CHAPTER XII.
A WILL-O’-THE-WISP.
Colonel Dacre thought it very wrong to swear, and always denied himself this relief upon principle; but this morning, when he opened his eyes full upon the clock, which had a jeering, jaunty way of pointing at nine, he certainly did feel as if an occasional indulgence this time must be a pardonable offense.
He sprang out of bed, and rang at once for the waiter. He was about to put some questions to him, when the man handed him a couple of letters, saying:
“I was told to give you them directly you woke, sir. Is there anything you want, sir?”
“Only have my breakfast ready in half an hour,” answered Colonel Dacre, with assumed indifference; and the moment the man had closed the door, he tore open the letter that lay uppermost in his hand.
It was from Lady Gwendolyn, and ran thus:
“Dear Colonel Dacre: La nuit porte conseil, you say, and the result is that I think it far better we should not meet. Pardon me if I have given you pain by this decision. One of these days you will thank me for having had the courage to deny you. I must mean to do what is right, for I cannot help telling you that this is the greatest sorrow of my life.
“Gwendolyn St. Maur.”
The second was from Mrs. O’Hara, and was quite as expressive in its way.
“Dear Lawrence: I see that you take Lady Gwendolyn’s part: her false, fatal beauty has glamoured you, poor soul! I must needs forgive you, for the sake of old times; but I should only worry you with my friendship, now that you have learned what it is to love, so that I may as well get out of your way quietly. If you ever want to see me again, I dare say you will be able to find me; but, in any case, I have too deep and affectionate a recollection of ‘auld lang syne’ to subscribe myself anything but
Your sincere friend,
“Norah O’Hara.”
“I have lost my friend and sweetheart both, by lying too late,” said Colonel Dacre to himself, with a dreary sigh; for he was not dolt enough even to inquire if the two ladies were still at the “Langham.”
Colonel Dacre smashed the clock before he went down to breakfast, and only smiled grimly when he saw that five pounds was charged for the damage in his bill.
On second thoughts, he stayed where he was that day because it was no use going anywhere else. He was utterly discouraged now. The strength of Lady Gwendolyn’s will frightened him.
He had fancied that all women were weak and yielding, and here was one who made a resolution, and kept it, as he believed, for duty’s sake, although her heart was pulling her the opposite way.
It was quite a revelation, and somehow made him respect all women more for her sake. He wished now he had held her fast when she was in his power, and made her marry him right off.
Lord Teignmouth had forfeited all claim to be consulted, and, though Gwendolyn hesitated and argued now, he had a notion she would not have been sorry to have had the decision taken out of her hands.
“Gwendolyn is just the kind of woman to admire a man who conquers her,” Colonel Dacre said to himself. “But the least hesitation or weakness of purpose would spoil all. She must see in me only the master who commands—not the lover who pleads—or she will writhe out of my grasp, somehow, even at the altar rails. Oh! if I had only been wiser, and more understanding, how happy I might be now!”
He determined to show Lady Gwendolyn that he had some fertility of resource, and as strong a will as her own, the next time they met; and with this view he went off to Doctors’ Commons, and bought a special license. Then, all things being fair in love and war, and the position being very hopeless under its present aspect, he descended to a ruse, which, under ordinary circumstances, would have been unpardonable.
He put an advertisement in several of the daily papers, so worded that only Gwendolyn could understand it, and stating himself to be in such a condition, both mentally and physically, that if, knowing all, she did not come to him at once, his death would be on her conscience.
And then he waited.
“You will find me at the hotel where we parted yesterday,” he had said; and, therefore, we may be sure he did not quit his rooms for a second.
He sent for newspapers and books; but he was far too restless to read. With his face glued to the window-pane, he watched eagerly every carriage that drew up to the entrance.
He had suffered breakfast and luncheon to go away untasted; but when dinner was placed on the table, he felt so strange that it occurred to him he must be suffering from inanition, and he poured himself out a glass of sherry, and emptied it at a draft. It felt like liquid fire, and stung his throat; but the effect was magical.
His sluggish pulses quickened, the blood in his veins seemed to dance vivaciously to the air of the delicious waltz he had last danced with Lady Gwendolyn.
The air was so full of her sweet presence he persuaded himself she must be coming, and began to eat eagerly. He would need all his strength to-night, and could not afford to waste a single chance. But his appetite was not as large as his aspirations. He got half-way through his soup valiantly enough, then a sudden feeling of nausea came over him, and he pushed away his plate, and rose from the table, resuming his former place at the window.
It was growing dark now, but he could still distinguish the passers-by; and when a lady alighted presently from a cab at the door, his heart gave a great bound and thrill.
For her figure was slender and graceful, like Lady Gwendolyn’s; and she gathered her skirts over her arm in a way he remembered well. But the light of the lamp over the door fell full on her face as she turned to pay the driver his fare, and then he gave a lamenting sigh.
The lady was not half as handsome as Gwendolyn; but she was nearly twice her age, to make up. After awhile it became so dark that he had to retire from his post of observation, and then he passed the time watching the door. Of course, he expected her every minute, and, of course, she did not come.
Colonel Dacre became in a perfect fever of expectancy and apprehension as the night advanced; and as he still found it impossible to sleep, he naturally felt exhausted and faint.
Only that Gwendolyn might come while he was away, and then, of course, she would find out his ruse, and then there would be an end to his wooing.
The only chance for him was to be on the spot at the supreme moment, and take her by storm. So he stayed at home, and when his sensations became unbearable, he tried his remedy of the night before, and then stumbled into bed.