Chapter XXV

A look of astonishment passed into old Alexander Wallace's face, and into that of Lorin an expression of acute vexation as they stood in the open doorway.

"Lina," the latter exclaimed, "I am so sorry I could not come before. Apparently I need not introduce you to my cousin. You never told me that you had met him?"

"Your cousin visited Mrs. Vandeleur's yesterday afternoon, but I was out of the room nearly all the time," said Laline, constrainedly. "Didn't I mention it to you? Now please let me say 'How do you do?' to your uncle."

"Welcome to my niece Lina!" exclaimed old Alexander, beaming with benevolent joy. "May I have an uncle's privilege, my dear?"

With paternal tenderness he took both the girl's hands in his and kissed her on the cheek.

Luncheon was served in the dining-room on the ground-floor. To Laline it was a terrible ordeal to sit between Lorin and Wallace. The latter, as she afterwards learned, had insisted upon being included in the party, maintaining that his presence at such a family gathering would be the clinching proof that he had been taken back into favour. He was in the highest possible spirits, devoting himself to Laline, paying her compliments, and forestalling her wants at table, the while he, with what appeared like irresponsible gaiety, rallied Lorin on his backwardness in looking after his _fiancée_.

"'A laggard in love,' that's what you are, Lorin!" he cried. "This is the second time you have neglected to hand the salt to Miss Grahame. Take care I don't prove another young Lochinvar, and carry off your prize under your nose."

"In the case of young Lochinvar, Mr. Armstrong, the bride was willing to go," Laline remarked with some acerbity, whereat old Alexander, who in no way understood the undercurrent of bitterness which lay in both sallies, laughed heartily and declared that Wallace had met his match.

"I wish I had with all my heart, sir!" his nephew retorted, directing a bold glance of admiration at Laline's face; and the old gentleman laughed again in childish enjoyment.

It hurt Laline to see how, in spite of his serious and repeated delinquencies, Wallace was clearly the favourite of Alexander, who was delighted to kill the fatted calf in his behalf, Lorin's years of filial devotion and unselfishness counting for nothing against the shallow good humour and assumed affection of this showy ne'er-do-well. Old Alexander's eyes rested constantly, with evident content, upon his elder nephew's face; and, pleased as he was by the prospect of Lorin's marriage, to him it was clearly an even greater subject for thankfulness that his boy Wallace had humbled himself before him and been forgiven.

"You must make allowance for me if my high spirits carry me away this afternoon, Miss Grahame," Wallace said. "The fact is--and as you are so soon to be a member of the family I can talk freely before you--I have been a very, very bad boy, and a dreadful disgrace to everybody about me. So I was punished, as bad boys ought to be. The worst part of my punishment was the knowledge that I had deeply hurt the best man in the world, and that I was shut out from my old home and my old place in his affections. So this morning I went to him and appealed for another chance; and he, having, as I believe, a corner in his heart somewhere for me, took me home there again. That is the reason of my gaiety to-day, cousin Lina, and I feel sure you will sympathise with me and understand."

As Wallace spoke he laid his hand, with what looked like spontaneous affection, upon that of his uncle, to the left of whom he was sitting. Old Alexander grasped his hand warmly and tears filled his eyes. But the little scene failed altogether to move Laline, who felt only indignant that the simple-natured and kindly old man should be so flagrantly deceived in his worthless nephew, whose sneers and gibes at his uncle's expense were still fresh in her mind.

Lorin for his part talked very little. He had considerable difficulty in concealing his deep annoyance at the attitude which Wallace had adopted towards Laline. He had opposed as strongly as he could the suggestion that Wallace should form one of the luncheon-party that day. Knowing his cousin's record, he disliked the idea that anything approaching familiar friendship should be instituted between his cousin and the woman he loved. Lorin's sense of character was as keen as that of his uncle was deficient. Wallace's pretended affection and pretended reformation in no way deceived him, and, although, from the associations of his boyhood, he still retained some little love for the scapegrace elder who had taught him cricket and football years ago, experience had taught him that no reliance was to be placed in Wallace's honour or Wallace's word.

He grew hot with indignation, therefore, when he marked the insolent admiration in his cousin's gaze, and heard the familiar "cousin Lina" he addressed to Laline. One of Wallace's favourite boasts was that he could fascinate any woman if he choose to try, and beautiful, pure-minded Laline would not be the first woman who has been temporarily attracted by a plausible scamp.

It was clear to Lorin that, since his cousin's visit to Mrs. Vandeleur's house on the preceding day, Laline had changed towards him. All their talk during their foggy walk in the Park after church had been of deferring their marriage, and to-day her manner towards him was strangely cold and absent. He had surprised her with his cousin's hand on her arm, an incident concerning which neither she nor Wallace had volunteered the slightest explanation, and even now she was passively receiving his flattery and thinly-veiled love-making without any evident signs of disapproval. Not one look, not one word had he a chance of exchanging with her unnoticed by his cousin, although there was very much that he was longing to communicate to her. He had hoped that the occasion of seeing her home might give him the opportunity he longed for; but his presence was required in the bank that afternoon, and old Alexander was loath to let Laline leave so early.

"Even if Lorin is busy, and Wallace here finds for once something useful to do, my dear," he said, "you can stay and have a cup of tea with me at four o'clock, can't you?"

"I have nothing more useful or more pleasant to do than to stay also," Wallace was beginning, when Laline cut him short.

"I will stay alone with you, Mr. Wallace," she said. "You and I can have a nice quiet _tête-à-tête_ together."

The idea had been strengthening in her mind ever since her arrival that by old Alexander's assistance she might contrive to break her engagement. The presence of Wallace, looming large and aggressive upon her mental horizon, made all hope of association with his cousin impossible. Laline was suffering acutely. The watchfulness of Wallace's bold eyes incessantly fixed upon her face wrought her to such a pitch of nervous excitement that she was hardly conscious of what she said or did. The man exercised a magnetic power over her, so that, much as she disliked and even detested him, she was profoundly affected by his presence. A knowledge of the suffering she would shortly bring upon Lorin increased her distress of mind; she felt she dared not look in his face, lest her glance should be intercepted, or lest he should read in her eyes the consciousness that she was deceiving him.

Yet the very strength of her love and pity for Lorin, and the necessity for putting a severe curb upon her emotions, made her manner of parting with him seem strangely cold.

"Good-bye, Lina dear! At about five o'clock I will return and take you home."

"I may not be able to wait until then. Good-bye!"

How could he tell that her indifferent manner was only assumed, and that her woman's heart was throbbing with grief and vain regret? She could not even trust herself to return his look as he gazed down into her face, his own full of surprise and pain. She drew her fingers swiftly from the caressing clasp of his hand, lest his touch should unnerve her for the work before her, and she let him go from her presence thus, without one word or look to tell him that she loved him.

Wallace Armstrong noted the parting, and formed his own conclusions thereon. He would have given a good deal to win this girl from his cousin. Her beauty, her disdain, and something reminiscent in her face and voice at once piqued and fascinated him. So far as he was capable of loving a woman, he loved her, and he longed most ardently to humble her pride and to make her will subservient to his. He was nearly thirty-one, and his constitution was prematurely aged by his irregular method of life. Possibly he knew that he was on the downward road, and seized at the idea that he could be saved by the sacrifice of the love of a pure and beautiful girl. Certain it was that he definitely resolved, if the thing could be done, to win Laline from her allegiance to his cousin, either before or after her marriage. Pity and remorse were qualities as foreign to Wallace's nature, where his own selfish enjoyment was concerned, as reverence and gratitude; and on this very day of reconciliation and forgiveness, which was to herald a new era of reformation, when he unwillingly left his uncle and Laline to their _tête-à-tête_, he betook himself, not to the office, in which he had again been offered a position, but to one of his favourite drinking haunts, where he speedily made amends for his comparative abstinence at luncheon.

In Lorin's sitting-room a cheery fire was burning, and Laline drew old Mr. Wallace's arm-chair towards the blaze, while she herself stood with one hand on the mantelpiece and one foot on the fender, looking earnestly down into the glowing coals.

"What a slip of a girl you are, to be sure, my dear!" remarked Alexander Wallace, as he noticed the graceful but unduly slender outline of her figure in its severely-cut blue-serge gown. "It's time you had some one to look after you and make life pleasanter for you! And what is the exact day you have fixed for the wedding?"

She turned and faced him suddenly, very pale, with big tears gathering in her eyes.

"Mr. Wallace," she said, "I am going to hurt you dreadfully--but it hurts me even more. My marriage with your nephew Lorin can never take place!"

Alexander started from his seat and gazed at her blankly.

"Never take place?" he repeated slowly. "You are surely joking, my lassie! I thought you seemed a bit cold to the boy; but it's only some lovers' tiff, and you will make it up when you meet again. I am not too old to forget young folks' ways."

"There has been no tiff. I love your nephew far too well to quarrel with him; but we must part, all the same."

"Can it be possible," Alexander asked, in bewildered tones, "that you have taken a fancy to my other nephew? I hope not, my dear. Much as I love Wallace--and he is like my own son to me--I hope not. A good woman might be the making of Wallace, I do believe, but her heart might be broken in the process. He's a wild harum-scarum fellow, and----"

"Do you think for one moment," cried Laline, indignantly, "that I would break off my engagement with Lorin in order to marry your other nephew? I have seldom met any one I dislike so much as he in all my life!"

"Yet he's a fine, handsome fellow, and I have heard that women go crazy about him. There's a lot of good in Wallace, too," said his uncle, anxiously; "and you and he seemed very good friends when Lorin and I came in suddenly and found you together before luncheon."

"He had roughly seized my arm and I could not get it away," returned Laline, shuddering at the remembrance of the scene. "I can't endure even to talk about him! Lorin is worth a whole regiment of such men! Lorin is manly and sincere, unselfish and kind----"

"If he is all this, why don't you want to marry him?"

"But I do want to marry him--I want to marry him with all my heart!" she cried, distractedly. "Oh, Mr. Wallace, listen to me and help me with your advice, for I am very, very unhappy!"

She slipped down on her knees on the hearthrug before his chair, and told her tale thus, nervously clasping and unclasping the slender hands in her lap while she spoke.

"What I am going to tell you you must give me your word to keep secret," she said. "No one must know--not even Lorin. Promise me that."

"I promise; but----"

"I loved Lorin as soon as I met him, and I was proud of loving him, and encouraged him to love me in return. I agreed to marry him directly he asked me. I never tried to hide my feelings for him. You know this, don't you?"

"Why should you hide your feelings? He is a man any girl might be proud to love."

"He is indeed! That's what makes it so hard to give him up!"

Tears were raining down Laline's cheeks now and her voice was choked by sobs.

Alexander Wallace gazed upon her in wondering pity for a moment. Then he gently took her hands, which were pressed to her eyes, and drew her to the side of his chair.

"Tell me all your trouble, my child," he said, tenderly. "Why should you give up Lorin, since you love each other and since there is no quarrel between you?"

"Mr. Wallace," she faltered, "don't think too harshly of me! I have deceived you all. When I was little more than a child I was married!"

"Married?" Alexander repeated, in astonishment. "Then you are a widow?"

"No!"

"Your husband is alive?"

She bowed her head.

A long pause followed. Mr. Wallace let her hands go and rose from his chair.

"Heaven forgive you," he said, solemnly, "for playing with a good man's love! It was an ill deed, whatever prompted it? My poor boy!"

"Mr. Wallace," cried Laline, springing up and facing him, "don't misjudge me! When I met Lorin, I believed myself free to be his wife. It is only quite recently--within the past few days, indeed--I found out that----"

"That your husband was alive?"

"Yes."

"And you have to return to him?"

"No, no--not for the whole world! I----Please--please don't ask me any questions, Mr. Wallace! My marriage was a terrible mistake! I had heard and seen nothing of the man I married for several years; I knew of nothing to prevent my marriage with Lorin. Then, by sheer accident, I learned that that other man was still alive. I cannot tell you how much I hate him; and he never cared for me for one moment, and has forgotten my existence. But he lives, and I cannot marry Lorin!"

"But why tell me all this, my child? Why not go to Lorin, and let him hear the truth from your own lips?"

"No, no--I can't; it is quite impossible! I have made up my mind what to do. I must go away from here, to some place where he cannot follow me; and then you must break it to him. Only remember one thing. You must tell him I loved him with all my heart and soul. Tell him I never knew what love was until I met him. Tell him that my marriage was a miserable farce, that within one hour of the ceremony I was far away from my husband, and that I never went back to him again. Be sure to tell him that. Tell him it is of no use to think of me any more. I don't want him to leave off loving me, but he must love me as though I were dead, for I must be dead to him. I shall leave England, and he must not attempt to find me or follow me. I trust to his honour to respect my wishes, for it is of no use pretending to be better or stronger than I am, Mr. Wallace. I love Lorin so dearly that, if I were to see him or write to him, I don't know what I might say or do. You see it is a great temptation. I am tied to a man I hate, who does not even know that I am alive; yet, because of those words we spoke together years ago when I was too young to understand the meaning of what I did, I must break my own heart and that of the man I love and live lonely and uncared for perhaps all my life. To me it seems bitterly, cruelly hard! Yet I would not for anything let Lorin fall from my ideal of him; and, if we were together, and he asked me to become his wife, in spite of the law, I could not be sure of myself, and perhaps I might say 'Yes.' Now do you understand why you must tell him all this and not I?"

"I understand," the old man answered, in a broken voice. "My poor children!"