Run to Earth - Mary Elizabeth Braddon (classic reads .TXT) 📗

you. Will you permit me to speak as a friend?"

"I have so few friends that I should be the last to reject any honest offer of friendship," answered Paulina, with a sigh. "And you are the friend of Reginald Eversleigh. That fact alone gives you some claim to my regard."

The widow had admitted Victor Carrington to a more intimate acquaintance than the rest of her visitors; and it was fully understood between them that he knew of the attachment between herself and Sir Reginald.

"Sir Reginald Eversleigh is my friend," replied Victor; "but do not think me treacherous, Madame Durski, when I tell you he is not worthy of your regard. Were he here at this moment, I would say the same. He is utterly selfish--it is of his own interest alone that he thinks; and were the chance of a wealthy marriage to offer itself, I firmly believe that he would seize it--ay! even if by doing so he knew that he was to break your heart. I think you know that I am speaking the truth, Madame Durski?"

"I do," answered Paulina, in a dull, half despairing tone. "Heaven help me! I know that it is the truth. I have long known as much. We women are capable of supreme folly. My folly is my regard for your friend Reginald Eversleigh."

"Let your pride work the cure of that wasted devotion, madame," said Victor, earnestly. "Do not submit any longer to be the dupe, the tool, of this man. Do you know how dearly your self-sacrifice has cost you? I am sure you do not. You do not know that this house is beginning to be talked about as a place to be shunned. You have observed, perhaps, that you have had few visitors of late. Day by day your visitors will grow fewer. This house is marked. It is talked of at the clubs; and Reginald Eversleigh will no longer be able to live upon the spoils won from his dupes and victims. The game is up, Madame Durski; and now that you can no longer be useful to Reginald Eversleigh, you will see how much his love is worth."

"I believe he loves me," murmured Paulina, "after his own fashion."

"Yes, madame, after his own fashion, which is, at the best, a strange one. May I ask how you spent your Christmas?"

"I was very lonely; this house seemed horribly cold and desolate. No one came near me. There were no congratulations; no Christmas gifts. Ah! Mr. Carrington, it is a sad thing to be quite alone in the world."

"And Reginald Eversleigh--the man whom you love--he who should have been at your side, was at Hallgrove Rectory, among a circle of visitors, flirting with the most notorious of coquettes--Miss Graham, an old friend of his boyish days."

Victor looked at Paulina's face, and saw the random shot had gone home. She grew even paler than she had been before, and there was a nervous working of the lips that betrayed her agitation.

"Were there ladies amongst the guests at Hallgrove?" he asked.

"Yes, Madame Durski, there were ladies. Did you not know that it was to be so?"

"No," replied Paulina. "Sir Reginald told me it was to be a bachelors' party."

Victor saw that this petty deception on the part of her lover stung Paulina keenly.

She had been deeply wounded by Reginald's cold and selfish policy; but until this moment she had never felt the pangs of jealousy.

"So he was flirting with one of your fashionable English coquettes, while I was lonely and friendless in a strange country," she exclaimed. And then, after a brief pause, she added, passionately, "You are right, Mr. Carrington; your friend is unworthy of one thought from me, and I will think of him no more."

"You will do wisely, and you will receive the proof of what I say ere long from the lips of Reginald Eversleigh himself. Tell me the truth dear madame, are not your pecuniary difficulties becoming daily more pressing?"

"They have become so pressing," answered Paulina, "that, unless Reginald lends me money almost immediately, I shall be compelled to fly from this country in secret, like a felon, leaving all my poor possessions behind me. Already I have parted with my plate, as you no doubt have perceived. My only hope is in Reginald."

"A broken reed on which to rely, madame. Sir Reginald Eversleigh will not lend you money. Since this house has become a place of evil odour, to be avoided by men who have money to lose, you are no longer of any use to Sir Reginald. He will not lend you money. On the contrary he will urge your immediate flight from England; and when you have gone--"

"What then?"

"There will be an obstacle removed from his pathway; and when the chance of a rich marriage arises, he will be free to grasp it."

"Oh, what utter baseness!" murmured Paulina; "what unspeakable infamy!"

"A selfish man can be very base, very infamous," replied Victor. "But do not let us speak further of this subject, dear Madame Durski. I have spoken with cruel truth; but my work has been that of the surgeon, who uses his knife freely in order to cut away the morbid spot which is poisoning the very life-blood of the sufferer. I have shown you the disease, the fatal passion, the wasted devotion, to which you are sacrificing your life; my next duty is to show you where your cure lies."

"You may be a very clever surgeon," replied Paulina, scornfully; "but in this case your skill is unavailing. For me there is no remedy."

"Nay, madame, that is the despairing cry of a romantic girl, and is unworthy the lips of an accomplished woman of the world. You complained just now of your loneliness. You said that it was very sad to be without a friend. How if I can show you that you possess one attached and devoted friend, who would be as willing to sacrifice himself for your interests as you have been willing to devote yourself to Reginald Eversleigh?"

"Who is that friend?"

"Douglas Dale."

"Douglas Dale!" exclaimed Paulina. "Yes, I know, that Mr. Dale admires me, and that he is a good and honourable man; but can I take advantage of his admiration? Can I trade upon his love? I--who have no heart to give, no affection to offer in return for the honest devotion of a good man? Do not ask me to stoop to such baseness--such degradation."

"I ask nothing from you but common sense," answered Victor impatiently. "Instead of wasting your love upon Reginald Eversleigh, who is not worthy a moment's consideration from you, give at least your esteem and respect to the honourable and unselfish man who truly loves you. Instead of flying from England, a ruined woman, branded with the name of cheat and swindler, remain as the affianced wife of Douglas Dale-- remain to prove to Reginald Eversleigh that there are those in the world who know how to value the woman he has despised."

"Yes, he has despised me," murmured Paulina, speaking to herself rather than to her companion; "he has despised me. He left me alone in this dreary house; in the Christmas festival time, when friends and lovers draw nearer together all the world over, united by the sweet influences of the season; he left me to sit alone by this desolate hearth, while he made merry with his friends--while he sunned himself in the smiles of happier women. What truth can he claim from me--he who has been falsehood itself?"

She remained silent for some minutes after this, with her eyes fixed on the fire, her thoughts far away. Victor did not arouse her from that reverie. He knew that the work he had to do was progressing rapidly.

He felt that he was moulding this proud and passionate woman to his will, as the sculptor moulds the clay which is to take the form of his statue.

At last she spoke.

"I thank you for your good advice, Mr. Carrington," she said, calmly; "and I will avail myself of your worldly wisdom. What would you have me do?"

"I would have you tell Douglas Dale, when he returns to town and comes to see you, the position in which you find yourself with regard to money matters, and ask the loan of a few hundreds. The truth and depth of his love for you will be proved by his response to this appeal."

"How came you to suspect his love for me?" asked Paulina. "It has never yet shaped itself in words. A woman's own instinct generally tells her when she is truly loved; but how came you, a bystander, a mere looker- on, to discover Douglas Dale's secret?"

"Simply because I am a man of the world, and somewhat of an observer, and I will pledge my reputation as both upon the issue of your interview with Douglas Dale."

"So be it," said Paulina; "I will appeal to him. It is a new degradation; but what has my whole life been except a series of humiliations? And now, Mr. Carrington, this interview has been very painful to me. Pardon me, if I ask you to leave me to myself."

Victor complied immediately, and took leave of Madame Durski with many apologies for his intrusion. Before leaving the house he encountered Miss Brewer, who came out of a small sitting-room as he entered the hall.

"You are going away, Mr. Carrington?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered; "but I shall call again in a day or two. Meantime, let me hear from you, if Dale presents himself here. I have had some talk with your friend, and am surprised at the ease with which the work we have to do may be done. She despises Reginald now; she won't love him long. Good night, Miss Brewer."

CHAPTER XXVI.


MOVE THE FIRST.

After the lapse of a few days, during which Victor Carrington carefully matured his plans, while apparently only pursuing his ordinary business, and leading his ordinary life of dutiful attention to his mother and quiet domestic routine, he received a letter in a handwriting which was unfamiliar to him. It contained the following words:

"_In accordance with your desire, and my promise, I write to inform you that, D. D. has notified his return to London and his intention to visit P. He did not know whether she was in town, and, therefore, wrote before coming. She seemed much affected by his letter, and has replied to it, appointing Wednesday after-noon for receiving him, and inviting him to luncheon. No communication has been received from R. E., and she takes the fact easily. If you have any advice, or I suppose I should say instructions, to give me, you had better come here to-morrow (Tuesday), when I can see you alone.--C. B._"

Victor Carrington read this note with a smile of satisfaction, which faithfully interpreted the feelings it produced. There was a business- like tone in his correspondent's letter which exactly suited his ideas of what it was advisable his agent should be.

"She is really admirable," he said, as he destroyed Miss Brewer's note; "just clever enough to be useful, just shrewd enough to understand the precise force and weight of an argument, but not clever enough, or shrewd enough, to find out that she is used for any purpose but the one for which she has bargained."

And then Victor Carrington wrote a few lines to Miss Brewer, in which