The Marriage of William Ashe Part 50

Then the joy died sharply from her eyes. "How many years left--to enjoy it in--before one dies--or one's heart dies?"

Invariably, now, her moments of sensuous pleasure ended in this dread of something beyond--of a sudden drowning of beauty and delight--of a future unknown and cruel, coming to meet her, like some armed a.s.sa.s.sin in a narrow path.

William! When it came could William save her? "William is a _darling_!"

she said to herself, her face full of yearning.

As for that other--it gave her an intense pleasure to think of the flames creeping up the form and face of the photograph. Should she hear, perhaps, in a week or two that he had been seized with some mysterious illness, like the witch-victims of old? A s.h.i.+ver ran through her, a thrill of repentance--till the bitter lines of the poem came back to memory--lines describing a woman with neither the courage for sin nor the strength for virtue, a "light woman" indeed, whom the great pa.s.sions pa.s.sed eternally by, whom it was a humiliation to court and a mere weakness to regret. Then she laughed, and began again with pa.s.sionate zest upon the sheets before her.

A sound of approaching footsteps on the wood-path. She half rose, smiling.

The branches parted, and Darrell appeared. He paused to survey the oread vision of Lady Kitty.

"Am I not to the minute?" He held up his watch in front of her.

"So you got my note?"

"Certainly. I was immensely flattered." He threw himself down on the moss beside her, his sallow, long-chinned face and dark eyes toned to a morning cheerfulness, his dress much fresher and more exact than usual.

"But he is one of the men who look so much better in their old clothes!"

thought Kitty.

"Well, what can I do for you, Lady Kitty?" he resumed, smiling.

"I wanted your advice," said Kitty--not altogether sure, now that he was there beside her, that she did want it.

"About your literary work?"

She threw him a quick glance.

"Do you know? How do you know? I have been writing a book!"

"So I imagined--"

"And--and--" She broke now into eagerness, bending forward, "I want you to help me get it published. It is a deadly secret. n.o.body knows--"

"Not even William?"

"No one," she repeated. "And I can't tell you about it, or show you a line of it, unless you vow and swear to me--"

"Oh! I swear," said Darrell, tranquilly--"I swear."

Kitty looked at him doubtfully a moment--then resumed:

"I have written it at all sorts of times--when William was away--in the middle of the night--out in the woods. _n.o.body_ knows. You see"--her little fingers plucked at the moss--"I have a good many advantages. If people want 'Society' with a big S, I can give it them!"

"Naturally," said Darrell.

"And it always amuses people--doesn't it?"

Kitty clasped her hands round her knees and looked at him with candor.

"Does it?" said Darrell. "It has been done a good deal."

"Oh, of course," said Kitty, impatiently, "mine's not the proper thing.

You don't imagine I should try and write like Thackeray, do you? Mine's _real_ people--_real_ things that happened--with just the names altered."

"Ah!" said Darrell, sitting up--"that sounds exciting. Is it libellous?"

"Well, that's just what I want to know," said Kitty, slowly. "Of course, I've made a kind of story out of it. But you'd have to be a great fool not to guess. I've put myself in, and--"

"And Ashe?"

Kitty nodded. "All the novels that are written about politics nowadays--except Dizzy's--are such nonsense, aren't they? I just wanted to describe--from the inside--how a real statesman"--she threw up her head proudly--"lives, and what he does."

"Excellent subject," said Darrell. "Well--anybody else?"

Kitty flushed. "You'll see," she said, uncertainly.

Darrell's involuntary smile was hidden by a bunch of honeysuckle at which he was sniffing. "May I look?" he asked, stretching out a hand for the sheets.

She pushed them towards him, half unwilling, half eager, and he began to turn them over. Apparently it had a thread of story--both slender and extravagant. And on the thread--Hullo!--here was the fancy ball; he pounced upon it. A portrait of Lady Parham--Ye powers! he chuckled as he read. On the next page the Chancellor of the Exchequer--snub-nosed _parvenu_ and Puritan--admirably caught. Further on a speech of Ashe's in the House--with caricature to right and caricature to left ... Ah! the poet!--at last! He bent over the page till Kitty coughed and fidgeted, and he thought it best to hurry on. But it was war, he perceived--open, undignified, feminine war. On the next page, the Archbishop of Canterbury--with Lady Kitty's views on the Athanasian Creed! Heavens!

what a book! Next, Royalty itself, not too respectfully handled. Then Ashe again--Ashe glorified, Ashe explained, Ashe intrigued against, and Ashe triumphant--everywhere the centre of the stage, and everywhere, of course, all unknown to the author, the fool of the piece. Political indiscretions also, of the most startling kind, as coming from the wife of a cabinet minister. Allusions, besides, scattered broadcast, to the scandals of the day--material as far as he could see for a dozen libel actions. And with it all, much fantastic ability, flashes of wit and romance, enough to give the book wings beyond its first personal audience--enough, in fact, to secure to all its scandalous matter the widest possible chance of fame.

"Well!"

He rolled over on his elbows, and lay staring at the sheets before him--dumb. What was he to say?

A thought struck him. As far as he could perceive, there was an empty niche.

"And Lord Parham?"

A smile of mischief broadened on Kitty's lips.

"That'll come," she said--and checked herself. Darrell bowed his face on his hands and laughed, unseen. To what sacrificial rite was the unconscious victim hurrying--at that very moment--in the express train which was to land him at Haggart Station that afternoon?

"Well!" said Kitty, impatiently--"what do you think? Can you help me?"

Darrell looked up.

"You know, Lady Kitty, that book can't be published like that. n.o.body would risk it."

"Well, I suppose they'll tell me what to cut out."

"Yes," said Darrell, slowly, caught by many reflections--"no doubt some clever fellow will know how near the wind it's possible to sail. But, anyway, trim it as you like, the book will make a scandal."

"Will it?" Kitty's eyes flashed. She sat up radiant, her breath quick and defiant.

"I don't see," he resumed, "how you can publish it without consulting Ashe."

Kitty gave a cry of protest.