Blind Policy Part 19

FACE TO FACE AGAIN.

"That's the house," said Chester to himself; "I can swear to it.

Highcombe Street, Number 44."

He laughed in his excitement--an unpleasant, harsh laugh which startled him; for as a doctor he had had to deal with strange patients beside the one at the mysterious house, and he knew pretty well how a man acted who had been overwrought and whose nerves were in that state which borders upon insanity.

"This will not do," he muttered. "I must be careful," and, trying to pull himself together and make his plans in a matter-of-fact way, his startled feeling grew into a sensation of alarm, and he awakened fully now to the fact that the strain from which he had suffered had been too great.

"I must pull up short," he said to himself. "This last month I have been acting like a madman. Well, love--the real pa.s.sion--is a kind of madness, and I could not have acted otherwise with the horror of the position in which I left her upon my mind."

As he walked home, though, he grew cooler, and made up his mind to watch the house until he obtained an interview with Marion.

He shrugged his shoulders as he entered his own door, and shut himself in his consulting-room, to sit for an hour trying to grow calmer; but there was a wild throbbing in his excited brain which he could not master, and try how he would, even to the extent of taking a sedative, he could not keep down the feeling of mad exultation at having at last discovered the place.

"I shall see her again," he muttered; "I shall see her again!"

A pair of soft dark eyes in a sweet, pale face seemed to rise reproachfully before him, but he mentally turned from the piteous look.

"I cannot help it. Fate--fate," he muttered; and at last, after mastering the intense desire to rush off and try and bribe the servants into speaking, he grew calmer, and obeyed the summons sent by the maid, joining his aunt and sister in the drawing-room, and afterwards formally taking the old lady down to the silent meal.

Poor Aunt Grace's plan was not succeeding.

"Don't speak to him, Laura," she had said. "It will show how we despise him for his disgraceful conduct, and make him the sooner come creeping to our knees in sackcloth and ashes."

But the days had glided on, and Chester had bought no sackcloth and had not told the cook to sift him any ashes. For the perfect silence with which he was treated was the one great satisfaction now of his life.

That night he found his sister watching him once, and as he met her eyes there was for the moment a feeling of uneasiness akin to remorse; but it pa.s.sed off directly, swept away by the exciting thought that he had at last attained the goal of his desires, and must now sooner or later encounter Marion.

A week then pa.s.sed, and he was still no farther, when one evening as he turned into Highcombe Street, he saw a carriage at the door; and a minute later three ladies in evening dress came and stepped in, the footman mounted to his place, and the horses sprang off.

"The brougham I was fetched in," muttered Chester, and hailing a cab he said sharply, "Follow that carriage at a short distance till I tell you to stop."

He was not surprised at the direction taken by the carriage in front, which was kept just in sight till it turned into Bow Street, when Chester signed to his driver to stop, and sprang out, turning the corner just in time to see the carriage slowly pa.s.sing in its turn through the gateway leading under the portico of the opera.

He followed to find that the occupants had alighted, and upon entering the lobby he caught sight of the back of Marion's dress as she swept through one of the great baize-covered doors.

Here there was a check. The door-keeper held out his hand for the customary ticket, and Chester turned impatiently away, to go to the box-office, when for the first time it struck him that he was not in evening dress, and could not pa.s.s into the stalls.

He stood biting his lips, and hesitating as to whether he should take a cab back home, to dress, and return, but he felt that he could not do that. A dozen things might happen to prevent his catching sight of Marion again; and s.n.a.t.c.hing at the first idea that came, he took a ticket for the upper part of the house, hired an opera-gla.s.s and then climbed nearly to the top.

Here upon taking a seat he came out again in despair. Even with the aid of the gla.s.s he found he could not get a glimpse of a third of the house, and feeling that at all costs he must get into the stalls in as central a position as possible, he descended again to the box-office, and secured a stall nearly in the centre of the third row.

Having made sure of his seat, he hurried back to Raybeck Square calculating that he could be back within an hour.

Bidding the cabman wait, he sprang up to his room, conscious of the fact that Aunt Grace was watching; and after his hurried change he knew by the ajar door of the drawing-room that she was there watching still.

But this pa.s.sed almost unnoticed in the excitement, and once more he was in the cab, eager and with his imagination running riot.

"What an idiot I was not to ask the number of their box," he said to himself.

He did ask as soon as he reached the opera house, and found it was almost central on the grand tier; but after taking his place he had no opportunity for turning round till the end of the act in progress, and he sat trembling with excitement and wondering whether Marion had recognised him as he entered.

The stage, the music, the house crowded with a fas.h.i.+onable a.s.sembly, were non-existent to Chester, as he sat there gazing in imagination at a face--the face of the woman who from their first encounter seemed to have taken entire possession of his faculties, enchaining his spirit so that he seemed to live and breathe for her alone.

"Will this wretched singing never end?" he said to himself, as one of the great Italian singers filled the vast place with the clear, vibrating tones of her voice. "The fools! The idiots!" he muttered angrily as the plaudits rang out at the end of the scene; and then he sat waiting till at last the drop scene descended and, lorgnette in hand, he rose and, to avoid the air of being too sudden, he slowly swept the grand tier of boxes, beginning on his right near the stage, feeling that Marion must be watching him, and profoundly unconscious of the fact that scores to right and left were doing the same.

When the field of his gla.s.s drew nearer to the box upon which he sought to focus it, he grew slower in his movements, as if desirous of delaying the supreme delight for a few moments longer, but at last he stopped short, gazing with every fibre thrilling at the beautiful, imperious face which held him as if fascinated.

The faces of her companions were to right and left, each occupying a corner of the box, while Marion was seated a little back, looking dull and preoccupied, while she slowly waved a large black fan, which threw her face into partial shadow from time to time.

For the first minute, as he drank in the various beauties of the countenance which seemed to be so near, Chester felt that she must be seeing him, but directly after he knew that she was looking dull and listless, and as if she felt the scene before her wearisome in the extreme.

There could be no mistake. It was she. There was not such another face in the wide world; and yet he hesitated to go round to the box, asking himself whether he could--whether he had any right to force himself upon the notice of those who had plainly enough their reasons for wis.h.i.+ng to cut all connection with him as soon as his patient was out of danger.

"They may wish to, but she cannot. It is impossible. She must be ready to place her hand in mine. Perhaps even now that dull, weary look may be connected with our sudden parting. Who knows? Yes, come what may, I will go."

Chester pa.s.sed slowly along the row and out into the entry, went up the broad stairs, and with his heart increasing its pulsations rapidly, he stopped at last at the door of a box, drew a deep breath, and then tapped lightly.

There was no reply and he tapped again.

This time there was a movement within, the catch was drawn back, the door thrown open, and a deep voice exclaimed--

"How late you are! Hallo!"

Chester had been in the act of stepping in, but paused on the threshold, completely taken aback at finding a gentleman in the box, while the speaker, who had not risen, but leaned back, balancing himself on two legs of his chair, fell over side-wise in his astonishment, but saved himself by catching at the part.i.tion.

He sprang up the next moment, as Chester recovered himself and advanced, but neither of the three ladies, who had turned, made the slightest movement towards acknowledging him, and left it to their companion to speak.

"May I ask whom you wish to see, sir?"

"Certainly," replied Chester, quietly, "Mrs James, Mrs Dennis, Miss Clareborough--"

No one moved. He might have been addressing so many statues, as he went on--

"And Mr Dennis Clareborough."

"You seem to have our names right, sir," said the stalwart young fellow, shortly, "but I have not the pleasure of knowing you."

"Indeed!" said Chester. "Is your memory so short, sir? May I ask after your cousin's wound?"

"Certainly, if you like, sir," replied the young man, with a little laugh, "but I'm afraid I can't tell you."

Chester felt nettled and turned to the lady in the centre, who sat looking over the back of her chair.

"Perhaps Miss Marion Clareborough will tell me how her brother is progressing?"

"Dennis," said one of the ladies, before any reply could be made, "is this a friend of yours? If so, introduce us."

"Friend of mine? Hang it, no! Gentleman has got into the wrong box.