_Chapter Eleven_
AN ARMISTICE
Lord Lynborough walked down to the edge of the terrace; Lady Norah stoodhalf hidden in the shrubbery.
"And that, I suppose, ought to end the matter?" he asked. "I ought atonce to abandon all my pretensions and to give up my path?"
"I just thought you might like to know it," said Norah.
"Actually I believe I do like to know it--though what Roger would say tome about that I really can't imagine. You're mistaking my character,Lady Norah. I'm not the hero of this piece. There are several gentlemenfrom among whom you can choose one for that effective part. Lots ofcandidates for it! But I'm the villain. Consequently you must beprepared for my receiving your news with devilish glee."
"Well, you haven't seen it--and I have."
"Well put!" he allowed. "How did it happen?"
"Over something I said to her--something horrid."
"Well, then, why am I--?" Lynborough's hands expostulated eloquently.
"But you were the real reason, of course. She thinks you've turned usall against her; she says it's so mean to get her own friends to turnagainst her."
"Does she now?" asked Lord Lynborough with a thoughtful smile.
Norah too smiled faintly. "She says she's not angry with us--she's justsorry for us--because she understands----"
"What?"
"I mean she says she--she can imagine--" Norah's smile grew a littlemore pronounced. "I'm not sure she'd like me to repeat that," saidNorah. "And of course she doesn't know I'm here at all--and you mustnever tell her."
"Of course it's all my fault. Still, as a matter of curiosity, what didyou say to her?"
"I said that, if she had a good case, she ought to go to law; and, ifshe hadn't, she ought to stop making herself ridiculous and the rest ofus uncomfortable."
"You spoke with the general assent of the company?"
"I said what I thought--yes, I think they all agreed--but she tookit--well, in the way I've told you, you know."
Lady Norah had, in the course of conversation, insensibly advanced on tothe terrace. She stood there now beside Lynborough.
"How do you think I'm taking it?" he asked. "Doesn't my fortitude wringapplause from you?"
"Taking what?"
"Exactly the same thing from my friends. They tell me to go to law ifI've got a case--and at any rate to stop persecuting a lady. And they'veboth given me warning."
"Mr. Stabb and Mr. Wilbraham? They're going away?"
"So it appears. Carry back those tidings. Won't they dry the Marchesa'stears?"
Norah looked at him with a smile. "Well, it is pretty clever of her,isn't it?" she said. "I didn't think she'd got along as quickly asthat!" Norah's voice was full of an honest and undisguised admiration.
"It's a little unreasonable of her to cry under the circumstances. I'mnot crying, Lady Norah."
"I expect you're rather disgusted, though, aren't you?" she suggested.
"I'm a little vexed at having to surrender--for the moment--a principlewhich I've held dear--at having to give my enemies an occasion formockery. But I must bow to my friends' wishes. I can't lose them undersuch painful circumstances. No, I must yield, Lady Norah."
"You're going to give up the path?" she cried, not sure whether she werepleased or not with his determination.
"Dear me, no! I'm going to law about it."
Open dismay was betrayed in her exclamation: "Oh, but what will Mr.Stillford say to that?"
Lynborough laughed. Norah saw her mistake--but she made no attempt toremedy it. She took up another line of tactics. "It would all come rightif only you knew one another! She's the most wonderful woman in theworld, Lord Lynborough. And you----"
"Well, what of me?" he asked in deceitful gravity.
Norah parried, with a hasty little laugh; "Just ask Miss Gilletsonthat!"
Lynborough smiled for a moment, then took a turn along the terrace, andcame back to her.
"You must tell her that you've seen me----"
"I couldn't do that!"
"You must--or here the matter ends, and I shall be forced to go tolaw--ugh! Tell her you've seen me, and that I'm open to reason----"
"Lord Lynborough! How can I tell her that?"
"That I'm open to reason, and that I propose an armistice. Notpeace--not yet, anyhow--but an armistice. I undertake not to exercise myright over Beach Path for a week from to-day, and before the end of thatweek I will submit a proposal to the Marchesa."
Norah saw a gleam of hope. "Very well. I don't know what she'll say tome, but I'll tell her that. Thank you. You'll make it a--a pleasantproposal?"
"I haven't had time to consider the proposal yet. She must inform meto-morrow morning whether she accepts the armistice."
He suddenly turned to the house, and shouted up to a window above hishead, "Roger!"
The window was open. Roger Wilbraham put his head out.
"Come down," said Lynborough. "Here's somebody wants to see you."
"I never said I did, Lord Lynborough."
"Let him take you home. He wants cheering up."
"I like him very much. He won't really leave you, will he?"
"I want you to persuade him to stay during the armistice. I'm too proudto ask him for myself. I shall think very little of you, however, if hedoesn't."
Roger appeared. Lynborough told him that Lady Norah required an escortback to Nab Grange; for obvious reasons he himself was obliged torelinquish the pleasure; Roger, he felt sure, would be charmed to takehis place. Roger was somewhat puzzled by the turn of events, butdelighted with his mission.
Lynborough saw them off, went into the library, sat down at hiswriting-table, and laid paper before him. But he sat idle for manyminutes. Stabb came in, his arms full of books.
"I think I left some of my stuff here," he said, avoiding Lynborough'seye. "I'm just getting it together."
"Drop that lot too. You're not going to-morrow, Cromlech, there's anarmistice."
Stabb put his books down on the table, and came up to him withoutstretched hand. Lynborough leaned back, his hands clasped behind hishead.
"Wait for a week," he said. "We may, Cromlech, arrive at anaccommodation. Meanwhile, for that week, I do not use the path."
"I've been feeling pretty badly, Ambrose."
"Yes, I don't think it's safe to expose you to the charms of beauty." Helooked at his friend in good-natured mockery. "Return to your tombs inpeace."
The next morning he received a communication from Nab Grange. It ran asfollows:
"The Marchesa di San Servolo presents her compliments to LordLynborough. The Marchesa will be prepared to consider any proposal putforward by Lord Lynborough, and will place no hindrance in the way ofLord Lynborough's using the path across her property if it suits hisconvenience to do so in the meantime."
"No, no!" said Lynborough, as he took a sheet of paper.
"Lord Lynborough presents his compliments to her Excellency the Marchesadi San Servolo. Lord Lynborough will take an early opportunity ofsubmitting his proposal to the Marchesa di San Servolo. He is obligedfor the Marchesa di San Servolo's suggestion that he should in themeantime use Beach Path, but cannot consent to do so except in theexercise of his right. He will therefore not use Beach Path during theensuing week."
"And now to pave the way for my proposal!" he thought. For the proposal,which had assumed a position so important in the relations between theMarchesa and himself, was to be of such a nature that a grave questionarose how best the way should be paved for it.
The obvious course was to set his spies to work--he could command plentyof friendly help among the Nab Grange garrison--learn the Marchesa'sprobable movements, throw himself in her way, contrive an acquaintance,make himself as pleasant as he could, establish relations of amity, ofcordiality, even of friendship and of intimacy. That might prepare theway, and incline her to accept the proposal--to take the jest--it waslittle more in hard reality--in the spirit in which he put it forward,and so to end her resistan
ce.
That seemed the reasonable method--the plain and rational line ofadvance. Accordingly Lynborough disliked and distrusted it. He sawanother way--more full of risk, more hazardous in its result, making aneven greater demand on his confidence in himself, perhaps also on thequalities with which his imagination credited the Marchesa. But, on theother hand, this alternative was far richer in surprise, in dash--as itseemed to him, in gallantry and a touch of romance. It was far moremedieval, more picturesque, more in keeping with the actual proposalitself. For the actual proposal was one which, Lynborough flatteredhimself, might well have come from a powerful yet chivalrous baron ofold days to a beautiful queen who claimed a suzerainty which not herpower, but only her beauty, could command or enforce.
"It suits my humor, and I'll do it!" he said. "She sha'n't see me, and Iwon't see her. The first she shall hear from me shall be the proposal;the first time we meet shall be on the twenty-fourth--or never! A weekfrom to-day--the twenty-fourth."
Now the twenty-fourth of June is, as all the world knows (or an almanacwill inform the heathen), the Feast of St. John Baptist also calledMidsummer Day.
So he disappeared from the view of Nab Grange and the inhabitantsthereof. He never left his own grounds; even within them he shunned thepublic road; his beloved sea-bathing he abandoned. Nay, more, hestrictly charged Roger Wilbraham, who often during this week ofarmistice went to play golf or tennis at the Grange, to say nothing ofhim; the same instructions were laid on Stabb in case on his excursionsamidst the tombs, he should meet any member of the Marchesa's party. Sofar as the thing could be done, Lord Lynborough obliterated himself.
It was playing a high stake on a risky hand. Plainly it assumed aninterest in himself on the part of the Marchesa--an interest so strongthat absence and mystery (if perchance he achieved a flavor of thatattraction!) would foster and nourish it more than presence andfriendship could conduce to its increase. She might think nothing abouthim during the week! Impossible surely--with all that had gone before,and with his proposal to come at the end! But if it were so--why, so hewas content. "In that case, she's a woman of no imagination, of no tastein the picturesque," he said.
For five days the Marchesa gave no sign, no clue to her feelings whichthe anxious watchers could detect. She did indeed suffer Colonel Wenmanto depart all forlorn, most unsuccessful and uncomforted--save by thecompany of his brother-in-arms, Captain Irons; and he was not cheerfuleither, having failed notably in certain designs on Miss Dufaure whichhe had been pursuing, but whereunto more pressing matters have notallowed of attention being given. But Lord Lynborough she nevermentioned--not to Miss Gilletson, nor even to Norah. She seemed to haveregained her tranquillity; her wrath at least was over; she was veryfriendly to all the ladies; she was markedly cordial to Roger Wilbrahamon his visits. But she asked him nothing of Lord Lynborough--and, if sheever looked from the window toward Scarsmoor Castle, none--not even herobservant maid--saw her do it.
Yet Cupid was in the Grange--and very busy. There were signs, not to bemisunderstood, that Violet had not for handsome Stillford the scorn shehad bestowed on unfortunate Irons; and Roger, humbly and distantlyworshiping the Marchesa, deeming her far as a queen beyond his reach,rested his eyes and solaced his spirit with the less awe-inspiringcharms, the more accessible comradeship, of Norah Mountliffey. Norah, asher custom was, flirted hard, yet in her delicate fashion. Though shehad not begun to ask herself about the end yet, she was well amused, andby no means insensible to Roger's attractions. Only she was preoccupiedwith Helena--and Lord Lynborough. Till that riddle was solved, she couldnot turn seriously to her own affairs.
On the night of the twenty-second she walked with the Marchesa in thegardens of the Grange after dinner. Helena was very silent; yet to Norahthe silence did not seem empty. Over against them, on its high hill,stood Scarsmoor Castle. Roger had dined with them, but had now goneback.
Suddenly--and boldly--Norah spoke. "Do you see those three lightedwindows on the ground floor at the left end of the house? That's hislibrary, Helena. He sits there in the evening. Oh, I do wonder what he'sbeen doing all this week!"
"What does it matter?" asked the Marchesa coldly.
"What will he propose, do you think?"
"Mr. Stillford thinks he may offer to pay me some small rent--more orless nominal--for a perpetual right--and that, if he does, I'd betteraccept."
"That'll be rather a dull ending to it all."
"Mr. Stillford thinks it would be a favorable one for me."
"I don't believe he means to pay you money. It'll be something"--shepaused a moment--"something prettier than that."
"What has prettiness to do with it, you child? With a right of way?"
"Prettiness has to do with you, though, Helena. You don't suppose hethinks only of that wretched path?"
The flush came on the Marchesa's cheek.
"He can hardly be said to have seen me," she protested.
"Then look your best when he does--for I'm sure he's dreamed of you."
"Why do you say that?"
Norah laughed. "Because he's a man who takes a lot of notice of prettywomen--and he took so very little notice of me. That's why I think so,Helena."
The Marchesa made no comment on the reason given. But now--at last andundoubtedly--she looked across at the windows of Scarsmoor.
"We shall come to some business arrangement, I suppose--and then it'llall be over," she said.
All over? The trouble and the enmity--the defiance and the fight--theexcitement and the fun? The duel would be stayed, the combatants andtheir seconds would go their various ways across the diverging tracks ofthis great dissevering world. All would be over!
"Then we shall have time to think of something else!" the Marchesaadded.
Norah smiled discreetly. Was not that something of an admission?
In the library at Scarsmoor Lynborough was inditing the proposal whichhe intended to submit by his ambassadors on the morrow.