Part 67 (1/2)
He uttered the concluding words with intense bitterness. A strange, bewildered horror pa.s.sed over Lady Winsleigh's face.
”I don't believe it,” she said rather faintly.
”Believe it or not, it is true!” he replied curtly. ”Ask the manager of the Brilliant, if you doubt me. Winsleigh, it's no use my stopping here any longer. As her ladys.h.i.+p refuses to give any explanation--”
”Wait a moment, Errington,” interposed Lord Winsleigh in his coldest and most methodical manner. ”Her ladys.h.i.+p refuses--but _I_ do not refuse!
Her ladys.h.i.+p will not speak--she allows her husband to speak for her.
Therefore,” and he smiled at his astonished wife somewhat sardonically, ”I may tell you at once, that her ladys.h.i.+p admits to having purchased from Violet Vere for the sum of 20 pounds, the letter which she afterwards took with her own hands to your wife.” Lady Winsleigh uttered an angry exclamation.
”Don't interrupt me, Clara, if you please,” he said, with an icy smile.
”We have so many sympathies in common that I'm sure I shall be able to explain your unspoken meanings quite clearly.” He went on, addressing himself to Errington, who stood utterly amazed.
”Her ladys.h.i.+p desires me to a.s.sure you that her only excuse for her action in this matter is, that she fully believed the reports her friend, Sir Francis Lennox, gave her concerning your supposed intimacy with the actress in question,--and that, believing it, she made use of it as much as possible for the purpose of destroying your wife's peace of mind and confidence in you. Her object was most purely feminine--love of mischief, and the gratification of private spite! There's nothing like frankness!” and Lord Winsleigh's face was a positive study as he spoke. ”You see,”--he made a slight gesture towards his wife, who stood speechless, and so pale that her very lips were colorless--”her ladys.h.i.+p is not in a position to deny what I have said. Excuse her silence!”
And again he smiled--that smile as glitteringly chilled as a gleam of light on the edge of a sword. Lady Winsleigh raised her head, and her eyes met his with a dark expression of the uttermost anger. ”Spy!” she hissed between her teeth,--then without further word or gesture, she swept haughtily away into her dressing-room, which adjoined the boudoir, and closed the door of communication, thus leaving the two men alone together.
Errington felt himself to be in a most painful and awkward position. If there was anything he more than disliked, it was a _scene_--particularly of a domestic nature. And he had just had a glimpse into Lord and Lady Winsleigh's married life, which, to him, was decidedly unpleasant. He could not understand how Lord Winsleigh had become cognizant of all he had so frankly stated--and then, why had he not told him everything at first, without waiting to declare it in his wife's presence? Unless, indeed, he wished to shame her? There was evidently something in the man's disposition and character that he, Philip, could not as yet comprehend,--something that certainly puzzled him, and filled him with vague uneasiness.
”Winsleigh, I'm awfully sorry this has happened,” he began hurriedly, holding out his hand.
Lord Winsleigh grasped it cordially. ”My dear fellow, so am I! Heartily sorry! I have to be sorry for a good many things rather often. But I'm specially grieved to think that your beautiful and innocent young wife is the victim in this case. Unfortunately I was told nothing till this morning, otherwise I might possibly have prevented all your unhappiness.
But I trust it won't be of long duration. Here's this letter,” he returned it as he spoke, ”which in more than one way has cost so large a price. Possibly her ladys.h.i.+p may now regret her ill-gotten purchase.”
”Pardon me,” said Errington curiously, ”but how did you know--”
”The information was pressed upon me very much,” replied Lord Winsleigh evasively, ”and from such a source that up to the last moment I almost refused to believe it.” He paused, and then went on with a forced smile, ”Suppose we don't talk any more about it, Errington? The subject's rather painful to me. Only allow me to ask your pardon for my wife's share in the mischief!”
Something in his manner of speaking affected Sir Philip.
”Upon my soul, Winsleigh,” he exclaimed with sudden fervor, ”I fancy you're a man greatly wronged!”
Lord Winsleigh smiled slightly. ”You only _fancy_?” he said quietly.
”Well,--my good friend, we all have our troubles--I dare say mine are no greater than those of many better men.” He stopped short, then asked abruptly, ”I suppose you'll see Lennox?”
Errington set his teeth hard. ”I shall,--at once!” he replied. ”And I shall probably thrash him within an inch of his life!”
”That's right! I shan't be sorry!” and Lord Winsleigh's hand clenched almost unconsciously. ”I hope you understand, Errington, that if it hadn't been for my son, I should have shot that fellow long ago. I dare say you wonder,--and some others too,--why I haven't done it. But Ernest--poor little chap! . . . he would have heard of it,--and the reason of it,--his young life is involved in mine--why should I bequeath him a dishonored mother's name? There--for heaven's sake, don't let me make a fool of myself!” and he fiercely dashed his hand across his eyes.
”A duel or a divorce--or a horsewhipping--they all come to pretty much the same thing--all involve public scandal for the name of the woman who may be unhappily concerned--and scandal clings, like the stain on Lady Macbeth's hand. In your case you can act--_your_ wife is above a shadow of suspicion--but I--oh, my G.o.d! how much women have to answer for in the miseries of this world!”
Errington said nothing. Pity and respect for the man before him held him silent. Here was one of the martyrs of modern social life--a man who evidently knew himself to be dishonored by his wife,--and who yet, for the sake of his son, submitted to be daily broken on the wheel of private torture rather than let the boy grow up to despise and slight his mother. Whether he were judged as wise or weak in his behavior there was surely something n.o.ble about him--something unselfish and heroic that deserved recognition. Presently Lord Winsleigh continued in calmer tones--
”I've been talking too much about myself, Errington, I fear--forgive it!
Sometimes I've thought you misunderstood me--”
”I never shall again!” declared Philip earnestly.
Lord Winsleigh met his look of sympathy with one of grat.i.tude.