Part 47 (1/2)
”I don't know where. I have caught a word or two, not meant for me; and now and then I see things reported in the newspapers. You can't deny one thing, Dolf: that, if any unpleasantness should drop from the skies, it has been made a matter of arrangement that you should be the sufferer, not Verrall.”
Rodolf's light eyes expanded beyond common. ”How did you get to know that?” he asked.
”Never mind how I got to know it. Is it so?”
”Yes, it is,” acknowledged Mr. Pain, who was by nature more truthful than Charlotte. ”But I give you my word of honour, Charlotte, that there's no danger of our falling into such a pit as you have hinted at.
We should not be such fools. The worst that could happen to me would be a sojourn, short or long, in some snug place such as this, while Verrall puts things right. As it has been now, for instance, through this business of Appleby's.”
”You tell me this to satisfy me,” said Charlotte.
”I tell it because it is truth--so far as my belief goes, and as far as I can now foresee.”
”Very well. I accept it,” returned Charlotte. ”But now, Rodolf, mark what I say. If this worst state of things should come to pa.s.s----”
”It won't, I tell you,” he interrupted. ”It can't.”
”Will you listen? I choose to put the matter upon a supposition that it may do so. If this state of things should come to pa.s.s and you fall, I will never fall with you; and it is only upon that condition that I will become your wife.”
The words puzzled Mr. Pain not a little. ”I don't understand you, Charlotte. As to 'conditions,' you may make any for yourself that you please--in reason.”
”Very well. We will have an understanding with each other, drawn up as elaborately as if it were a marriage settlement,” she said, laughing.
”Yes, Mr. Rodolf, while you have been ill-naturedly accusing me of designs upon the heart of George G.o.dolphin, I was occupied with precautions touching my married life with you. You don't deserve me; and that's a fact. Let go my hand, will you. One of those dogs has got unmuzzled, I fancy, by the noise, and I must run or there'll be murder committed.”
”Charlotte,” he cried, feverishly and eagerly, _not_ letting go her hand, ”when shall it be?”
”As you like,” she answered indifferently. ”This month, or next month, or the month after: _I_ don't care.”
The tone both mortified and pained him. His brow knit: and Charlotte saw the impression her words had made. She put on a pretty look of contrition.
”Mind, Rodolf, it shall be an understood thing beforehand that you don't attempt to control me in the smallest particular: that I have my own way in everything.”
”You will take care to have that, Charlotte, whether it be an understood thing beforehand, or not,” replied he.
Charlotte laughed as she walked away. A ringing laugh of power, which the air echoed: of power, at any rate, over the heart and will of Mr.
Rodolf Pain.
CHAPTER XXII.
DANGEROUS AMUs.e.m.e.nT.
On an April day, sunny and charming, a gentleman with a lady on his arm was strolling down one of the narrowest and dirtiest streets of Homburg.
A tall man was he, tall and handsome, with a fair Saxon face, and fair.
Saxon curls that s.h.i.+mmered like gold in the sunlight. Could it be George G.o.dolphin--who had gone away from Prior's Ash six months before, nothing but a shadowy wreck. It was George safe enough; restored to full strength, to perfect health. Maria, on the contrary, looked thin and delicate, and her face had lost a good deal of its colour. They had wintered chiefly at Pau, but had left it a month past. Since then they had travelled about from place to place, by short stages, taking it easy, as George called it: staying a day or two in one town, a day or two in another, turning to the right or left, as inclination led them, going forward, or backward. So that they were home by the middle of April, it would be time enough. George had received _carte blanche_ from Thomas G.o.dolphin to remain out as long as he thought it necessary; and George was not one to decline the privilege. Play before work had always been George's motto.
On the previous evening they had arrived at Homburg from Wiesbaden, and were now taking their survey of the place. Neither liked its appearance so much as they had done many other places, and they were mutually agreeing to leave it again that evening, when a turning in the street brought them in view of another lady and gentleman, arm in arm as they were.
”English, I am sure,” remarked Maria, in a low tone.