The Doctor spoke confidentially to his neighbour and discovered that the lady was deserted by Lord Montbarry. Her name was Agnes Lockwood.
Soon a member of the club entered the smoking-room. His appearance instantly produced a dead silence. Doctor Wybrows neighbour whispered to him, Montbarrys brother Henry Westwick!
The new-comer looked said, with a bitter smile,
You are all talking of my brother. Dont mind me[11]. I despise him. Go on, gentlemen go on!
But the lawyer undertook the defence of the Countess.
I stand alone in my opinion, he said, and I am not ashamed of it. Why cant the Countess Narona be Lord Montbarrys wife? Who can say she has a mercenary motive?
Montbarrys brother turned sharply on the speaker.
I say it! he answered.
I believe I am right, the lawyer rejoined, his lordships income is not more than sufficient to support his station in life. And it is an income derived almost entirely from landed property in Ireland, every acre of which is entailed[12].
Montbarrys brother had no objection.
If his lordship dies first, the lawyer proceeded, if he leaves her a widow, four hundred pounds a year is all that he can leave to the Countess. I know that.
Four hundred a year is not all, was the reply to this. My brother has insured his life for ten thousand pounds.
This announcement produced a strong sensation. Men looked at each other, and repeated the words, Ten thousand pounds!
After that, the Doctor went home. But his curiosity about the Countess was not satisfied. He was wondering whether Lord Montbarrys family would stop the marriage after all. And more than this, he wanted to see the man himself. Every day he visited the club to hear some news.
Nothing happened. The Countesss position was secure; Montbarrys resolution to be her husband was unshaken. They were both Roman Catholics, and they were to be married at the chapel in Spanish Place.
On the day of the wedding, the Doctor went out to see the marriage. The wedding was strictly private. A carriage stood at the church door; a few people, mostly of the lower class, and mostly old women, were near. Here and there Doctor Wybrow detected the faces of some of his brethren of the club. They were attracted by curiosity, like himself. Four persons only stood before the altar the bride and bridegroom and their two witnesses. One of these last was an elderly woman; the other was undoubtedly her brother, Baron Rivar.
Lord Montbarry was a middle-aged military man. Nothing remarkable. Baron Rivar had moustache, bold eyes, and curling hair. And he was not in the least like his sister.
The priest was only a harmless, humble-looking old man.
From time to time the Doctor glanced round at the door or up at the galleries, anticipating the appearance of some protesting stranger. Nothing occurred nothing extraordinary, nothing dramatic.
The married couple walked together down the nave to the door. Doctor Wybrow drew back as they approached. To his confusion and surprise, the Countess discovered him. He heard her say to her husband, One moment; I see a friend. Lord Montbarry bowed and waited. She stepped up to the Doctor, took his hand, and wrung it hard.
One step more, you see, on the way to the end! She whispered those strange words, and returned to her husband.
Then Lord and Lady Montbarry stepped into their carriage, and drove away.
Outside the church door stood the three or four members of the club. They began with the Baron.
Damned ill-looking rascal!
They went on with Montbarry.
Is he going to take that horrid woman with him to Ireland?
No! They know about Agnes Lockwood.
Well, but where is he going?
To Scotland.
Does she like that?
Its only for a fortnight. Then they will come back to London, and go abroad.
And they will never return to England, eh?
Who can tell? Did you see how she looked at Montbarry? Did you see her, Doctor?
Doctor Wybrow remembered his patients, and walked off.
One step more, you see, on the way to the end, he repeated to himself, on his way home. What end?
Chapter IV
On the day of the marriage Agnes Lockwood sat alone in the little drawing-room of her London lodgings. She was burning the letters which Montbarry had written to her.
She looked by many years younger than she really was. With her fair complexion and her shy manner, she looked like a girl, although she was now really advancing towards thirty years of age. She lived alone with an old nurse, on a modest little income which was just enough to support the two. There were no signs of grief in her face, and she slowly tore the letters of her false lover in two, and threw the pieces into the small fire. She did not cry. Pale and quiet, with cold trembling fingers, she destroyed the letters one by one. She did not read them again.
The old nurse came in, and asked if she wanted to see Master Henry, the youngest member of the Westwick family, who had publicly declared his contempt for his brother in the smoking-room of the club. Agnes hesitated.
A long time ago Henry Westwick said that he loved her. But she acknowledged that her heart was given to his eldest brother. He was disappointed; and they met thenceforth as cousins and friends. But now, on the very day of his brothers marriage, she did not want to see him. The old nurse (who remembered them both in their cradles) observed her hesitation.
He says, hes going away, my dear; and he only wants to shake hands, and say good-bye.
Agnes decided to receive her cousin.
He entered the room so rapidly that he surprised her. She hurriedly spoke first.
You are leaving London very suddenly, Henry. Is it business? or pleasure?
He did not answer her. He pointed to the flaming letter, and to some black ashes of paper.
Are you burning letters?
Yes.
His letters?
Yes.
He took her hand gently.
I had no idea. Forgive me, Agnes I shall see you when I return.
She signed to him, with a faint smile, to take a chair.
We have known one another since we were children, she said. Why should I have any secrets from you? I sent back all your brothers gifts to me some time ago. I will keep nothing that can remind me of him.
She looked into the fire. The tears were in his eyes. He muttered to himself,
Damn him!
She looked at him again.
Well, Henry, and why are you going away?
I am out of spirits[13], Agnes, and I want a change.
She paused before she spoke again. His face told her plainly that he was thinking of her when he made that reply. She was grateful to him, but her mind was not with him: her mind was still with the man who had deserted her. She turned round again to the fire.
Is it true, she asked, after a long silence, that they have been married today?
He answered ungraciously: Yes.
Did you go to the church?
Go to the church? he repeated. How can you ask? I have never spoken to Montbarry, I have not even seen him, since he treated you like the scoundrel[14] and the fool that he is.
She looked at him suddenly. He understood her, and begged her pardon. But he was still angry.
He will rue the day when he married that woman! he said.
Agnes took a chair by his side, and looked at him with a gentle surprise.
Is it quite reasonable to be so angry with her, because your brother preferred her to me? she asked.
Henry turned on her sharply.
Do you defend the Countess?
Why not? Agnes answered. I know nothing against her. On the day when we met, she appeared to be a timid, nervous person, looking dreadfully ill. She fainted under the heat of the room. We know that she did not want to hurt me; we know that she was not aware of my engagement.
Henry lifted his hand impatiently, and stopped her.
Try to forget them both, Agnes! he interposed.
Agnes laid her hand on his arm.
You are very good to me, Henry; but you dont quite understand me. I was wondering whether my feeling for your brother could really pass away. I have destroyed the last visible things that remind me of him. In this world I shall see him no more. But is the tie that once bound us, completely broken? What do you think, Henry? I can hardly believe it.
The old nurse appeared again at the door, announcing another visitor.
Im sorry to disturb you, my dear. But here is Mrs. Ferrari. She wants to know when she may say a few words to you.
Agnes turned to Henry, before she replied.
You remember Emily Bidwell, my favourite pupil years ago at the village school, and afterwards my maid? She left me, to marry an Italian courier, named Ferrari.
Henry rose.
I will be glad to see Emily at any other time, he said. But I will go now. My mind is disturbed, Agnes. I will cross the Channel[15] tonight. A few weeks change will help me, I hope.
He took her hand.
Is there anything in the world that I can do for you? he asked very earnestly.
She thanked him, and tried to release her hand.
God bless you, Agnes! he said.
Her face flushed again. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it fervently, and left the room. The nurse hobbled after him.
Dont be sad, Master Henry, whispered the old woman. Try her again, when you come back!
Agnes tried to compose herself. She paused before a little water-colour drawing[16] on the wall, which had belonged to her mother. It was her own portrait when she was a child.
The couriers wife entered a little meek melancholy woman, with white eyelashes, and watery eyes. Agnes shook hands with her kindly.
Well, Emily, what can I do for you?
The couriers wife made a rather strange answer:
Im afraid to tell you, Miss.
Sit down, and let me hear. How does your husband behave to you?
Emilys light grey eyes looked more watery than ever. She shook her head and sighed resignedly. I have no positive complaint to make against him, Miss. But Im afraid he doesnt care about me; and he seems to take no interest in his home I may almost say hes tired of his home. It will be better for both of us, Miss, if he travels for a while. Not to mention the money.
She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and sighed again.
I dont quite understand, said Agnes. I thought your husband had an engagement to take some ladies to Switzerland and Italy?
Oh, Miss, one of the ladies fell ill and the others wont go without her. They paid him a months salary as compensation. But the loss is serious.
I am sorry to hear it, Emily. Let us hope he will soon have another chance.
Miss, you see, there are so many couriers at the moment just now. If someone privately recommends-
She stopped.
Agnes understood her directly.
You want my recommendation, she rejoined.
Emily blushed.
It will be such a chance for my husband, she answered confusedly. A letter, inquiring for a good courier (a six months engagement, Miss!) came to the office this morning. The secretary will recommend another man. If my husband could only send his testimonials with just a word in your name, Miss A private recommendation, you know.
She stopped again, and sighed again, and looked down at the carpet.
Agnes began to be rather weary of the mysterious tone of her visitor.
If you want my interest with any friend of mine, she said, why cant you tell me the name?
The couriers wife began to cry.
Im ashamed to tell you, Miss.
For the first time, Agnes spoke sharply.
Nonsense, Emily! Tell me the name directly or drop the subject whichever you like best.
Emily made a last desperate effort. She wrung her handkerchief hard in her lap and said,
Lord Montbarry!
Agnes rose and looked at her.
You have disappointed me, she said very quietly. You know that it is impossible for me to communicate with Lord Montbarry. I always supposed you had some delicacy of feeling. I am sorry to find that I am mistaken.
Emily walked to the door.
I beg your pardon, Miss. I am not quite so bad as you think. But I beg your pardon.
She opened the door. Agnes called her back. There was something in the womans apology that appealed to her.
Come, she said. Let me not misunderstand you. What is it that you expected me to do?
Emily was wise enough to answer this time quickly.
My husband will send his testimonials, Miss, to Lord Montbarry in Scotland. I only wanted you to let him say in his letter that you have known his wife since she was a child, and that you feel some little interest in his welfare on that account. I dont ask it now, Miss. I was wrong.
It seems only a small favour to ask, Agnes said. But I am not sure that I allow my name to be mentioned in your husbands letter. Let me hear again exactly what he wishes to say.
Emily repeated the words. Agnes wrote:
I venture to state that Miss Agnes Lockwood has known my wife from her childhood, and she feels some little interest in my welfare on that account.
Then Agnes handed the written paper to Emily.
Your husband must copy it exactly, she stipulated. On that condition, I grant your request.
Emily was thankful. Then she vanished.
Two days later, the post brought a few grateful lines from Emily. Her husband got the place. Ferrari was engaged, for six months certain, as Lord Montbarrys courier.
The Second Part
Chapter V
After only one week in Scotland, my lord and my lady returned unexpectedly to London. For a week more, the newly-married couple remained in London, in the strictest retirement. On one day in that week the nurse met Lord Montbarry himself. The good womans report described him, with malicious pleasure, as wretchedly ill.
His cheeks are hollow, my dear, and his beard is grey. I hope the dentist hurt him!
On the third day the newspapers announced the departure of Lord and Lady Montbarry for Paris, on their way to Italy.
Mrs. Ferrari informed Agnes that her husbands temper was improved. One other servant accompanied the travelers Lady Montbarrys maid, a silent, unsociable woman. Her ladyships brother, Baron Rivar, was already on the Continent. He will meet his sister and her husband in Rome.
One by one the dull weeks succeeded each other in the life of Agnes. She was seeing her friends, reading and drawing. But her wound was too deep to forget. And an old friend and school companion who saw her during a brief visit to London, was inexpressibly distressed by the change that she detected in Agnes. This lady was Mrs. Westwick, the wife of that brother of Lord Montbarry, who was described in the Peerage as presumptive heir to the title. Mr. Westwick was then in America. Mrs. Westwick invited Agnes to her home in Ireland.
Come and stay with me while my husband is away. My three little girls will make you their playfellow, and the only stranger you will meet is the governess. Pack up your things, and I will call for you[17] tomorrow on my way to the train.
Agnes thankfully accepted the invitation. For three happy months she lived under the roof of her friend. The girls cried at her departure; the youngest of them wanted to go back with Agnes to London. Half in jest, she said to her old friend,
If your governess leaves you, keep the place open for me.
Mrs. Westwick laughed. The children took it seriously, and promised to let Agnes know.
When Miss Lockwood returned to London, the old nurse told her,
Mrs. Ferrari, my dear, came here, in a dreadful state of mind. She was inquiring when you would be back. Her husband has left Lord Montbarry, without a word of warning and nobody knows what has become of him.
Agnes felt alarmed as well as surprised. She at once sent a message to Mrs. Ferrari, to say that she had returned.
In an hour more the couriers wife appeared, in a state of agitation. After hearing from her husband from Paris, Rome, and Venice, Emily had twice written to him afterwards and had received no reply. She went to the office in Golden Square. The post of the morning brought a letter to the secretary from a courier in Venice. It contained startling news of Ferrari.