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Red Money. Hume Fergus
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If Mrs. Tribb, instead of going to the kitchen, which she did, had gone out of the front door, she would have found Chaldea lying full length amongst the flowers under the large window of the studio. This was slightly open, and the girl could hear every word that was spoken, while so swiftly and cleverly had she gained her point of vantage, that those within never for one moment suspected her presence. If they had, they would assuredly have kept better guard over their tongues, for the conversation was of the most private nature, and did not tend to soothe the eavesdropper's jealousy.
Lambert was so absorbed in his painting – he was working at the Esmeralda-Quasimodo picture – that he scarcely heard the studio door open, and it was only when Mrs. Tribb's shrill voice announced the name of his visitor, that he woke to the surprising fact that the woman he loved was within a few feet of him. The blood rushed to his face, and then retired to leave him deadly pale, but Agnes was more composed, and did not let her heart's tides mount to high-water mark. On seeing her self-possession, the man became ashamed that he had lost his own, and strove to conceal his momentary lapse into a natural emotion, by pushing forward an arm-chair.
"This is a surprise, Agnes," he said in a voice which he strove vainly to render steady. "Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you," and she took her seat like a queen on her throne, looking fair and gracious as any white lily. What with her white dress, white gloves and shoes, and straw hat tied under her chin with a broad white ribbon in old Georgian fashion, she looked wonderfully cool, and pure, and – as Lambert inwardly observed – holy. Her face was as faintly tinted with color as is a tea-rose, and her calm, brown eyes, under her smooth brown hair, added to the suggestive stillness of her looks. She seemed in her placidity to be far removed from any earthly emotion, and resembled a picture of the Madonna, serene, peaceful, and somewhat sad. Yet who could tell what anguished feelings were masked by her womanly pride?
"I hope you do not find the weather too warm for walking," said Lambert, reining in his emotions with an iron hand, and speaking conventionally.
"Not at all. I enjoyed the walk. I am staying at The Manor."
"So I understand."
"And you are staying here?"
"There can be no doubt on that point."
"Do you think you are acting wisely?" she asked with great calmness.
"I might put the same question to you, Agnes, seeing that you have come to live within three miles of my hermitage."
"It is because you are living in what you call your hermitage that I have come," rejoined Agnes, with a slight color deepening her cheeks. "Is it fair to me that you should shut yourself up and play the part of the disappointed lover?"
Lambert, who had been touching up his picture here and there, laid down his palette and brushes with ostentatious care, and faced her doggedly. "I don't understand what you mean," he declared.
"Oh, I think you do; and in the hope that I may induce you, in justice to me, to change your conduct, I have come over."
"I don't think you should have come," he observed in a low voice, and threw himself on the couch with averted eyes.
Lady Agnes colored again. "You are talking nonsense," she said with some sharpness. "There is no harm in my coming to see my cousin."
"We were more than cousins once."
"Exactly, and unfortunately people know that. But you needn't make matters worse by so pointedly keeping away from me."
Lambert looked up quickly. "Do you wish me to see you often?" he asked, and there was a new note in his voice which irritated her.
"Personally I don't, but – "
"But what?" He rose and stood up, very tall and very straight, looking down on her with a hungry look in his blue eyes.
"People are talking," murmured the lady, and stared at the floor, because she could not face that same look.
"Let them talk. What does it matter?"
"Nothing to you, perhaps, but to me a great deal. I have a husband."
"As I know to my cost," he interpolated.
"Then don't let me know it to my cost," she said pointedly. "Sit down and let us talk common sense."
Lambert did not obey at once. "I am only a human being, Agnes – "
"Quite so, and a man at that. Act like a man, then, and don't place the burden on a woman's shoulders."
"What burden?"
"Oh, Noel, can't you understand?"
"I daresay I can if you will explain. I wish you hadn't come here to-day. I have enough to bear without that."
"And have I nothing to bear?" she demanded, a flash of passion ruffling her enforced calm. "Do you think that anything but the direst need brought me here?"
"I don't know what brought you here. I am waiting for an explanation."
"What is the use of explaining what you already know?"
"I know nothing," he repeated doggedly. "Explain."
"Well," said Lady Agnes with some bitterness, "it seems to me that an explanation is really necessary, as apparently I am talking to a child instead of a man. Sit down and listen."
This time Lambert obeyed, and laughed as he did so. "Your taunts don't hurt me in the least," he observed. "I love you too much."
"And I love in return. No! Don't rise again. I did not come here to revive the embers of our dead passion."
"Embers!" cried Lambert with bitter scorn. "Embers, indeed! And a dead passion; how well you put it. So far as I am concerned, Agnes, the passion is not dead and never will be."
"I am aware of that, and so I have come to appeal to that passion. Love means sacrifice. I want you to understand that."
"I do, by experience. Did I not surrender you for the sake of the family name? Understand! I should think I did understand."
"I – think – not," said Lady Agnes slowly and gently. "It is necessary to revive your recollections. We loved one another since we were boy and girl, and we intended, as you know, to marry. There was no regular engagement between us, but it was an understood family arrangement. My father always approved of it; my brother did not."
"No. Because he saw in you an article of sale out of which he hoped to make money," sneered Lambert, nursing his ankle.
Lady Agnes winced. "Don't make it too hard for me," she said plaintively. "My life is uncomfortable enough as it is. Remember that when my father died we were nearly ruined. Only by the greatest cleverness did Garvington manage to keep interest on the mortgages paid up, hoping that he would marry a rich wife – an American for choice – and so could put things straight. But he married Jane, as you know – "
"Because he is a glutton, and she knows all about cooking."
"Well, gluttony may be as powerful a vice as drinking and gambling, and all the rest of it. It is with Garvington, although I daresay that seeing the position he was in, people would laugh to think he should marry a poor woman, when he needed a rich wife. But at that time Hubert wanted to marry me, and Garvington got his cook-wife, while I was sacrificed."
"Seeing that I loved you and you loved me, I wonder – "
"Yes, I know you wondered, but you finally accepted my explanation that I did it to save the family name."
"I did, and, much as I hated your sacrifice, it was necessary."
"More necessary than you think," said Lady Agnes, sinking her voice to a whisper and glancing round, "In a moment of madness Garvington altered a check which Hubert gave him, and was in danger of arrest. Hubert declared that he would give up the check if I married him. I did so, to save my brother and the family name."
"Oh,