"'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned
Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.'"
"Oh," said Mallow, dropping his cigarette, and a whole story was revealed to him in the quotation.
"A gentleman doesn't talk of these things," said Caranby abruptly, "and for years I have held my tongue. Still, as Mrs. Octagon does not hesitate to strike at me through you, and as your happiness is at stake, and the happiness of the girl you love, I shall tell you—so far as I can guess—why the woman behaves in this way."
"If you please, sir," and Cuthbert settled himself to listen.
"About twenty years ago," said Caranby, plunging headfirst into his subject, "Isabella and Selina Loach were well-known in society. They were the daughters of a country squire—Kent, I remember—and created a sensation with their beauty when they came to town. I fell in love with Selina, and Isabella—if you will pardon my vanity—fell in love with me. She hated her sister on my account. I would have married Selina, but her father, who was hard up, wished her to marry a wealthy American. Isabella, to part Selina from me, helped her father. What arguments they used I do not know, but Selina suddenly changed in her manner towards me. Out of pique—you may think this weak of me, Cuthbert, but I was a fool in those days—I became engaged to a girl who was a singer. Her name was Emilia Saul, and I believe she was of Jewish extraction. I liked her in a way, and she had a wonderful power over me. I proposed and was accepted."
"But if you had really loved Miss Loach—"
"I should have worn the willow. I told you I was foolish, and, moreover, Miss Saul fascinated me. Selina was cold, Emilia was charming, and I was weak. Therefore, I became engaged to Emilia, and Selina—as I heard, arranged to marry her wealthy American. I believe she was angry at my apparently forgetting her so soon. But she was in fault, not I."
Cuthbert looked at his smart shoes. "Had I loved Selina," said he slowly, "I should have remained true to her, and have married her in spite of the objection of her father—"
"And of her sister Isabella—Mrs. Octagon that is; don't forget that, Cuthbert. And I could scarcely run away with a girl who believed stories about me."
"What sort of stories?" asked Mallow, remembering certain rumors.