CHAPTER XXXVI.
"SEE THE CONQUERING HERO COMES!"
"That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If, with his tongue, he cannot win a woman."
_Two Gentlemen of Verona._
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind."
_A Midsummer Night's Dream._
As Moritz drove to Cleveland Terrace, he carefully rehearsed his part,as he had already rehearsed it a dozen times before.
"I am going to see your sister this afternoon," he had said to Noel atbreakfast that morning. "Miss Mollie, I mean; have you any message forher?"
"No; only my love, and that sort of thing," returned Noel, coolly, as hecut himself another slice of bread. And then, contrary to his custom,for he was one of the most talkative and sociable of men, Ingramrelapsed into silence.
"Feels a bit grumpy, I fancy," thought Noel, with a suppressed grin. "IfI ever have a young woman, I wonder if I should feel in that way. Why,the poor old chap has had hardly any breakfast." And Noel shook his headsolemnly, and adjusted his _pince-nez_, and then helped himselfliberally to the cold game pie.
Ingram's knowledge of invalids and sick-rooms was purely rudimentary. Hehad a theory that sick people must be treated like children. They mustbe coaxed, amused, and made as cheerful as possible; there must be noagitation, no bringing forward of exciting or perplexing topics, noundue warmth of expression and feeling.
"I must be perfectly cool and quiet," Ingram said to himself, as he camein sight of the house. "I must not let her see what I have gone throughall this time; Monsieur Blackie must take no liberties--he must be justkind and friendly." But as the brougham stopped, Ingram looked a littlepale, although he put on his usual sprightly air as he went up thecourtyard.
Pride must have its fall, says the old proverb. And perhaps Ingram, whowas an Idealist, relied a little too much on his theories and goodintentions; as Noel would have said, he was too cocksure of himself.
Anyhow, when Ann, of the heavy foot, ushered him up to the old studio,where he and Everard Ward had passed so many hours of misery andsuspense, and he saw Mollie's sweet face, flushing and paling with shypleasure, Ingram found himself unable to say a word for the suddenchoking sensation in his throat; he could only stand there like a fool,holding the thin little hand that Mollie had silently held out to him.
"Won't you sit down?" observed Mollie, faintly; but her lips trembled asshe spoke, for Ingram's dumb emotion almost frightened her. It was sounlike her dear old friend, Monsieur Blackie, to stand there without aword of kindly greeting. Mollie's flower-like face grew painfullysuffused. "Do please sit down," she faltered, with a growing sense ofdiscomfort and helplessness.
Ingram did as he was bid, but he did not relinquish her hand.
"Mollie," he said, and his eyes were dim with a man's trouble, and thepassionate tenderness, that he was trying bravely to repress, was soevident in his voice and manner that even Mollie, innocent and guilelessas she was, thrilled in every nerve.
"Perhaps I had better go away," he stammered. "I shall tire you, agitateyou, if I stay. I must not say what I think, and, by Heaven, I cannottalk platitudes, when you have come back from the very valley of theshadow of death. Mollie, shall I go?--for I cannot answer for myself, ifI remain!"
"Why should you go?" returned Mollie, piteously. "I thought it would beso nice to see you, and I wanted so to thank you. You have done so muchfor me! Waveney told me that you would not like to be thanked; butindeed, indeed, I am grateful."
"Grateful to me!" returned Ingram, indignantly, and he dropped her hand."Mollie, do you wish to pain me, that you say such things to me?Gratitude! when I would willingly give you everything I possess! Unsaythose words, my darling," he pleaded, passionately. "Don't you knowthat I love you better than anything in the world? Oh, Mollie,_dearest_, if I had lost you I think I should have mourned for you allmy life."
Ingram was certainly not acting up to his theory. Monsieur Blackie hadutterly forgotten his _role_. He had promised himself to keep perfectlycool and collected, to be kind and friendly, and to avoid all emotion orexcitement, but before ten minutes had passed he was pouring out hispent-up feelings.
"Oh, Mollie, dear Mollie!" he went on, in a broken voice--for Mollie,shaken and agitated, had hidden her face in her hands--"all this time Ihave been trying to win you. I want you to be my sweet wife, to give methe right to watch over you all my life. Darling, do you think you cancare for poor Monsieur Blackie a little?"
"I do care," sobbed Mollie. "How can I help it, when you have been sogood to me? I think"--but Mollie whispered this with her soft cheekpressed against his shoulder as he knelt beside her--"I think I havecared for you all this time." And perhaps that moment's ecstasy fullyrepaid Moritz for all the pain of the last few weeks.
Moritz behaved very well on the whole. When the first few minutes ofbeatitude were over, Mollie's pale cheeks and tearful eyes reminded himthat she was an invalid, and he forbore to overwhelm her with hisdelight and gratitude. He sat beside her talking quietly, while Mollielay back on her pillows in languid happiness, listening to her lover. Hewas telling her how proud he was of his sobriquet, and that no othername would ever be so dear to him as "Monsieur Blackie."
"I hope you will always call me by that name, Mollie, darling. To you Iwould always be Monsieur Blackie."
"But Moritz is so much prettier," she objected; "and Monsieur Blackiewould be so long for daily use."
And then Ingram hastened to explain, in his eager way, that he had notmeant that. Of course his wife--how Mollie blushed at that--must callhim Moritz; but he never intended to lose his dear old title.
"Wave often calls you the Black Prince," returned Mollie, with a lowlaugh. "Oh, dear, how wonderful it all seems! Do you know"--veryshyly--"I never imagined that any one would ever care for me, because ofmy lameness. Are you sure that you do not really mind it?" and hereMollie's voice grew anxious and even sad. "I am so awkward and clumsy.You know Noel often calls me 'the wobbly one.'"
"Noel will never call you that again," returned Ingram, quite sternly."I gave him a good lecture the other day. Why, Mollie dearest, you aresimply perfect in my eyes. I am afraid to tell you how lovely and dear Ithink you. The wonder is that you could ever bring yourself to care forme; for, as Gwen says, I am about as ugly as they make 'em," continuedIngram, in his quaint way. And then Mollie laughed again, though therewere tears in her eyes of sheer joy and gratitude.
Mollie was very humble on the subject of her own merits; she had noconception how Ingram worshipped her sweetness and beauty. His crowningtriumph had been that Monsieur Blackie, and not Viscount Ralston, hadwon her love.
"Gwen may laugh at me, and call me a fool," he thought, "but her sarcasmand smart speech will not trouble me in the least. I have played mylittle game, and got my innings, and the loveliest and dearest prize inthe world is mine." And then he fell to musing blissfully on thesurprise in store for his sweetheart. What would Mollie say when heshowed her her future home? What would she think of Brentwood Hall, andthe Silent Pool, and the big conservatory that Gwen had called theirwinter-garden, and the long picture-gallery, where, in an obscurecorner, "King Canute" hung as large as life?
Moritz smiled happily to himself as he thought of the family diamonds,over which Gwen had gloated, and which he had vainly entreated her towear.
"Jack would not like it," Gwen had answered, gravely. "They are for thefuture Lady Ralston, not for me."
How glad he was now that Gwen's unworldliness and good sense had beenproof against the temptation! For in those days how was he to know thata certain sweet Mollie Ward would steal away his heart? When Mollieasked him, a little curiously, why he was smiling, Moritz returned,without a moment's hesitation, that he was merely thanking Heaven thatshe was not rich in worldly goods.
Mollie opened her eyes rather widely at this.
"I mean, dear, that I shall so love to give you
all you want," he said,tenderly.
"But--but you are not really rich, are you?" asked Mollie. "Of course Iknow you are not poor, because of all the lovely things you have givenme, and--and----" But here Mollie stopped; she had not the courage tomention Sir Hindley's fees.
"No, I am not poor," returned Ingram, quietly. "I have had a nice littleproperty left me by a relative. We shall be very comfortable, dear, andwhen you are my wife you will not have to bother your poor little headwith making ends meet." For once he had discovered Mollie shedding tearsover her battered little housekeeping book, because she had exceeded theweek's allowance. It was only seven-and-sixpence, or some such paltrysum, but Mollie was covered with shame at her own carelessness, andIngram, who was, even in those early days, head over ears in love,longed to take her in his arms and kiss the tears away.
"Yes, I think we shall be very comfortable, darling," went on Ingram,somewhat hypocritically, as he remembered with secret glee his thirtythousand a year. Then, as even his inexperienced eyes detected signs ofexhaustion in Mollie's increasing paleness, he somewhat quickly droppedthe subject.
Mollie was not merely tired; she was dazed with the wonderful newhappiness that had come to her. In spite of her love of pretty things,her little girlish vanities and harmless ambitions, she was far toosimple-minded to be really worldly. If Moritz, in the old approvedfairy-tale fashion, had suddenly filled her lap with diamonds andemeralds, they would only have dazzled Mollie's tired eyes. Later on,perhaps, these baubles and adjuncts of rank and wealth would gratify anddelight her, but at this present moment she would have regarded themwith indifference.
It was the man, Moritz Ingram, whom she wanted. It was Monsieur Blackie,with all his quaintness, his oddities, and eccentricities, his old-worldchivalry, and true, manly tenderness, whom Mollie loved and honoured.Mollie, with all her simplicity and childliness, had been wiser thanmost women, in going straight to the root of the matter. It was nothingto her that her chosen lover was short of stature--a small, dark man,with a sallow skin, and closely-cropped hair that would have done creditto a convict. Mollie saw nothing but the kind, dear eyes, and pleasantsmile, and she would not have exchanged him for any Adonis, though hestood six feet in his stockings.
Moritz's conscience was uneasy. More than once he had made an effort togo, but Mollie's soft little hand had kept him a willing prisoner."Waveney will be here directly," she said. "She has promised to make teafor us." And at that very moment Waveney entered the room.
The lamp had not been lighted, and only the firelight threw aflickering, uncertain glow over the two faces before her. But somethingin Mr. Ingram's attitude, in the very atmosphere of the warm,flower-scented room, made Waveney's heart beat with quick, sympatheticthrobs.
"Oh, what is it?" she said, stumbling a little in her haste. But, as sheput out her hands to save herself, Ingram caught them in his own.
"My little Samaritan," he said, affectionately, "do you know, I am goingto be your brother. Will you wish me joy, dear!" And then in his airy,foreign fashion, Moritz lifted her hand to his lips.
"My brother!" gasped Waveney. Well, she had expected it. But, all thesame, she felt a little giddy. Mollie's Prince had come, as she knew hewould, and would carry Mollie away.
"Darling, come here," and Mollie stretched out her arms almostpiteously. "Wave, why do you stand there, as though you were turned tostone? Don't you want me to be happy?" she whispered, as Waveney, atthis appeal, knelt down beside her.
"Oh, Mollie!" returned poor Waveney, "I know that I ought to be glad,and I am glad. But"--with a sob that would not be kept back--"But--but,I have lost my old sweetheart."
"Never!" returned Mollie, energetically, and her arms were round hersister's neck as she spoke. "Wave, dear, you must not say such things.Nothing, nothing, can ever come between us, or make our love less. Kissme, darling," she went on, "and promise me that you will never say thatagain." And then, as Waveney stooped over her, she whispered in her ear:"After all, I have found out the best way of thanking him."
Perhaps it was as well that Nurse Helena made her appearance at thatmoment with the lamp, and so broke up the agitated little group. Waveneygot up, feeling rather guilty, when Nurse Helena commented somewhatseverely on Mollie's flushed and tired face.
"There has been too much talking," she said, in her quiet, authoritativevoice. "Miss Mollie must have her tea, and go upstairs and rest." Andthen she regarded Ingram rather suspiciously. Nevertheless, when shewent out of the room there was an amused twinkle in the nurse's greyeyes.
When Ann brought up the tea-tray Waveney was assiduous in her attentionsto Mollie and her _fiance_. She chatted to Ingram in her old frank way.Mollie was to rest and listen to them; she was to enjoy her tea and thedelicate tongue sandwiches that Nurse Helena had cut so carefully. ButNurse Helena was right, and there must be no more talking. And then sheamused them both by retailing to them the corporal's odd speeches.
Directly tea was over Ingram took his leave. "Before Nurse Helena turnsme out," he observed, with a laugh. Waveney, who waited for him outside,was somewhat taken aback at the length of the farewell. "Parting is suchsweet sorrow," she said to herself; but she sighed as she said it.Waveney, who was bitten with the same disease, was certainly notdisposed to be hypercritical on the behaviour of the lovers.
She had a few words with Mollie before nurse came to claim her charge.
"Oh, Wave, I cannot understand it!" Mollie exclaimed, and her eyeslooked bright and excited. "Fancy my being engaged before you! I, whonever expected to have a lover of my own! Dearest, you must love him formy sake, he is so good. Oh, there is no one like him!" and Mollie seemedalmost appalled at the magnitude of her bliss.
Waveney had promised to wait for her father; he was to put her into thetrain. And Althea had directed her to take a cab from Dereham stationstraight to the Red House.
Everard was somewhat later than usual, and they had only a little whiletogether. He listened to the wonderful news with the air of a man whohad fully expected it.
"I knew Ingram would steal a march on us," he said, rubbing his handstogether. "I told him to wait until the child was stronger, and Ithought he agreed to this; but you can never depend on a man when he isin love. And so Mollie really cares for him," went on Everard, in apleased voice. "Well, she is a sensible girl, and does me credit. As forIngram, he is a capital fellow, a son-in-law after my own heart," wenton Everard, with a smile that perplexed Waveney, it was so mysteriousand yet so full of amusement.
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