An Eye for an Eye Part 20

"But what?" I inquired.

He sighed, and a grave expression crossed his face.

"Fact is, old chap," he said in an unusually earnest tone, "I fear I'm getting a bit tired of her. She wasn't the least bit interesting to-night."

"Sorry to hear that, old man," I said. "Perhaps she wasn't very well-- or you may be out of sorts--liver, or something. A woman isn't always in the same mood, you know, just as a man is liable to attacks of blues."

"Yes, yes, I know all that," he exclaimed impatiently. "But I've been thinking over it a long time, and, to tell the truth, I'm no longer in love with her. It's no good making a fool of the girl any longer."

"But she loves you," I observed, knowing well in what affection she held my erratic friend.

"That's the devil of it!" he snapped. "To tell the truth, it has worried me a lot lately."

"You've neglected her very much," I observed, "but surely she's good-looking, a charming companion, and has a very even temper. You've told me so lots of times. Why have you so suddenly grown tired?"

"I really don't know," he answered, smiling, at the same time slowly filling his pipe. "Perhaps it's my nature. I was always a wanderer, you know."

I looked at him steadily for some moments, then said bluntly--

"Look here, d.i.c.k, you needn't conceal the truth from me, old fellow.

Mary Blain has attracted you, and you are throwing Lil over on her account."

"Rubbis.h.!.+" he laughed. "Mary's a nice girl, but as for loving her--"

and he shrugged his shoulders without concluding his sentence.

Notwithstanding this protest, however, I felt convinced that I had guessed aright, and regretted, because I knew how well Lily loved him, and what a blow it would be to her. She and I had been good friends always, and I liked her, for she was demure, modest, and withal dignified, even though she were but a shop a.s.sistant.

"Well, is it really fair to Lily?" I suggested, after a rather painful pause.

"You surely wouldn't advise me to tie myself to a girl I don't love?" he protested, rather hastily. "You are a fellow with lots of common sense, Frank, and your advice I'd follow before that of any chap I know, but here you're a bit wide of the mark, I think."

"Thanks for the compliment, old fellow," I responded. "Of course it isn't for me to interfere in your private affairs, but all I advise in this matter is a little hesitation before decision."

"It's useless," he said. "I've already decided."

"To give up Lily?"

"I have given her up. I told her to-night that I shouldn't see her again."

"You did!" I exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. I could not understand this sudden change of his. A few hours before he had been full of Lil's praises, telling me how charming she could be in conversation, and declaring that he loved her very dearly. It was more than remarkable.

"Yes," he said. "You know that I can't bear to beat about the bush, so I resolved to tell her the truth. She'd have to know it some day, and better at once than later on."

"Well, all I can say is that you're a confounded brute," I exclaimed plainly.

"I know I am," he admitted. "That's the worst of it. I'm too deuced outspoken. Any other chap would have simply left her and ended it by letter. I, however, put the matter to her philosophically."

"And how did she take it?"

His lips compressed for an instant as his eyes met mine.

"Badly," he answered in a low voice. "Tears, protestations of love, and quite a scene. Fortunately we were alone together in the train. I got out with her at the _Elephant and Castle_, and took her home."

"Did you see her father?"

"No. And don't want to. He's no good--the ugly old sinner."

"Why?" I inquired quickly, wondering how much he knew.

But he evaded my question, answering--

"I mean he's a sanguinary old idiot."

"He idolises Lily."

"I know that." Then, after a brief pause he added, "I may appear a brute, a silly fool and all the rest, but I tell you, Frank, I've acted for the best."

"I can't see it."

"No, I don't suppose you can, old chap," he answered. "But you will entirely agree with my course of action some day ere long."

His words puzzled me, for they seemed to contain some hidden meaning.

"Are you absolutely certain that you've no further love for Lil?" I inquired.

"Absolutely."

"And you are likewise equally certain that it is not the personal charms of Mary Blain which have led you to take this step?"

"I'm quite certain of it," he answered. "You once loved Mary, remember, but broke it off. Surely we are all of us at liberty to choose our own helpmate in life?"

"Of course," I responded. "It was not, however, my fault that we parted. Mary was infatuated with another."

"That just bears out my argument," he went on. "She didn't love you, and therefore considered herself perfectly justified in her attachment with your rival. I don't love Lil."

"But it seems that you have parted from her in a really cruel and heartless manner. This isn't like you, d.i.c.k," I added reproachfully.

"Why are you her champion?" he asked, laughing. "Are you in love with her?"

"Not at all," I a.s.sured him with a smile. "Only I don't like to see a girl badly treated by any friend of mine."

"Oh, that's good!" he laughed. "You've treated girls badly in your time, I suppose. Have a peg, old fellow, and let's close the debate."

Then he added, in the language of Parliament, where he so often reported the speeches of the Irish ranters, "I move that this House do now adjourn."

"But I don't consider that you've acted with your usual tact in this affair," I protested, heedless of his words. "You could, of course, have broken if off in a much more honourable way if you had chosen."

"I've been quite honourable," he declared, in atone of annoyance. "I told her plainly that my love had cooled. Hark!" The clock on the inn hall was striking midnight. "There's no suspension of the twelve o'clock rule. Shut up, Frank, and be d.a.m.ned to you."