Whither Thou Goest Part 18

"Circ.u.mstances went in my favour; it is not quite entirely due to my own diplomacy," answered Mary a little shyly. She knew that, in a way, she had struck a bargain with her aristocratic and obstinate old father, the chance of saving Guy against his indomitable pride.

And she knew also that Isobel's faithful heart would be very wounded when she learned the fact of her sweetheart's peril.

"You will know all about it after dinner to-night," she added evasively.

"You must rein in your impatience till then."

Isobel smiled happily. The world was rose-coloured to-day. Was not the last obstacle to her happiness removed? Would not her beloved Guy marry her in the sight of the whole world? His world as well as her own?

Lord Saxham was awaiting them in the big hall, having now fully reconciled himself to the situation. He had many faults; he was choleric, obstinate, and a good deal of an opportunist. But whatever line of action he took, even if he somewhat stultified himself in the process, he always bore himself with a certain dignity.

His meeting with the Clandons was expressive of his methods. He held out his right hand cordially to the General. With his left he drew Isobel towards him, and printed a fatherly kiss upon her forehead.

"Welcome to Ticehurst, my dear child, which henceforth you must look upon as a second home. If Guy were here to-day our happiness would be complete."

The warm-hearted Isobel was ready to burst into tears. The Earl was behaving like a gentleman; she forgave him his former obduracy. After all, was it not natural that he should wish Guy to marry a woman in his own world?

They had a very elaborate dinner, to which the host and the General did full justice. Isobel was too happy to care about food. Lady Mary ate just enough to keep her alive, according to her usual custom.

After dinner they went into one of the small drawing-rooms. Here Lord Saxham, in very happy phrases, expressed his cordial consent to the engagement between Guy and Isobel. The men shook hands, the two girls kissed each other. It was a charming family scene.

And then, in a manner, the real business of the evening began. Lady Mary began to explain things in a low and hesitating voice, that often faltered.

She felt just a little ashamed of her task. Isobel was quite innocent, but she was not without brains. The General, she was sure, was quite keen. When she finished her recital, she knew both father and daughter would attribute the Earl's sudden conversion to its proper cause.

But Mary had not quite finished, when the Earl broke in, in his usual impetuous way.

"You see, Isobel,"--he had by now taken quite whole-heartedly to the idea of her as his daughter-in-law--"we must have Guy back as quickly as possible. At the present moment, you are the person who has the greatest influence over him. No doubt, at a word from you he will come."

Isobel indulged in a rather forced smile; it struck Mary that there was something a little enigmatic in that smile. Of course, Lord Saxham had blundered as usual, he had revealed the truth just a little too nakedly.

Isobel was reckoning up her welcome at its true value, so far as her host was concerned.

This, of course, Isobel did, so did her father. But she was too sensible a girl to be offended. She, was, perhaps, a little disappointed that she did not owe this swift change of policy to her true friend. Lady Mary.

She thought a little before she spoke. "Are you quite sure that Guy would come back, if I implored him to do so," she said at length.

She turned towards Lord Saxham with a pleasant smile that robbed her words of any subtle impertinence.

"Guy has always told me that there is a strong vein of obstinacy in the Rossett family. Perhaps,"--and here a proud light came into her eyes--"I could influence him more than anybody else in the world."

Mary looked imploringly at her.

"And, Isobel, you will use that influence of course?"

"I will tell you something that, up to the present, I have only told my father," replied the girl quietly. "I knew of all this some little time ago. My cousin, Maurice Farquhar, has a great friend, half Spanish, half English, who is also a journalist. He told my cousin that danger was threatening Guy. Maurice told me. You can guess what I felt. Guy is as dear to me as he is to you."

"Of course, there is no need to tell us that," cried Lady Mary hastily.

"My first impulse was to write to Guy, tell him what I had heard, and implore him to leave this dangerous country. I consulted my father. I did not write that letter. Many a night I have lain awake, and in the morning resolved to write it. It is still unwritten."

The Earl's face bore a puzzled expression. Lady Mary seemed somewhat bewildered too. General Clandon alone displayed no emotion.

"I don't understand," breathed Mary softly.

"Oh, can't you see?" cried Isobel quickly. "Suppose Guy yielded to my prayers, and seized some excuse to come back! Might he not in after years reproach me for having induced him to play a coward's part?

Surely you can understand what I feel."

And, in one swift moment of comprehension, the worldly and opportunist Earl and his far n.o.bler daughter understood.

Lady Mary looked at her father with a triumphant smile. She had gauged Isobel aright from the first.

Gone for ever the dishonouring suspicions of a designing young woman seeking to make her fortune by a wealthy marriage. It was all too obvious. With Guy's departure from Spain, Isobel had everything to gain. With his sojourn in that dangerous country she stood to lose everything.

"Whether I marry Guy or not," went on the low, sweet voice, breaking at the end into a little sob, "his honour is my first consideration."

The General's deep tones broke the intense silence that succeeded those few words.

"Lord Saxham, Lady Mary, I most heartily approve Isobel's att.i.tude. I am sure Mr Rossett feels as I do in this matter. If he deserted his post at this juncture, he would be like the soldier who runs away on the battlefield."

Lord Saxham looked at the beautiful, slender girl, so n.o.ble in her self-sacrificing love.

"My dear," he said, in tones that were a little unsteady, "you are a wonderful woman. Guy could not have chosen more wisely. I am sorry-- very sorry--" He broke off. It was not perhaps precisely the moment to apologise for his previous obstinacy, his rancour against "the little girl who lived in a cottage at Eastbourne."

Lady Mary went round the table, put her arms round her, and kissed her warmly.

"You are a brave and beautiful darling," she said, with a woman's enthusiasm. "You have taught both my father and myself a lesson in unselfishness. G.o.d grant that our dear Guy comes back to us safe and sound."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A tall, lean man of about sixty years of age, of dignified appearance, came out of a house in Fitzjohn's Avenue, Hampstead, and walked slowly in the direction of the station at Swiss Cottage.

He was a very aristocratic-looking person; you might have taken him for a retired amba.s.sador, except for the fact that retired amba.s.sadors do not live in the neighbourhood of Finchley Road. At the first glance you might have thought he was an Englishman, with his clear complexion, his short, pointed beard. A closer inspection revealed the distinguis.h.i.+ng traits of the foreigner. But even then you would have been inclined to put him down as a Frenchman, rather than a Spaniard.

Ferdinand Contraras, such was his name, was one of the princ.i.p.al leaders of the world-wide anarchist movement. A man of learning and education, he had worked it out to his own satisfaction that anarchy was the cure for all social evils. A man of considerable wealth, he had devoted the greater portion of his possessions to the spreading of this particular propaganda. His zeal in the great cause burnt him with a consuming fire.

One is confronted with these anomalies in all countries--men of family and refinement, reaching out sincere hands to the proletariat, and welcoming them into a common brotherhood.

Mirabeau led the French Revolution in its first steps, an aristocrat of the first water. Tolstoi, equally an aristocrat, preached very subversive doctrines.

Ferdinand Contraras, from conviction, sentimentality, or some other equally compelling motives, hated his own order, and devoted himself heart and soul to the service of the ma.s.ses as against the cla.s.ses. He had spent much more than half his very considerable fortune on the necessary propaganda of his principles. From the house in Fitzjohn's Avenue he, in conjunction with a few other enthusiastic spirits, controlled the policy which was directed to upset an old and effete world and construct a new and perfect one on the ruins of the old.

He waited outside the station for quite five minutes, tapping his stick impatiently the while. He was, by temperament, a very impatient and autocratic person, like most people who aspire to sovereign power.

The burly and imposing figure of Lucue appeared through the gloom of the station. The two men shook hands. Contraras grumbled a little.

"My friend, punctuality was never your very special virtue. You were to be at my house by a quarter-past six. It is now a quarter to seven, half an hour late, and I am meeting you at the station. It would take another five minutes to get to my house."

"That would mean I should be quite thirty-five minutes late, eh?"

queried Lucue in his usual easy, genial fas.h.i.+on. He had the greatest respect for the great leader, Ferdinand Contraras; he fully recognised his single-mindedness, his devotion to the cause. But he was also aware of his little weaknesses of temper, his p.r.o.neness to take offence at trifles. "I am honestly very sorry I have kept you waiting, but it was impossible to get away before."