University of Virginia Library

72. CHAPTER LXXII.
WHAT A LADY IS CAPABLE OF WHEN SHE IS AROUSED.

The expression of Miss Clementina's face was indescribable.
Indignation, confusion, nervous excitement, the sense of what was
due to visitors beneath the Blandfield roof—all these emotions were
mixed and jumbled together inextricably in the countenance of the
lady, who waved her fan with a sort of flutter, trembled, and laughed
that falsetto laugh which does not laugh.

She had come down-stairs on some errand to Mrs. Bland's room,
without a knowledge of Harley's presence, and hearing voices in
the drawing-room, had yielded to her curiosity, pushed open the
door, and entered just at the moment when the pale lips of the
Lady of the Snow had pressed Harley's hand.

Harley had said, in reply to her first words:

“You do not disturb us, madam—pray remain!”

He spoke with perfect calmness, looking fixedly at the lady, who
essayed her nervous and ironical laugh.

“Oh, I am sure I must, sir!”

“Not in the least, madam,” he said. “It is I who probably inconvenience
you. You are in search of a book? Allow me to assist
you.”

“Don't trouble yourself, sir, I beg! The book is of no consequence!”

He inclined his head, still gazing quietly at her. It was a significant
look. Something in it said, “Are you really in search of a
book, madam, or have you only come with the view of prying and
listening?” The calm eyes aroused her irritation. Her face flushed
more and more.

“I only regret having interrupted you, sir!” she said, spitefully:
“I am sure I am sorry. I was not aware that you and this—lady—
were engaged in—that I was interrupting—so dramatic a scene!”

Harley drew himself up with stately politeness.

“A scene, madam?” he said.

“It really resembled a scene, sir. I am sorry if the word is disagreeable
to you—”

“And you have added—a dramatic scene, madam.”

“Yes, sir; you must acknowledge that it is somewhat dramatic to
be—but I think I had better retire, sir.”

In spite of which observation Miss Clementina, trembling, flushing,
and becoming more and more irritated, made no movement
whatever to carry out her threat.

Harley had grown, if possible, more stately than before. When
he spoke, his voice had the same tone of formal politeness.

“I must express my astonishment, madam,” he said, “at finding
myself and this lady the subject of this singular criticism. I am
not in the habit—nor, I may add, is this lady—of acting a part in
scenes—dramatic scenes.”

The reply gave Miss Clementina an opportunity to throw all her
indignation and wrath into one stinging sentence. She was so
angry now that she lost all sense of convenance.

“I thought this—lady—had once been an actress, sir. If so, acting
in scenes, and dramatic scenes, must be familiar to her!”

Harley looked at Miss Clementina with sudden hauteur, and said,

“You will pardon me, madam, but this conversation is a strange
one!”

“It is not stranger than certain things that are going on in this
house, sir,” snapped Miss Clementina, completely losing her temper.

“Certain things, madam?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Will you be good enough to specify these things, madam?”

“I will, sir! I mean to refer particularly to the presence of certain
persons here.”

She glanced haughtily at the Lady of the Snow as she spoke.

“Certain persons, madam?”

“You know my meaning, sir! You have forced me to speak
plainly!”

“I beg you will speak even more plainly still, madam, and put
me in possession of your whole meaning.”

“I will do so, sir!”

Miss Clementina was by this time nearly at a white heat; and it
is but doing her justice to say that she persuaded herself that she
was only acting as it was her duty to act. Every feeling of propriety
in her bosom had been outraged by the discovery of Harley
and the unknown woman in so significant an attitude. She had no
longer any doubt that they were husband and wife. And here
before her was the person who had paid his court to Evelyn—
making the girl the subject of satirical gossip; he had come to the
very home sheltering the girl to hold his secret interviews with
this actress—his perhaps cast-off wife!

At that thought Miss Clementina raged internally, and her face
indicated her feelings.

“I will speak more plainly still, sir, as you ask me to do so!” she
said, with concentrated acidity. “I mean that we are only simple
country people at Blandfield—very plain and unsophisticated— and
do not like mysteries, or mysterious people, of whom we know
nothing.”

“Mysterious people, madam?”

“Nor do we relish more forming intimacies with gentlemen whose
past lives will not—bear examination!”

The blow was rude, and was accompanied by a flash of the
speaker's eye directed toward Harley which left no doubt whatever
of her meaning. He rose to his full height, and said, formally,

“You no doubt refer to myself, madam.”

Miss Clementina was silent.

“As you have referred to this lady,” added Harley.

Miss Clementina flirted her fan with a spiteful air, and said:

“I pass the limits of ceremony in speaking this plainly, perhaps,
sir; you have driven me to it!”

Harley bowed, and said:

“That is enough, madam. What you have done me the honor to
say to me renders any further discussion impossible. When a
gentleman is suspected of dishonorable conduct, of concealments,
discreditable intrigue, he is naturally unwelcome; and if he possesses
the least delicacy, he will cease to intrude where he is thus
unwelcome. I will therefore rid you of my presence at once, after a
very few words. You may not believe my word, madam,—I cannot
help that; but I shall make my statement, and then bid you good-morning.”

Harley never lost his tone of formal politeness, and added:

“I came this morning with no object but to see Judge Bland on
business. I am about to travel, and it was necessary to attend to
this business. My visit was preceded by a letter, addressed by myself
to this lady.”

“I delivered it!” snapped Miss Clementina.

“I thank you, madam; it was not an appointment, as you may probably
suppose.”

“Oh, no!” faltered the Lady of the Snow; “it was to be me goodbye!”

“Thus my meeting with this lady,” Harley continued, “was
purely an accident. You may possibly doubt my word—so be it,
madam. I must submit to that doubt.”

“Doubt your word?—she cannot!—no one could!“ exclaimed the
pale lady, with a sudden flush.

“I found this lady here,” Harley went on, “and entered into conversation
with her; it appears that in doing so I have insulted your
entire household, madam. Well, at least you have retorted. You
have insulted her and me. As to these imputations upon her, and
upon myself, — imputations involving concealment, dishonorable
conduct—what shall I say, madam? You are a lady—I a gentleman—at
least I have always regarded myself as such. It is better,
therefore, perhaps, that I should say nothing.”

The covert disdain of Harley's tone so stung Miss Clementina,
that her wrath reached its highest point.

“I have insulted no one! I referred to what is said by everybody
of yourself, sir! I referred to this lady's reported profession.
She is an actress—!”

“She is my friend, madam.”

Miss Clementina could not resist the opening.

“She is said to be more, sir!”

“More, madam?”

“Your wife, sir!”

The scene had reached its climax, and Miss Clementina was about
to leave the room abruptly, when a new personage appeared. Suddenly
a voice in the direction of the door cried:

“This is shameful!—shameful!”

Miss Clementina started, and turned quickly.

“I say it is shameful!”

And Evelyn Bland almost rushed into the apartment as she spoke.
The face and figure of the young girl were superb. Erect, defiant,
her cheeks flaming with indignation, she brushed by her aunt,
whose shrill voice she had heard while accidentally passing through
the hall; and, going to the side of the Lady of the Snow, turned
round, facing Miss Clementina with the expression of an enraged
princess.

“An actress! What if this lady is an actress! married too—the wife
of—Mr. Harley? What if she is married to Mr. Harley?”

The eyes flashed, the cheeks were in a flame, the tall figure of
the young lady shook with excitement; but it was easy to see that
there was no fear in her.

“You have no right to insult my father's guests!” she exclaimed.
“You have no right to taunt this lady—for she is a lady!—with
having been on the stage!”

She turned quickly, and added, to the Lady of the Snow:

“You are welcome here, madam, and Mr. Harley also, whether
my aunt tells you that you are welcome or not!”

Miss Clementina seemed about to explode with pent-up wrath.
But the explosion did not take place. She knew Evelyn perfectly,

and saw the readiness for combat in her eyes—the aroused spirit of
the Blands on fire for instant battle.

“Very well, miss!—very well, indeed!” she said, with concentrated
anger and spitefulness. “I have no more to say, miss, as I
am ordered out of the room! But I shall ask your father if I am to
be treated with gross insults by you!”

With which speech, Miss Clementina turned round and essayed
to leave the room with queenly dignity. The attempt was too much
for her, however. Her wrath overcame her, and, even forgetting to
wave her fan, she flounced out of the apartment and disappeared
in a rage.

At her disappearance, the whole expression of Evelyn Bland's
face changed. The proud and generous girl had burned with anger
at the harsh treatment of the shrinking Lady of the Snow; but now
that the enemy had retreated, she suddenly froze. Harley was
there looking at her.

“Come, madam!” she said to her companion. “You seem unwell
after this outrageous scene. Let me go with you to your chamber.”

“Oh, yes! you are so good and kind to me! I will soon go away!”

“You shall be welcome here as long as you will be my father's
guest!”

She murmured some inarticulate words of thanks, and Evelyn
drew her toward the door, passing before Harley, without looking
at him.

As they reached the door, the Lady of the Snow suddenly turned
round, and held out her hand to Harley, her eyes wet with tears.

“You are going!” she murmured. “We may never see each
other again. I shall die soon, I think. God bless and keep you,
Justin!”

Harley took the hand, and, bending down, pressed it to his lips.
A tremor passed through his frame.

“God bless you, Augusta!”

Evelyn had not turned her head, but a glance sidewise told her
all—the weeping Lady of the Snow, Harley bent over her hand—
and a chill passed through the young girl's frame; something
seemed pressing on her heart and suffocating her.

Her companion was at her side again, and Evelyn was about to
go with her to her chamber. A sort of mist passed before the girl's
eyes, her slender figure shook from head to foot, her step faltered,
but the cold and proud light in her eyes had never softened.

“Miss Bland!”

At that grave, vibrating voice from the room which she was leaving,
Evelyn stopped unconsciously, and half turned. Harley was
standing a few paces from her, looking at her.

“I am going away,” he said, and shall not see you again for many
years, if I ever see you!”

She did not move.

“This meeting is an accident; let me take advantage of the accident,
and offer you my hand before leaving you. It is the hand of
a loyal gentleman and a friend.”

She did not even look at him, and her face had never lost its cold
and proud expression.

But she slowly came back into the apartment.