_ PART III CHAPTER XI. BROOKS HEARS THE NEWS
Unchanged! Her first eager glance into his face told her that. Waxen white, his lips smiled their courteous greeting upon her, his tone was measured and cold as ever. She set her teeth as she rose from her seat, and gathered her skirts in her hand.
"You, too, a pilgrim?" she exclaimed. "I thought you preferred salt water."
"We had a pleasant fortnight's yachting," he answered. "Then I went with Hennibul to Wiesbaden, and I came on here to see you.
"Have you met Sybil and Atherstone?" she asked him.
"Yes," he answered, gravely.
"Come into my room," she said, "and I will give you some tea. These young people are sure to have it on the terrace. I will join you when I have got rid of some of this dust."
He was alone for ten minutes. At the end of that time she came out through the folding-doors with the old smile upon her lips and the old lithesomeness in her movements. He rose and watched her until she had settled down in her low chair.
"So Sybil is going to marry Atherstone!"
"Yes. He really deserves it, doesn't he? He is a very nice boy."
Arranmore shrugged his shoulders.
"What an everlasting fool Brooks is," he said, in a low tone.
"He keeps his word," she answered. "It is a family trait with you, Arranmore. You are all stubborn, all self-willed, self-centred, selfish!"
"Thank you!"
"You can't deny it."
I won't try. I suppose it is true. Besides, I want to keep you in a good humour."
"Do tell me why!"
"If Sybil is going to be married you can't live alone."
"I won't admit that, but what about it? Do you know of a nice respectable companion?"
"Myself."
She shook her head.
"You may be nice," she answered, "but you certainly aren't respectable."
"I am what you make me," he answered, in a low tone. "Catherine! A moment ago you accused me of stubbornness. What about yourself?"
"I?"
"Yes, you. You have been the one woman of my life. You are free, you know that there is no other man who could make you happy as I could, yet you will not come to me--for the sake of an idea. If I am heartless and callous, an infidel, an egotist, whatever you choose, at least I love you. You need never fear me. You would always be safe."
She shook her head.
"Arranmore," she said, "this is so painful to me. Do let us cease to discuss it. I have tried so hard to make you understand how I feel. I cannot alter. It is impossible!"
"You tempt me," he cried, "to play the hypocrite."
"No, I do not, Arranmore," she answered, gently, "for there is no acting in this world which would deceive me."
"You do not doubt that I should make you a good husband?"
"I believe you would," she answered, "but I dare not try it."
"And this is the woman," he murmured, sadly, "who calls me stubborn."
Tea was brought in. Afterwards they walked in the gardens together. The band was playing, and they were surrounded on all sides by acquaintances. A great personage stopped and talked to them for a while. Lady Caroom admitted the news of Sybil's engagement. After that every one stopped to express pleasure. It was not until the young people appeared themselves, and at once monopolized all attention, that Arranmore was able to draw his companion away into comparative solitude.
"Do you by any chance correspond with Brooks?" he asked her.
She shook her head.
"No!" she answered. "I was thinking of that. I should like him to know from one of us. Can't you write him, Arranmore?"
"I could," he answered, "but it would perhaps come better from you. Have you ever had any conversation with him about Sybil?"
"Once," she answered, "yes!
"Then you can write--it will be better for you to write. I should like to ask you a question if I may."
"Yes."
"Have you any idea whether the news will be in any way a blow to him?"
"I think perhaps it may," she admitted.
Arranmore was silent. She watched him half eagerly, hoping for some look, some expression of sympathy. She was disappointed. His face did not relax. It seemed almost to grow harder.
"He has only himself to blame," he said, slowly. "But for this ridiculous masquerading his chance was as good as Atherstone's. Quixoticism such as his is an expensive luxury."
She shivered a little.
"That sounds hard-hearted," she said. "He is doing what he thinks right."
Then Lord Arranmore told her what he had told Brooks himself.
"My son is quite a model young man," he said, "but he is a prig. He thinks too much about what is right and wrong, about what is due to himself, and he values his own judgment too highly. However, I have no right to complain, for it is he who suffers, not I. May I dine at your table to-night? I came over alone."
"Certainly."
They were interrupted a few minutes later by Sybil and Atherstone, and a small host of their friends. But in consequence of Lord Arranmore's visit to Homburg, Brooks a few days later received two letters. The first was from Lord Arranmore.
"RITTER's HOTEL.
"DEAR MR. BROOKS,
"The news which I believe Lady Caroom is sending you to-day may perhaps convince you of the folly of this masquerading. I make you, therefore, the following offer. I will leave England for at least five years on condition that you henceforth take up your proper position in society, and consent to such arrangements as Mr. Ascough and I may make. In any case I was proposing to myself a somewhat extensive scheme of travel, and the opportunity seems to me a good one for you to dispense with an incognito which may lead you some day into even worse complications. I trust that for the sake of other people with whom you may be brought into contact you will accept the arrangement which I propose.
"I remain,
"Yours faithfully,
"ARRANMORE." The other letter was from Lady Caroom.
"RITTER'S HOTEL.
"MY DEAR 'MR. BROOKS,'
"I want to be the first to tell you of Sybil's engagement to the Duke of Atherstone, which took place this afternoon. He has been a very persistent suitor, and he is a great favourite, I think, deservedly, with every one. He will, I am sure, make her very happy.
"I understand that you are still in London. You must find this weather very oppressive. Take my advice and don't overwork yourself. No cause in the world, however good, is worth the sacrifice of one's health.
"I hope that my news will not distress you. You realized, of course, that your decision to remain known, or rather unknown, as Kingston Brooks, made it at some time or other inevitable, and I hope to see a good deal of you when we return to town, and that you will always believe that I am your most sincere friend,
"CATHERINE CAROOM." Brooks laid the two letters down with a curious mixture of sensations. He knew that a very short time ago he might have considered himself brokenhearted, and he knew that as a matter of fact he was nothing of the sort. He answered Lady Caroom's letter first.
"27, JERMYN STREET, W.
"DEAR LADY CAROOM,
"It was very kind of you to write to me, and to send me the news of Sybil's engagement so promptly. I wish her most heartily every happiness. After all, it is the most suitable thing which could have happened.
"You are right in your surmise. After our conversation I realized quite plainly that under my present identity I could not possibly think of Lady Sybil except as a very charming and a very valued friend. I was, therefore, quite prepared for the news which you have sent me.
"I am going for a few days' golf and sea-bathing into Devonshire, so don't waste too much sympathy upon me. My best regards to Lady Sybil. Just now I imagine that she is overwhelmed with good wishes, but if she will add mine to the number, I can assure you and her that I offer them most heartily.
"Yours most sincerely,
"KINGSTON BRGOKS."
"P.S.--Have you heard that your friend the Bishop is going to bring a Bill before the House of Lords which is to exterminate me altogether?" Lady Caroom sighed for a moment as she read the letter, but immediately afterwards her face cleared.
"After all, I think it is best," she murmured, "and Atherstone is such a dear." _