CHAPTER XXII.
BETWEEN THE ACTS.
"In all the humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou's such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow, Hast so much wit and mirth, and spleen about thee That there's no living with thee or without thee."
ADDISON (_Spectator_).
"The way is as plain as way to parish church."--_As You Like It._
In all London there were no two happier girls than Waveney and MollieWard that Wednesday evening; nevertheless, Mollie's cup of bliss lackedone ingredient to make it perfect. If only Waveney were there!
If she had only known that at that very moment Waveney was peeping ather from the back of the box opposite! "There is my dear Mollie," shewhispered, excitedly; then Althea, much perplexed, swept the boxes withher opera-glass.
She could not see the girl anywhere; but just opposite them, standingquite alone in the front of a box, there was a young lady in a whitesilk cloak, and a pink shower bouquet in her hand, and she had thesweetest and most beautiful face that Althea had ever seen.
"What a lovely girl!" she said to herself; and she was not surprised tosee that opera-glasses from all parts of the house were levelled in thatdirection; but the next moment she started--for surely she recognizedthat dark, foreign-looking man who had just entered the box.
"Moritz!" she ejaculated. "Good heavens, could that exquisite youngcreature be Mollie Ward!" and then Althea's colour changed as a slight,fair man joined them, followed by a tall, aristocratic-looking youthwith _pince-nez_.
"Father and Noel," whispered Waveney, in a voice of suppressed ecstasy;but only Doreen heard her. Althea's lips were white and trembling; thelights were flickering before her eyes; the tuning up of the instrumentsin the orchestra sounded harsh and discordant.
No, she had not expected this!--to find him so unchanged. It wastwenty-one years since they had met, and yet it seemed to her that itwas the same Everard Ward whom she remembered so well; he even wore thesame white stephanotis in his coat.
He was a little older, perhaps, a trifle thinner, but it was the sameperfect face. Distance and the electric light softened down defects.Althea could not see how shiny and worn Everard's dress-coat was anymore than she could see the lines on his forehead and round his eyes, orthe threatened baldness; she only noticed that he stood in his oldattitude, his head raised, and one hand lightly twirling his moustache.Althea stifled a sigh. Well, she was glad to have seen him again, veryglad. When ghosts were troublesome it was well to lay them. And then,though her woman's heart failed her, and she vaguely felt that Doreenhad been wiser and more prudent than she, she determined to pluck upspirit and play her little drama to the bitter end.
The curtain had now drawn up, and they were at liberty to seatthemselves comfortably in the front of the box. Mollie's and Waveney'seyes were fixed on the stage, but Mr. Ingram, who had seen the playbefore, was not so engrossed. He had just discovered a picturesquelittle girl in a sapphire blue cloak, and a curly babyish-looking headwho reminded him of his little Samaritan; he wanted to take another lookat her, but he could only see her profile. And then Althea's long, paleface and reddish hair came into view, and beside her Doreen'sdark-complexioned features.
"Now what on earth has put it into my cousins' heads to come hereto-night?" he said to himself, in a vexed voice. "It is not like Altheato spoil sport in this fashion. And they have brought little Miss Ward,too," and then he frowned and twisted his moustache fiercely, andgrowled under his breath, "Confound those women!" in quite iratefashion.
Any one who knew Mr. Ingram well--his mother, if he had one, or hissister--for there was certainly no wife _en evidence_--would have seenthat he was greatly chagrined and perplexed; but, being a humourist andone of the most good-natured men living, he worked off his wrathharmlessly by parodying the well-known verse, and muttering it softlyfor his own refreshment:
"Oh, woman in our hour of ease A giddy flirt, a flippant tease, As aggravating as the shade By blind Venetian ever made. When pain and anguish wring the brow A veritable humbug thou."
And lo and behold! he was so pleased with his own cleverness that hisexasperation died a natural death.
The first act was over before Mollie caught sight of Waveney, and thenher delight and excitement were so great that her father had to gentlyadmonish her that they were surrounded by strangers; and Noel, in amelodramatic whisper, threatened to take strong measures unless shebehaved properly and left off kissing her hand like a crazy infant.
The next moment Mr. Ingram left his seat, and Althea, who guessed thathe was coming across to them, went to the back of the box to receivehim.
He looked at her gravely. "_Et tu Brute!_" he said, reproachfully, as hetook her hand.
Althea laughed. "Oh, I was not spying on you, my lord," she returned,playfully; but he exclaimed,--
"Hush, for pity's sake!" in such an agonised tone that Althea nearlylaughed again.
"That child does not hear us," she said, soothingly. "Shall we take aturn in the corridor?" And as he nodded assent, they went out together.Waveney had not even seen him enter the box; she was busily telegraphingto Mollie.
"Well, Moritz?" demanded Althea, in an amused tone, "you may as wellmake a clean breast of it. Why have you forgotten your poor old cousinsat the Red House, and why are you masquerading in this mysteriousfashion? They call you Mr. Ingram, these children, but you are not Mr.Ingram now; and though I am not curious--oh, not the least bit in theworld!" as he smiled, provokingly; "I should like to know what it allmeans."
"What it means. Upon my word, Althea, you have asked a difficultquestion. One cannot always tell the meaning of things." And then Moritzpulled his moustache in a perplexed way. "Haven't you watched some boythrow a stone in a pond? It may be a mere pebble, but the circles widenand widen until the whole surface of the water is covered withintersecting circles?"
"Why, yes," she returned, coolly, "but we are not throwing stones justnow, are we?"
"No, it was only a parable; I deal in parables sometimes. I was justflinging my little pebble for mere sport and idleness, when I calledmyself by my old name. I wanted to be incognito, to have no gaudy tag orbobtail attached to my hum-drum personality; only, you see, the play haslasted longer than usual."
"But why?" she persisted--but her tone was a little anxious. "Moritz,please do not think me disagreeable,--you were always a whimsical being,and only Gwen knows the extent of your eccentricities; but I aminterested in these people." Here she caught her breath a little. "WhenMr. Ward knows, he might not be pleased."
"Oh, I will take my chance of that," he returned, obstinately. ButAlthea had not finished all she had to say.
"We used to know him so well in the old days; he was constantly atKitlands. No, I know you and Gwen never saw him there. You were livingabroad those two years. But Thorold Chaytor knew him. I was thinkingthat all this masquerading might lead to awkward complications by andby."
"Nonsense!" he returned, quickly. "What makes you so faint-hearted? Mydear cousin, there will be no complications at all." But Althea shookher head almost sadly.
"Listen to me," he went on, with increased animation. "It is a prettylittle comedy in real life, and full of dramatic situations. I amenjoying my incognito immensely; it is the best bit of fun I have hadsince poor old Ralston died. In Cleveland Terrace I am Monsieur Blackie;I adore the name--it suits me down to the ground." Then, as Althealaughed, he took hold of her arm in a coaxing fashion.
"Althea, you are a good creature--you must promise to keep my secret fora little while. I have made all my plans and prepared my _denouement_,and I shall want your help in carrying it out. No hints to Gwen, notreasonable correspondence! Gwen is a good girl, but her honesty isalmost clumsy--it is yea, yea, and nay, nay, with her and Jack too. Mymasquerading, as you call it, would simply shock her. Now I havepromised Miss Mollie to bring her sister to our box, and I must keep myword."
Perhaps Moritz's voice changed as he said this, but Althea lo
oked at himrather earnestly.
"She is beautiful as an angel," she said, in a low voice. "Take care ofyourself, Moritz." But only a flash of his eyes answered her. CertainlyAlthea looked very grave when she re-entered the box.
Mr. Ingram had warned Mollie that there must be no stage embrace, so shehad to content herself by squeezing Waveney's hand at intervals.
The second act had already commenced, and until it had ended there couldbe no conversation between the sisters. But when the curtain fell forthe second time Mollie dried her eyes--for she had been shedding adeluge of tears--sniffed daintily at her flowers, and then askedWaveney, in a loud whisper, if Miss Althea had given her that prettycloak.
Waveney nodded. "Yes. Is it not sweet of her? She says I am to keep it.But, Mollie, dear, yours is almost too lovely. Do you know, Miss Altheawould not believe you were Mollie Ward, because you were so beautifullydressed. Cinderella is turned into a princess to-night." And then sheput her lips to Mollie's ear. "Did you find out anything from the BlackPrince?"
"Yes--no--oh, please hush," returned Mollie, with a distracting blush,and a timid glance at Ingram. "No, dear, he will not own to it; but, ofcourse, I know. There! the curtain is going up again, and we shall hearif that dear girl is really dead."
Mollie had made her little attempt while she was waiting for her fatherand Noel. Mr. Ingram had come early, but Mollie was already dressed, andlimping up and down the room; for she was far too restless to sit still.
"I have brought you some flowers," he said, simply, as he handed her themagnificent bouquet. Then, as Mollie blushed and thanked him, shecarefully rehearsed the little speech that she had prepared beforehand.He was looking at her cloak, admiring it. Yes, his eyes certainlyexpressed decided approbation.
"Mr. Ingram," she stammered--for tact and _finesse_ were not strongpoints with Mollie, "do you know I have had a great surprise. I have hadsuch a beautiful present. It came the other night, and there was no nameand no address. And I do so want to thank the kind friend who sent it."
Mr. Ingram was arranging the flowers in his buttonhole. A leaf was awry,and he was the soul of neatness. Perhaps this was why he did not look atMollie.
"Dear me," he said, quietly. "An anonymous gift! This soundsinteresting. A little mystery always enhances the value of a thing."
"Oh, do you think so?" returned Mollie, rather nonplussed by his tone."I suppose, being a girl, I think differently about that. I am sure thatI should enjoy wearing my beautiful cloak a hundred times more if Icould thank the giver."
"There now," observed Ingram, in a voice of supreme satisfaction, "I didnot like to ask the question for fear you should think me inquisitive.And it is really that cloak that becomes you so well--that is themysterious present--I congratulate you, Miss Mollie, I do indeed, for Inever saw you look better in my life. Upon my word, if I were orderingan evening cloak for Gwen I would choose her just such another."
Poor Mollie. All this glib talk bewildered her, but she was far toograteful, and too much in earnest, to give up her point, so she onlyraised her lovely eyes to Ingram and said, very wistfully,--
"You could not help me to find out. I do so want to know." But Ingramonly shrugged his shoulders: he even looked a trifle bored.
"You may ask me anything else, Miss Mollie, but I assure you I shouldmake a bad detective. Why," he continued, airily, "I find it difficultenough to keep my own secrets, without finding out other people's. Oh,here comes our friend the humourist. And now may I beg to inform youthat Monsieur Blackie's carriage stops the way."
Waveney did not return to her friends' box, and at the conclusion of theplay they all met in the lobby. Waveney was hanging on her father's arm,but he disengaged himself hastily when he saw the sisters.
Althea, who had been nerving herself for this moment all the evening,was only a little paler than usual as she held out her hand to him.
"It is a great many years since we met, Mr. Ward," she said, with agrave smile.
"Yes," he returned, looking at her with equal gravity; but his eyes weresad. "More than twenty years, I think;" and then he shook hands withDoreen rather stiffly, while Althea spoke to Mollie and Noel.
"I should like you to come and see me, my dear," she said to thedelighted girl. "Would next Tuesday suit you? Waveney shall come over inthe carriage and fetch you. And perhaps your brother would join you, andtake you back in the evening," And Mollie accepted this invitation withgreat readiness.
Everard, who had overheard this, came a step nearer.
"I must take this opportunity of thanking you for your kindness to mydear child," he said, with strong feeling in his voice. "It was hard topart with her, but you make her so happy that Mollie and I try to beresigned to her loss."
"You do not owe me any thanks," returned Althea, her lips paling withevident emotion, "for we love her for her own sake, and she is a greatcomfort to me. Ah, I see my cousin is beckoning to you, so I will wishyou good-night."
Everard shook hands with her rather absently; but a moment later he cameback to her side.
"Miss Harford, pardon me, but did you say, just now, that Ingram wasyour cousin."
Then Althea looked a trifle confused. How incautious she had been!
"Yes," she returned, guardedly, "Moritz is certainly our cousin--onceremoved. When we were at Kitlands, his father, Colonel Ingram, livedabroad, so that is why you never met him. Did you not ever hear us speakof Moritz and Gwendoline."
"I think not--I am sure not." But Everard's eyes were downcast as hespoke. Then, without another word, he lifted his hat and turned away;the mention of Kitlands had been like a stab. Even Althea hardly guessedhow this meeting had tried him, and how cruelly his pride had suffered.
Althea was very silent all the way home. She was tired, she said, andDoreen and Waveney must discuss the play without her; but as she leantback in her corner of the carriage, very little of the conversationreached her ears. Ah, she had noted all the changes now. The shinydress-coat, the lines, the slight baldness, had all been apparent underthe flaring gaslights in the lobby. She could see now that Everard wasaged and altered.
The spring and brightness of youth had gone, and care and disappointmentand ceaseless drudgery had given him the stoop of age. Already hisshoulders seemed bowed, as though some heavy load lay on them; but theface, grave and careworn as it was, was the face of her old lover. Thefeatures were as finely chiselled as ever. No sorrow, no failure, nowearing sense of humiliation, would ever rob Everard Ward of his man'sbeauty, though perhaps an artist would no longer desire to paint him asIthuriel.
"I am glad to have seen him again," thought Althea; but a dry sob rosein her throat as she said it. How coldly, how gravely he had accostedher! He had expressed no pleasure in meeting his old friends, had askedno single question about their welfare. A few stiff words of thanks forher kindness to Waveney, but nothing more, nothing more; and Althea'seyes grew misty with unshed tears in the darkness.
There were some lines by Miss Murdoch that Everard had once written inher album. She had read them so often that she knew them by heart; theywere haunting her now.
"Forgotten! no, we never do forget; We let the years go; wash them clean with tears, Leave them to bleach out in the open day Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes, Till we shall dare unfold them without pain; But we forget not, never can forget."
"It is my nature to be faithful," Althea had once touchingly said to hersister; and to forget was certainly not possible to her!