Delphi collected works o.., p.444
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli, page 444
part #22 of Delphi Series Series
“Everybody knows him,” said Violet. “That’s the worst of it. That’s why I’m afraid you won’t like it. He is Mr. Max Nugent.”
Miss Letty almost jumped out of her chair. Max Nugent, the millionaire! — the man after whom all the “society” beauties of London, Paris, and New York had been running like hunters after a fox, — he in love with little Violet? It seemed strange, almost unnatural; she could scarcely believe it, and in the extremity of her surprise was quite speechless.
“He says he wishes he was not a millionaire,” said Violet, in doleful accents, beginning to twist her hat round and round. “He says he wishes he was just a clerk in an office doing a grind, and coming home to me in a little weeny house. He would be quite content. But he can’t help it. You see, his father left him all the dreadful money, and the only thing he can use it for is to try to make other people happy. And he thinks I might help him to do that. But, there, I see by your looks you don’t like it.”
A sudden rush of tears filled her eyes, and Miss Letty, recalling her scattered wits, made haste to put her arms round her and comfort her.
“My dear Violet, my darling girl, don’t cry; you quite mistake me. I am surprised, indeed, very much surprised, but I am not displeased. I know very little about Mr. Nugent. I daresay he is a very good man. Your uncle sees more of him than I do; but you must remember he is so much older than you are, and so much sought after by the world that it seems difficult to realise that he wants to marry my little girl. There, there! Don’t cry! Does your uncle know?”
“I couldn’t tell him,” sobbed Violet. “I wanted to, but I didn’t dare. And Max said that if I told you, he would tell uncle. Do you see? Then you two would meet and talk it over. There is nothing wrong with Max except his horrid money. Because everybody will say that I am a mean, designing, little wretch; and I really have not been anything of the kind. I never did anything to make him like me, only being just myself—”
Miss Letty kissed her.
“That is the secret of it, little one,” she said. “Being yourself, your dear self, is the only way to win a man’s heart. And do you love him?” Violet raised her eyes fully this time and dashed away her tears.
“Yes, I do!” she said, earnestly. “I love him dearly!”
Miss Letty stroked her hair thoughtfully.
“It will be a very responsible position for you, dear child, if you marry Mr. Nugent,” she said, seriously. “Very brilliant, very difficult, almost dangerous for such a young thing as you are. I think, Violet, that perhaps you would rather not have any advice from me just now?”
“Oh, yes, yes! Do advise me. I want advice,” cried the girl, enthusiastically. “Max said whatever you told me I was to do, as he honoured you more than any woman in the world — except me!”
Miss Letty laughed.
“I was going to say, surely he makes that one reservation!” she said. “Well, my dear, my advice is that you refrain from entering into any sort of an engagement for at least a year. Your love for each other will hold out during that time of probation if it is worth anything, — and then you will be more certain of your own mind. Yes, I know,” for Violet was about to interrupt her. “You think you are quite certain now; but you are not eighteen yet, — a mere child, — and Mr. Nugent is a man of the world. Believe me, dear, it will be better for you, and better for him, to endure this test of faith. However, I am not the only one whose advice you must consider; there is your Uncle Desmond. Now you know, Violet, he is one of the best and kindest men living, and he is very anxious to do everything well for his dear sister’s child; you will obey his wishes whatever they are, will you not?”
“Indeed, indeed, I will!” said Violet, earnestly. “I promise!”
“That’s my dear girl,” and Miss Letty kissed her again. “Now tell me all about this wonderful Max, — though I know just how you feel about him.”
“Do you?” said Violet, smiling and blushing. “Then you tell me!”
“You feel,” said Miss Letty, taking her hands and pressing them tenderly, “that there never was, and never will be, such a splendid lover for a girl in the world as he is. You feel that when he is near you you are quite happy, and want nothing more than just to hear him speak, and watch his eyes resting upon you. You feel that there is a blank in your life when he is absent. You feel that you would not worry him or vex him by so much as a thought. You feel that if God were to take him from you now you would be very lonely, — that you would perhaps never get over it all your life long.”
Her voice trembled, and Violet threw her arms impulsively about her.
“Dear, dear Miss Letty, you know!”
“Yes,” said Miss Letty, with a faint smile, “I know. Now, little one, let us try and talk quietly over this affair. Let me get to my work, — you talk and I listen.”
And so as the drowsy heat of the afternoon cooled off towards sunset, when the hummingbirds left off kissing the flowers and went to bed, like jewels put by in their velvety nest-cases, the two women sat together, — the one young and brimful of hope and the dreams of innocence, the other old, but as fresh in heart and simplicity of faith as the girl who so joyously exulted in her springtime.
That evening Violet went off to a dance at the house of a neighbour, and Major Desmond dropped in to see Miss Letty, just as she was thinking it was about time to go to bed, notwithstanding the wonderful glory of the moon which looks so much more luminous and brilliant in the clear atmosphere of America than in the half-misty but more tender pearl tint of the ever-changeful English skies. She stood on the low step of her verandah, gazing wistfully up at the proudly glittering Diana sweeping through heaven like the veritable huntress of the classic fable, without a cloud to soften the silver flashing of her bow, and as the major’s stalwart figure came slowly across the lawn she was for a moment startled. He looked anxious and careworn, and her heart sank a little. She was not actually surprised to see him; he had his suite of rooms at an hotel not so very far away, and he was accustomed to stroll up to her house very often, bringing his friends with him. But a worried look on that cheery face was new to her, and she was not a little troubled to see it.
“Why, Dick,” she said, as he approached, “isn’t this rather a late visit?”
“Is it too late for you, Letty?” he asked, gently. “If so, I’ll go away again.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” she said, cheerily. “Violet has gone to a dance, and I meant to sit up for her in my room, but now we’ll both sit up for her here. What a warm day it has been! — and it’s a warm night, too, — I’ll order you an iced sherry-cobbler.”
She rang a bell which communicated with the house, and gave her order to the servant who answered it, then pushed a comfortable chair forward. The major sank into it with a deep sigh.
“That’s nice!” he said; “and I won’t say no to the sherry-cobbler. I’ve had a wearying day.”
“Have you? I am sorry!” and Miss Letty’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Is it about — about Violet?”
“Yes, it’s about Violet,” said the major, and then became silent, meditatively tinkling with a spoon the lumps of ice in the sherry-cobbler which had just been set before him.
“But I don’t think you need worry about that,” began Miss Letty.
He interrupted her by a slight gesture.
“Ah, you dear woman! You don’t know. You are as sweetly ignorant of the ways of modern men as the ladies in the old-fashioned ‘Book of Beauty,’ who always wore their hair parted in the middle and smiled on serenely at everything and everybody, even when their lives were ruined and their hearts broken. No, Letty! You don’t know. Has Violet told you?”
“About Mr. Nugent? — Yes. I confess I was very much surprised.”
“So was I — so I am still,” said the major. “I don’t know what to say about it. You see, Letty, it’s this way. Max Nugent’s father was the biggest rascal that ever died unhanged. He made his wealth by fraud, — and, thank goodness, he killed himself by over-eating! This young man, his only son, may be a very good fellow; but he has nothing to be proud of in his ancestry, and he has seen a great deal of the worst side of the world. He has lived his own life in Paris, Petersburg, and Vienna, and I doubt — I doubt whether he would make such a simple, unsophisticated little girl as Violet happy. I told him so plainly. He came to me to-day and talked very eloquently, — and I must say very well. I explained to him that his wealth was simply monstrous and appalling, — positively vulgar, in fact. He said he knew it was, but he could not help it. Which of course he can’t.”
Miss Letty laughed.
“Poor man! Are you not a little hard on him, Dick?”
The major sipped his cobbler with a relish. His brows were clear, — the gentle presence of Miss Letty was already doing him good.
“I think not, — I hope not,” he answered. “I told him just what I felt about it. I said that his money was a disgrace, because it bad been gotten together by fraud. He admitted it. He offered to endow hospitals, free libraries, and build all sorts of benevolent institutions, educate poor children, and encourage deserving beggars all round, if I let him marry Violet—”
“Well!”
“Well, I don’t like it,” said the major, very emphatically. “I tell you plainly, I don’t like it! There’s just a something about Nugent that I don’t quite trust.”
Miss Letty looked grave.
“If you really feel like that, Dick,” she began.
“I do feel like it!” and the major squared his shoulders with a movement of resolution. “But I don’t mean to make myself a slave to personal prejudice. And I have not refused Nugent, but I have said that he must wait a year.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve told Violet,” said Miss Letty, triumphantly.
Desmond looked at her wistfully.
“There you are, you see! Everything proves as plainly as possible that we two ought to have been one, Letty. Our wits jump together by mutual consent. Well, now, I have told this golden-crusted millionaire that I cannot permit any sort of engagement to exist between him and my young niece for twelve months. After that time is ended, if both he and she are of the same mind, I will consent to an engagement, — the marriage to follow in six months afterwards. He was very loth to agree to these terms; but, finally, as I would hear of nothing else, he consented. And what does Violet say?”
“She is willing to do anything you wish,” said Miss Letty.
“Yes, she is willing to do anything you wish,” echoed a soft voice behind them.
They both started and turned round. There stood Violet, just returned from her dance, looking the very perfection of sweet girlhood, in her simple white ball-dress, with a knot of carnations on her bodice, and a little wisp of tulle thrown over her head and shoulders. Her face was smiling, but her eyes were soft and serious, and as soon as she saw she was perceived, she came forward and knelt down with a pretty grace at her uncle’s feet.
“She is willing to do anything you wish,” she repeated. “Dearest uncle, you know I am.”
The old major patted her head kindly.
“Yes, child, I am sure you are. And so you have been playing the eavesdropper, eh? Now, who brought you home from the dance just now?”
“Max — Mr. Nugent did,” answered Violet, frankly; “but only just as far as the door. I asked him to come in and see Miss Letty, but he wouldn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” asked the major.
“Oh, I don’t know,” and Violet gave a pretty gesture of deprecation; “I think he was shy.”
Desmond gave a short laugh.
“Shy! I never heard that of Max Nugent before. However, love works wonders. Well now, Violet, Miss Leslie and I have been talking this matter over, and I’ll tell you what we have decided. We are going to take you back to England for a year.”
Violet rose from her kneeling attitude at her uncle’s side, and her face grew wistful.
“To England!”
“Yes, to England. Eh, Letty?” and he gave her a side wink. Miss Letty was startled, but she did not show it outwardly. She merely replied with a becoming meekness, —
“Whatever you think best for Violet, Dick.”
“Well, I think that best,” said Desmond, firmly; “and to England we will go as soon as the summer is over. It’s July now — we’ll give you August and September to be happy in your own way, Violet, and to make Mr. Nugent distinctly understand that you have sufficient breadth and firmness of character to obey those who feel themselves responsible in a way for your future life and happiness, and that you mean to make him deserve you by patience and fidelity. Do you understand?”
“Yes, uncle. I quite understand,” said Violet, gently.
“And you are not unhappy about it?”
“No, uncle. You have been so good to me, and your love has been so true and kind, that I cannot doubt your knowing and doing for the best. I should indeed be an ungrateful little wretch if I thought otherwise. I shall obey you absolutely, and dear Miss Letty too!”
She stooped and kissed them both tenderly.
“Good-night,” she said, cheerily. “I have danced nearly all the evening. I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”
“Good-night, little one, God bless you!” said Miss Letty, fondly.
“God bless you, darling Miss Letty!” And with another kiss and smile, Violet entered the house, paused on the threshold for a moment to wave her hand once more, and then vanished.
The two old people were silent for some minutes after she had gone. The glorious moon shed broad halos of silvery light around them, and in the deep silence a whisper seemed to steal upon the heavily perfumed air and creep into both their hearts, saying, “You two — you both were young once, and now — do you not think you have wasted your lives for a dream’s sake?”
But though they were conscious of this subtle suggestion, their brave souls had but the one response to it. Miss Letty certainly did not think her life was wasted because she had been faithful to the memory of her first love, and because since his death she had done what she could to make others, instead of herself, happy. And Dick Desmond, though he sometimes did feel a little bit sore about having had to sacrifice a sweet wife and cosy home for the memory, as he always said to himself, “of a dead rascal,” still he did not complain of the romantic faith that had kept his heart warm all these years, and enabled him to do good wherever he could in his own particular way. So that whisper of a half regret passed them by like the merest passing shadow, and the major rose up to go, squaring his shoulders in his usual fashion and shaking himself like a big retriever.
“I think I’m right, Letty,” he said, with a meaning nod towards the direction in which Violet had disappeared.
“You are always right, Dick, I am sure,” responded Miss Letty, sweetly.
The major took up his broad Panama hat and looked into its crown thoughtfully.
“You’ll be ready to sail the first week in October, Letty?”
“Quite.”
“Good-night.”
“Good-night, Dick.”
Whereupon the major put his Panama firmly on his head and walked slowly and meditatively down the garden and out of it, and Miss Letty put by the chairs on the verandah and shut all the drawing-room windows. As she paused for a moment by her work-table to put one or two trifles by, her eyes rested for a moment on the pair of little worn shoes on the bracket above, and the pensive aspect of the toy cow “Dunny” that stood close by them, and that seemed to be steadfastly regarding their shabby toes with a contemplative sadness too deep for even a movable head to wag over.
“Poor Boy!” mused Miss Letty. “I wonder where he is — and what he is like — now!”
CHAPTER IX.
THE summer flew by, — on wings of romance for Violet Morrison, but somewhat burdened with anxiety for Major Desmond and Miss Leslie. Max Nugent, millionaire and man of the world, was most charming in his manner to both the elderly people, and most tender and deferential in his devotion to the young girl in their charge, but Major Desmond was not altogether satisfied about him. He wore a glass in his eye, for one thing. People laughed at the major when he made objection to such a trifle, — even Miss Letty laughed. But Desmond was obstinate.
“Well, will you tell me,” he demanded, “the practical use of a glass in one eye? It can’t assist the sight, for Nugent always reads without it. What’s it for, then? To look at the scenery? That won’t do, for the man always clicks it out of his eye whenever he glances at the landscape. There is only one reason for his wearing it — and that is, to conceal his true expression.”
“Now, look here, Desmond,” said one of his club friends, “you really are going too far. How the deuce can an eye-glass conceal expression?”
“I’ll tell you how” — and the major proceeded to demonstrate. “Suppose you succeed in training one eye to look straight while you told a crammer, and you can’t train the other? Suppose that other eye insists on shifting about and blinking as the lie pops out of your mouth? Why, then, clap the eye-glass on, and there you are!”
And though he was laughed at for this theory, he, to put it in his own way. “stuck to his guns.” And the middle of October saw Miss Letty back in England. October is often a very beautiful month in these “Happy Isles,” and Miss Letty was not sorry to see the old country once again. Her house in Hans Place was still occupied by her tenants, whose lease did not expire till the coming Christmas; so she took a suite of rooms in one of the many luxuriously appointed hotels which nowadays make London such a habitable resort, and fixed this as her head-quarters, while, in compliance with Major Desmond’s ideas, she took Violet for various visits to some of the grand old country-seats in England. For both she and Major Desmond had many friends among the best of the country folks who had beautiful homes, and loved those homes with a love which, unfortunately, is being relegated to the list of old-fashioned virtues, and Violet had plenty of chances to see for herself how English lives were lived, and what English young men were like. But the girl was not attracted by any of the jeunesse dorée of her native country. Compared with the courtesy and attention she had received from the sterner sex in America, who are accustomed to treat women with the greatest honour and reverence, she found the English young men brusque, conceited, and often coarse in manner and conversation. And her love for the polished and deferential Max Nugent grew stronger and deeper, and all the graceful fancies, hopes, and dreams of her young life clustered around him as the one inevitable centre of her existence. And the “eye-glass,” to which her uncle attached such grave importance, never troubled her thoughts at all, except to move her to a smile when she thought of “uncle’s fancy” regarding it. And Miss Letty watched her as a mother would have watched her, and noted all the little signs of this deep first love absorbing her life with a tenderness and interest which were, however, not without a vague touch of foreboding.
