The Doctor spoke confidentially to his neighbour and discovered that the lady was deserted by Lord Montbarry. Her name was Agnes Lockwood.
Soon a member of the club entered the smoking-room. His appearance instantly produced a dead silence. Doctor Wybrows neighbour whispered to him, Montbarrys brother Henry Westwick!
The new-comer looked said, with a bitter smile,
You are all talking of my brother. Dont mind me[11]. I despise him. Go on, gentlemen go on!
But the lawyer undertook the defence of the Countess.
I stand alone in my opinion, he said, and I am not ashamed of it. Why cant the Countess Narona be Lord Montbarrys wife? Who can say she has a mercenary motive?
Montbarrys brother turned sharply on the speaker.
I say it! he answered.
I believe I am right, the lawyer rejoined, his lordships income is not more than sufficient to support his station in life. And it is an income derived almost entirely from landed property in Ireland, every acre of which is entailed[12].
Montbarrys brother had no objection.
If his lordship dies first, the lawyer proceeded, if he leaves her a widow, four hundred pounds a year is all that he can leave to the Countess. I know that.
Four hundred a year is not all, was the reply to this. My brother has insured his life for ten thousand pounds.
This announcement produced a strong sensation. Men looked at each other, and repeated the words, Ten thousand pounds!
After that, the Doctor went home. But his curiosity about the Countess was not satisfied. He was wondering whether Lord Montbarrys family would stop the marriage after all. And more than this, he wanted to see the man himself. Every day he visited the club to hear some news.
Nothing happened. The Countesss position was secure; Montbarrys resolution to be her husband was unshaken. They were both Roman Catholics, and they were to be married at the chapel in Spanish Place.
On the day of the wedding, the Doctor went out to see the marriage. The wedding was strictly private. A carriage stood at the church door; a few people, mostly of the lower class, and mostly old women, were near. Here and there Doctor Wybrow detected the faces of some of his brethren of the club. They were attracted by curiosity, like himself. Four persons only stood before the altar the bride and bridegroom and their two witnesses. One of these last was an elderly woman; the other was undoubtedly her brother, Baron Rivar.
Lord Montbarry was a middle-aged military man. Nothing remarkable. Baron Rivar had moustache, bold eyes, and curling hair. And he was not in the least like his sister.
The priest was only a harmless, humble-looking old man.
From time to time the Doctor glanced round at the door or up at the galleries, anticipating the appearance of some protesting stranger. Nothing occurred nothing extraordinary, nothing dramatic.
The married couple walked together down the nave to the door. Doctor Wybrow drew back as they approached. To his confusion and surprise, the Countess discovered him. He heard her say to her husband, One moment; I see a friend. Lord Montbarry bowed and waited. She stepped up to the Doctor, took his hand, and wrung it hard.
One step more, you see, on the way to the end! She whispered those strange words, and returned to her husband.
Then Lord and Lady Montbarry stepped into their carriage, and drove away.
Outside the church door stood the three or four members of the club. They began with the Baron.
Damned ill-looking rascal!
They went on with Montbarry.
Is he going to take that horrid woman with him to Ireland?
No! They know about Agnes Lockwood.
Well, but where is he going?
To Scotland.
Does she like that?
Its only for a fortnight. Then they will come back to London, and go abroad.
And they will never return to England, eh?
Who can tell? Did you see how she looked at Montbarry? Did you see her, Doctor?
Doctor Wybrow remembered his patients, and walked off.
One step more, you see, on the way to the end, he repeated to himself, on his way home. What end?
Chapter IV
On the day of the marriage Agnes Lockwood sat alone in the little drawing-room of her London lodgings. She was burning the letters which Montbarry had written to her.
She looked by many years younger than she really was. With her fair complexion and her shy manner, she looked like a girl, although she was now really advancing towards thirty years of age. She lived alone with an old nurse, on a modest little income which was just enough to support the two. There were no signs of grief in her face, and she slowly tore the letters of her false lover in two, and threw the pieces into the small fire. She did not cry. Pale and quiet, with cold trembling fingers, she destroyed the letters one by one. She did not read them again.
The old nurse came in, and asked if she wanted to see Master Henry, the youngest member of the Westwick family, who had publicly declared his contempt for his brother in the smoking-room of the club. Agnes hesitated.
A long time ago Henry Westwick said that he loved her. But she acknowledged that her heart was given to his eldest brother. He was disappointed; and they met thenceforth as cousins and friends. But now, on the very day of his brothers marriage, she did not want to see him. The old nurse (who remembered them both in their cradles) observed her hesitation.
He says, hes going away, my dear; and he only wants to shake hands, and say good-bye.
Agnes decided to receive her cousin.
He entered the room so rapidly that he surprised her. She hurriedly spoke first.
You are leaving London very suddenly, Henry. Is it business? or pleasure?
He did not answer her. He pointed to the flaming letter, and to some black ashes of paper.
Are you burning letters?
Yes.
His letters?
Yes.
He took her hand gently.
I had no idea. Forgive me, Agnes I shall see you when I return.
She signed to him, with a faint smile, to take a chair.
We have known one another since we were children, she said. Why should I have any secrets from you? I sent back all your brothers gifts to me some time ago. I will keep nothing that can remind me of him.
She looked into the fire. The tears were in his eyes. He muttered to himself,
Damn him!
She looked at him again.
Well, Henry, and why are you going away?
I am out of spirits[13], Agnes, and I want a change.
She paused before she spoke again. His face told her plainly that he was thinking of her when he made that reply. She was grateful to him, but her mind was not with him: her mind was still with the man who had deserted her. She turned round again to the fire.
Is it true, she asked, after a long silence, that they have been married today?
He answered ungraciously: Yes.
Did you go to the church?
Go to the church? he repeated. How can you ask? I have never spoken to Montbarry, I have not even seen him, since he treated you like the scoundrel[14] and the fool that he is.
She looked at him suddenly. He understood her, and begged her pardon. But he was still angry.
He will rue the day when he married that woman! he said.
Agnes took a chair by his side, and looked at him with a gentle surprise.
Is it quite reasonable to be so angry with her, because your brother preferred her to me? she asked.
Henry turned on her sharply.
Do you defend the Countess?
Why not? Agnes answered. I know nothing against her. On the day when we met, she appeared to be a timid, nervous person, looking dreadfully ill. She fainted under the heat of the room. We know that she did not want to hurt me; we know that she was not aware of my engagement.
Henry lifted his hand impatiently, and stopped her.
Try to forget them both, Agnes! he interposed.
Agnes laid her hand on his arm.