well, I refuse to be utilised in such a way. That is all, I think. I am sure we need not detain you longer."

"No, no, it is not all," said Leicester. "It is not fair to me that I should make my explanations before--others, but you compel me. I must admit that I did partic.i.p.ate in this vile business; but I was not myself that night. I was----"

"Yes, you were drunk," said John Castlemaine; "go on."

"I confessed the truth to you," continued Leicester, still keeping his eyes on Olive. "I told you that this habit had grown upon me; but never since--since that night--you remember--have I tasted a drop. But--yes, and you knew my reputation; concerning those things I never deceived you."

Olive was silent.

"It is true I believed that women were all base, and selfish, and sordid," he went on. "Yes, I did, and I did not hide my views. Then when Purvis and Sprague challenged me I confessed my willingness to put them to the test. I told them to choose the best and n.o.blest woman they knew of, and----"

"They chose me," said Olive. "I am greatly honoured."

"I did not know you then," said Leicester; "my acquaintance with women had made me believe that all of them were what I said."

"And yet you were willing to marry one of them," she said quietly.

"No, I would not," he cried. "I simply wanted to prove my words. I would never have married such a woman."

"But you would seek to win her, and after you had won her you would discard her. That is even worse than the other."

"Yes, yes," he said bitterly, "I deserve it all, doubtless. Yes, I was intoxicated if you like, and I made a wager that I would win you as my wife. I did not know you, and I believed that you were like all other women. I was told that it was commonly believed that I should have a brilliant career, and I believed that the prospect of being the wife of a successful parliamentarian would be sufficient to gain your consent to being my wife. Yes, I will confess the whole truth. I believed you to be like the rest of the world; but I did not intend to marry you. I intended to gain your consent, and----"

"And then drag my name into another drunken orgie," she said, and her eyes flashed fire. "My name was to be bandied about in the clubs, I was to be mentioned as one who had proved the truth of Mr. Radford Leicester's exalted views, I was to be pointed out as one who was to be won for a wager, and then discarded when the wager was won."