Part 30 (1/2)
”Send for a chair, Hugh!” she whispered, rising unsteadily to her feet.
”'Twere wiser for you to rest a little before you leave,” said the Countess, but there was no kindliness in her voice to second the invitation, and she did not move a step towards her.
”I would not appear discourteous, madame,” faltered Lady Tracy, ”but I shall recover best at home.”
”I will fetch a chair, Betty,” said Marston, and made as though to go; but with a terrified ”No, no!” Lady Tracy caught him by the coat and drew his arm about her waist, clasping her hand upon it to keep it there. 'Twas the frankest confession of fear that ever I chanced upon, and I marvelled not that Ilga smiled at it. However, she despatched Otto upon the errand, and presently Marston accompanied his sister to her home.
Ilga and myself were thus left standing in the hall, looking each at the other. I was determined not to speak, being greatly angered for that she had not believed me when I informed her Lady Tracy was Marston's sister, and I took up my hat and cane and marched with my nose in the air to the door. But she came softly behind me, and said in the gentlest tone of contrition:
”I seem to spend half my life in giving you offence and the other half in begging your pardon.”
And contrasting her sweet patience with me against the cold dislike which she had evinced to Lady Tracy, I, poor fool, carried home with me the fancy yet more firmly rooted than before, that her antagonism to the original of the miniature was no more than the outcome of a woman's jealousy.
CHAPTER XIII.
COUNTESS LUKSTEIN IS CONVINCED.
One detail of this mischancy episode occasioned me considerable perplexity. Conjecture as I might, I could hit upon no cause or explanation of it that seemed in any degree feasible. The astonishment of Otto Krax I attributed, and as I afterwards discovered rightly attributed, to the appearance of Lady Tracy so pat upon the discussion of her picture, and to my expressed desire to present her to the Countess within a few minutes of strenuously denying her acquaintance; and I deemed it not extravagant. That he recognised her as the object of his master's capricious fancy at Bristol, I considered most improbable. For I remembered how successfully the intrigue had been concealed; so that even Julian himself came over-late to the knowledge of it. His second exclamation on the stairs I set down to the probability that he had perceived Lady Tracy was on the point of swooning.
It was indeed the fact of the lady's swoon which troubled me. Her natural repugnance to meeting the Countess was not motive enough. Nor did I believe her sufficiently sensible to shame for that feeling to work on her to such purpose. It seemed of a piece with the terror which she had subsequently shown on her recovery. The miniature, I conjectured, had something, if not everything to do with it. Resolving wisely that I had best ascertain the top and bottom of the matter, I called upon Marston at his house in Lincoln's Inn Fields, close to the new college of Franciscans, and asked where his sister stayed, on the plea that I would fain pay my respects to her, and a.s.sure myself of her convalescence.
”I can satisfy you on the latter point,” he returned cordially, ”but at the cost of denying you the pleasure of a visit. For my sister left London on the next day, and has gone down into the country.”
”So soon?” I asked in some surprise. For Lady Tracy hardly impressed me as likely to find much enjoyment in the felicities of a rural life.
”Her illness left her weak, and she thought the country air would give her health.”
For a moment I was in two minds whether to inquire more precisely of her whereabouts and follow her; but I reflected that I might encounter some difficulty in compa.s.sing an interview, for it was evident that she had fled from London in order to avoid further trouble and concern in the matter. And even if I succeeded so far, I saw no means of eliciting the explanation I needed, without revealing to her the unscrupulous use which her brother had made of her miniature; and that I had not the heart to do. The business seemed of insufficient importance to warrant it. There was besides a final and convincing argument which decided me to remain in London. If I journeyed into the West, I should leave an open field for my rival, and no ally with the Countess to guard against his insinuations; and I reflected further that there were few possible insinuations from which he would refrain.
On this point of his conduct, however, I was minded to teach him a lesson, which would make him more discreet in the future, and at the same time effect the purpose I had in view when Lady Tracy inopportunely swooned. For when I came to think over the events of that morning, I recollected that after all Lady Tracy had not spoken as I asked her, and though the last words Ilga had said to me as I left the house seemed to show me that she no longer believed the calumny, I was none the less anxious to compel Marston to disavow it.
Now it was the fas.h.i.+on at the time of which I write for the fine ladies and gentlemen of the town to take the air of a morning in the Piazza, of Covent Garden; and choosing an occasion when Marston was lounging there in the company of the Countess and her attendant, Mdlle. Durette, I inquired of him pointedly concerning his sister's health, meaning to lead him from that starting-point to an admission that Lady Tracy was until that chance meeting a complete stranger to me.
But or ever he could reply, Ilga broke in with an air of flurry, and calling to Lord Culverton, who was approaching, engaged him in a rapid conversation. She was afraid, I supposed, that I meant to break the promise which I had given her upon the stairs, and tax Marston with his treachery; and I was confirmed in the supposition when I repeated the question. For she shot at me a look of reproach, and said quickly:
”I was telling your friend when you joined us,” she said, ”of my home in the Tyrol.” She laid some stress upon the word ”friend.” ”'Twere hard, I think, at any season to find a spot more beautiful.”
”'Twere impossible,” rejoined Culverton, with his most elegant bow.
”For no spot can be more beautiful than that which owns Beauty for its queen.”
”The compliment,” replied Ilga, with a bow, ”is worthy of the playhouse.”
”Nay, nay,” smirked my lord, mightily gratified; ”the truth, madame, the truth extorted from me, let me die! And yet it hath some wit. I cannot help it, wit will out, the more certainly when it is truth as well.”
”Lady Tracy, then----” I began to Marston.
”But at this time of the year,” interrupted the Countess immediately, ”Lukstein has no rival. Cornfields redden below it, beeches are marshalled green up the hillside behind it, gentian picks out a mosaic on the gra.s.s, and night and day waterfalls tumble their music through the air. Yet even in winter, when the ice binds it and gags its voices, it has a quiet charm of silence whereof the memory makes one homesick.”