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

“Miss Grayling!⁠—I shall be only too delighted.” She handed me her card. “Which may I have?”

“For your own sake you had better place it as far off as you possibly can.”

“They all seem taken.”

“That doesn’t matter; strike off any name you please, anywhere and put your own instead.”

It was giving me an almost embarrassingly free hand. I booked myself for the next waltz but two⁠—who it was who would have to give way to me I did not trouble to inquire.

“Mr. Atherton!⁠—is that you?”

It was⁠—it was also she. It was Marjorie! And so soon as I saw her I knew that there was only one woman in the world for me⁠—the mere sight of her sent the blood tingling through my veins. Turning to her attendant cavalier, she dismissed him with a bow.

“Is there an empty chair?”

She seated herself in the one Miss Grayling had just vacated. I sat down beside her. She glanced at me, laughter in her eyes. I was all in a stupid tremblement.

“You remember that last night I told you that I might require your friendly services in diplomatic intervention?” I nodded⁠—I felt that the allusion was unfair. “Well, the occasion’s come⁠—or, at least, it’s very near.” She was still⁠—and I said nothing to help her. “You know how unreasonable papa can be.”

I did⁠—never a more pigheaded man in England than Geoffrey Lindon⁠—or, in a sense, a duller. But, just then, I was not prepared to admit it to his child.

“You know what an absurd objection he has to⁠—Paul.”

There was an appreciative hesitation before she uttered the fellow’s Christian name⁠—when it came it was with an accent of tenderness which stung me like a gadfly. To speak to me⁠—of all men⁠—of the fellow in such a tone was⁠—like a woman.

“Has Mr. Lindon no notion of how things stand between you?”

“Except what he suspects. That is just where you are to come in, papa thinks so much of you⁠—I want you to sound Paul’s praises in his ear⁠—to prepare him for what must come.” Was ever rejected lover burdened with such a task? Its enormity kept me still. “Sydney, you have always been my friend⁠—my truest, dearest friend. When I was a little girl you used to come between papa and me, to shield me from his wrath. Now that I am a big girl I want you to be on my side once more, and to shield me still.”

Her voice softened. She laid her hand upon my arm. How, under her touch, I burned.

“But I don’t understand what cause there has been for secrecy⁠—why should there have been any secrecy from the first?”

“It was Paul’s wish that papa should not be told.”

“Is Mr. Lessingham ashamed of you?”

“Sydney!”

“Or does he fear your father?”

“You are unkind. You know perfectly well that papa has been prejudiced against him all along, you know that his political position is just now one of the greatest difficulty, that every nerve and muscle is kept on the continual strain, that it is in the highest degree essential that further complications of every and any sort should be avoided. He is quite aware that his suit will not be approved of by papa, and he simply wishes that nothing shall be said about it till the end of the session⁠—that is all.”

“I see! Mr. Lessingham is cautious even in lovemaking⁠—politician first, and lover afterwards.”

“Well!⁠—why not?⁠—would you have him injure the cause he has at heart for want of a little patience?”

“It depends what cause it is he has at heart.”

“What is the matter with you?⁠—why do you speak to me like that?⁠—it is not like you at all.” She looked at me shrewdly, with flashing eyes. “Is it possible that you are⁠—jealous?⁠—that you were in earnest in what you said last night?⁠—I thought that was the sort of thing you said to every girl.”

I would have given a great deal to take her in my arms, and press her to my bosom then and there⁠—to think that she should taunt me with having said to her the sort of thing I said to every girl.

“What do you know of Mr. Lessingham?”

“What all the world knows⁠—that history will be made by him.”

“There are kinds of history in the making of which one would not desire to be associated. What do you know of his private life⁠—it was to that that I was referring.”

“Really⁠—you go too far. I know that he is one of the best, just as he is one of the greatest, of men; for me, that is sufficient.”

“If you do know that, it is sufficient.”

“I do know it⁠—all the world knows it. Everyone with whom he comes in contact is aware⁠—must be aware, that he is incapable of a dishonourable thought or action.”

“Take my advice, don’t appreciate any man too highly. In the book of every man’s life there is a page which he would wish to keep turned down.”

“There is no such page in Paul’s⁠—there may be in yours; I think that probable.”

“Thank you. I fear it is more than probable. I fear that, in my case, the page may extend to several. There is nothing Apostolic about me⁠—not even the name.”

“Sydney!⁠—you are unendurable!⁠—It is the more strange to hear you talk like this since Paul regards you as his friend.”

“He flatters me.”

“Are you not his friend?”

“Is it not sufficient to be yours?”

“No⁠—who is against Paul is against me.”

“That is hard.”

“How is it hard? Who is against the husband can hardly be for the wife⁠—when the husband and the wife are one.”

“But as yet you are not one.⁠—Is my cause so hopeless?”

“What do you call your cause?⁠—are you thinking of that nonsense you were talking about last night?”

She laughed!

“You call it nonsense.⁠—You ask for sympathy, and give⁠—so much!”

“I will give you all the sympathy you stand in need of⁠—I promise it! My poor, dear Sydney!⁠—don’t be so absurd! Do you think that I don’t know you? You’re the best of friends, and the worst of lovers⁠—as the one, so true;