CHAPTER XXIX.
HOW DAMON PARTED FROM PYTHIAS.
Lady Ongar, when she left Count Pateroff at the little fort on thecliff and entered by herself the gardens belonging to the hotel, hadlong since made up her mind that there should at last be a positiveseverance between herself and her devoted Sophie. For half-an-hourshe had been walking in silence by the count's side; and though, ofcourse, she had heard all that he had spoken, she had been able inthat time to consider much. It must have been through Sophie that thecount had heard of her journey to the Isle of Wight; and, worse thanthat, Sophie must, as she thought, have instigated this pursuit. Inthat she wronged her poor friend. Sophie had been simply paid by herbrother for giving such information as enabled him to arrange thismeeting. She had not even counselled him to follow Lady Ongar. Butnow Lady Ongar, in blind wrath, determined that Sophie should beexpelled from her bosom. Lady Ongar would find this task of expulsionthe less difficult in that she had come to loathe her devotedfriend, and to feel it to be incumbent on her to rid herself of suchdevotion. Now had arrived the moment in which it might be done.
And yet there were difficulties. Two ladies living together in an inncannot, without much that is disagreeable, send down to the landlordsaying that they want separate rooms, because they have taken itinto their minds to hate each other. And there would, moreover, besomething awkward in saying to Sophie that, though she was discarded,her bill should be paid--for this last and only time. No; Lady Ongarhad already perceived that that would not do. She would not quarrelwith Sophie after that fashion. She would leave the Isle of Wight onthe following morning early, informing Sophie why she did so, andwould offer money to the little Franco-Pole, presuming that it mightnot be agreeable to the Franco-Pole to be hurried away from hermarine or rural happiness so quickly. But in doing this she would becareful to make Sophie understand that Bolton Street was to be closedagainst her for ever afterwards. With neither Count Pateroff nor hissister would she ever again willingly place herself in contact.
It was dark as she entered the house,--the walk out, her delay there,and her return having together occupied her three hours. She hadhardly felt the dusk growing on her as she progressed steadily on herway, with that odious man beside her. She had been thinking of otherthings, and her eyes had accustomed themselves gradually to thefading twilight. But now, when she saw the glimmer of the lamps fromthe inn-windows, she knew that the night had come upon her, and shebegan to fear that she had been imprudent in allowing herself to beout so late,--imprudent, even had she succeeded in being alone. Shewent direct to her own room, that, woman-like, she might consult herown face as to the effects of the insult she had received, and thenhaving, as it were, steadied herself, and prepared herself for thescene that was to follow, she descended to the sitting-room andencountered her friend. The friend was the first to speak; and thereader will kindly remember that the friend had ample reason forknowing what companion Lady Ongar had been likely to meet upon thedowns.
"Julie, dear, how late you are," said Sophie, as though she wererather irritated in having been kept so long waiting for her tea.
"I am late," said Lady Ongar.
"And don't you think you are imprudent,--all alone, you know, dear;just a leetle imprudent."
"Very imprudent, indeed. I have been thinking of that now as Icrossed the lawn, and found how dark it was. I have been veryimprudent; but I have escaped without much injury."
"Escaped! escaped what? Have you escaped a cold, or a drunken man?"
"Both, as I think." Then she sat down, and, having rung the bell, sheordered tea.
"There seems to be something very odd with you," said Sophie. "I donot quite understand you."
"When did you see your brother last?" Lady Ongar asked.
"My brother?"
"Yes, Count Pateroff. When did you see him last?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Well, it does not signify, as of course you will not tell me. Butwill you say when you will see him next?"
"How can I tell?"
"Will it be to-night?"
"Julie, what do you mean?"
"Only this, that I wish you would make him understand that if he hasanything to do concerning me, he might as well do it out of hand. Forthe last hour--"
"Then you have seen him?"
"Yes; is not that wonderful? I have seen him."
"And why could you not tell him yourself what you had to say? Heand I do not agree about certain things, and I do not like to carrymessages to him. And you have seen him here on this sacre sea-coast?"
"Exactly so; on this sacre sea-coast. Is it not odd that he shouldhave known that I was here,--known the very inn we were at,--andknown, too, whither I was going to-night?"
"He would learn that from the servants, my dear."
"No doubt. He has been good enough to amuse me with mysteriousthreats as to what he would do to punish me if I would not--"
"Become his wife?" suggested Sophie.
"Exactly. It was very flattering on his part. I certainly do notintend to become his wife."
"Ah, you like better that young Clavering who has the othersweetheart. He is younger. That is true."
"Upon my word, yes. I like my cousin, Harry Clavering, much betterthan I like your brother; but, as I take it, that has not much todo with it. I was speaking of your brother's threats. I do notunderstand them; but I wish he could be made to understand that if hehas anything to do, he had better go and do it. As for marriage, Iwould sooner marry the first ploughboy I could find in the fields."
"Julie,--you need not insult him."
"I will have no more of your Julie; and I will have no more of you."As she said this she rose from her chair, and walked about the room."You have betrayed me, and there shall be an end of it."
How Damon parted from Pythias.]
"Betrayed you! what nonsense you talk. In what have I betrayed you?"
"You set him upon my track here, though you knew I desired to avoidhim."
"And is that all? I was coming here to this detestable island, and Itold my brother. That is my offence,--and then you talk of betraying!Julie, you sometimes are a goose."
"Very often, no doubt; but, Madame Gordeloup, if you please we willbe geese apart for the future."
"Oh, certainly;--if you wish it."
"I do wish it."
"It cannot hurt me. I can choose my friends anywhere. The world isopen to me to go where I please into society. I am not at a loss."
All this Lady Ongar well understood, but she could bear it withoutinjury to her temper. Such revenge was to be expected from such awoman. "I do not want you to be at a loss," she said. "I only wantyou to understand that after what has this evening occurred betweenyour brother and me, our acquaintance had better cease."
"And I am to be punished for my brother?"
"You said just now that it would be no punishment, and I was gladto hear it. Society is, as you say, open to you, and you will losenothing."
"Of course society is open to me. Have I committed myself? I am nottalked about for my lovers by all the town. Why should I be at aloss? No."
"I shall return to London to-morrow by the earliest opportunity.I have already told them so, and have ordered a carriage to go toYarmouth at eight."
"And you leave me here, alone!"
"Your brother is here, Madame Gordeloup."
"My brother is nothing to me. You know well that. He can come and hecan go when he please. I come here to follow you,--to be companionto you, to oblige you,--and now you say you go and leave me in thisdetestable barrack. If I am here alone, I will be revenged."
"You shall go back with me if you wish it."
"At eight o'clock in the morning,--and see, it is now eleven; whileyou have been wandering about alone with my brother in the dark! No;I will not go so early morning as that. To-morrow is Saturday--youwas to remain till Tuesday."
"You may do as you please. I shall go at eight to-morrow."
"Very well. You go at eight
, very well. And who will pay for the'beels' when you are gone, Lady Ongar?"
"I have already ordered the bill up to-morrow morning. If you willallow me to offer you twenty pounds, that will bring you to Londonwhen you please to follow."
"Twenty pounds! What is twenty pounds? No; I will not have yourtwenty pounds." And she pushed away from her the two notes which LadyOngar had already put upon the table. "Who is to pay me for the lossof all my time? Tell me that. I have devoted myself to you. Who willpay me for that?"
"Not I, certainly, Madame Gordeloup."
"Not you! You will not pay me for my time;--for a whole year I havebeen devoted to you! You will not pay me, and you send me away inthis way? By Gar, you will be made to pay,--through the nose."
As the interview was becoming unpleasant, Lady Ongar took her candleand went away to bed, leaving the twenty pounds on the table. As sheleft the room she knew that the money was there, but she could notbring herself to pick it up and restore it to her pocket. It wasimprobable, she thought, that Madame Gordeloup would leave it to themercy of the waiters; and the chances were that the notes would gointo the pocket for which they were intended.
And such was the result. Sophie, when she was left alone, got upfrom her seat, and stood for some moments on the rug, making hercalculations. That Lady Ongar should be very angry about CountPateroff's presence Sophie had expected; but she had not expectedthat her friend's anger would be carried to such extremity that shewould pronounce a sentence of banishment for life. But, perhaps,after all, it might be well for Sophie herself that such sentenceshould be carried out. This fool of a woman with her income, herpark, and her rank, was going to give herself,--so said Sophie toherself,--to a young, handsome, proud pig of a fellow,--so Sophiecalled him,--who had already shown himself to be Sophie's enemy, andwho would certainly find no place for Sophie Gordeloup within hishouse. Might it not be well that the quarrel should be consummatednow,--such compensation being obtained as might possibly beextracted. Sophie certainly knew a good deal, which it might be forthe convenience of the future husband to keep dark--or convenient forthe future wife that the future husband should not know. Terms mightbe yet had, although Lady Ongar had refused to pay anything beyondthat trumpery twenty pounds. Terms might be had; or, indeed, it mightbe that Lady Ongar herself, when her anger was over, might sue for areconciliation. Or Sophie,--and this idea occurred as Sophie herselfbecame a little despondent after long calculation,--Sophie herselfmight acknowledge herself to be wrong, begging pardon, and weepingon her friend's neck. Perhaps it might be worth while to make somefurther calculation in bed. Then Sophie, softly drawing the notestowards her as a cat might have done, and hiding them somewhere abouther person, also went to her room.
In the morning Lady Ongar prepared herself for starting at eighto'clock, and, as a part of that preparation, had her breakfastbrought to her upstairs. When the time was up, she descended to thesitting-room on the way to the carriage, and there she found Sophiealso prepared for a journey.
"I am going too. You will let me go?" said Sophie.
"Certainly," said Lady Ongar. "I proposed to you to do so yesterday."
"You should not be so hard upon your poor friend," said Sophie. Thiswas said in the hearing of Lady Ongar's maid and of two waiters,and Lady Ongar made no reply to it. When they were in the carriagetogether, the maid being then stowed away in a dickey or rumblebehind, Sophie again whined and was repentant. "Julie, you should notbe so hard upon your poor Sophie."
"It seems to me that the hardest things said were spoken by you."
"Then I will beg your pardon. I am impulsive. I do not restrainmyself. When I am angry I say I know not what. If I saidany words that were wrong, I will apologize, and beg to beforgiven,--there,--on my knees." And, as she spoke, the adroit littlewoman contrived to get herself down upon her knees on the floor ofthe carriage. "There; say that I am forgiven; say that Sophie ispardoned." The little woman had calculated that even should herJulie pardon her, Julie would hardly condescend to ask for the twoten-pound notes.
But Lady Ongar had stoutly determined that there should be no furtherintimacy, and had reflected that a better occasion for a quarrelcould hardly be vouchsafed to her than that afforded by Sophie'streachery in bringing her brother down to Freshwater. She was toostrong, and too much mistress of her will, to be cheated now out ofher advantage. "Madame Gordeloup, that attitude is absurd;--I beg youwill get up."
"Never; never till you have pardoned me." And Sophie crouched stilllower, till she was all among the dressing-cases and little bagsat the bottom of the carriage. "I will not get up till you say thewords, 'Sophie, dear, I forgive you.'"
"Then I fear you will have an uncomfortable drive. Luckily it will bevery short. It is only half-an-hour to Yarmouth."
"And I will kneel again on board the packet; and on the--what youcall, platform,--and in the railway carriage,--and in the street.I will kneel to my Julie everywhere, till she say, 'Sophie, dear,I forgive you!'"
"Madame Gordeloup, pray understand me; between you and me there shallbe no further intimacy."
"No!"
"Certainly not. No further explanation is necessary, but our intimacyhas certainly come to an end."
"It has."
"Undoubtedly."
"Julie!"
"That is such nonsense. Madame Gordeloup, you are disgracing yourselfby your proceedings."
"Oh! disgracing myself, am I?" In saying this, Sophie picked herselfup from among the dressing-cases, and recovered her seat. "I amdisgracing myself! Well, I know very well whose disgrace is the mosttalked about in the world, yours or mine. Disgracing myself;--andfrom you? What did your husband say of you himself?"
Lady Ongar began to feel that even a very short journey might be toolong. Sophie was now quite up, and was wriggling herself on her seat,adjusting her clothes which her late attitude had disarranged, not inthe most graceful manner.
"You shall see," she continued. "Yes, you shall see. Tell me ofdisgrace! I have only disgraced myself by being with you. Ah,--verywell. Yes; I will get out. As for being quiet, I shall be quietwhenever I like it. I know when to talk and when to hold my tongue.Disgrace!" So saying, she stepped out of the carriage, leaning on thearm of a boatman who had come to the door, and who had heard her lastwords.
It may be imagined that all this did not contribute much to thecomfort of Lady Ongar. They were now on the little pier at Yarmouth,and in five minutes every one there knew who she was, and knew alsothat there had been some disagreement between her and the littleforeigner. The eyes of the boatmen, and of the drivers, and of theother travellers, and of the natives going over to the market atLymington, were all on her, and the eyes also of all the idlers ofYarmouth who had congregated there to watch the despatch of the earlyboat. But she bore it well, seating herself, with her maid besideher, on one of the benches on the deck, and waiting there withpatience till the boat should start. Sophie once or twice mutteredthe word "disgrace!" but beyond that she remained silent.
They crossed over the little channel without a word, and without aword made their way up to the railway-station. Lady Ongar had beentoo confused to get tickets for their journey at Yarmouth, but hadpaid on board the boat for the passage of the three persons--herself,her maid, and Sophie. But, at the station at Lymington, the moreimportant business of taking tickets for the journey to London becamenecessary. Lady Ongar had thought of this on her journey across thewater, and, when at the railway-station, gave her purse to her maid,whispering her orders. The girl took three first-class tickets, andthen going gently up to Madame Gordeloup, offered one to that lady."Ah, yes; very well; I understand," said Sophie, taking the ticket."I shall take this;" and she held the ticket up in her hand, asthough she had some specially mysterious purpose in accepting it.
She got into the same carriage with Lady Ongar and her maid, butspoke no word on her journey up to London. At Basingstoke she had aglass of sherry, for which Lady Ongar's maid paid. Lady Ongar hadtelegraphed for her carriage, which was wa
iting for her, but Sophiebetook herself to a cab. "Shall I pay the cabman, ma'am?" said themaid. "Yes," said Sophie, "or stop. It will be half-a-crown. You hadbetter give me the half-crown." The maid did so, and in this way thecareful Sophie added another shilling to her store,--over and abovethe twenty pounds,--knowing well that the fare to Mount Street waseighteen-pence.
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