CHAPTER XII
But that night Adrien Leroy could not sleep. Dismissing his valet, he threw himself into a chair, and began to review the events of the day, which had affected him more deeply than he would confess to. Then the mere sight of Lady Constance with Lord Standon had convinced him that any hope of ever winning her for his wife was at an end. For so many years had he himself been wooed and sought after, without response, that he was as ignorant of the rules of the game of love as any child. Love! he had sneered at it, jested at its power all his life; but now he was beginning to suffer from its pangs himself. He rose hastily, and throwing open the window of his dressing room, stepped out on the balcony.
It was an exquisite night, and the stars shone like diamonds. Yet their very distance and detachment from all things earthly only served to deepen Adrien's melancholy. Before him stretched, in seemingly endless vista, the woods and lands of his heritage. As far as eye could reach, the earth and all within it and upon it belonged to him; and yet he sighed for the love and devotion of one frail girl, which, had he but known, were already his.
As he walked to and fro, he was again assailed by a wholesome distaste of his present empty, aimless existence, and a great longing came over him to break away from it and start afresh. Yes! he was very tired of it all. The men and women with whom he had up to this spent his time were becoming abhorrent to him. The thought of the soft lips and glances that had hitherto beguiled him, and lulled him into a state bordering upon stupor, now filled him with shame. Love, that marvellous panacea, had driven out the false, the impure visions of his heart, as surely and as thoroughly as ever Hercules cleansed the Augean stables.
The blood of his race stirred with him; he would have liked to have snatched Constance, and borne her away on his trusty steed, as his forefathers would have done. But instead he must stand aside, and see her married to another. Nay, he himself would be asked to attend the wedding, perhaps even give her away to the man who was surely no more worthy of her than Adrien himself.
Jasper Vermont had indeed done his work well. No sooner had he seen the light of love shining in his friend's face, than he had set to work; and, like the grim spider of evil he resembled, had filled Adrien's mind with the suggestion that Constance loved--in fact, was secretly engaged to, Lord Standon.
His reasons for this were twofold. If Adrien married Constance, Ada Lester would--whether with or without cause--hold him responsible, and was more than capable of carrying out her threat to unmask him to his patron. Moreover, Jasper looked upon Lady Constance with an appreciative and covetous eye, and felt that if he could ever ingratiate himself with her sufficiently for her to promise to become his wife, the summit of his ambition would be reached.
Adrien was easily deceived; for, with all his faults, he was not conceited. He did not guess that Constance's very openly expressed pleasure in the company of Lord Standon was to prevent the discovery of her real and passionate longing for that of her cousin.
Henceforth, he told himself, he must do his best to hide the pain that was gnawing at his heart. Henceforward, the pleasure of life would be as Dead Sea fruit to him. His hand fell on the balustrade in his unconscious despair; and at that moment, another window farther down the long balcony opened, and the figure of Lord Barminster stepped out into the moonlight.
Adrien was in no humour to meet even his father; he was too weary in spirit to confront the old man's satire with his usual calm; so he shrank back into the shadow of the buttress against which he leaned. But Lord Barminster's eyes were quick to perceive him; and, striding forward, he laid his hand on his son's shoulder.
"Well, Adrien," he commenced, "what is wrong? Can't you sleep, or are you given to spending the small hours in star-gazing?"
"I might retort in kind, sir," returned Adrien, pulling his scattered thoughts together, and smiling faintly.
"Ah! I am old," said his father. "Age has its penalties as well as its privileges; and the freedom to speak plainly is one of the latter. Come, my boy, what is wrong? At your age I was happy enough; but you seem to have taken the troubles of the world on your shoulders. Are you ill?"
"No, sir, I am well enough," returned Adrien quietly.
"Then are you worrying over your debts through that unlucky horse? Because, although, as you know, I do not interfere with your money matters as a rule, you are quite at liberty to draw on my bank if you care to do so."
His son turned to him affectionately.
"No, no, sir," he said gratefully. "I don't suppose they are as bad as all that. Jasper will see to them."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he regretted them. His father's face darkened; his eyes grew fierce.
"Jasper! always Jasper," he snarled, even as Mortimer Shelton had done. "It's a pity he didn't break his neck this morning, instead of his miserable tool."
Adrien uttered a protesting exclamation; he would have sacrificed anything sooner than have given his father this opportunity to revile his friend.
"You must be blind, sir," continued Lord Barminster, now working himself up into a rage. "Did not you see and hear enough from that jockey this morning to make you realise what that precious friend of yours had done? I tell you, Adrien, that Jasper Vermont bribed that miserable man to rope your horse. For him, you have allowed your friends, my guests, to be swindled out of their money."
It was the first time in Adrien's recollection that the proud old man had ever even hinted that Barminster Castle was not entirely his son's yet; that the guests were those of his father's choice as well of his own.
Adrien's eyes blazed.
"Father," he said in a low voice, but as hard as steel, "I know you have always hated Mr. Vermont, but this goes farther than hate. Forgive me if I ask you, but surely you have some proofs? Otherwise you would not have accused him of such villainy. Give them to me, and I promise you to punish him as severely as you yourself could wish."
"Proofs!" his father repeated sternly with knitted brows. "What proofs would such a clever scoundrel leave about? This morning's work should be sufficient proof even to satisfy you."
Adrien drew himself up to his full height, and confronted his father with a resolute air.
"It is no use, sir," he said. "I cannot take a drunken jockey's ramblings as proof of such an awful thing as that. Jasper is my friend, and besides, it is more to his interest to help me than to hate me."
Lord Barminster sighed deeply. The experience of age had taught him the impossibility of convincing youth against its will.
"Well, my boy," he said, "have your own way, but mark my words, you will live to repent your folly! I have no more proof, and to me no more is needed. Men on their death-beds do not lie, and I am as firmly convinced that Jasper Vermont forced that man to sell the race, as though I had the confession on paper. Still, I will say no more; you are young, and 'Youth knows All.' Find out for yourself the man's character, I shall not warn you again. You are placing your faith in a thankless cur; don't grumble when he turns round and bites the hand that has helped him. As for me, I will wait. Believe me, I would far rather know myself to be wrong than deal you any further unhappiness, so let us drop the subject for a time. I did not mean to bring up the man's name. I want to speak to you of far more important things."
His voice grew more grave, indeed almost solemn.
"Adrien, I am an old man, nearing the grave, and, as is only natural, my thoughts turn to the future of our race. You are the last of our line, it is to you I look to carry it on. You are no longer a boy, with a youth's follies and tastes; it is time you took up your responsibilities."
Adrien made as if to speak; but his father checked him, with a gesture of his hand.
"Stay, hear me out," he said. "When I was your age, your mother was at my side, I had given the House of Leroy its son and heir. I was married, and had left the lighter loves of the world for a more lasting and responsible one. You know I have never interfered much with your life; but though I am no longer of the gay world, I yet hear something of its doings. You 'live the pace,' they tell me, and are the idol of the smart set. Barminster Castle, Adrien, looks for something higher than that in its lord and master. I repeat, sir, at your age I was married."
"And loved," said Adrien softly.
"Yes, indeed," exclaimed Lord Barminster, his face lighting up at the thought of the woman whom he had lost, and mourned so long. "Your mother was that which ranks above rubies, a good and virtuous woman, worthy of any man's love."
Adrien turned his pale face away, as if to avoid scrutiny, then he said gently:
"I admit your right to speak like this, sir, and if it rested with me I would obey you at once."
"It does rest with you, Adrien," returned his father quickly. "Surely you are blind, not to see that Constance Tremaine loves you with her whole heart."
Adrien started up, his face alight and quivering with excitement.
"Impossible, sir!" he exclaimed. "Would to heaven it were true; for I know no other woman to whom I would so gladly devote my life."
The grim old face softened and relaxed. He had not expected such an overwhelming victory.
"Why do you say it is impossible?" he asked.
Adrien did not answer for a moment, then he slip hoarsely:
"She is already engaged to Lord Standon."
An exclamation of astonishment burst from the old man's lips. He put out his hand in involuntary sympathy, and the two so strangely alike, yet so wide apart in years, clasped hands. Then, as if ashamed of the momentary emotion, the old man turned away, saying quietly:
"This is, of course, a surprise to me. Its truth yet remains to be proved, but I should feel inclined to doubt it myself." With which he went back to his own apartments.
Left alone once more, Adrien walked restlessly to and fro.
"If Constance really cared for me," he said to himself, "nothing else in the world would matter. Lucky Standon! I dare not think of the future, it what Jasper said was true."
At last he, too, returned to his room; but it was almost morning before he fell into a troubled slumber.