"Thank you, Major, for your kind reception and your pretty compliment," I said, matching my host's easy tone as closely as the necessary restraints on my side would permit. "You have made your confession. May I make mine?"Major Fitz-David lifted my hand again from my lap and drew his chair as close as possible to mine. I looked at him gravely and tried to release my hand. Major Fitz-David declined to let go of it, and proceeded to tell me why.
"I have just heard you speak for the first time," he said. "I am under the charm of your voice. Dear Mrs. Woodville, bear with an old fellow who is under the charm! Don't grudge me my innocent little pleasures. Lend me--I wish I could say _give_ me--this pretty hand. I am such an admirer of pretty hands! I can listen so much better with a pretty hand in mine. The ladies indulge my weakness. Please indulge me too. Yes? And what were you going to say?""I was going to say, Major, that I felt particularly sensible of your kind welcome because, as it happens, I have a favor to ask of you."I was conscious, while I spoke, that I was approaching the object of my visit a little too abruptly. But Major Fitz-David's admiration rose from one climax to another with such alarming rapidity that I felt the importance of administering a practical check to it. I trusted to those ominous words, "a favor to ask of you," to administer the check, and I did not trust in vain. My aged admirer gently dropped my hand, and, with all possible politeness, changed the subject.
"The favor is granted, of course!" he said. "And now, tell me, how is our dear Eustace?""Anxious and out of spirits." I answered.
"Anxious and out of spirits!" repeated the Major. "The enviable man who is married to You anxious and out of spirits? Monstrous!
Eustace fairly disgusts me. I shall take him off the list of my friends.""In that case, take me off the list with him, Major. I am in wretched spirits too. You are my husband's old friend. I may acknowledge to _you_ that our married life is just now not quite a happy one."Major Fitz-David lifted his eyebrows (dyed to match his whiskers)in polite surprise.
"Already!" he exclaimed. "What can Eustace be made of? Has he no appreciation of beauty and grace? Is he the most insensible of living beings?""He is the best and dearest of men," I answered. "But there is some dreadful mystery in his past life--"I could get no further; Major Fitz-David deliberately stopped me.
He did it with the smoothest politeness, on the surface. But Isaw a look in his bright little eyes which said, plainly, "If you _will_ venture on delicate ground, madam, don't ask me to accompany you.""My charming friend!" he exclaimed. "May I call you my charming friend? You have--among a thousand other delightful qualities which I can see already--a vivid imagination. Don't let it get the upper hand. Take an old fellow's advice; don't let it get the upper hand! What can I offer you, dear Mrs. Woodville? A cup of tea?""Call me by my right name, sir," I answered, boldly. "I have made a discovery. I know as well as you do that my name is Macallan."The Major started, and looked at me very attentively. His manner became grave, his tone changed completely, when he spoke next.
"May I ask," he said, "if you have communicated to your husband the discovery which you have just mentioned to me?""Certainly!" I answered. "I consider that my husband owes me an explanation. I have asked him to tell me what his extraordinary conduct means--and he has refused, in language that frightens me.
I have appealed to his mother--and _she_ has refused to explain, in language that humiliates me. Dear Major Fitz-David, I have no friends to take my part: I have nobody to come to but you! Do me the greatest of all favors--tell me why your friend Eustace has married me under a false name!""Do _me_ the greatest of all favors;" answered the Major. "Don't ask me to say a word about it."He looked, in spite of his unsatisfactory reply, as if he really felt for me. I determined to try my utmost powers of persuasion;I resolved not to be beaten at the first repulse.
"I _must_ ask you," I said. "Think of my position. How can Ilive, knowing what I know--and knowing no more? I would rather hear the most horrible thing you can tell me than be condemned (as I am now) to perpetual misgiving and perpetual suspense. Ilove my husband with all my heart; but I cannot live with him on these terms: the misery of it would drive me mad. I am only a woman, Major. I can only throw myself on your kindness.
Don't--pray, pray don't keep me in the dark!"I could say no more. In the reckless impulse of the moment Isnatched up his hand and raised it to my lips. The gallant old gentleman started as if I had given him an electric shock.
"My dear, dear lady!" he exclaimed, "I can't tell you how I feel for you! You charm me, you overwhelm me, you touch me to the heart. What can I say? What can I do? I can only imitate your admirable frankness, your fearless candor. You have told me what your position is. Let me tell you, in my turn, how I am placed.
Compose yourself--pray compose yourself! I have a smelling-bottle here at the service of the ladies. Permit me to offer it."He brought me the smelling-bottle; he put a little stool under my feet; he entreated me to take time enough to compose myself.
"Infernal fool!" I heard him say to himself, as he considerately turned away from me for a few moments. "If _I_ had been her husband, come what might of it, I would have told her the truth!"Was he referring to Eustace? And was he going to do what he would have done in my husband's place?--was he really going to tell me the truth?
The idea had barely crossed my mind when I was startled by a loud and peremptory knocking at the street door. The Major stopped and listened attentively. In a few moments the door was opened, and the rustling of a woman's dress was plainly audible in the hall.
The Major hurried to the door of the room with the activity of a young man. He was too late. The door was violently opened from the outer side, just as he got to it. The lady of the rustling dress burst into the room.
