Part 17 (2/2)
Was this vain, artificial flirt--this heartless girl who treated him with disdain and indifference, the sweet idol he had wors.h.i.+pped so fervently from boyhood? He could stay no longer in her presence, and with a haughty bow to the company rose to leave. Edna bent her head with a dismissive nod, and continued her frivolous conversation with the Count. Jobson sprang up also to leave. ”Which way, Colonel? Stopping at the Albemarle, ain't you? Down the avenue, I suppose? I'll go with you.
Stop a minute till I look at my watch. By Jove! later than I thought.
Ladies, much as I regret it, I must tear myself away. Don't grieve, and I'll promise to return again and heal your lacerated hearts. 'Too late I stayed, forgive the crime, Unheeded flew the hours, How softly falls the foot of time, That only treads on flowers!' With which elegant extract this Child of Affliction begs to subscribe himself on the tablets of your hearts, ladies, as your most obedient and obliged good servant.
Ajew--ajew! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say--ajew, till it be morrow. Ha, ha, ha!”
The jocose Jobson then bowed himself out, chaffed the servant in the hall who a.s.sisted him on with his overcoat, lit a segar, offered one to the impatient colonel (who was figuratively shaking the dust from his shoes on the stoop), and then hooking his arm in that of the disgusted warrior, walked along with him, chatting with a familiar confidence that rather surprised his companion. Mark examined this new-found friend with some curiosity. Jobson was a tall, spare man, with a good-natured sharp face, keen eyes, a predatory nose, and wispy whiskers. Beneath his drab surtout he wore a brown velvet coat and waistcoat, and his slender legs were encased in cords. A coral splinter-bar pin ornamented his blue bird's-eye scarf, and his watch-chain was composed of miniature snaffle-bits ending in a horse-shoe locket. Altogether he looked the amateur turfman to perfection.
”Deuced fine girl, Miss Heath, ain't she?” he began; ”Got the stamps, too--richest heiress in the market. Old man took his death through immoderate use of cold water--fell in the drink over in Jersey, where he owned a whole town; and to think now that this sallow-faced bandit seems to have the inside track. It's a burning shame, I say, that such a smoky-head lazzaroni should be tolerated, when good-looking chaps like you and I, colonel, are around and unprovided for, ain't it?”
The stockbroker's flippant way of treating a subject so near to the colonel's heart grated harshly on his feelings, but curiosity overcame his repugnance, and he inquired, ”Who is this Italian--this Count?”
”I'll tell you all I know about him in a few words,” continued Jobson.
”Throw away that segar first, and take a fresh one--they're Partagas.
You see I'm a broker--by the bye, here's my card, and happy to see you down town at my office any time you're that way, or at the club in the evening, whichever is most convenient. Well, as I was saying, I'm a broker, and last year after I closed out the Rock Island pool, out of which I cleared two hundred and forty-five thousand dollars, in less than ninety days, I went to Europe and fell in with the Mumbies. I'm a second cousin of old man Mumbie, you must know, although he never discovered it until I was worth half a million. Anyway Bob Mumbie and I went about together some, and had a good time. Miss Heath, who, I suppose you know, is a ward of Mumbie's, was with the family, and this feller, this Italian, was their courier. After a while it came out that he was a count, and then they all kow-towed to him as if he were the Grand Mogul. When they got to Italy he showed them his ancestral halls, and all that sort o' thing, and sold Mumbie pictures and marbles enough at five prices to stock a museum, so that the commissions and profits he made on them enabled him to set up for a gentleman, and give up the courier business. But he still froze to the Mumbies, and accompanied them over here. First he made love to Ada, but when he found out that Miss Heath was an heiress, and ever so much richer, he dropped Ada and turned his batteries on the other. Bob Mumbie was also sweet on Miss Heath, but when the Count appeared, poor Bob's pipe was out at once.
Mrs. Mumbie is as much magnetized as any of them. She thinks a wonderful sight of high birth, blood, families, and all that sort o' thing, and wants to secure the Count for Ada, though I don't think there's much show for her now. So you see the feller's in clover and, begad, I think he can take his pick of the girls any day he wants to. Can't imagine what possesses our girls to take up with foreign beggars, with handles to their names, when there's lots of their good-looking sensible countrymen to be had, with the rocks to back 'em.” Here Jobson threw back the lappels of his coat and displayed his chest. ”So it goes,” he continued with a sigh. ”Some time ago French marquises and barons were all the rage, and now they're running on Italian counts and princes.
That Count Borgia hasn't got a red cent. He's pa.s.sing chips half the time 'round to Morrissey's. Hang me, if I don't think he's a capper, and that's the way he manages to live.”
Jobson evidently spoke from warmth of feeling, and the gist of his sentiments found an emphatic indors.e.m.e.nt in Mark's breast, who, however, was not disposed to exchange views on the topic, and remained silent. By this time they had reached the Union Club.
”Come in and dine with me?” said Jobson.
The colonel excused himself.
”Well, say to-morrow. I'll call for you in my dog-cart, and we'll take a spin down the Lane before dinner. What do you say?”
The colonel thanked Jobson for his invitation, but said he should leave for the front that evening.
”Sorry, colonel, if you must go. Good-by. Take care of yourself.”
Mark promised to do so, and returned to his hotel.
”Henceforth let every incident of my past life, every thought and remembrance connected with her, be dismissed from my mind. Let it be as blank. I blot out every memory of Edna Heath from this moment. No such being exists for me.” Such were the colonel's resolves, as he prepared himself to leave. ”I can very well understand how men become Trappists.
It would take but little to induce me to join the order, provided they permitted smoking. How vain, hollow, and illusory are all our hopes and plans! Vanity of vanities,” etc., etc., and he continued in the usual strain of jilted lovers, indulging in gloomy rhapsodies as he packed his portmanteau.
An hour later he was on his way to City Point. Contemporaneously, the object of his animadversions was in her room preparing for the evening's campaign. The hair-dresser had just left, and she remained leaning pensively on her toilet-table. Evidently she was dissatisfied with something, probably with herself. On reviewing the events of the day, and her conduct and att.i.tude towards Mark, a vexing doubt would obtrude that she had perhaps treated him rather shabbily, at least ungenerously, if not unworthily. ”After all,” she reflected, ”it is his fault. He has no one to blame but himself. Why did he not answer my letters? why this unaccountable silence on his part? Perhaps he might have explained it, but then, why is he so intensely haughty, and why does he attempt to overawe me? Am I a child to be chidden and rendered submissive by imposing airs? Still he seemed so joyful when he entered the room--his eyes fairly sparkled. But what could I do? I couldn't fly in his arms or appear demonstrative in the presence of the Count and the others. Still, I might have shown some cordiality. I don't see what possessed me. I did feel like greeting him, but something checked me. O dear! I am so weak and foolish, I presume nothing will do now but I must write a note apologizing like a little goose, and telling him how very sorry I am, and promising never to do so again. No! I won't do that, but I'll smooth it over with a few non-committal sentences, and he will be just as well pleased.” Sitting down to her writing-desk, she began penning a formal missive, containing a half dozen white fibs, which, before it was completed, she impatiently tore into bits, and began another which met a similar fate, until at length her feelings found relief and satisfactory expression in the following:
DEAR MARK:
Do not leave in anger with me.
EDNA.
These few words were immediately despatched to the colonel, who, Edna had overheard Jobson say, was stopping at the ”Albemarle,” and strict injunctions given the messenger to ascertain positively if this were so.
The clerk in attendance at the hotel, unaware that Mark had departed a short time before, replied, when questioned as to whether the colonel were staying there, in the affirmative; and taking Edna's note, flung it carelessly in an appropriate pigeon-hole. It lay there a day; and the next tenant of the room occupied by Mark received it, opened it without looking at the address, and discovering his mistake and the apparent unimportance of the epistle, unconcernedly threw it into the fire.
Accidents seemingly trivial shape our destinies; and this one separated two young hearts forever, and caused a material divergence in their future lives.
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