The Woman's Way Part 48

"What a splendid woman, Derrick! Oh, she's really grand! And how she rides!"

"Yes," responded Derrick, a trifle confusedly; for--well, while recounting his adventures to Celia, he had omitted any mention of the Isabel episode. "She is a great friend of mine. And so is that fine-looking chap who is going to do the trapeze act presently. There he is, standing by the entrance, where they come into the arena. His name is Sidcup: splendid fellow, isn't he?"

"Splendid," murmured Celia, admiringly. "How clever they all are!"

"Here, come, let's go round at once, now," said Derrick, as the performance came to an end and the band played "G.o.d save the King." He led her round to the performers' tent, and almost ran against Mr.

Bloxford. Needless to say, he wore his fur coat. At sight of Derrick's smiling face and outstretched hand, Mr. Bloxford started and stared, in a bewildered fashion, then he recognised Derrick and, grasping the hand, shook it heartily.

"Why, dash my stars and stripes, if it isn't Sydney Green!" he exclaimed, with so evident a pleasure that Celia's eyes glowed and she smiled upon him; and Mr. Bloxford, as if drawn by the smile, turned to her, and, sweeping off his hat, said,

"And I take it you're his young lady, miss?"

"I'm his wife," said Celia, with unabashed pride.

"You don't say!" commented Mr. Bloxford, his admiration eloquently expressed in his staring, Simian eyes. "Well, Mr. Green, you've taken the cake! Lor' bless my soul, what a picture you'd make in the high-stepping act! And you're well, and doing well, I should say, by the look of you, Mr. Green," he said to Derrick, who, indeed, looked absurdly happy and proud at that moment. "Well, you deserve it. Look here, ma'am, I could tell you a sight about this big gentleman of yours.

You take it from me that he's a topper, a tip-topper. Here, just step in here, and I'll tell you how he saved the whole show from a wrecking out there in that darned dingo-land, Buenos Aires."

"I should like to hear it very much, Mr. Bloxford," said Celia, still glowing on him; "though my husband has already told me about it."

"Oh, well, you don't want to hear it from me; though, mind you, it was one of the coolest things I've ever seen done. Oh, he's grit all through, is that good man of yours."

"I know he is," said Celia, her face radiant, her smile fascinating and bewildering.

"But, look here!" he said. "The company will want to see you. Here, come along! I tell you, ma'am"--over his shoulder to Celia, as he led the way to the "Green Room"--"he is the most popular man we've ever had. And got a head as well as a heart; the best head _I_ ever saw. Here, ladies and gentlemen," he cried to the medley group in the performers' tent, "here's an old friend come to pay you a visit. Here's Mr. Sydney Green, _and_ his missis!"

They all turned and stared for a moment in silence. Isabel's face went pale, but not so pale as Alice's. Isabel was the first to recover. With a flush on her face now, she came forward with her graceful swing and held out her hand, first to Derrick and then, after a momentary pause, to Celia; her hand was grasped warmly by both. An excited interchange of talk ensued; and presently, in the midst of it, Derrick felt a hand on his arm, and Sidcup, to whom he had spoken already, signed to him.

Derrick went out of the tent with him.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Sidcup," he began; but Sidcup interrupted him with a nod and a smile.

"I wanted to get you away for a moment, to tell you that it's--all right," said Sidcup, colouring a little and looking just a trifle embarra.s.sed, and yet with a tone of pride in his voice. "Isabel and I have fixed it up. Yes; we were spliced before we left South America.

It's all right, old boy! Congratulate me!"

Derrick shook his hand until Sidcup winced, and they both laughed like a couple of boys.

"Congratulate you! I should think I do!" said Derrick. "I wish you could have heard my wife just now, expressing her admiration for yours. She is more beautiful than ever."

"Oh, well," said Sidcup, with a modest pride; "come to that, you've got a beauty too. Tell you what, Green, we're both of us deuced lucky men."

"You never spoke a truer word in your life," said Derrick; "and you, at any rate, deserve your luck."

They returned to the tent, talking as they went; and there, lo and behold! they found the future Marchioness of Sutcombe the centre of a laughing and talking group, the hearts of all of which she had conquered at first sight. For, consider: she was now a future Marchioness, but not long since she had been Celia Grant, living on a pound a week in Brown's Buildings--as she told them. Derrick tore her away at last, leaving the circus company ignorant of the exalted position of their guests; but, half an hour afterwards, they were astounded beyond words to receive an invitation to dine next night at Thexford Hall; an invitation from Sydney Green and his wife, otherwise, Lord and Lady Heyton.

That dinner is marked with a white stone in the history of Derrick and Celia.

One is reluctant to strike a discordant note, a note of squalid tragedy, in the harmony to which the lives of Celia and Derrick moved; but this record would not be complete without an account of the ending of the man who was known as Lord Heyton. Such an ending as his was inevitable. He died in a drunken brawl in a Chinese doss-house in Manchuria. For months before his death he had been a cause of trouble and anxiety to the authorities of the district; in such a place villainy and roguery have full scope; but poor Heyton never rose to the height of either. Small and petty offences only were those which came within his capacity.

For some time he had been connected with a gang of card-sharpers, living under an alias, and depending for his food and drink upon the small wits which Providence had vouchsafed him. It was during a dispute in one of the lowest doss-houses in the place that he met his death. There had been a quarrel, a scuffle, a death-thrust with a knife by a cold-blooded Chinaman, and it was not until the authorities had searched the body, that his ident.i.ty had been discovered.

Derrick received the news of the death of Miriam's husband, the one-time recognised heir to the t.i.tle and estate, from the British Consul; and he received the grim tidings with something like relief. His was the task to convey the tragic information to Miriam. Of that interview nothing shall be said. She also had received the account of her husband's death with something like relief; for, to her, he had been dead long since. At one point only did she shed tears; it was when she tried, in faltering accents, to express to Derrick her grat.i.tude for all that he and Celia had done, and were doing, to render her life free from care.

The interview, painful as it necessarily had been, saddened Derrick; but his face cleared as, on his return to the Hall, he met Celia and took her in his arms; and, as her lips clung to his, he asked himself, as he had often asked himself in odd moments of his happiness, "What have I done to deserve my luck?"