COMEDIES OF COURTSHIP
By Anthony Hope
"It is a familiar fact that the intensity of a passion varies with the proximity of the appropriate object." Mr. Leslie Stephen, 'Science of Ethics'
"How the devil is it that fresh features Have such a charm for us poor human creatures?" Lord Byron, 'Don Juan'
Charles Scribner's Sons New York 1896
Copyright, 1896 Charles Scribner's Sons
Copyright, 1894, 1896, by Anthony Hope
NOTE
"The Wheel of Love," published in Scribner's Magazine during the pastyear, and "The Lady of the Pool," both protected by American copyright,are here printed for the first time in book form. The four otherstories appeared without their author's consent or knowledge, withtheir titles changed beyond recognition, and combined with otherunauthorized material, in a small volume printed by an American firm.They are here given for the first time in their proper form and by myauthority.
Anthony Hope.
CONTENTS
The Wheel of Love The Lady of the Pool The Curate of Poltons AThree-Volume Novel The Philosopher in the Apple Orchard The Decree ofDuke Deodonato
THE WHEEL OF LOVE
CHAPTER I
THE VIRTUOUS HYPOCRITES
AT first sight they had as little reason for being unhappy as it ispossible to have in a world half full of sorrow. They were young andhealthy; half a dozen times they had each declared the other more thancommon good-looking; they both had, and never knew what it was not tohave, money enough for comfort and, in addition that divine littlesuperfluity wherefrom joys are born. The house was good to look at andgood to live in; there were horses to ride, the river to go a-rowingon, and a big box from Mudie's every week. No one worried them; MissBussey was generally visiting the poor; or, as was the case at thismoment, asleep in her arm-chair, with Paul, the terrier, in his basketbeside her, and the cat on her lap. Lastly, they were plighted lovers,and John was staying with Miss Bussey for the express purpose ofdelighting and being delighted by his fiancee, Mary Travers. For theseand all their mercies certainly they should have been truly thankful.
However the heart of man is wicked. This fact alone can explain whyMary sat sadly in the drawing-room, feeling a letter that was tuckedinside her waistband and John strode moodily up and down the gravelwalk, a cigar, badly bitten, between his teeth, and his hand over andagain covertly stealing toward his breast-pocket and pressing a scentednote that lay there. In the course of every turn John would pass thewindow of the drawing-room; then Mary would look up with a smile andblow him a kiss, and he nodded and laughed and returned the salute.But, the window passed, both sighed deeply and returned to lingeringthose hidden missives.
"Poor little girl! I must keep it up," said John.
"Dear good John! He must never know," thought Mary.
And the two fell to thinking just what was remarked a few lines back,namely, that the human heart is very wicked; they were shocked atthemselves; the young often are.
Miss Bussey awoke, sat up, evicted the cat, and found her spectacles.
"Where are those children?" said she. "Billing and cooing somewhere, Isuppose. Bless me, why don't they get tired of it?"
They had--not indeed of billing and cooing in general, for no one attheir age does or ought to get tired of that--but of billing and cooingwith one another.
It will be observed that the situation promised well for a tragedy.Nevertheless this is not the story of an unhappy marriage.
If there be one thing which Government should forbid, it is a secretengagement. Engagements should be advertised as marriages are; butunless we happen to be persons of social importance, or considerablenotoriety, no such precautions are taken. Of course there areengagement rings; but a man never knows one when he sees it on a lady'shand--it would indeed be impertinent to look too closely--and when hegoes out alone he generally puts his in his pocket, considering thatthe evening will thus be rendered more enjoyable. The Ashforth--Traversengagement was not a secret now, but it had been, and had been toolong. Hence, when Mary went to Scotland and met Charlie Ellerton, andwhen John went to Switzerland and met Dora Bellairs-the truth is, theyought never to have separated, and Miss Bussey (who was one of thepeople in the secret) had been quite right when she remarked that itseemed a curious arrangement. John and Mary had scoffed at the idea ofa few weeks' absence having any effect on their feelings except, ifindeed it were possible, that of intensifying them.
"I really think I ought to go and find them," said Miss Bussey. "Come,Paul!"
She took a parasol, for the April sun was bright, and went into thegarden. "When she came to the drawing-room window John was away at theend of the walk. She looked at him: he was reading a letter. She lookedin at the window: Mary was reading a letter.
"Well!" exclaimed Miss Bussey. "Have they had a tiff?" And she slowlywaddled (truth imposes this word-she was very stout) toward theunconscious John. He advanced toward her still reading; not only did henot see her, but he failed to notice that Paul had got under his feet.He fell over Paul, and as he stumbled the letter fluttered out of hishand. Paul seized it and began to toss it about in great glee.
"Good doggie!" Cried Miss Bussey. "Come then! Bring it to me, dear.Good Paul!"
John's face was distorted with agony. He darted toward Paul, fell onhim, and gripped him closely. Paul yelped and Miss Bussey observed, inan indignant tone, that John need not throttle the dog. John mutteredsomething.
"Is the letter so very precious?" asked his hostess ironically.
"Precious!" cried John. "Yes!--No!--It's nothing at all."
But he opened Paul's mouth and took out his treasure with wonderfulcare.
"And why," inquired Miss Bussey, "are you not with Mary, young man?You're very neglectful."
"Neglectful! Surely, Miss Bussey, you haven't noticed anything--likeneglect? Don't say----"
"Bless the boy! I was only joking. You're a model lover."
"Thank you, thank you. I'll go to her at once," and he sped towards thewindow, opened it and walked up to Mary. Miss Bussey followed him andarrived just in time to see the lovers locked in one another's arms,their faces expressing all appropriate rapture.
"There's nothing much wrong," said Miss Bussey; wherein Miss Busseyherself was much wrong.
"What a shame! I've left you alone for more than an hour!" said John."Have you been very unhappy?" and he added, "darling." It sounded likean afterthought.
"I have been rather unhappy," answered Mary, and her answer was true.As she said it she tucked in a projecting edge of her letter. John hadhurriedly slipped his (it was rather the worse for its mauling) intohis trousers-pocket.
"You--you didn't think me neglectful?"
"Oh, no."
"I was thinking of you all the time,"
"And I was thinking of you, dear."
"Are you very happy?"
"Yes, John; aren't you?"
"Of course I am. Happy! I should think so," and he kissed her withunimpeachable fervor.
When a conscientious person makes up his mind that he ought, for goodreasons, to deceive somebody, there is no one like him forthorough-paced hypocrisy. When two conscientious people resolve; todeceive one another, on grounds of duty, the acme of duplicity is in afair way to be reached. John Ashforth and Mary Travers illustrated thisproposition. The former had been all his life a good son, and was now atrustworthy partner, to his father, who justly relied no less on hischaracter than on his brains. The latter, since her parents' earlydeath had left her to her aunt's care, had been the comfort and prop ofMiss Bussey's life. It is difficult to describe good people withoutmaking them seem dull; but luckily nature is defter than novelists, andit is quite possible to be good without being dull. N
either Mary norJohn was dull; a trifle limited, perhaps, they were, a thought severein their judgments of others as well as of themselves; a littleexacting with their friends and more than a little with themselves.One description paints them both; doubtless their harmony of mind hadcontributed more than Mary's sweet expression and finely cut features,or John's upstanding six feet, and honest capable face, to produce thatattachment between them which had, six months before this story begins,culminated in their engagement. Once arrived at, this ending seemed tohave been inevitable. Everybody discovered that they had foretold itfrom the first, and modestly disclaimed any credit for anticipating aunion between a couple so obviously made for one another.
The distress into which lovers such as these fell when they discoveredby personal experience that sincerely to vow eternal love is one thing,and sincerely to give it quite another, may be well imagined, and maywell be left to be imagined. They both went through a terrible periodof temptation, wherein they listened longingly to the seductivepleading of their hearts; but both emerged triumphant, resolved tostifle their mad fancy, to prefer good faith to mere inclination, andto avoid, at all costs, wounding one to whom they had sworn to be true.Thus far their steadfastness carried them, but not beyond. They couldpart from their loved ones, and they did; but they could not leave themwithout a word. Each wrote, after leaving Scotland and Switzerlandrespectively, a few lines of adieu, confessing the love they felt, butwith resolute sadness saying farewell forever. They belonged to another.
It was the answers that Mary and John were reading when Miss Busseydiscovered them.
Mary's ran:
"MY DEAR MISS TRAVERS: I have received your letter. I can't tell youwhat it means to me. You say all must be over between us. Don't beoffended--but I won't say that yet. It can't be your duty to marry aman you don't love. You forbid me to write or come to you; and you askonly for a word of good-by. I won't say good-by. I'll say _Aurevoir--au revoir_, my darling."
"Charlie."
"Burn this."
This was John's:
"MY DEAR MR. ASHFORTH: What am I to say to you? Oh, why, why didn't youtell me before? I oughtn't to say that, but it is too late to concealanything from you. Yes, you are right. It must be good-by. Yes, I willtry to forget you. But oh, John, it's very, very, very difficult. Idon't know how to sign this--so I won't. You'll know who it comes from,won't you? Good-by. Burn this."
These letters, no doubt, make it plain that there had been at least amomentary weakness both in Mary and in John; but in a true andcharitable view their conduct in rising superior to temptation finallywas all the more remarkable and praiseworthy. They had indeed, for thetime, been carried away. Even now Mary found it hard not to makeallowances for herself, little as she was prone to weakness when shethought of the impetuous _abandon_ and conquering whirl with whichCharlie Ellerton had wooed her; and John confessed that flight alone, ahasty flight from Interlaken after a certain evening spent in gazing atthe Jungfrau, had saved him from casting everything to the winds andyielding to the slavery of Dora Bellairs's sunny smiles and charmingcoquetries. He had always thought that that sort of girl had noattractions for him, just as Mary had despised 'butterfly-men' likeCharlie Ellerton. Well, they were wrong. The only comfort was thatshallow natures felt these sorrows less; it would have broken Mary'sheart (thought John), or John's (thought Mary), but Dora and Charliewould soon find consolation in another. But here, oddly enough, Johngenerally swore heartily and Mary always began to search for herhandkerchief. "They're as affectionate as one could wish when they'retogether," mused Miss Bussey, as she stroked the cat, "but at othertimes they're gloomy company. I suppose they can't be happy apart.Dear! dear!" and the good old lady fell to wondering whether she hadever been so foolish herself.