The Beetle by Richard Marsh (read e books online free txt) 📕

survival.” He made an obvious effort to become more like his usual self. “It is extremely unfortunate, Atherton, that I should have troubled you with such a display of weakness⁠—especially as I am able to offer you so scant an explanation. One thing I would ask of you⁠—to observe strict confidence. What has taken place has been between ourselves. I am in your hands, but you are my friend, I know I can rely on you not to speak of it to anyone⁠—and, in particular, not to breathe a hint of it to Miss Lindon.”

“Why, in particular, not to Miss Lindon?”

“Can you not guess?”

I hunched my shoulder.

“If what I guess is what you mean is not that a cause the more why silence would be unfair to her?”

“It is for me to speak, if for anyone. I shall not fail to do what should be done.⁠—Give me your promise that you will not hint a word to her of what you have so unfortunately seen?”

I gave him the promise he required.

There was no more work for me that day. The Apostle, his divagations, his example of the coleoptera, his Arabian friend⁠—these things were as microbes which, acting on a system already predisposed for their reception, produced high fever; I was in a fever⁠—of unrest. Brain in a whirl!⁠—Marjorie, Paul, Isis, beetle, mesmerism, in delirious jumble. Love’s upsetting!⁠—in itself a sufficiently severe disease; but when complications intervene, suggestive of mystery and novelties, so that you do not know if you are moving in an atmosphere of dreams or of frozen facts⁠—if, then, your temperature does not rise, like that rocket of M. Verne’s⁠—which reached the moon, then you are a freak of an entirely genuine kind, and if the surgeons do not preserve you, and place you on view, in pickle, they ought to, for the sake of historical doubters, for no one will believe that there ever was a man like you, unless you yourself are somewhere around to prove them Thomases.

Myself⁠—I am not that kind of man. When I get warm I grow heated, and when I am heated there is likely to be a variety show of a gaudy kind. When Paul had gone I tried to think things out, and if I had kept on trying something would have happened⁠—so I went on the river instead.

XIV The Duchess’ Ball

That night was the Duchess of Datchet’s ball⁠—the first person I saw as I entered the dancing-room was Dora Grayling.

I went straight up to her.

“Miss Grayling, I behaved very badly to you last night, I have come to make to you my apologies⁠—to sue for your forgiveness!”

“My forgiveness?” Her head went back⁠—she has a pretty birdlike trick of cocking it a little on one side. “You were not well. Are you better?”

“Quite.⁠—You forgive me? Then grant me plenary absolution by giving me a dance for the one I lost last night.”

She rose. A man came up⁠—a stranger to me; she’s one of the best hunted women in England⁠—there’s a million with her.

“This is my dance, Miss Grayling.”

She looked at him.

“You must excuse me. I am afraid I have made a mistake. I had forgotten that I was already engaged.”

I had not thought her capable of it. She took my arm, and away we went, and left him staring.

“It’s he who’s the sufferer now,” I whispered, as we went round⁠—she can waltz!

“You think so? It was I last night⁠—I did not mean, if I could help it, to suffer again. To me a dance with you means something.” She went all red⁠—adding, as an afterthought, “Nowadays so few men really dance. I expect it’s because you dance so well.”

“Thank you.”

We danced the waltz right through, then we went to an impromptu shelter which had been rigged up on a balcony. And we talked. There’s something sympathetic about Miss Grayling which leads one to talk about one’s self⁠—before I was half aware of it I was telling her of all my plans and projects⁠—actually telling her of my latest notion which, ultimately, was to result in the destruction of whole armies as by a flash of lightning. She took an amount of interest in it which was surprising.

“What really stands in the way of things of this sort is not theory but practice⁠—one can prove one’s facts on paper, or on a small scale in a room; what is wanted is proof on a large scale, by actual experiment. If, for instance, I could take my plant to one of the forests of South America, where there is plenty of animal life but no human, I could demonstrate the soundness of my position then and there.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Think of the money it would cost.”

“I thought I was a friend of yours.”

“I had hoped you were.”

“Then why don’t you let me help you?”

“Help me?⁠—How?”

“By letting you have the money for your South American experiment;⁠—it would be an investment on which I should expect to receive good interest.”

I fidgeted.

“It is very good of you, Miss Grayling, to talk like that.”

She became quite frigid.

“Please don’t be absurd!⁠—I perceive quite clearly that you are snubbing me, and that you are trying to do it as delicately as you know how.”

“Miss Grayling!”

“I understand that it was an impertinence on my part to volunteer assistance which was unasked; you have made that sufficiently plain.”

“I assure you⁠—”

“Pray don’t. Of course, if it had been Miss Lindon it would have been different; she would at least have received a civil answer. But we are not all Miss Lindon.”

I was aghast. The outburst was so uncalled for⁠—I had not the faintest notion what I had said or done to cause it; she was in such a surprising passion⁠—and it suited her!⁠—I thought I had never seen her look prettier⁠—I could do nothing else but stare. So she went on⁠—with just as little reason.

“Here is someone coming to claim this dance⁠—I can’t throw all my partners over. Have I offended you so irremediably that it will be