THE INDISCRETION OF THE MARCHIONESS
"I am perfectly certain," Juliet declared, "that we ought not to behere."
"That," Aynesworth remarked, fanning himself lightly with his pockethandkerchief, "may account for the extraordinary sense of pleasure whichI am now experiencing. At the same time, I can't see why not."
"I only met you this afternoon--a few hours ago. And here we are,absolutely wedged together on these seats--and my chaperon is dozinghalf the time."
"Pardon me," Aynesworth objected, "I knew you when you were a child."
"For one day!"
"Nevertheless," Aynesworth persisted, "the fact remains. If you date ouracquaintance from this afternoon, I do not. I have never forgotten thelittle girl in short frocks and long black hair, who showed me where theseagulls built, and told me Cornish fairy stories."
"It was a very long time ago," she remarked.
"Four years," he answered; "for you, perhaps, a long time, becauseyou have changed from a child--into a woman. But for a man approachingmiddle age--as I am--nothing!"
"That is all very well," she answered, "but I am not sure that we oughtto be in the gallery at Covent Garden together, with a chaperon who willsleep!"
"She will wake up," he declared, "with the music."
"And I," she murmured, "will dream. Isn't it lovely?"
He smiled.
"I wonder how it really seems to you," he remarked. "We are breathing anatmosphere hot with gas, and fragrant with orange peel. We are squashedin amongst a crowd of people of a class whom I fancy that neither younor I know much about. And I saw you last in a wilderness! We saw onlythe yellow sands, and the rocks, and the Atlantic. We heard onlythe thunder of the sea and the screaming of seagulls. This is verydifferent."
"Wonderfully, wonderfully different," she answered. "I miss it all! Ofcourse I do, and yet one is so much nearer to life here, the real lifeof men and women. Oh, one cannot compare it. Why should one try? Ah,listen!"
The curtain went up. The music of the orchestra subsided, and the musicof the human voice floated through the Opera House--the human voice,vibrant with joy and passion and the knowledge which lies behind theveil. Juliet found no time to talk then, no time to think even of hercompanion. Her young cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright withexcitement. She leaned a little forward in her place, she passed withall the effortless facility of her ingenuous youth, into the dim worldof golden fancies which the story of the opera was slowly unfolding.Beside her, Mrs. Tresfarwin dozed and blinked and dozed again--and onher left Aynesworth himself, a little affected by the music, still foundtime to glance continually at his companion, so radiant with life andso fervently intent upon realizing to the full this, the first of itsunknown joys. So with crashing of chords and thunder of melody the actwent on. And when it was over, Juliet thought no more of the Cornishsea and the lullaby of the waves. A new music was stirring in her youngblood.
They were in the front row of the gallery, and presently she leaned overto gaze down at the panorama below, the women in the boxes and stalls,whose bare shoulders and skillfully coiffured hair flashed with jewels.Suddenly her hand fell upon Aynesworth's arm.
"Look!" she cried in some excitement, "do you see who that is in the boxthere--the one almost next to the stage?"
Aynesworth, too, uttered a little exclamation. The lights from beneathwere falling full upon the still, cold face of the man who had justtaken a vacant chair in one of the boxes.
"Wingrave!" he exclaimed, and glanced at once at his watch.
"Sir Wingrave Seton," she murmured. "Isn't it strange that I should seehim here tonight?"
"He comes often," Aynesworth answered. "Music is one of his fewweaknesses."
There was a movement in the box, and a woman's head and shouldersappeared from behind the curtain. Juliet gave a little gasp.
"Mr. Aynesworth," she exclaimed, "did you ever see such a beautifulwoman? Do tell me who she is!"
"A very great lady in London society," Aynesworth answered. "That isEmily, Marchioness of Westchester."
Juliet's eyes never moved from her until the beautiful neck andshoulders were turned away. She leaned over towards her companion, andshe did not again, for some few minutes, face the house.
"She is the loveliest woman I ever saw in my life," Juliet said witha little sigh. "Is she a great friend of Sir Wingrave Seton, Mr.Aynesworth?"
"He has no friends," Aynesworth answered. "I believe that they are verywell acquainted."
"Poor Sir Wingrave!" Juliet murmured softly.
Aynesworth looked at her in some surprise.
"It is odd that you should have recognized him from up here," heremarked thoughtfully. "He has changed so much during the last fewyears."
Juliet smiled, but she did not explain. She felt that she was obeyingWingrave's wishes.
"I should have recognized him anywhere," she answered simply. "I wonderwhat they are talking about. She seems so interested, and he looks sobored."
Aynesworth looked at his watch. It was barely ten o'clock.
"I am very glad to see him here this evening," he remarked.
"I should like so much," she said, still gazing at them earnestly, "toknow that they are talking about."
. . . . . . . . . . .
"So you will not tell me," the Marchioness murmured, ceasing for amoment the graceful movements of her fan, and looking at him steadily."You refuse me this--almost the first thing I have ever asked you?"
"It is scarcely," Wingrave objected, "a reasonable question."
"Between you and me," she murmured, "such punctiliousness is scarcelynecessary--is it?"
He withstood the attack of those wonderful eyes lifted swiftly to his,and answered her gravely.
"You are Lady Ruth's friend," he remarked. "Probably, therefore, shewill tell you all about it."
The Marchioness laughed softly, yet with something less than mirth.
"Friends," she exclaimed, "Lady Ruth and I? There was never a woman inthis world who was less my friend--especially now!"
He asked for no explanation of her last words, but in a moment or twoshe vouchsafed it. She leaned a little forward, her eyes flashed softlythrough the semi-darkness.
"Lady Ruth is afraid," she said quietly, "that I might take you awayfrom her."
"My dear lady," he protested, "the slight friendship between Lady Ruthand myself is not of the nature to engender such a fear."
She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. Her hands were toying with therope of pearls which hung from her neck. She bent over them, as thoughexamining the color of the stones.
"How long have you known Ruth?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her steadfastly. He could not be sure whether it was hisfancy, or whether indeed there was some hidden meaning in her question.
"Since I came to live in England," he answered.
"Ah!"
There was a moment's silence. Then with a little wave of her hands and abrilliant smile, she figuratively dismissed the subject.
"We waste time," she remarked lightly, "and we may have callers atany moment. I will ask you no more questions save those which theconventions may permit you to answer truthfully. We can't depart fromour code, can we, even for the sake of an inquisitive woman?"
"I can assure you--" he began.
"But I will have no assurances," she interrupted smilingly. "I am goingto talk of other things. I am going to ask you a ridiculous question.Are you fond of music?--seriously!"
"I believe so," he answered. "Why?"
"Because," she answered, "I sometimes wonder what there is in the worldthat interests you! Certainly, none of the ordinary things seem to.Tonight, almost for the first time, I saw you look a little drawn outof yourself. I was wondering whether it was the music or the people. Isuppose, until one gets used to it," she added, looking a little wearilyaround the house, "an audience like this is worth looking at."
"It certainly is not the people," he said. "Do you make as close a studyof all yo
ur acquaintances?"
"Naturally not," she answered, "and I do not class you amongst myacquaintances at all. You interest me, my friend--very much indeed!"
"I am flattered," he murmured.
"You are not--I wish that you were," she answered simply. "I canunderstand why you have succeeded where so many others have failed.You are strong. You have nerves of steel--and very little heart. Butnow--what are you going to do with your life, now that wealth must evenhave lost its meaning to you? I should like to know that. Will you tellme?"
"What is there to do?" he asked. "Eat and drink, and juggle a littlewith the ball of fate."
"You are not ambitious?"
"Not in the least."
"Pleasure, for itself, does not attract you. No! I know that it doesnot. What are you going to do, then?"
"I have no idea," he answered. "Won't you direct me?"
"Yes, I will," she answered, "if you will pay my price."
He looked at her more intently. He himself had been attaching noparticular importance to this conversation, but he was suddenlyconscious that it was not so with the woman at his side. Her eyes wereshining at him, soft and full and sweet; her beautiful bosom was risingand falling quickly; there had come to her something which even he wasforced to recognize, that curious and voluptuous abandonment which awoman rarely permits herself, and can never assume. He was a littlebewildered. His speech lost for a moment its cold precision.
"Your price?" he repeated. "I--I am stupid. I'm afraid I don'tunderstand."
"Marry me," she whispered in his ear, "and I will take you a littlefurther into life than you could ever go alone You don't care for me, ofcourse--but you shall. You don't understand this world, Wingrave, or howto make the best of it. I do! Let me be your guide!"
Wingrave looked at her in grave astonishment.
"You are not by any chance--in earnest?" he asked.
"You know very well that I am," she answered swiftly. "And yet youhesitate! What is it that you are afraid of? Don't you like to give upyour liberty? We need not marry unless you choose. That is only a matterof form nowadays at any rate. I have a hundred chaperons to choose from.Society expects strange things from me. It is your companionship I want.Your money is fascinating, of course. I should like to see you spend it,to spend it with both hands. Don't be afraid that we should be talkedabout. I am not Lady Ruth! I am Emily, Marchioness of Westchester, and Ilive and choose my friends as I please; will you be chief amongst them?Hush!"
For Wingrave it was providential. The loud chorus which had heraldedthe upraising of the curtain died away. Melba's first few notes werefloating through the house. Silence was a necessity. The low passion ofthe music rippled from the stage, through the senses and into the heartsof many of the listeners. But Wingrave listened silent and unmoved. Hewas even unconscious that the woman by his side was watching him halfanxiously every now and then.
The curtain descended amidst a thunder of applause. Wingrave turnedslowly towards his companion. And then there came a respite--a knock atthe door.
The Marchioness frowned, but Wingrave was already holding it open.Lady Ruth, followed by an immaculate young guardsman, a relative of herhusband, was standing there.
"Mr. Wingrave!" she exclaimed softly, with upraised eyebrows, "why haveyou contrived to render yourself invisible? We thought you were alone,Emily," she continued, "and took pity on you. And all the time you had aprize."
The Marchioness looked at Lady Ruth, and Lady Ruth looked at theMarchioness. The young guardsman was a little sorry that he had come,but Lady Ruth never turned a hair.
"You must really have your eyes seen to, dear," the Marchioness remarkedin a tone of tender concern. "When you can't see such an old friend asMr. Wingrave from a few yards away, they must be very bad indeed.How are you, Captain Kendrick? Come and tell me about the polo thisafternoon. Sorry I can't offer you all chairs. This is an absurd box--itwas only meant for two!"
"Come into ours," Lady Ruth said; "we have chairs for six, I think."
The Marchioness shook her head.
"I wish I had a millionaire in the family," she murmured. "All the same,I hate large parties. I am old-fashioned enough to think that two is adelightful number."
Lady Ruth laid her hand upon Wingrave's arm.
"A decided hint, Mr. Wingrave," she declared. "Come and let me introduceyou to my sister. Our box is only a few yards off."
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