By Wit of Woman

  CHAPTER XXV

  ON THE THRESHOLD

  His Excellency had at times some very pretty ways. He stepped throughthe window now, and, plucking three or four of the finest marguerites,offered them to me.

  "You will accept them--in the sense I have just indicated?" he asked.

  "You punish tactfully, General. I suppose you think the rebuke iswarranted. I would rather you gave them to me--to-morrow, say;" and Iturned from the window and sat down.

  He laid the blossoms on the table. "We will leave them until our chatis over. I hope you will take them then."

  "I think not. There is only half an hour, you know."

  "You are resolved not to give Count Gustav the grace he asks? Youbelieve there is some purpose behind this note?" and he held it up.

  "That is one of the marguerites, and must wait--until to-morrow."

  "You shut me out, then? You are a very resolute, self-reliant littleperson, you know, Christabel. Is even this letter your doing too?"

  "I told you we would wait for the meeting."

  "Umph!" he nodded. "Then I suppose it's not much good for me to sayanything. I am sorry," and he sighed.

  "I should like to tell _you_ something," I said; "but it might make youangry; and you have been so kind to me--so much more than kind."

  His look relaxed. "You will not make me angry. I am too old to heatquickly."

  "I think you should not have been a party to this Duke's scheme. It isnot honourable to any one concerned--and to me, dishonourable in theextreme."

  "You don't think I would do anything dishonouring you? Why, I wouldhave--but you remember the question you would not let me ask."

  "Is it honourable to me to make a pretence of granting the justice Iseek for my father's memory, while in reality using that very thingand--and my own feelings, merely as a means of doing yet another wrongto another man? To fool me thus and make a sport of me for thesewretched, sordid policy purposes? Why, you yourself spoke of itcontemptuously as no more than a Greek gift."

  He showed no irritation at my warm words, but on the contrary smiledand pressing his finger tips together said: "I suppose it will soundstrangely to you--but I can still, from my side, offer you thosemarguerites in the sense I indicated."

  "Candour?" I almost threw the word at him.

  "Are we not at a little disadvantage? We are not calling spades,spades. May I do that?"

  "Certainly, so far as I am concerned."

  "Then I will. Count Karl has loved you ever since he knew you in NewYork. You love him now--yes, don't protest; it is quite true. Hewishes above all things in the world to make you his wife. The Dukeknows this and he consents to the marriage. The Duke knows andconsents because--I am going to surprise you--Count Karl himself toldhim and asked his consent. The Duke came yesterday to see you forhimself: deeply prejudiced against you, because of Count Gustav'smisrepresentations: but you conquered him; as I told you last night youhad. He resolved to grant you what you desired, to have your father'stitle revived----"

  "As a bribe," I burst in impulsively.

  "And justice done, that the way might be clear for the marriage. Thathe told you the truth in regard to Count Stephen's death is itself aproof that he means to keep his word. Now, what is there dishonourableto you in that?"

  "What of the Greek gift?" I quoted against him.

  "You should look at that dispassionately. Count Karl is impossible asthe leader of the Patriots. You tell me he is misunderstood; and verypossibly you may be right. But the fact is what I say--the Patriotswould not follow his lead: and thus only Count Gustav remains to us.It may be unjust; but there is always some injustice in popularmovements. What then remains? Either the whole movement must bewrecked, or Count Gustav must be brought through this trouble. Thatwas the Greek gift."

  "And I and my feelings are to be used as a pawn in the game."

  "That is the view of a very clever but very young lady who sets greatstore upon having her way in her own way. But it is not Count Karl'sview, Christabel."

  "And Gareth?"

  "Ah, there has been most extraordinary bungling over that."

  "Bungling?" I cried, indignantly, almost contemptuously. "Would youoffer me these while speaking in such terms of her?" and I picked upthe marguerites and tossed them again down nearer to him.

  "Almost you hurt me there," he said with a sigh. "The thing is full ofthorns; but of this you may be sure. You would not be asked by me todesert that poor child. What is to be done must be done in the open;but what is best to do--where best seems to mean worst for someone--cannot yet be decided. Frankly I do not yet see the way."

  "Does the Duke know of her?"

  "I think not---I almost fear not. His faith in Count Gustav issurprising for a man of his experience. But then he is his father."

  "He is a sorry, shoddy hero for the Patriots," I exclaimed, with suchbitterness that His Excellency lifted a hand in protest.

  "He is the only possible leader after his father, Christabel; and forthat reason I am going to ask you to hold your hand. I can offer youthese now, may I not?" and he held out the marguerites to me with asmile.

  "Yes--but I cannot take them yet."

  His face clouded. "You have something in your thoughts, yet."

  "It is close to twelve o'clock and he has not come," I replied,significantly.

  He lifted the letter from Gustav. "We have this. You will wait--afterwhat I have said?"

  "Not a minute unless you make me a prisoner."

  "Don't, Christabel. That is unjust. Where are you going?"

  "To my own house."

  "Who is there?"

  "At present, Gareth--only."

  "Whom do you expect?"

  "Count Gustav----and others."

  "For God's sake," he cried, more disconcerted than I had ever seen him;and his white shapely fingers twisted the flowers nervously during thepause that followed. "You have frightened me," he murmured at length.

  "The deeds are not of my doing," I said slowly.

  "Where is your house?"

  "Why do you wish to know?"

  "That I may follow you there presently," he answered.

  "You have twisted those blooms and wrecked them. Is candour wreckedwith the petals, General?"

  He looked up and I saw by his glance that he knew I had read hisintention.

  "You did not mean to come alone," I added.

  "It is a case for the Duke himself. You must not take thisresponsibility alone, Christabel; you must not. The issue ofeverything is in the balance."

  "I may be wrong. Count Gustav may not come."

  "You have probably made sure of him. Give me the address. We mustknow it. You see that, I am sure."

  I thought earnestly. "If I give it you, will you wait at home here anddo nothing for an hour; and if you bring the Duke will you promise totell him first of Gareth? I may be back within the hour with nothingdone."

  "Yes, I give you my word on both points. It will be a trying hour."

  I wrote down the address then and handed it to him. "It is twelveo'clock. I must go. If I do not return, I shall look for you in anhour and a-half from now."

  "I wish you would let us come at once," he said as he went out to thecarriage.

  "You might only witness my failure; and I am jealous of my reputationfor succeeding."

  "I have no smile just now to answer yours," he said, as he handed meinto the carriage.

  In some respects he had influenced me more than I had let him seeduring our conversation. Indeed, I scarcely cared to own to myself howdifferently I viewed the conduct and offer of the Duke.

  I was in truth intensely delighted at the news that Karl had asked theDuke's consent to make me his wife. I had known of course that he waswilling to set everything else aside if he could prevail upon me tomarry him. He had told me no less than that. But I fastened upon thisformal request for the Duke's permission almost greedily, as though itgave a fresh pra
ctical turn to the position. My heart was indeed onlytoo willing to find any reason or pretext for playing traitor to myresolve.

  I told myself over and over again during that drive that the facts werereally just what they had been before his Excellency had spoken to me;and that the view which I had taken in those hot, restless, angry hoursin the night was the one which I must take.

  But I found it increasingly difficult to be consistent. My dear oldfriend himself would certainly be the last to harbour a single thoughtin any way dishonouring to me. I trusted him entirely; and he was onthe side of my heart's desires. He had also declared dead against theabandonment of Gareth, and had stipulated that whatever was done forher should be done "in the open."

  Could I ask more than that? It meant that Count Gustav should not ofhimself decide what was to be done; but that Gareth and her fathershould have their part in it. Was I to put myself in her father'splace and usurp his duty, merely because I had a fanciful estimate ofwhat was due to me and to my irresponsible opinion of my importance?Temptation can take very subtle forms.

  Moreover, was that same estimate of my own infallibility to force CountKarl upon the Patriots when he was obnoxious to them--as his Excellencyhad declared? Was I to unsettle still further the politicaldisturbances of the country, just because I thought duty required me tobe self-denying and miserable and to lose the man I loved?

  That such thoughts could occur to me will show in what a chaos ofirreconcileable wishes, hopes, and intentions my mind was during thatdrive, and how my pride, prejudices, and judgment fought and wrestledwith the secret desires of my heart.

  I was in the worst possible frame of mind for the work that had to bedone. Before his Excellency had spoken to me, my course had seemedquite clearly defined; but for the moment I was in that to me mostcontemptible of all moods--reluctant to go back and yet half-afraid togo forward. I was thus relieved to hear when I reached the house thatColonel Katona and Karl had not yet arrived.

  I went up to Gareth. She was flushed with excitement; but when thecolour died down, I could not but see how really fragile and delicateand ill she looked. She welcomed me with tears, and kisses and manyquestions. Why had I not been before? What had I been doing? Why hadI wished her to keep in her room? What was the news I brought with me?Who was coming, and when? Was it her Karl? Had I told her to keep inher room for fear of being seen by him before I could prepare him forher presence?

  Her own eagerness in putting the questions lessened my difficulty inanswering them; and she fussed about me lovingly, making much of me,caressing me, and thanking me; chattering all the time like a child inher eager anticipation of coming happiness; so that my heartalternately glowed with pleasure that I had held on to my resolve andwas heavy with fear lest a crushing disappointment was at hand toblight her love and shut out the sunlight from her bright young lifefor ever.

  Her trust in Gustav was absolute, and her faith in his love unshakable.

  "He will be so glad. Does he know yet I am here?"

  "No, Gareth, not yet."

  "I think I am glad of that," she laughed. "What a great start he willgive, and how his eyes will open, and what a light of love will be inthem when I run up and put my arms round him."

  "Pray God he may," was my thought. I still nurtured the hope that whathe had once said to me was true; and that so far as there was room forlove in his selfish heart, Gareth filled it. It was largely on thathope, indeed, I was building.

  "He will be so glad that--do you know what I have thought, Christabel?"

  "No, dear."

  "I am going to be very cunning. I am going to use that moment of hisdelight to urge him to take me to my father and tell him everything.Do you think he will do it?"

  "It might be better----" I began, when I stopped suddenly as a newthought occurred to me.

  "What might be better, Christabel? Tell me; I am so anxious aboutthis. I have been thinking about it ever since I guessed what yournews was, and that you were going to bring Karl to me. Tell me, whatwould be better?"

  "I was thinking it would be better if you could first have donesomething for him; have won his own father to be reconciled to yourmarriage."

  "Oh, I dare not do that," she cried, shrinking like a frightened child."Besides, I don't know who is his father."

  "I do. He is a very great man--Duke Ladislas of Kremnitz."

  "I have never seen a Duke in all my life and couldn't speak to one tosave it."

  I scarcely heard her, for I was thinking what would be the effect of ameeting between this sweet simple-souled child, and that stern,hard-faced, eagle-eyed old man. I pictured the scene if, hisExcellency having told the Duke of Gustav's marriage, I were to leadher in to him and say--"This is Gareth."

  "You're not thinking a bit of what I'm saying, Christabel," she criedpresently. "And you're looking dreadfully solemn. This might be afuneral, instead of one of the happiest days of my life. But don't letus talk any more about dukes--and such people. I couldn't do what yousay without telling Karl first."

  "Oh, by the way, that's a little mistake about his name you make,Gareth," I said, as if it were a very trifling matter. "He is notcalled Karl by his friends and his family--but Gustav. The mistakemust have been made at first; and I expect he liked you to call himKarl, as the name you first used."

  "What nonsense, Christabel. Why we were married as Karl and Gareth."She was almost indignant.

  "I suppose he was just humouring you. But his brother's name is Karl.Perhaps they both have that name; and he liked you to call him by it,because no one else did."

  For a moment a great doubt clouded her bright eyes. "Do you think youhave made a strange mistake, Christabel, and that it is not my Karl whois coming?"

  "No dear, I have made no mistake. I could not do that. I only tellyou this, that you may not be surprised if you hear others speak to himas Gustav, and look for you to do the same. If I were you, I shouldcall him Gustav before others, and use the other name when you arealone."

  "But it is such an extraordinary thing."

  At that moment Mrs. Perry knocked at the door and called me.

  "I must go now, Gareth."

  Her eyes were shining and her face alight with love and nervousanticipation. "Is it Kar--Gustav?"

  "No, dearest. Not yet. He may be some little time yet. You will waithere patiently till I come for you?"

  "Not patiently," she cried with the rueful pout of a child.

  I kissed her. "Courage and a little patience, Gareth," I whispered; myarms about her and her head on my shoulder.

  "Yes. I'll try to be patient--but you don't know what it is to waitlike this in such suspense."

  "I'll come for you the instant I can," I assured her, and went out toMrs. Perry.

  "The two gentlemen are here, Miss Christabel."

  "I'll go down to them;" and I ran down, with no very clear thought ofwhat I was to say to either Colonel Katona or to Karl, until I knew forcertain that Gustav would really come.

  And there was no news yet from James Perry.