Part 26 (1/2)
”And he is married?” she demanded. ”Oh! how was it you did not know this?''
”Not one in ten of Mr. Gerald Chandos's friends know it,” he returned.
”And I am only a chance acquaintance. It is not an agreeable story to tell, if what report says is true. Remember, it is only report as yet, and I will not vouch for it. It is said that the marriage was the end of a boyish folly, and that the happy couple separated by mutual consent six months after its consummation. The woman went to California, and Chandos has not seen her since, though he hears of her whereabouts occasionally.”
”And you are not quite sure yet that the report is true?” said Dolly.
”Not quite sure,” he replied; ”but I wish I had greater reason to doubt it.”
Recurring mentally to the little scene she had witnessed on the street only an hour or so previously, and remembering Mollie's blushes and drooping eyes, and the look they had won from Mr. Gerald Chandos as he took her half-reluctant hand in his, Dolly bit her lips hard, feeling her blood grow hot within her. She waited just a minute to cool herself, and then spoke.
”Mr. Gowan,” she said, ”in the first place I ought to thank you.”
”Nay,” he said, ”I promised to help you to care for Mollie.”
”I ought to thank you,” she repeated. ”And I do. But in the second place I am going to ask you to do something for me which may be disagreeable.”
”You may be sure,” he replied, ”that I shall not hesitate.”
”Yes,” she said, ”I think I am sure of that, or I should not ask you. I am so eager about the matter, that I could not bear to waste the time.
I want you to help me. On Thursday afternoon I am going home. Can you trace this report to its source before then, and let me know whether it is a true or a false one?”
”I can try.”
She clasped both her gloved hands together on the small table before her, and lifted to his such a determined young face and such steadfast eyes, that he was quite impressed. She would rise in arms against the world for poor, unwise Mollie, it was plain. It was not so safe a matter to trifle in Vagabondia, it would seem,--that Gerald Chandos would find to his cost.
”If you bring word to me that what you have heard is a truth,” she said, ”I can go to Mollie with my weapon in my hand, and I can end all at one blow. However wilful and incredulous she may have been heretofore, she will not attempt to resist me when I tell her that. It is a humiliating thing to think he has insulted her by keeping his secret so far; but we meet with such covert stings now and then in Vagabondia, and perhaps it will prove a blessing in disguise. If we had used our authority to make her dismiss him without having a decided reason to give her, she might only have resented our intervention as being nothing but prejudice. As it is, she will be frightened and angry.”
So it was agreed upon that he should take in hand the task of sifting the affair to the bottom. His time was his own, and chance had thrown him among men who would be likely to know the truth. As soon as he had gained the necessary information, Dolly would hear from him, or he would call upon her and give her all particulars.
”You have a whole day before you,--nearly two whole days, I may say, for I shall not be likely to leave here until five or six o'clock on Thursday,” Dolly said, when their rather lengthened interview terminated.
”I will make the most of my time,” he replied.
Dolly stood at the window and watched him go down the walk to the gates.
”This is the something which was going to happen,” she commented.
”Having set matters straight with Grif, I suppose it is necessary, for the maintenance of my self-control, that I should have a difficulty about Mollie; but I think I could have retained my equilibrium without it.”
The two days pa.s.sed quietly enough up to Thursday afternoon. Whatever Ralph Gowan had discovered, he was keeping to himself for the present.
He had not written, and he had not called. Naturally, Dolly was impatient. She began to be very impatient indeed, as the afternoon waned, and it became dusk. Worse still, her old restlessness came upon her. She could not make up her mind to leave Brabazon Lodge until she had either seen or heard from Gowan, and she was afraid that if she lingered late Griffith would arrive before her, and would be troubled by her non-appearance. Since the night they had met in the street she had not seen him, and she had much to say-to him. She had looked forward anxiously to this evening, and the few quiet hours they were to spend together in the dear old disreputable parlor at Blooms-bury Place.
They had spent so many blissful evenings in that parlor, that the very thought of it made her heart beat happily. n.o.body would be there to interfere with them. The rest of the family would, good-naturedly, vacate and leave them alone, and she would take her old chair by the fire, and Grif would sit near her, and in ten minutes after they had sat so together, they would have left all their troubles behind them, and wandered off into a realm of tender dreams and sweet unrealities.
But, impatient as she was to be gone, Dolly could not forget Mollie's interest. It was too near her heart to be forgotten. She must attend to Mollie's affairs first, and then she could fly to Grif and the parlor with an easy conscience. So she waited until five o'clock before dressing to go out, and then, after watching at the window for a while, she decided to go to her room and put on her hat and make all her small preparations, so that when her visitor arrived she might be ready to leave the house as soon as he did.
”It won't do to keep Grif waiting too long, even for Mollie's sake,” she said. ”I must consider him, too. If Mr. Gowan does not come by six or half-past, I shall be obliged to go.”
She purposely prolonged her toilet, even though it had occupied a greater length of time than usual in the first instance. There had been a new acquisition in the shape of a dress to don, and one or two coquettish aids to appearance, which were also novelties. But before six o'clock she was quite ready, and, having nothing else to do, was reduced to the necessity of standing before the gla.s.s and taking stock of herself and her attire.
”It fits,” she soliloquized, curving her neck in her anxiety to obtain a back view of herself. ”It fits like a glove, and so Grif will be sure to like it. His admiration for clothes that fit amounts to a monomania. He will make his usual ecstatic remarks on the subject of figure, too. And I must confess,” with modest self-satisfaction,--”I must confess that those frills are not unbecoming. If we were only rich--and married--how I would dress, to please him! Being possessed of a figure, one's results are never uncertain. Figure is a weakness of mine, also. With the avoirdupois of Miss Jolliboy, life would appear a desert. Ten thousand per annum would not console me. And yet she wears sables and seal-skin, and is happy. It is a singular fact, worthy of the notice of the philosopher, that it is such women who invariably possess the sable and seal-skin. Ah, well!” charitably, ”I suppose it is a dispensation of Providence. When they attain that size they need some compensation.”