Part 18 (2/2)
Myra, entering the house, pa.s.sed to her sitting-room. Green awnings shaded the windows. The fireplace was banked with ferns and lilies. Bowls of roses stood about; while here and there pots of growing freesias poured their delicate fragrance around.
Myra crossed to the hearthrug and stood gazing up at the picture of Lord Ingleby. The gentle refinement of the scholarly face seemed accentuated by the dim light. Lady Ingleby dwelt in memory upon the consistent courtesy of the dead man's manner; his unfailing friendliness and equability to all; courteous to men of higher rank, considerate to those of lower; genial to rich and poor alike.
”Oh, Michael,” she whispered, ”have I been unfaithful? Have I forgotten how good you were?”
But still her heart died within her. The man who had stalked across the lawn, leaving her without a touch or look, held it in the hollow of his hand.
A dog-cart clattered up to the portico. Men's voices sounded in the hall.
Tramping feet hurried along the corridor. Then Billy's excited young voice cried, ”May we come in?” followed by Ronnie's deeper tones, ”If we shall not be in the way?” The next moment she was grasping a hand of each.
”You dear boys!” she said. ”I have never been more glad to see you! Do sit down; or have you come to play tennis?”
”We have come to see _you_, dear Queen,” said Billy. ”We are staying at Overdene. The d.u.c.h.ess had your letter. She told us the great news; also, that you were returning yesterday. So we came over to--to----”
”To congratulate,” said Ronald Ingram; and he said it heartily and bravely.
”Thank you,” said Myra, smiling at them, but her sweet voice was tremulous. These first congratulations, coming just now, were almost more than she could bear. Then, with characteristic simplicity and straightforwardness, she told these old friends the truth.
”You dear boys! It is quite sweet of you to come over; and an hour ago, you would have found me radiant. There cannot have been a happier woman in the whole world than I. But, you know, I met him, and we became engaged, while I was doing my very original rest-cure, which consisted chiefly in being Mrs. O'Mara, to all intents and purposes, instead of myself. This afternoon he knows for the first time that I am Lady Ingleby of Shenstone. And, boys, the shock has been too much for him. He is such a splendid man; but a dear delightful cowboy sort of person. He has lived a great deal abroad, and been everything you can imagine that bestrides a horse and does brave things. He finished up at your horrid little war, and got fever at Targai. You must have known him. He calls it 'a muddle on the frontier,' and now he is writing a book about it, and about other muddles, and how to avoid them. But he has a quite eccentric dislike to t.i.tles and big properties; so he has s.h.i.+ed really badly at mine. He has gone off to 'face it out' alone. Hence you find me sad instead of gay.”
Billy looked at Ronnie, telegraphing: ”Is it? It must be! Shall we tell her?”
Ronnie telegraphed back: ”It is! It can be no other. _You_ tell her.”
Lady Ingleby became aware of these crosscurrents.
”What is it, boys?” she said,
”Dear Queen,” cried Billy, with hardly suppressed excitement; ”may we ask the cowboy person's name?”
”Jim Airth,” replied Lady Ingleby, a sudden rush of colour flooding her pale cheeks.
”In that case,” said Billy, ”he is the chap we met tearing along to the railway station, as if all the furies were loose at his heels. He looked neither to the right nor to the left, nor, for that matter, in front of him; and our dog-cart had to take to the path! So he did not see two old comrades, nor did he hear their hail. But he cannot possibly have been fleeing from your t.i.tle, dear lady, and hardly from your property; seeing that his own t.i.tle is about the oldest known in Scottish history; while mile after mile of moor and stream and forest belong to him. Surely you knew that the fellow who called himself 'Jim Airth' when out ranching in the West, and still keeps it as his _nom-de-plume_, is--when at home--James, Earl of Airth and Monteith, and a few other names I have forgotten;--the finest old t.i.tle in Scotland!”
CHAPTER XVIII
WHAT BILLY HAD TO TELL
”Did you bring your rackets, boys?” Lady Ingleby had said, with fine self-control; adding, when they admitted rackets left in the hall, ”Ah, I am glad you never can resist the chestnut court. It seems ages since I saw you two fight out a single. Do go on and begin. I will order tea out there in half an hour, and follow you.”
Then she escaped to the terrace, flew across garden and lawn, and sought the shelter of the beeches. Arrived there, she sank into the chair in which Jim Airth had sat so immovable, and covered her face with her trembling fingers.
”Oh, Jim, Jim!” she sobbed. ”My darling, how grievously I wronged you! My king among men! How I misjudged you! Imputing to you thoughts of which you, in your n.o.ble large-heartedness, would scarcely know the meaning.
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