Read Ebook: A Master of Deception by Marsh Richard Tennant C Dudley Charles Dudley Illustrator

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Ebook has 765 lines and 27726 words, and 16 pages

"I always wondered what there was in a kiss to make a fuss about. Now--I know."

When he left it had been practically settled that the wedding should take place on the earliest possible day of the ensuing month.

He walked home, by way of Kensington High Street and the Park. And as he walked he mused, and more than once his musings moved him to something very much like laughter, out there in the solitude and the dark. Was ever man before in such a complication--promised at three weddings as bridegroom? As he tried to puzzle out how it all had come about it struck him as quite inconceivably comical. If he told the story to the ladies themselves they could scarcely fail to see how funny it was--at least, he hoped they would. The position would be simple enough if, as is still the custom in some of the more civilised countries of the world, a man could have wives galore. But if it came to choosing, why, there would be the rub. Mabel had her points; who knew it better than he? While as for Stella, he had never dreamed she was so charming. With her kisses still on his lips, her soft voice still in his ears, her pretty eyes still looking into his, how could he help but love her! Dear little Stella! A week all alone with her, even a fortnight--he would like to have the chance of it. Perhaps, after a fortnight, a little relaxation might be desirable, a sort of change of air. But why look so far ahead? Then there was Mary--but he dare not think of Mary Carmichael, even then. If he had ten thousand a year, and freedom, he would choose Mary Carmichael before all the girls he had ever met. But that was out of the question; he had better put her out of his mind. Things were already sufficiently complicated without adding her. On the whole, the circumstances being what they were, considering the position with the judicial calmness which was becoming, he plumped for Gladys; and--the business in St. Paul's Churchyard. Gladys Patterson should be his wife; yes, she should be his wife, on all accounts; on all!--if--if it was not necessary to take a voyage to foreign parts.

In that room on the second floor of the house in Kensington, Stella Austin, in her nightdress, her pretty hair hanging in two long plaits down her back, was on her knees beside her bed, seeming such a child. She was thanking God for all His goodness to her--she always began her prayers by thanking God. She thanked Him for many things, but chiefly, and beyond all else, for having given her so thoughtful, so tender, so true a lover. God knew how happy He had made her, and how full her heart was of gratitude to Him. And she prayed that God would make her worthy of the lover He had given. She knew how, in so many ways, he was above her, above anything she might ever hope to be; she prayed God that He would give her strength and grace, so that she might be at least a little more deserving. She had been unkind to-night, and--and wickedly jealous; she knew she had. Please God make her kinder and less selfish! And, when the time came, please God, make her a good wife, a good wife!

At this point articulate utterance ceased, her face fell forward on the coverlet because her eyes were streaming with tears. It was to her such a solemn and beautiful thought that she would before very long be Rodney Elmore's wife that she trembled with the very rapture of it, so that she could no longer even go on with her prayers.

When Mr. Elmore reached his lodgings, with the exception of the light in his sitting-room, the house was in darkness. But if that signified that the household had retired to rest, it did not follow that everyone was asleep, as he was presently to learn. He had only been in his room a couple of minutes when the door opened noiselessly--to admit Miss Joyce. Coming right in, she stood with her back to the door, which she closed behind her. She was in a state of undress which did not become her ill. As he eyed her Rodney compared her, mentally, with Stella; not to her disadvantage. She really was a good-looking girl; only--he did not like the look which was on her white face and in her eyes. He felt sure someone would notice it, and questions would be asked.

She spoke in so faint a whisper that what she said was only just audible; his voice was lowered in sympathy with hers.

"Mother's come back."

"Has she? That's good hearing. I hope she had a good time at your aunt's."

"I've got the licence."

"It cost me two pounds four and six."

"Did it? I hope you consider it to be worth the money."

"I've fixed it for Thursday at noon."

"Noon? Isn't that--rather an unfashionable hour?"

"Mind you're there! You've promised! I've got your promise."

"Am I likely to forget--the circumstances under which you got my promise?"

"If you're not there you'll be sorry."

"Honestly, Mabel, I think we shall both of us be sorry."

"You will! There's--there's another thing; I--I want to warn you."

"Warn me? Haven't you done that once or twice already?"

"I--I want to warn you against Mr. Dale."

"Against Mr. Dale? Why?"

"I believe he suspects."

"Suspects? What? About you and me?"

"About--your uncle."

"What does he suspect about my uncle?"

"He's been finding out things. Ssh! there's someone moving. Perhaps it's mother; she mustn't find me here, like this."

She flitted from the room as noiselessly as she had entered, shutting the door without its making a sound. He stood and listened. Perhaps it was her conscience which had made her fancy noises--all seemed still. If she had ascended to her room on the landing, a ghost could not have moved more silently.

THE FIRST LINE OF AN OLD SONG

Rodney Elmore had the unusual attribute of seeming at his best in the morning, as if calm, unruffled sleep, having removed the cobwebs from his brain, returned him rested and buoyant to a world in which there were no shadows. When, on the Wednesday morning, he came downstairs with light steps and dancing eyes, he found among the letters on the breakfast table one which was addressed in a familiar hand. He gave it pride of place.

"MY DEAR R.,--I don't know what possesses me, but I feel that I simply must write and tell you that I wish you were within kissing distance. Isn't that a ridiculous feeling to have, especially where you're concerned? Do you think that I don't know? I have been conscious of the most extraordinary sensations since Sunday. I made a mistake in asking you to come and console me. You did it so effectually that--well, I would like you to continue the treatment. There's a dreadful thing to say! Aren't I a wretch? Poor dear Tom! I know he has all the good qualities I haven't, and that he'll make me the best husband in the world, but as for his consoling me--oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! I don't like the idea at all! I'm nearly sure that, after all, the best husband in the world is not the one I'm looking for. What makes me feel so all over pins and needles when I'm with Tom, and so comfy when I'm with you? Isn't it odd? Have you any feeling of the kind where I'm concerned? I know you'll say so, but have you? You'd say anything to anyone, but, all the same, I've a feeling somewhere that, if I chose, I could have you on a little bit of string. I daren't ask you to come here again, I simply daren't; but, if you do come, mind you give me proper warning. What would you say if I ran up to town? Should I see Stella at the corner of every street? Sweet Stella! Aren't I a cat? I suppose you couldn't rob a bank or something? If you and I were starting off to-morrow together, ever so far, for ever so long--I dare not think of it, and that's the honest truth. Aren't I insane? No one but you would ever guess it.--M.

"Mind you tear this up the very moment you have read it, and you're to forget that you ever did read it!

"Tear it up!"

He had just finished reading this somewhat interjectional epistle when Miss Joyce came in, the bearer of his morning meal. He greeted her as if he were really pleased to see her.

"The top of the morning to you, Baby! How moves the world your way? Do you feel like dancing on your pink toes?"

When he called her Baby, the pet name he had for her, she glanced up at him, almost as if she were startled.

"Did you understand what I said to you last night?"

"Perfectly; I've been thinking it all over, and I've come to a decision. I think you're quite right in what you wish me to do. As this isn't Leap Year, let me regularise the position. Mabel, I would like you to be my wife. Will you take me for your husband?"

"You say that because you know you can't help yourself."

"You are mistaken. If I didn't want to be your husband, nothing you or anyone could say or do could make me, rest assured of that. I won't pretend that, if things had turned out differently, I--should have suggested it; but, as they are, please, Mabel, let me do the proposing--say you will be my wife."

"I'm going to be your wife; to-morrow, Thursday, at noon, and don't you make any mistake. There's the address of the registrar's office at which you're going to be married, and mind you're there to time."

"Baby--you are only a baby, after all--don't talk like that; don't let's enter the matrimonial state as if we wished to cut each other's throats; let's start afresh on the old terms. I hope that when we're being married you won't have those white cheeks and unhappy eyes, or the registrar will think that I'm frightening you into being my bride, and you know that will be wrong."

"Rodney, do you care for me a little bit?"

"My dear Mabel, I care for you in an altogether different fashion from that which you suppose, as I hope to be able to prove to you before very long. Come, let's be friends."

"Don't touch me--don't! Mother's waiting for me. She wants me for something; she told me not to be long. I--I want to speak to you before I go. I--I want to warn you against Mr. Dale."

"You said something to that effect last night. Is Mr. Dale so dangerous?"

"He's jealous of you."

"Well, does that constitute him dangerous?"

"He always has been throwing out nasty hints about you."

"To whom? Surely not to you? You wouldn't listen to what you yourself call nasty hints about me coming from a man like Dale?"

"Yes? Made him what?"

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