The Quiet Gentleman

“Heedless! Oh, no! Not that! A title — a great position! Those were the things she wanted! She is very welcome to them! If you had offered she would have accepted you! If you were dead, and I stood in your shoes, she would take me, and Ulverston might go hang!”

“You would scarcely want her upon such terms.”

“On any terms!” Martin declared wildly. “She is the only woman I shall ever love!”

The Earl diplomatically refrained from commenting upon this assertion. If there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, Martin did not see it.

“Women!” Martin ejaculated, with loathing. “Now I know what they are! I shall never again be taken-in!” He took a turn about the room, his restless hands picking up, and discarding, a book that lay on the table, twitching a fold of the curtains into place, tugging at one of the heavy tassels adorning the hangings of the great bed, and finally seizing on an ivory comb from the dressing-table, and bending it savagely until it snapped in two pieces. He cast them from him, saying defiantly: “I’ve broken your comb! I beg your pardon!”

“It is of no consequence.”

“I suppose you have a dozen combs!” Martin said, as though this likelihood added to his hatred of his brother.

A discreet knock on the door made the Earl turn his head. It heralded the entrance of a footman, who said apologetically that he was sent to inform his lordship that dinner awaited his pleasure.

“Desire Abney to announce it in a quarter of an hour’s time, if you please.”

“Yes, my lord. Her ladyship — ”

“Convey my excuses to her ladyship. I have been detained, and have not yet completed my toilet.”

The footman cast a covert look from him to Martin, and bowed himself out.

The door had hardly closed behind him before Martin exclaimed: “Do you expect me to continue to remain under the same roof as Ulverston?”

“He has told me that he finds himself obliged to leave Stanyon. I believe it will give rise to less comment if he remains until Monday, but it shall be as you wish.”

“If I must sit at table with him tonight, I may as well do so for ever!” said Martin disagreeably. He took another turn about the room, and fetched up abruptly in front of the Earl, as a thought occurred to him. “After all, he knocked me down! He owes me satisfaction!”

“Would you think so, had your positions been reversed?”

Martin resumed his pacing, reminding his brother irresistibly of a caged wild creature. After a turn or two, he flung over his shoulder: “What should I do?”

“You may meet him, if you choose, and acknowledge the justice of his action by deloping.”

“Folly!”

“So I think.”

“I’ll not beg his pardon! No, by God, that’s too much! How could I guess — ?”

“I believe him to be sensible of the misapprehension under which you acted. He is not the man to demand an apology from you. If you wish it, I can settle it for you, so that it will be unnecessary for any mention of the matter to be made between you. If you charge me with this office, I shall tell him that I have disclosed to you the secret of his betrothal, upon which you have naturally withdrawn your challenge.”

After a moment’s inward struggle, Martin said in a choked voice:. “Very well!” He cast one of his smouldering looks at Gervase, and said: “Obliging of you! You think I should be grateful, no doubt! I’m not grateful! If it had not been for you, that fellow would never have come here!”

“Why, no! But if she had returned your affection, Martin, his coming would not have injured you,” the Earl said gently.

Martin seemed to brush aside these words. “All was right until you

came here! You put the wish to become a Countess into Marianne’s head, trifling with her, flattering her with your balls and your distinguishing attentions — to cast my pretensions into the shade! Then you brought in Ulverston, encouraged him to remain here! You set everyone against me! Marianne, Theo, Louisa — even my mother! Yes, even my mother, bemoaning the fact that you are going away to London! She will miss you amazingly! Ay, that is what she says! But there is one person you haven’t cozened with your soft words, one person who will not miss you! I hate you, St. Erth! From the bottom of my heart, I hate you!”

“If that is what you think, I cannot wonder at it,” the Earl said, a little sadly.

“Tell my mother I have gone to dine with Warboys!” Martin said fiercely, and flung out of the room.

Chapter 15