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Now, every man is flattered and gratified that his merits should be recognised, and Chetwynd was no exception to the general rule, but there were a good many bitters mingled with the sweets, and the hidden thorn among the rose-leaves had a nasty trick of obtruding itself. This step in social advancement materially helped his cause with Lady Ethel, and the d.u.c.h.ess of Huddersfield deigned to smile graciously upon her future son-in-law.
Ethel Claremont was an excellent girl, precisely the type he ought to marry. Decorous, with an ease and repose about her manner that were eminently patrician, she would be even more admirable as a wife than as a _fiancee_, but he could have found it in him to wish that she were just a little less faultless, a little more "human," he would have said, only that the word has not a pleasant ring; yet it was not easy to subst.i.tute another unless it were "womanly."
"Pshaw!" he cried angrily, "who am I that I should be exacting, with such a past, such a history? and yet I am ready to quarrel with perfection, I who can never be grateful enough! A little wealth and the love of a charming woman--what more can I possibly desire? It is strange how soon one becomes accustomed to changes in life, and how quickly an emotion fades into a memory. If I could but feel as I felt when I was struggling along battling with the hundred and one difficulties which beset the path of a poor man, instead of having to remind myself perpetually what my emotions were then, there would be some excitement in the contrast. I--I wonder--what she is doing? Is she alive or is she dead? What does it matter? But at times the doubt will come whether--no, no; it is wicked--I was always good to her. I loved her, and she dishonoured me. The book is closed for ever, and I am weak when I reopen it."
CHAPTER V.
Since the thing was to be, there was nothing to be gained by postponement. So decided the d.u.c.h.ess, and however fond of airing her own sentiments and securing her own way Lady Ethel might be, on ordinary occasions, for once she raised no objection. She was perfectly willing that her marriage with Sir John Chetwynd should take place at once. Perhaps in her home Lady Ethel was not quite the plastic lay figure she was wont to appear in public, and the d.u.c.h.ess had spoken to her most intimate and confidential friends of the approaching nuptials with almost a sigh of relief, and a whispered word.
"She has indeed been very difficult to manage, and really, though I am speaking of my own daughter, I never can quite understand Ethel; she is not like other girls. It will be a huge responsibility s.h.i.+fted from my shoulders when she is married."
And everybody had wondered what the girl had seen in Sir John, that he should have taken her fancy. To the outside world and to those who had not come within the immediate charm of his manner and bearing, it did offer food for speculation, and since his engagement he had grown greyer and stiffer and more professionally precise than ever.
But he suited Lady Ethel, or she fancied he did; which answered the purpose quite as well. She had always detested very young men; she liked a man whom she could look up to and lean upon, and certainly this she could do with perfect faith as regarded her _fiance_. Now d.u.c.h.esses are no more exempt from the weary ills which weak flesh is heir to than their less favoured brothers and sisters, and in the early summer the d.u.c.h.ess began to complain of certain aches and pains and to bethink her that Sir John's advice might be worth following; so she drove over to Camelot Square and was shown into the waiting room with the rest of his patients. She had some little time to wait, and while the d.u.c.h.ess sat tapping her foot impatiently at the delay, Ethel looked round the s.p.a.cious apartment and decided on certain improvements she would effect when she should preside over John's establishment.
And then the door was flung open, and Soames, the eminently correct footman, ushered them into his master's presence.
The d.u.c.h.ess advanced gus.h.i.+ng a little.
"So good of you to see us so soon! I was positively timid at coming without an appointment, even with Ethel."
"It is you who are good, d.u.c.h.ess, to give me such an unexpected pleasure."
Sir John touched Ethel's cheek lightly with his lips and motioned his visitors to be seated.
"Now is not that a pretty speech from a professional man! Ah, you lovers, you are all alike, and when you are married--Ah! then you are all the same."
"What an accusation! I hope Ethel does not credit it, or I shall never be permitted an opportunity of refuting such a calumny."
"I know too well how highly Mamma thinks of you, John," said Ethel, prettily.
"Well, I admit it--I do admire you immensely--I admire your power, your position, your ability to make an income--a large income, sitting comfortably in an arm chair. And then there is such solidity in a doctor's profession--people are always ill."
"Mamma is ill herself," broke in Lady Ethel, "and that is why we have intruded to-day."
"I hope it is nothing serious, my dear d.u.c.h.ess."
"How sweet of you! Ah, I am a martyr! I have hay fever to such a distressing extent that I am positively ashamed to go into society."
Her daughter laughed.
"We were at the Opera last night, and Mamma's sneezes were most _mal-a-propos._ It was very embarra.s.sing."
"Yes, I am convinced that Romeo glowered at me, and at church on Sunday it was such a charming sermon, so encouraging and tactful, I sneezed violently in the man's best moments. At my age I cannot consent to become a public infliction, yet I feel I am a nuisance."
"Mamma said, as soon as we got home--'I shall go and consult Sir John,'" cooed Ethel.
"And now you can cure me?" The d.u.c.h.ess looked anxiously into the grave face opposite.
"I have not the slightest doubt you will be entirely recovered in a few days at most," said Sir John rea.s.suringly; "you have caught a severe cold."
"Nothing of the sort, I a.s.sure you. I have had colds before, and I know better."
"What, better than your doctor?" The stern face relaxed, and Sir John laughed.
"Well, better than my future son-in-law. Now I beg you not to be obstinate. Give me something potent--one of those drugs that work such instantaneous wonders."
"I fear they are not in the Pharmacopoeia."
"I don't think it is kind of you to discourage me."
"But if I make you well in a week, will not that satisfy your Grace?"
"I shall be radiant."
"I will write you a prescription."
"Thanks! What an invaluable husband you will make with all that knowledge at your finger ends! I need have no misgivings as to Ethel's health, and she has always been so subject to chills. The risk of entrusting one's daughter to an un.o.bservant man is shocking, but to a physician! To have for one's daily companion a great and renowned doctor, what an advantage--what a security!"
"Really, mamma, to hear you talk one would suppose that I was an invalid, and I never remember to have suffered from anything worse than the measles."
"When Ethel comes to me she will be guarded as sacredly as a girl can be."
Sir John smiled kindly at his betrothed.
"I have made but a few protestations of what I feel for her; perhaps I am more reserved than I should be, but I am no longer a boy. I doubt whether I ever was very romantic, even in my younger days, but I think that she and I understand each other, and if we don't tiff and 'make it up,' if we have been engaged three months and have never had a quarrel, that does not mean that my affection is not most sincere and deep."
"I should hope we like each other too well to quarrel," said Lady Ethel haughtily.
Like! After all, was it love on either side? Sir John asked himself.
"My dear Sir John," broke in the d.u.c.h.ess pompously. "A few words from such a man as yourself impress me more profoundly than rhapsodies from another. Ethel, just look out of the window and see if the carriage is waiting. We are going to take the Lancaster girls to the Academy, and Payne has driven round to fetch them while we had our consultation with you."
"Yes, mamma, it is there."
"I will follow you in a minute, Ethel; say good-bye to John--," and when the door had closed upon her daughter, she began hurriedly:
"It is hardly the time and place perhaps, but you will pardon that.
I--really, it is very awkward. Can you not help me, Sir John? The weeks are slipping by, and I should, I confess, like to make my arrangements for leaving home, but until I know definitely what yours are--."
"Mine?"
"Yes; yours and Ethel's."