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Miss Dulane And My Lord
by
“Have your own way,” he answered, “I mean to have mine–I’ll go home with you.”
The man was simply irresistible. Beaucourt sat down resignedly on the nearest of the hall chairs. Dick asked him to return to the dining-room. “No,” he said; “it’s not worth while. What I can tell you may be told in two minutes.” Dick submitted, and took the next of the hall chairs. In that inappropriate place the young lord’s unpremeditated confession was forced out of him, by no more formidable exercise of power than the kindness of his friend.
“When you hear where I met with her,” he began, “you will most likely not want to hear any more. I saw her, for the first time, on the stage of a music hall.”
He looked at Dick. Perfectly quiet and perfectly impenetrable, Dick only said, “Go on.” Beaucourt continued in these words:
“She was singing Arne’s delicious setting of Ariel’s song in the ‘Tempest,’ with a taste and feeling completely thrown away on the greater part of the audience. That she was beautiful–in my eyes at least–I needn’t say. That she had descended to a sphere unworthy of her and new to her, nobody could doubt. Her modest dress, her refinement of manner, seemed rather to puzzle than to please most of the people present; they applauded her, but not very warmly, when she retired. I obtained an introduction through her music-master, who happened to be acquainted professionally with some relatives of mine. He told me that she was a young widow; and he assured me that the calamity through which her family had lost their place in the world had brought no sort of disgrace on them. If I wanted to know more, he referred me to the lady herself. I found her very reserved. A long time passed before I could win her confidence–and a longer time still before I ventured to confess the feeling with which she had inspired me. You know the rest.”
“You mean, of course, that you offered her marriage?”
“Certainly.”
“And she refused you on account of your position in life.”
“No. I had foreseen that obstacle, and had followed the example of the adventurous nobleman in the old story. Like him, I assumed a name, and presented myself as belonging to her own respectable middle class of life. You are too old a friend to suspect me of vanity if I tell you that she had no objection to me, and no suspicion that I had approached her (personally speaking) under a disguise.”
“What motive could she possibly have had for refusing you?” Dick asked.
“A motive associated with her dead husband,” Beaucourt answered. “He had married her–mind, innocently married her–while his first wife was living. The woman was an inveterate drunkard; they had been separated for years. Her death had been publicly reported in the newspapers, among the persons killed in a railway accident abroad. When she claimed her unhappy husband he was in delicate health. The shock killed him. His widow–I can’t, and won’t, speak of her misfortune as if it was her fault–knew of no living friends who were in a position to help her. Not a great artist with a wonderful voice, she could still trust to her musical accomplishments to provide for the necessities of life. Plead as I might with her to forget the past, I always got the same reply: ‘If I was base enough to let myself be tempted by the happy future that you offer, I should deserve the unmerited disgrace which has fallen on me. Marry a woman whose reputation will bear inquiry, and forget me.’ I was mad enough to press my suit once too often. When I visited her on the next day she was gone. Every effort to trace her has failed. Lost, my friend–irretrievably lost to me!”
He offered his hand and said good-night. Dick held him back on the doorstep.
“Break off your mad engagement to Miss Dulane,” he said. “Be a man, Howel; wait and hope! You are throwing away your life when happiness is within your reach, if you will only be patient. That poor young creature is worthy of you. Lost? Nonsense! In this narrow little world people are never hopelessly lost till they are dead and underground. Help me to recognize her by a description, and tell me her name. I’ll find her; I’ll persuade her to come back to you–and, mark my words, you will live to bless the day when you followed my advice.”