A Double Knot Part 66

do make a man, toe be sure!"

It seemed an age before the cab had climbed the long hill, and all the time John Huish sat back hat-less, and holding his head with both his hands, for it throbbed as though it would burst. Two or three times over he thrust up the trap to urge the man to hasten; but during the latter part of the journey he sat back, fighting hard to restrain himself, for he felt that if he moved or spoke more he would begin to shriek and utter wild drivel. He was going mad--he was sure of it--and his mind would no longer bear the horrible strain of the bewildering thought. There was something wrong, and he could not master it. One sole thought now filled his mind, but in a hazy, strange way, and that was that he, in some other state, had fetched away his wife and destroyed her.

At last, just as they neared the top of the hill, he became aware for the first time that the cabman was watching him, and he started angrily as the trap was shut down.

"Poor gent! he have got it hot," muttered the cabman; and he gave his horse a touch with the whip, which made the weary beast exert itself a little more, and a few minutes later they were at the doctor's iron gates.

"Shall I wait, sir?" said the man.

Huish shook his head and jumped out, to ring furiously at the bell.

Daniel came down the path to meet him.

"I thought so," he muttered, as he saw the excited looks of the visitor; and he offered Huish his arm, for the young man staggered as the gate swung to.

"The doctor--quick!" said Huish, with his eyes looking staring and wild.

"In his study, sir--only just back from town," said Daniel; and he helped the tottering visitor quickly into the house, across the hall, and at once into the doctor's room.

"Why, John--Huish, my dear boy, what is this?"

"Possessed--of a devil--doctor," cried Huish thickly. "For Heaven's sake--help me--I'm going mad!"

He sank back into an easy-chair gasping, and his face turned blue with the congestion of his veins; then he babbled hoa.r.s.ely a few unintelligible words, and became insensible.

"Basin--quick!" said the doctor; and as his ready _aide_ ran to a little mahogany stand, the doctor's pocket-book was opened, a tiny steel blade glittered for a moment, and directly after the dark stream of John Huish's life-blood was trickling from a vein.

Volume 3, Chapter III.

POTIPHAR'S WIFE.

Clotilde seemed to find little difficulty after her return from the Continental trip in settling down into her new position in life. She made plenty of mistakes, no doubt, but Elbraham's notions of management were so far from perfect that he proved to be no fair judge. His ideas were that his young wife should keep plenty of company, dress well, and do the honours of his house in excellent style.

As far as display was concerned, this she did; and, Elbraham being nowise opposed to the plan, she frequently had Marie to stay with her.

In fact, her sister would have quite taken up her abode at Palace Gardens had Clotilde carried the day; but though she pressed her constantly, talked of her own dulness in town, and made various excuses for keeping Marie at her side, the latter refused to remain there long.

Still, Marie was frequently at Palace Gardens, and whenever she was staying in town Lord Henry Moorpark made frequent calls, and was always pressed by Clotilde to return to dinner.

The old gentleman smiled his thanks, and accepted the invitations with no little sign of pleasure; but he made no farther advance in his suit, and seemed to resign himself calmly to his fate, and to be content to bask, so it appeared, in Marie's presence; she, for her part, always being kindly affected towards her elderly friend. The officers from Hampton Court, too, were frequent guests at Palace Gardens, dining there in state, but never when Marie was staying with her sister.

"I wonder," said Clotilde, rather archly to Glen, "that you do not try and exchange troops, so as to be stationed at Kensington instead of Hampton Court. I see some of your regiment is here."

"Yes," said Glen carelessly; "but really, Mrs Elbraham, I think I like Hampton Court better than Kensington."

Clotilde bit her lip, but she showed no further sign of annoyance, and the conversation changed.

Had Glen been a vain man, he would have been delighted at the evident desire Clotilde now displayed for his company; but there was little vanity in his composition. He told himself that he would treat her as if she had never made the slightest impression upon him; and as, he could hardly tell why, he felt a kind of awakening interest in Marie, who he knew had refused Lord Henry Moorpark, he gladly accepted all invitations, in the hope of seeing more of Marie at her sister's house, but only to be disappointed.

Still, he encountered her occasionally at Hampton, sometimes at Lady Littletown's--now and then in the gardens, for their intercourse to be of the most distant kind if the Honourable Philippa was present; but friendly--almost affectionate--if it were in the presence of the Honourable Isabella alone.

For the poor lady, failing to make any impression upon Glen, felt a kind of gentle satisfaction in administering to his pleasure. She saw how eager the young officer and her niece were to meet, and this, like a pale beam of reflected light, tended to brighten her own sad life, so that she smiled and sighed and palpitated gently, telling herself, as her trembling hand wandered about the plaits of her old-fas.h.i.+oned dress, that it was very sweet to see others happy.

So great was her enjoyment that often and often, as Glen and Marie, with Ruth for companion, strolled up and down, poor Isabella Dymc.o.x would take her place upon one of the seats, saying that she was rather tired, and shed a few sad tears, which trickled down her withered cheeks, almost unknown to the dreaming author of their being.

It came upon Glen like a surprise on the night of Mrs Elbraham's grandest "at home" to find that Marie was there; and after being welcomed by his host and hostess, the first very warmly, and the second with a searching look in her eyes, a strange sense of pleasure came over him on seeing Marie standing near, looking, it seemed to him, more handsome than he had ever seen her look before.

There was a dreamy, anxious look in her eyes as they encountered his, and her gloved hand certainly conveyed a trembling, tender pressure when he first shook hands, so that when at last he left her side, he began asking himself whether it was possible that he had been making a mistake, and casting away a living substance for a false deluding shadow.

"Nonsense," he said impatiently, as the hot blood seemed to rush through his veins. "I can't be so frivolous." Then, with a half-laugh, "Broken hearts are not so easily mended, and Marie can only feel a sort of pity and contempt for a fellow who preferred her sister."

But somehow in the course of the evening his eyes encountered Marie's from time to time, and, as far as he could judge, there was neither pity nor contempt in them, but a genuine look of tender regard which took him again and again to her side.

Yes; he felt before he came that he liked Marie, and that it was quite possible for a nearer tie than liking to grow up between them in the course of time, but this evening a veil of denseness seemed to have fallen from his eyes, and he read a score of looks and ways in quite a new light.

He hesitated for a while when once or twice he found himself near Clotilde, who seemed to affect his society a good deal that evening, and almost imperiously summoned him with a look to her side.

He went almost gladly, for there was a new sense of joy in his breast.

He felt that he was triumphing over the young wife, and yet it was the pitying triumph of a great conqueror who could afford to be merciful; and this feeling grew as he glanced at the splendidly-attired, handsome woman ablaze with diamonds, and then at her coa.r.s.e, common-looking elderly husband, who, with his round head down between his shoulders, kept bustling about among his guests, like a society showman displaying the beauty of the bejewelled woman he had placed in a gilded cage.

"I can afford to be merciful now," thought Glen. "Good heavens! what a blind fool I have been! Why, she is worth a thousand Clotildes, and I was a fool not to see her superiority before!"

He paused just then to ask himself whether he were not still blind and foolish with conceit, for why should Marie care for him? But just then his eyes caught hers, and an electric glance made his pulse throb and hopes run high, as he told himself that it was no conceit upon his part, but the truth, and that after all he had not really loved Clotilde.

"No, my dear madame," he said to himself; "it was a fancy such as a weak man like your humble servant is p.r.o.ne to indulge in. Yes," he continued, and there was a faint smile on his lip as he caught sight of Clotilde just then watching him; "I thank my stars that I escaped your wiles. You are as handsome a woman as I ever met, and I certainly thought I loved you, but, by Jove, what an escape I have had!"

Glen's thoughts were in his eyes, upon which Clotilde's were fixed, but she did not interpret them aright; not even when he gazed at her almost mockingly, as if asking her if she were satisfied with her choice, to which he bade her welcome.

"By Jove, what will d.i.c.k say?" thought Glen, as he saw the little fellow cross to Marie. "Poor boy! Well, he will have to get over it, just as he has got over a score of other tender pa.s.sions. And I thought he said he was in too much trouble about his sisters to think of matrimony for himself."

The rooms grew more crowded, and Glen longed to cross to Marie's side, but somehow he was always prevented, save for one five minutes, when Clotilde was by the entrance receiving some new arrivals. Those five minutes, though, were five intervals of joy during which very little was said, but that little was enough to endorse most fully without a positive declaration the ideas that had so lately begun to unfold.

The evening wore rapidly on. Marie was standing by the piano talking to little d.i.c.k Millet, and her eyes met those of Glen gazing at her across the room.

He was about to answer the summons they seemed to convey, when Lord Henry Moorpark, looking exceedingly old and yellow by the light of the chandeliers, but gentlemanly and courtly as ever, rose from his seat and crossed to where Marie stood, entering into conversation, as in his sad and deferential way he seemed to have set himself to hover about in the presence of the woman he loved.

"A very, very bright and pleasant party, my child," he said tenderly.

"I hope you are enjoying it."

"Oh, so much!" cried Marie, darting a grateful look in his eyes. For it was so n.o.ble and good of him, she told herself, and she felt that she quite loved the tender-hearted old n.o.bleman for the generous way in which he had seemed to sink his lover's love in that of a guardian for a child.

"Yes, it is bright and pleasant," continued Lord Henry; "but I feel very much out of place here, and as if I ought to be quietly sipping my gla.s.s of port at my club. How n.o.ble your sister looks, and how happy!"

"n.o.ble, indeed!" said Marie eagerly. "She is very handsome, and I hope she is happy."

"Indeed, I hope so too, my child; but here comes some one else to take my place."

For as he was speaking, Glen, who felt that if he did not make an effort he would have no further speech with Marie that night, was coming to her side, but only to be captured and carried off in another direction.

"Then I need not go yet," said Lord Henry, who was watching the little comedy through his half-closed eyes, "unless I go and relieve guard, and set Captain Glen at liberty."