By Wit of Woman - Arthur W. Marchmont (e textbook reader .TXT) 📗

"It was all my fault, sir. I pray God and you to forgive him."

Just that; no more. No tears, no wailings, no hysterics. Just the frank statement of what her pure, innocent, simple heart believed to be the truth—the whole truth as it seemed to her; as no one looking down into her eyes could doubt.

The Duke could not. I did not look for emotion from him. He stared down at her; but gradually I saw the furrows on the forehead relax, and the eyes soften. Then the lids shut down over the glitter, his free hand was placed gently on the golden head, and bending forward he kissed her on the forehead.

"Gareth."

Then his Excellency did what I could have kissed him for doing; for I was past thinking what to do just then.

"I wish to speak to you," he whispered to me; and we both crept away out of the room as softly as though we had been two children stealing off in fear from some suddenly discovered terror.

The moment we reached the room where I had spoken to Count Gustav, his Excellency surprised me. "You knew it, of course; but how? You are wonderful, Christabel!"

"Knew what?"

"Do you mean you did not know? Then it is a miracle. I thought you knew and had planned it; and I marvelled that even you had courage enough for such a daring stroke."

"I drew a bow at a venture; and don't understand you."

"Do you tell me that you believed any mere pink and white young girl picked out at random would make an impression upon that crusted mass of self-will, obstinacy, and inflexibility of purpose? You—with your keen wit and sense of humour, Christabel!"

"You could see the impression for yourself, surely," I retorted.

"This is positively delicious! I really must enjoy it a little longer without enlightening you. You do really believe that the Duke was melted because that child is very pretty and has innocent eyes? You must give up reading us humans, Christabel; you really must, after this."

"It seems strange to such a cynic, I suppose, that innocence can plead for itself convincingly to such nature as the Duke's!"

"You intend that to be very severe—but it isn't. Innocence, as innocence, would have no more chance with Duke Ladislas, if it stood in the way of his plans, than a troutlet would have in the jaws of a hungry pike. The humour of it is that you should have thought otherwise, and actually have—have dangled the pretty troutlet right before the pike's nose."

"It has not been so unsuccessful."

"I am sorry for you, Christabel," he answered, assuming the air of a stern mentor; "but it is my unfortunate duty to administer a severe corrective to your—what shall I term it—your overweening self-confidence."

"I have given you considerable enjoyment at any rate."

His eyes were twinkling and he shook his forefinger at me with exaggerated gravity. "I am afraid that at this moment, very much afraid, you are rather puffed up with self-congratulation at the result of this master-stroke of yours."

"It is more to the point to think whether it will succeed."

"Oh yes, it will succeed; but why, do you think? Not because of that child's innocence or pretty pink and whiteness; and certainly not because the Duke was in any mood to be impressed. Now, there is a problem for you. When I gave him those three lines you sent into me, his fury was indescribable. Not against Gustav, mark you: he stands by him through any storm and stress—but against the wife. He was speechless with suppressed rage; and right in the midst of it in you came with your—'This is Gareth'—and you know the rest. There's the riddle; now, what's the answer?"

I thought closely, and then gave it up. There was obviously some influence at work which I did not understand. "You have your wish. You have pricked the bladder of my self-conceit; I've been floating with somebody else's life belt, I see that."

"Do you think you feel sufficiently humble?"

"Yes, quite humiliated," I admitted with a smile.

"Then, I'll tell you. The clue is to be sought for in the years of long ago. The Duke has been married twice; and his first wife was named Gareth, and the only child of the union was Gareth also; just such a girl as that sweet little thing you brought into him to-day—and so like both the idolized dead wife and dead child as to bring right up before him in living flesh the one dead romance of his life. Now you see what you did?"

"What will he do?"

"I should very much like to know. I am afraid you have got your way, and that he'll accept her as his daughter; and then—phew, I don't know what will come next. Only recently a very different sort of marriage had been planned for Gustav; one that would have strengthened the position as much as that child there will weaken it. I don't envy the Duke his decision. How does Gustav feel toward her?"

"I believe he still cares for her—but you know him."

"I wish I could think there was happiness for her. Those whom the gods love, die young—I'm not sure that if I were the gods, I wouldn't choose that solution."

"It is not for you to settle, fortunately, but for the Duke."

"True; but he can only give her Gustav—and that may be a long, long way different from happiness." He paused and with a slow smile added: "This may affect you as well."

"I am thinking of Gareth just now."

"The same thing—from a different angle, Christabel, that's all. If this marriage is publicly recognized, Karl will be again the acknowledged heir; the axis of things will be shifted; and the motive for the Duke's promise to you last night will be gone. It will be hard if you should have done so great a right and yet pay the price. It is well that you are strong."

"I have the Duke's word."

"Can you keep water in an open funnel?"

I turned away with a sigh and looked out of the window. His Excellency came to my side and laid a hand very gently and kindly on my shoulder. A touch of genuine sympathy.

"Almost, I could hope, Christabel—but thank God, I am not the Duke. I was a very presumptuous old man—only a day or two back—-but you have made me care for you in a very different way. I am presumptuous no longer; and all that I am and all that I have shall be staked and lost before I see injustice done to you."

"I know what a friend you are."

"Pray Heaven, this may not be beyond our friendship."

I could not answer him. I stood staring blankly out into the garden realizing all that was behind his words. I knew he might have spoken no more than the truth; and that in gaining Gareth's happiness, I had ventured my own future.

Not for a moment did I distrust Karl; but I knew the influences which might be brought to bear upon him. If Gustav was no longer to be preferred as the Duke's heir and Karl was not to be allowed to forego his rights as elder son, our marriage became impossible.

I had worked for this, I know; had planned that it should be; had forced it home upon Karl himself; and had even found pleasure in the thought of the sacrifice it involved.

But since then I had taken to my heart such different thoughts. The Duke had with his own hands swept away the barrier to our marriage; and Karl himself had shown me within the past hour how much it was to him.

It is one thing to stand outside the Palace of Delight and, in the knowledge that admission is impossible to you, be firm in a refusal to enter; but it is another and a very different thing, when the gates stand open and your foot is already on the very threshold and loving hands are beckoning to you with sweet invitation to enter, to find the portal closed in your face, and yourself shut again in the outer darkness.

It is little wonder, therefore, if my heart began to ache again in dread of the cold solitude which threatened to be the reward for my share in that day's doings.

It was all quite clear to me, as I stared out into the garden, seeing nothing that was actually there; nothing but the troubled forms which my thoughts assumed. And although I murmured and rebelled against it all, I knew in my heart that at the last neither Karl's desires nor mine would be allowed to decide what should be done.

My kind old friend, discerning the struggle that was taking place in my thoughts, left me at first to fight it out in my own way, but presently came, and in the same sympathetic way laid a hand on my arm.

"You must not take too black a view, Christabel," he said. "It may all be yet for the best. I thought only to prepare you."

"It is over," I said, with a smile. "I have taken my decision. It shall be as the Duke decides."

"I know how it must be with you," he replied, very gently.

The kindness of his manner seemed in some strange way to hurt me almost; at least it made me conscious of the pain of everything; and I lowered my head and wrung my hands in silence.

Then a door opened in the hall.

"Christabel, Christabel!" It was Gareth's voice, sweet and glad.

"Go to her, please, I—I cannot for the moment."

He went at once and did what was of course the best thing to do—he brought her to me.

"The Duke wishes to see Gustav alone," he said. A glance at his face told me my plan had succeeded.

Gareth caught my arm nervously. "I heard angry voices in one of the rooms, Christabel—my father's and Kar—Gustav's. What does it mean?"

"All will be well now that you have seen the Duke, dearest. Stay here a minute until I come for you."

I believed it now and felt very happy as I kissed her and she kissed me in response.

"I owe it you, Christabel," she whispered. "I will wait."

I went out with the General and closed the door upon her.

"You must do all that may have to be done now," I said, weakly. "I have finished, and can do no more. Count Gustav is there with Colonel Katona and Count Karl. Will you fetch him?" and I pointed to the room from which the sounds of voices loud in anger were to be heard.

But even as I spoke, the door was flung open violently, and Colonel Katona and Gustav came out.

"No, by God, no, you are too great a villain," cried the Colonel fiercely, and then seeing who was with me, he stopped abruptly.

In the pause I glanced through into the room and saw Karl staring after the other two.

Our eyes met, and he flung up his hands with a gesture of