Chapter 9

THE EMBASSY OF GEOFFREY HERON.

Within that week the house party at Hollyoaks broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall returned to their own house, which was only four miles away; Jennie Brawn went back to Bedford-park and the family of nine; and Geoffrey Heron took his way to his London Chambers. So Ruth was left to the society of her father, and she made up her mind that she would say no more about Neil. Indeed, she half intimated to Mr. Cass that she might, after all, marry her other lover--an intimation which delighted the worthy merchant beyond words.

"You are a sensible girl after all, Ruth," he said. "Believe me, you would do wisely. You see my love, you could not have been really in love with Webster, since you have so soon forgotten him."

She answered him meekly enough.

"I daresay you are right, papa, Neil has behaved very badly to me, and I think no more of him."

"Poor fellow," sighed Mr. Cass!

"Really, papa," exclaimed the girl, "you are difficult to please. At your desire I have given him up: now you think I have treated him badly."

"My dear, I said nothing of the sort," protested the embarrassed Mr. Cass. "All the same, I wish he had not set his heart on you."

"Oh, he has not done that, or he would not have been so ready to give me up."

"My dear, you do not understand."

Ruth went away thinking over this last speech. "No," she murmured to herself, "I do not understand, but I shall soon. I ought to hear from Geoffrey in a few days. After all, I am really beginning to think I like him better than Neil. What Jennie said was quite right, although I would not for the world acknowledge it to her. I am not the wife for a man like him. I want to be considered, and I am sure Geoffrey would do all in his power to please me and to make me happy. Neil? Well, I think he might have been rather a trial."

A week after Neil's departure, Mr. Cass received a letter from him which caused the worthy merchant much perplexity. He shut himself up in his library to think it over. Webster had gone away with the fullest intention of proving his mother's innocence, yet this short letter intimated that he had abandoned the idea. "I have seen my mother," he wrote, "and I see it is best to take your advice and let sleeping dogs lie. I am going abroad shortly, and it is not likely that I shall see you for many months. Never again will I come to your house; and I only hope that you will impress upon Ruth the necessity of forgetting me as speedily as possible. I cannot trust myself to see her again, so I must leave this task to you."

"Poor lad!" sighed Mr. Cass, as he finished the letter. "It is bitter for him that he should have to suffer for the sins of his parents. But I wonder why he has stopped short in his endeavour to prove Mrs. Jenner's innocence? What can she have said to him? I have a good mind to see him--or her," he added as an after-thought; then changed his mind. "No, it would only revive sad memories. The matter is settled by this letter, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. I will think no more of it."

So he said, but so he did not do. His conscience frequently took pleasure in reminding him of the whole story, and despite all his philosophical resolves to "let sleeping dogs lie," he knew very well that he ought to rouse them. But this he could not bring himself to do. Too much was at stake, and a bolder man than Mr. Cass would have shrank from the consequences. In this frame of mind he did his best to argue that he was right, and--he failed in the attempt.

Meanwhile Geoffrey was in town. He had learnt from Ruth that Neil occupied rooms in the Waverley Hotel in Cherry-square, a quiet, unpretentious establishment.

Three times Heron called at the hotel, only to be told that Mr. Webster was out of town. The fourth time he was more lucky and found the young man at home.

Neil Webster looked extremely ill; dark circles under his eyes told of sleepless nights, and his restless movements hinted at a nervous system which had gone to pieces. Moreover, his lips were dry, his eyes feverishly bright.

The room was luxuriously furnished. The prevailing colour was a dark red, and on the walls were hung portraits of his favourite composers. Curiously enough, the furniture was upholstered in a soft shade of grey, the effect of which in the warm-tinted room was, to say the least, of it, somewhat odd. A revolving bookcase, filled with books--mostly of poems--stood near a Louis Quinze escritoire; but the glory of the room was a magnificent grand piano standing alone at one end of the apartment.

"I suppose you are surprised to see me, Webster?" said the young squire abruptly.

"Well, I must admit that I am. We could hardly be called the best of friends at any time, I think."

"Still, we have not been enemies, Webster. Because two men may happen to be rivals they need not have a bad opinion of each other."

"You are very good," Neil said, faintly.

"Don't be sarcastic; there is no need, I assure you."

The remark made Webster laugh.

"Why do you laugh?" asked the other, sharply.

"I was wondering whether I could make a friend of you, and the thought of our relative positions with Miss Cass made me scout the possibility. We can never be friends."

"Why not? I like you very well. I don't see why you should be so bitter to me."

"I am not bitter. In fact, you would be my friend, I think, if it were not for Miss Cass."

"I am ready to be your friend in any case," said Heron, quickly. "And don't think me a mean brute to hate a man because he is more lucky than I."

"Lucky!" sighed Neil, sitting up. "Heaven help you if you are not a luckier man than I. Well, when we know one another better we may be friends. I need one badly enough, Heaven knows. But, first of all, to pave the way to our better acquaintance, why have you come here?"

"I will answer you frankly. Miss Cass has informed me that you have broken off your engagement to her. Now, you know that I am very much in love with her, and that I wish her to be my wife. She loves you, I think----"

"No, pardon me," Webster said, lifting one thin hand. "She does not really care for me. I have come to that conclusion after much thought. She admires my talents, but you possess what wins a woman's eyes and her heart in the long run--strength."

"You are complimentary," Heron said, good-humouredly, "but I think most women would admire you. All I want to know is whether your engagement with Miss Cass is really at an end, because in that case I'll sail in and try my luck."

Webster leant back. It was hard to give up this girl, and although he had really done so, yet there was the official announcement to be made. But it had to be done, for, knowing what he knew, he felt that no truly honest man in his place would hold her to her promise. So Neil braced himself up to make the sacrifice, and spoke out with decision:

"My engagement to Miss Cass is at an end," he said. "She will never be my wife, nor is it probable that I shall ever see her again. She is free to marry you, indeed, I hope she will, and"--here his voice quivered--"I wish you joy."

"Well," Heron said, thoughtfully, "I can't deny that I am glad to hear this, for Ruth Cass is all the world and more to me. At the same time time I am sorry, for I can see that you feel this very deeply. Is it of your own free will that you do this?" and he eyed Webster curiously.

"In one way it is, in another it is not. A few weeks ago I had a right to marry her, now I have none."

"Can I help you?" Heron asked.

"No, no. Impossible!"

The man was so shaken and ill that Geoffrey asked no more questions. He went over and shook hands. "As you have withdrawn I will try my luck. But, I also may fail; and if I do I hope I shall bear the disappointment as well as you do. If you will allow me I will come and see you again."

"I shall be glad to see you. But are you not going back to Hollyoaks?

"No," replied Geoffrey. "I shall be in town for a week or so, and if I can see you again so much the better."

"Come by all means, then. I am usually at home during the evening. I'm afraid I can't ask you to dine just now. I really do not feel well enough."

"That's all right," Heron said, brightly. "I know you feel bad, but you have behaved like a Briton." Than which Geoffrey thought there could not be higher praise. "And if I can help you in any way I will. I have an idea, you know, that we shall be friends, after all."

"We have made a good start, anyhow," said Neil. "Good-bye."

When Geoffrey had gone, the unhappy man buried his face in the sofa cushions and wept bitterly. He had crushed down his feelings throughout the interview; but now Nature would have her way.

"Oh, Heavens!" he wailed. "Shall I ever know peace again?"