Zuleika Dobson Or, An Oxford Love Story

  XVII

  He might not have grudged her the last word, had she properly neededit. Its utter superfluity--the perfection of her victory without it--waswhat galled him. Yes, she had outflanked him, taken him unawares, and hehad fired not one shot. Esprit de l'escalier--it was as he went upstairsthat he saw how he might yet have snatched from her, if not the victory,the palm. Of course he ought to have laughed aloud--"Capital, capital!You really do deserve to fool me. But ah, yours is a love that can't bedissembled. Never was man by maiden loved more ardently than I by you,my poor girl, at this moment."

  And stay!--what if she really HAD been but pretending to have killed herlove? He paused on the threshold of his room. The sudden doubt made hislost chance the more sickening. Yet was the doubt dear to him ... Whatlikelier, after all, than that she had been pretending? She had alreadytwitted him with his lack of intuition. He had not seen that sheloved him when she certainly did love him. He had needed the pearls'demonstration of that.--The pearls! THEY would betray her. He darted tothe fender, and one of them he espied there instantly--white? A ratherflushed white, certainly. For the other he had to peer down. There itlay, not very distinct on the hearth's black-leading.

  He turned away. He blamed himself for not dismissing from his mind thehussy he had dismissed from his room. Oh for an ounce of civet and afew poppies! The water-jug stood as a reminder of the hateful visitand of... He took it hastily away into his bedroom. There he washedhis hands. The fact that he had touched Zuleika gave to this ablution asymbolism that made it the more refreshing.

  Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a sweeter perfume, astronger anodyne? He rang the bell, almost caressingly.

  His heart beat at sound of the clinking and rattling of the tray borneup the stairs. She was coming, the girl who loved him, the girl whoseheart would be broken when he died. Yet, when the tray appeared in thedoorway, and she behind it, the tray took precedence of her in his soulnot less than in his sight. Twice, after an arduous morning, had hisluncheon been postponed, and the coming of it now made intolerable thepangs of his hunger.

  Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it occurred to him howflimsy, after all, was the evidence that she loved him. Suppose shedid nothing of the kind! At the Junta, he had foreseen no difficulty inasking her. Now he found himself a prey to embarrassment. He wonderedwhy. He had not failed in flow of gracious words to Nellie O'Mora. Well,a miniature by Hoppner was one thing, a landlady's live daughter wasanother. At any rate, he must prime himself with food. He wished Mrs.Batch had sent up something more calorific than cold salmon. He askedher daughter what was to follow.

  "There's a pigeon-pie, your Grace."

  "Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat it in the oven--quickly.Anything after that?"

  "A custard pudding, your Grace."

  "Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring up a bottle of champagne,please; and--and a bottle of port."

  His was a head that had always hitherto defied the grape. But he thoughtthat to-day, by all he had gone through, by all the shocks he hadsuffered, and the strains he had steeled himself to bear, as well as bythe actual malady that gripped him, he might perchance have been sappedenough to experience by reaction that cordial glow of which he had nowand again seen symptoms in his fellows.

  Nor was he altogether disappointed of this hope. As the meal progressed,and the last of the champagne sparkled in his glass, certain thingssaid to him by Zuleika--certain implied criticisms that had rankled,yes--lost their power to discommode him. He was able to smile at theimpertinences of an angry woman, the tantrums of a tenth-rate conjurertold to go away. He felt he had perhaps acted harshly. With all herfaults, she had adored him. Yes, he had been arbitrary. There seemed tobe a strain of brutality in his nature. Poor Zuleika! He was glad forher that she had contrived to master her infatuation... Enough for himthat he was loved by this exquisite meek girl who had served him at thefeast. Anon, when he summoned her to clear the things away, he would bidher tell him the tale of her lowly passion. He poured a second glassof port, sipped it, quaffed it, poured a third. The grey gloom of theweather did but, as he eyed the bottle, heighten his sense of the richsunshine so long ago imprisoned by the vintner and now released to makeglad his soul. Even so to be released was the love pent for him in theheart of this sweet girl. Would that he loved her in return!... Why not?

  "Prius insolentem Serva Briseis niveo colore Movit Achillem."

  Nor were it gracious to invite an avowal of love and offer none inreturn. Yet, yet, expansive though his mood was, he could not pretend tohimself that he was about to feel in this girl's presence anything butgratitude. He might pretend to her? Deception were a very poor returnindeed for all her kindness. Besides, it might turn her head. Some smalltoken of his gratitude--some trinket by which to remember him--was allthat he could allow himself to offer... What trinket? Would she liketo have one of his scarf-pins? Studs? Still more abs--Ah! he had it, heliterally and most providentially had it, there, in the fender: a pairof ear-rings!

  He plucked the pink pearl and the black from where they lay, and rangthe bell.

  His sense of dramatic propriety needed that the girl should, before headdressed her, perform her task of clearing the table. If she had itto perform after telling her love, and after receiving his gift and hisfarewell, the bathos would be distressing for them both.

  But, while he watched her at her task, he did wish she would be a littlequicker. For the glow in him seemed to be cooling momently. He wishedhe had had more than three glasses from the crusted bottle which she wasputting away into the chiffonier. Down, doubt! Down, sense of disparity!The moment was at hand. Would he let it slip? Now she was folding up thetable-cloth, now she was going.

  "Stay!" he uttered. "I have something to say to you." The girl turned tohim.

  He forced his eyes to meet hers. "I understand," he said in aconstrained voice, "that you regard me with sentiments of something morethan esteem.--Is this so?"

  The girl had stepped quickly back, and her face was scarlet.

  "Nay," he said, having to go through with it now, "there is no cause forembarrassment. And I am sure you will acquit me of wanton curiosity. Isit a fact that you--love me?"

  She tried to speak, could not. But she nodded her head.

  The Duke, much relieved, came nearer to her.

  "What is your name?" he asked gently.

  "Katie," she was able to gasp.

  "Well, Katie, how long have you loved me?"

  "Ever since," she faltered, "ever since you came to engage the rooms."

  "You are not, of course, given to idolising any tenant of yourmother's?"

  "No."

  "May I boast myself the first possessor of your heart?"

  "Yes." She had become very pale now, and was trembling painfully.

  "And may I assume that your love for me has been entirelydisinterested?... You do not catch my meaning? I will put my question inanother way. In loving me, you never supposed me likely to return yourlove?"

  The girl looked up at him quickly, but at once her eyelids fluttereddown again.

  "Come, come!" said the Duke. "My question is a plain one. Did you everfor an instant suppose, Katie, that I might come to love you?"

  "No," she said in a whisper; "I never dared to hope that."

  "Precisely," said he. "You never imagined that you had anything togain by your affection. You were not contriving a trap for me. You wereupheld by no hope of becoming a young Duchess, with more frocks thanyou could wear and more dross than you could scatter. I am glad. Iam touched. You are the first woman that has loved me in that way. Orrather," he muttered, "the first but one. And she... Answer me," hesaid, standing over the girl, and speaking with a great intensity. "If Iwere to tell you that I loved you, would you cease to love me?"

  "Oh your Grace!" cried the girl. "Why no! I never dared--"

  "Enough!" he said. "The catechism is ended. I have something w
hich Ishould like to give you. Are your ears pierced?"

  "Yes, your Grace."

  "Then, Katie, honour me by accepting this present." So saying, he placedin the girl's hand the black pearl and the pink. The sight of thembanished for a moment all other emotions in their recipient. She forgotherself. "Lor!" she said.

  "I hope you will wear them always for my sake," said the Duke.

  She had expressed herself in the monosyllable. No words came to herlips, but to her eyes many tears, through which the pearls werevisible. They whirled in her bewildered brain as a token that she wasloved--loved by HIM, though but yesterday he had loved another. It wasall so sudden, so beautiful. You might have knocked her down (she saysso to this day) with a feather. Seeing her agitation, the Duke pointedto a chair, bade her be seated.

  Her mind was cleared by the new posture. Suspicion crept into it,followed by alarm. She looked at the ear-rings, then up at the Duke.

  "No," said he, misinterpreting the question in her eyes, "they are realpearls."

  "It isn't that," she quavered, "it is--it is--"

  "That they were given to me by Miss Dobson?"

  "Oh, they were, were they? Then"--Katie rose, throwing the pearls on thefloor--"I'll have nothing to do with them. I hate her."

  "So do I," said the Duke, in a burst of confidence. "No, I don't," headded hastily. "Please forget that I said that."

  It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would be ill-pleased that thepearls should pass to her. She picked them up.

  "Only--only--" again her doubts beset her and she looked from the pearlsto the Duke.

  "Speak on," he said.

  "Oh you aren't playing with me, are you? You don't mean me harm, do you?I have been well brought up. I have been warned against things. And itseems so strange, what you have said to me. You are a Duke, and I--I amonly--"

  "It is the privilege of nobility to condescend."

  "Yes, yes," she cried. "I see. Oh I was wicked to doubt you. And lovelevels all, doesn't it? love and the Board school. Our stations are farapart, but I've been educated far above mine. I've learnt more than mostreal ladies have. I passed the Seventh Standard when I was only justfourteen. I was considered one of the sharpest girls in the school. AndI've gone on learning since then," she continued eagerly. "I utilise allmy spare moments. I've read twenty-seven of the Hundred Best Books. Icollect ferns. I play the piano, whenever..." She broke off, for sheremembered that her music was always interrupted by the ringing of theDuke's bell and a polite request that it should cease.

  "I am glad to hear of these accomplishments. They do you great credit, Iam sure. But--well, I do not quite see why you enumerate them just now."

  "It isn't that I am vain," she pleaded. "I only mentioned them because... oh, don't you see? If I'm not ignorant, I shan't disgrace you.People won't be so able to say you've been and thrown yourself away."

  "Thrown myself away? What do you mean?"

  "Oh, they'll make all sorts of objections, I know. They'll all beagainst me, and--"

  "For heaven's sake, explain yourself."

  "Your aunt, she looked a very proud lady--very high and hard. I thoughtso when she came here last term. But you're of age. You're your ownmaster. Oh, I trust you; you'll stand by me. If you love me really youwon't listen to them."

  "Love you? I? Are you mad?"

  Each stared at the other, utterly bewildered.

  The girl was the first to break the silence. Her voice came in awhisper. "You've not been playing a joke on me? You meant what you said,didn't you?"

  "What have I said?"

  "You said you loved me."

  "You must be dreaming."

  "I'm not. Here are the ear-rings you gave me." She pinched them asmaterial proof. "You said you loved me just before you gave me them.You know you did. And if I thought you'd been laughing at me all thetime--I'd--I'd"--a sob choked her voice--"I'd throw them in your face!"

  "You must not speak to me in that manner," said the Duke coldly. "Andlet me warn you that this attempt to trap me and intimidate me--"

  The girl had flung the ear-rings at his face. She had missed her mark.But this did not extenuate the outrageous gesture. He pointed to thedoor. "Go!" he said.

  "Don't try that on!" she laughed. "I shan't go--not unless you dragme out. And if you do that, I'll raise the house. I'll have in theneighbours. I'll tell them all what you've done, and--" But defiancemelted in the hot shame of humiliation. "Oh, you coward!" she gasped."You coward!" She caught her apron to her face and, swaying against thewall, sobbed piteously.

  Unaccustomed to love-affairs, the Duke could not sail lightly over aflood of woman's tears. He was filled with pity for the poor quiveringfigure against the wall. How should he soothe her? Mechanically hepicked up the two pearls from the carpet, and crossed to her side. Hetouched her on the shoulder. She shuddered away from him.

  "Don't," he said gently. "Don't cry. I can't bear it. I have been stupidand thoughtless. What did you say your name was? 'Katie,' to be sure.Well, Katie, I want to beg your pardon. I expressed myself badly. I wasunhappy and lonely, and I saw in you a means of comfort. I snatchedat you, Katie, as at a straw. And then, I suppose, I must have saidsomething which made you think I loved you. I almost wish I did. I don'twonder you threw the ear-rings at me. I--I almost wish they had hitme... You see, I have quite forgiven you. Now do you forgive me. Youwill not refuse now to wear the ear-rings. I gave them to you as akeepsake. Wear them always in memory of me. For you will never see meagain."

  The girl had ceased from crying, and her anger had spent itself in sobs.She was gazing at him woebegone but composed.

  "Where are you going?"

  "You must not ask that," said he. "Enough that my wings are spread."

  "Are you going because of ME?"

  "Not in the least. Indeed, your devotion is one of the things which makebitter my departure. And yet--I am glad you love me."

  "Don't go," she faltered. He came nearer to her, and this time she didnot shrink from him. "Don't you find the rooms comfortable?" she asked,gazing up at him. "Have you ever had any complaint to make about theattendance?"

  "No," said the Duke, "the attendance has always been quite satisfactory.I have never felt that so keenly as I do to-day."

  "Then why are you leaving? Why are you breaking my heart?"

  "Suffice it that I cannot do otherwise. Henceforth you will see me nomore. But I doubt not that in the cultivation of my memory you will findsome sort of lugubrious satisfaction. See! here are the ear-rings. Ifyou like, I will put them in with my own hands."

  She held up her face side-ways. Into the lobe of her left ear heinsinuated the hook of the black pearl. On the cheek upturned to himthere were still traces of tears; the eyelashes were still spangled. Forall her blondness, they were quite dark, these glistening eyelashes. Hehad an impulse, which he put from him. "Now the other ear," he said. Thegirl turned her head. Soon the pink pearl was in its place. Yet the girldid not move. She seemed to be waiting. Nor did the Duke himself seem tobe quite satisfied. He let his fingers dally with the pearl. Anon, witha sigh, he withdrew them. The girl looked up. Their eyes met. He lookedaway from her. He turned away from her. "You may kiss my hand," hemurmured, extending it towards her. After a pause, the warm pressureof her lips was laid on it. He sighed, but did not look round. Anotherpause, a longer pause, and then the clatter and clink of the outgoingtray.