I took leave of her as I spoke. She turned deadly pale when she
shook hands with me at parting. Had she any open brutality to
dread from Van Brandt as soon as my back was turned? The bare
suspicion of it made my blood boil. But I thought of _her_. In
her interests, the wise thing and the merciful thing to do was to
conciliate the fellow before I left the house.

"I am sorry not to be able to accept your invitation," I said, as
we walked together to the door. "Perhaps you will give me another
chance?"

His eyes twinkled cunningly. "What do you say to a quiet little
dinner here?" he asked. "A slice of mutton, you know, and a
bottle of good wine. Only our three selves, and one old friend of
mine to make up four. We will have a rubber of whist in the
evening. Mary and you partners--eh? When shall it be? Shall we
say the day after to-morrow?"

She had followed us to the door, keeping behind Van Brandt while
he was speaking to me. When he mentioned the "old friend" and the
"rubber of whist," her face expressed the strongest emotions of
shame and disgust. The next moment (when she had heard him fix
the date of the dinner for "the day after to-morrow") her
features became composed again, as if a sudden sense of relief
had come to her. What did the change mean? "To-morrow" was the
day she had appointed for seeing my mother. Did she really
believe, when I had heard what passed at the interview, that I
should never enter the house again, and never attempt to see her
more? And was this the secret of her composure when she heard the
date of the dinner appointed for "the day after to-morrow"?

Asking myself these questions, I accepted my invitation, and left
the house with a heavy heart. That farewell kiss, that sudden
composure when the day of the dinner was fixed, weighed on my
spirits. I would have given twelve years of my life to have
annihilated the next twelve hours.

In this frame of mind I reached home, and presented myself in my
mother's sitting-room.

"You have gone out earlier than usual to-day," she said. "Did the
fine weather tempt you, my dear?" She paused, and looked at me
more closely. "George!" she exclaimed, "what has happened to you?
Where have you been?"

I told her the truth as honestly as I have told it here.

The color deepened in my mother's face. She looked at me, and
spoke to me with a severity which was rare indeed in my
experience of her.

"Must I remind you, for the first time in your life, of what is
due to your mother?" she asked. "Is it possible that you expect
me to visit a woman, who, by her own confession--"

"I expect you to visit a woman who has only to say the word and
to be your daughter-in-law," I interposed. "Surely I am not
asking what is unworthy of you, if I ask that?"

My mother looked at me in blank dismay.

"Do you mean, George, that you have offered her marriage?"

"Yes."

"And she has said No?"

"She has said No, because there is some obstacle in her way. I
have tried vainly to make her explain herself. She has promised
to confide everything to _you_."

The serious nature of the emergency had its effect. My mother
yielded. She handed me the little ivory tablets on which she was
accustomed to record her engagements. "Write down the name and
address," she said resignedly.

"I will go with you," I answered, "and wait in the carriage at
the door. I want to hear what has passed between you and Mrs. Van
Brandt the instant you have left her."

"Is it as serious as that, George?"

"Yes, mother, it is as serious as that."

CHAPTER XV.

THE OBSTACLE BEATS ME.

HOW long was I left alone in the carriage at the door of Mrs. Van
Brandt's lodgings? Judging by my sensations, I waited half a
life-time. Judging by my watch, I waited half an hour.

When my mother returned to me, the hope which I had entertained
of a happy result from her interview with Mrs. Van Brandt was a
hope abandoned before she had opened her lips. I saw, in her
face, that an obstacle which was beyond my power of removal did
indeed stand between me and the dearest wish of my life.

"Tell me the worst," I said, as we drove away from the house,


<< previous page | next page >>

Jump to page: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73 | 74 | 75 | 76 | 77 | 78 | 79 | 80 | 81 | 82 | 83 | 84 | 85 | 86 | 87 | 88 | 89 | 90 | 91 | 92 | 93 | 94 | 95 | 96 | 97 | 98 | 99 | 100 | 101 | 102 | 103 |