The Disentanglers Part 34

The Earl of Bude had meant to lay his heart, coronet, and other possessions, real and personal, before the tiny feet of the fair American at Goodwood. But when he learned from Merton the involvements of this heiress and paragon, that her hand depended on the choice of the people, that the choice of the people was to settle on the adventurer who brought to New York the rarest of nature's varieties, the earl honourably held his peace. Yet he and the object of his love were constantly meeting, on the yachts and in the country houses of their friends, the aristocracy, and, finally, at shooting lodges in the Highlands. Their position, as the Latin Delectus says concerning the pa.s.sion of love in general, was 'a strange thing, and full of anxious fears.' Bude could not declare himself, and Miss McCabe, not knowing that he knew her situation, was constantly wondering why he did not speak. Between fear of letting her secret show itself in a glance or a blush and hope of listening to the words which she desired to hear, even though she could not answer them as her heart prompted, she was unhappy. Bude could not resist the temptation to be with her--indeed he argued to himself that, as her suitor and an adventurer about to risk himself in her cause, he had a right to be near her. Meanwhile Merton was the confidant of both of the perplexed lovers; at least Miss McCabe (who, of course, told him nothing about Bude) kept him apprised as to the conduct of her trustees.

They had acted with honourable caution and circ.u.mspection. Their advertis.e.m.e.nts guardedly appealed to men of daring and of scientific distinction under the age of thirty-five. A professors.h.i.+p might have been in view for all that the world could see, if the world read the advertis.e.m.e.nts. Perhaps it was something connected with the manufacture of original explosives, for daring is not usually required in the learned. The testimonials and printed works of applicants were jealously scrutinised. At personal interviews with compet.i.tors similar caution was observed. During three weeks in August the papers announced that Lord Bude was visiting the States; arrangements about a yachting match in the future were his pretence. He returned, he came to Scotland, and it was in a woodland path beside the Lochy that his resolution failed, and that he spoke to Miss McCabe. They were walking home together from the river in the melancholy and beautiful close of a Highland day in September.

Behind them the gillies, at a respectful distance, were carrying the rods and the fish. The wet woods were fragrant, the voice of the stream was deepening, strange lights came and went on moor and hills and the distant loch. It was then that Bude opened his heart. He first candidly explained that his heart, he had supposed, was dead--buried on a distant and a deadly sh.o.r.e.

'I reckon there's a lost Lenore most times,' Miss McCabe had replied to this confession.

But, though never to be forgotten, the memory of the lost one, Bude averred, was now merged in the light of a living love; his heart was no longer tenanted only by a shadow.

The heart of Miss McCabe stood still for a moment, her cheek paled, but the gallant girl was true to herself, to her father's wish, to her native land, to the flag. She understood her adorer.

'Guess _I_'m bespoke,' said Miss McCabe abruptly.

'You are another's! Oh, despair!' exclaimed the impa.s.sioned earl.

'Yes, I reckon I'm the Bride of Seven, like the girl in the poem.'

'The Bride of Seven?' said Bude.

'One out of _that_ crowd will call me his,' said Miss McCabe, handing to her adorer the list, which she had received by mail a day or two earlier, of the accepted compet.i.tors. He glanced over the names.

1. Dr. Hiram P. Dodge, of the Smithsonian Inst.i.tute.

2. Alfred Jenkins, F.R.S., All Souls College, Oxford.

3. Dr. James Rustler, Columbia University.

4. Howard Fry, M.A., Ph.D., Trinity College, Cambridge.

5. Professor Potter, F.R.S., University of St. Andrews.

6. Professor Wilkinson, University of Harvard.

7. Jones Harvey, F.G.S., London, England.

'In Heaven's name,' asked the earl, 'what means this mystification? Miss McCabe, Melissa, do not trifle with me. Is this part of the great American Joke? You are playing it pretty low down on me, Melissa!' he ended, the phrase being one of those with which she had made him familiar.

She laughed hysterically: 'It's honest Injun,' she said, and in the briefest terms she told him (what he knew very well) the conditions on which her future depended.

'They are a respectable crowd, I don't deny it,' she went on, 'but, oh, how dull! That Mr. Jenkins, I saw him at your Commemoration. He gave us luncheon, and showed us dry old bones of beasts and savage notions at the Museum. I _druther_ have been on the creek,' by which name she intended the cla.s.sical river Isis.

'Dr. Hiram P. Dodge is one of our rising scientists, a boss of the Smithsonian Inst.i.tute. Well, Was.h.i.+ngton is a finer location than Oxford!

Dr. Rustler is a crank; he thinks he can find a tall talk mummy that speaks an unknown tongue.'

'A Toltec mummy? Ah,' said Bude, 'I know where to find one of _them_.'

'Find it then, Alured!' exclaimed Miss McCabe, blus.h.i.+ng scarlet and turning aside. 'But you are not on the list. You are an idler, and not scientific, not worth a red cent. There, I've given myself away!' She wept.

They were alone, beneath the walls of a crumbling fortalice of Lochiel.

The new risen moon saw Bude embrace her and dry her tears. A nameless blissful hope awakened in the fair American; help there _must_ be, she thought, with these strong arms around her.

She rapidly disposed of the remaining names: of Howard Fry, who had a red beard; of Professor Potter of St. Andrews, whose accent was Caledonian; of Wilkinson, an ardent but unalluring scientist. 'As for Jones Harvey,'

she said, 'I've canva.s.sed everywhere, and I can't find anybody that ever saw him. I am more afraid of him than of all the other galoots; I don't know why.'

'He is reckoned very learned,' said Bude, 'and has not been thought ill- looking.'

'Do tell!' said Miss McCabe.

'Oh, Melissa, can you even _dream_ of another in an hour like this?'

'Did you ever see Jones Harvey?'

'Yes, I have met him.'

'Do you know him well?'

'No man knows him better.'

'Can't you get him to stand out, and, Alured, can't you--fetch along that old tall talk mummy? He would hit our people, being American himself.'

'It is impossible. Jones Harvey will never stand out,' and Bude smiled.

By the telepathy of the affections Miss McCabe was slowly informed, especially as Bude's smile widened almost unbecomingly, while he gazed into the deeps of her golden eyes.

'Alured,' she exclaimed, '_that's_ why you went to the States.

_You_--are--Jones Harvey!'

'Secret for secret,' whispered the earl. 'We have both given ourselves away. Unknown to the world I _am_ Jones Harvey; to live for you: to love you: to dare; if need be, to die for you.'

'Well, you surprise me!' said Miss McCabe.

The narrator is unwilling to dilate on the delights of a privileged affection. In this love affair neither of the lovers could feel absolutely certain that their affection _was_ privileged. The fair American had her own secret scheme if her hopes were blighted. She _could_ not then obey the paternal will: she would retire into the life religious, and, as Sister Anna, would strive to forget the sorrows of Melissa McCabe. Bude had his own hours of gloom.

'It is a six-to-one chance,' he said to Merton when they met.

'Better than that, I think,' said Merton. 'First, you know exactly what you are entered for. Do the others? When you saw the trustees in the States, did they tell you about the prize?'

'Not they. They spoke of a pecuniary reward which would be eminently satisfactory, and of the opportunity for research and distinction, and all expenses found. I said that I preferred to pay my own way, which surprised and pleased them a good deal.'

'Well, then, knowing the facts, and the lady, you have a far stronger motive than the other six.'

'That's true,' said Bude.

'Again, though the others are good men (not that I like Jenkins of All Souls), none of them has your experience and knowledge. Jones Harvey's testimonials would carry it if it were a question of election to a professors.h.i.+p.'

'You flatter me,' answered Bude.