The Under Secretary Part 3

"You intend to leave me?" she asked huskily.

"It is the only way," he replied with a catch in his voice. "We have courted scandal sufficiently."

"But you cannot cast me off, Dudley?" she cried, suddenly springing towards him and wildly flinging her beautiful arms about his neck. "You shall never leave me, because I love you. Are you blind? Don't you understand? Don't you see that I love you, Dudley?"

"You loved me once, in those old days at Winchester," he said, slowly disengaging himself from her embrace. "But not now."

"I do!" she cried. "I swear that I do! You are jealous of all those men who flatter me and hang about me wherever I go; but I care nothing for the whole crowd of them. You know me," she went on; "you know that I live only for you--for you." Her words did not correspond with the sentiments she expressed to the woman who had accompanied her to his chambers. He reflected for a moment; then he said:

"Admiration I have for you, Claudia, as the most beautiful woman in London, but I think in this discussion we may both omit the word `love'

as entirely superfluous. We are children no longer. Let us face the truth. Our acquaintanceship ripened into love while we were yet in our teens. Then in maturer years it faded out completely, the acquaintanceship being renewed only when, on the death of your husband, you wanted a friend--and found one in me."

"And now?" she asked.

"Now you have other friends--many others."

"Ah! you are jealous! I knew you were!" she exclaimed in a reproachful tone of voice, her glorious eyes flashing. "You believe that I don't love you! You believe me capable of lying to you--to you, of all men!"

Chisholm remained silent.

CHAPTER FOUR.

REVEALS A PECCANT Pa.s.sION.

The brilliant woman, ignorant of his meaning, but comprehending only that he deemed her inconstant and unworthy, stood with tears in her eyes--tears which sprang partly from sorrow, partly from offence. She knew within herself that she was heartless and wrong; but, none the less, she felt herself aggrieved.

"Claudia," he said at last, looking straight at her, "our mutual protestations of love ended long ago. We have been friends--close friends; but as for love, well, when a woman really loves a man she does not bestow her smiles upon a score of other admirers."

"Ah! you reproach me for being smart," she cried. "I am a woman, and may surely be forgiven any little _caprices de coeur_."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Your attachment to me was one of your caprices, Claudia."

"Then you don't believe that I really have within my heart one atom of real affection for you?" she asked seriously.

"Your love for me is dead," he answered gravely. "It died long ago.

Since then you have made other conquests, and to-day half London is at your feet. I, Dudley Chisholm, am a man who has had an unwelcome popularity thrust upon him, and it is only in the natural order of things that I should follow in your train. But, as my place in your heart has long ago been usurped, why should we, intimate friends as we are, make a hollow pretence that it still exists?"

His voice remained calm and unbroken during his speech, yet there was an accent in it that thrilled through her heart. As she listened, stirred at heart by a strange emotion, her truer nature told her that she had by her caprice and folly fallen in his esteem. She had left the greatness that was pure and lofty for the greatness which was nothing better than tinsel.

"Once, Claudia, I loved you. In those days, before your marriage, you were my ideal--my all in all. You wedded d.i.c.k, and I--well, I can honestly say that during those two years of your married life I never entered your house. We met, here and there, at various functions, but I avoided you when I could, and never accepted your invitations. Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Because I loved you."

Her head was bowed; a stifled sob escaped her.

"When you were free," he went on, "it was different. In your grief you wrote to me, and I at once came to you. At first you were mournful in your retirement; then of a sudden, after a few short months, you were seized by an overweening ambition to become a queen of society. I watched you; I saw your indiscretions; I spoke to you, and your answer was an open defiance. Then it was that my sympathy with you gradually diminished. You had become a smart woman, and had developed that irremediable disorder which every smart woman nowadays is bound sooner or later to develop--a callous heart. The crowd of men about you became as so many puppets ready to execute your imperious will, and soon, as I expected, the fiery breath of scandal seared your good name. You laughed, knowing well that the very fact of your being talked about added l.u.s.tre to your popularity as a smart hostess. I regretted all this, because my belief in your honesty--that belief which had first come to me long ago in the green meadows round about Winchester--was utterly shattered. The naked truth become exposed--you were deceiving me."

"No, Dudley!" the woman wailed beseechingly. "Spare me these reproaches! I cannot bear them--and least of all from you. I have been foolish--very foolish, I admit. Had you been my husband I should have been a different woman, leading a quiet and happy life, but as I am now--I--" She burst into a torrent of tears without finishing her confession.

"If you acknowledge what I have said to be the truth, Claudia, we are agreed, and more need not be said," he observed, when, a few moments later, she had grown calm again.

"You are tired of me, Dudley," she declared, suddenly raising her head and looking straight into his eyes. "We have been--close friends, shall I say? long enough. You have found some other woman who pleases you--a woman more charming, more graceful than myself. Now, confess to me the truth," she said with deep earnestness. "I will not upbraid you," she went on in a hard, strained voice. "No, I--I will be silent. I swear I will. Now, Dudley, tell me the truth."

"I have met no woman more beautiful than yourself, Claudia," Chisholm answered in a deep tone. "You have no rival within my heart."

"I don't believe it!" she cried fiercely. "You could never reproach me as you have done unless some woman who is my enemy had prompted you.

Your father has written to you, that I know; but you are not the man to be the slave of paternal warnings. No," she said harshly, "it is a woman who has drawn you away from me. I swear not to rest till I have found out the truth!"

When she showed her _griffes_, this bright _capricieuse_, the leader of the smartest set in town, was, he knew, merciless.

But at that moment he only smiled at her sudden outburst of jealousy.

"I have already spoken the truth," he said. "I have never yet lied to you."

"Never, until to-day," was her sharp retort. "I suppose you think that, because of your responsible official position, you ought now to develop into the old fogey, marry some scraggy girl with red hair and half a million, and settle down to sober statesmanship and the Carlton. As you have found the future partner of your joys, you think it high time to drop an undesirable acquaintance."

Her words were hard ones, spoken in a tone of biting sarcasm. In an instant his countenance grew serious.

"No, Claudia," he protested quickly. "You entirely misjudge me. I have neither the intention nor the inclination to marry. Moreover, I confess to you that I am becoming rather tired of the everlasting monotony of the House. The scraggy female with the red hair, who, according to your gospel, is to be the _chatelaine_ of Wroxeter, is still unselected. No.

You have not understood me, and have formed entirely wrong conclusions as to my motive in speaking as I have. I repeat that the step I am now taking is one for our mutual advantage. People may talk about us in Belgravia, but they must not in Battersea."

"And you wish every one to know that we have quarrelled?" she said petulantly. He saw by her countenance that she was still puzzled. Was it possible that she was thinking of the unknown Muriel, whom she had declared he must marry?

As a matchmaker, Claudia was certainly entering upon an entirely new _role_.

"We shall not quarrel, I hope," he answered.

"Why should we? By mutual consent we shall merely remain apart."

There was another long and painful silence. Her chiffons slowly rose and fell as she sighed. What he had said had produced a greater impression upon her than he antic.i.p.ated. No other man could have spoken to her as he had done, for every word of his brought back to her the long-forgotten days of their youthful love, and of those pa.s.sionate kisses beneath the stars. In those brief moments she tried to examine her heart, but could not decide whether she still loved him, or whether his intention of leaving her had only aroused within her a sense of offended dignity.

"And your determination is never to see me?" she asked him in a despondent tone of voice.

"I shall only meet you upon chance occasions in society," was his answer.

"And when people have forgotten--then you will return to me? Give me your promise, Dudley."

"I cannot promise."

"Ah!" she cried; "why not at once confess what I believe is the truth, that you have grown tired of me?"

"No. I have not grown tired," he declared in a fervent voice. "We have always been firm friends, and I hope that our friendship will continue.

For my own part, my regard for you, Claudia, is not in the least impaired. You are a woman, and the victim of circ.u.mstances. Hence, I shall always remain faithfully your friend."

"Dudley," she said in a calmer tone, speaking very earnestly, "remember that women never change their natures, only their faces. So long have we been a.s.sociated, and such intimate friends have we been, that I have grown to regard you as my own personal property. _C'est a.s.sez_."

"I quite understand," answered the man in whom Her Majesty's Prime Minister possessed such complete confidence. "You should, for your own sake, Claudia, regard this matter in a proper light. If we do not by our actions give the lie direct to all this t.i.ttle-tattle, then an open scandal must result. Surely if we, by mutual consent, remain apart, we may still remain in _bon accord_?"

"But you are mine, Dudley!" she cried, again throwing her snowy, half-bare arms around his neck and kissing him pa.s.sionately.