Doctor Claudius, A True Story

by F. Marion Crawford

  CHAPTER XIX.

  When Margaret awoke the next morning her first impulse was to go awayfor a time. She was disgusted with New York, and desired nothing so muchas the sensation of being free from Mr. Barker. A moment, however,sufficed to banish any such thoughts. In the first place, if she wereaway from the metropolis it would take just so many hours longer for theDoctor's letters to reach her. There had been a lacuna in thecorrespondence of late, and it seemed to her that the letters she hadreceived were always dated some days before the time stamped on theHeidelberg postmark. He spoke always of leaving very soon; but though hesaid many loving and tender things, he was silent as to his own doings.She supposed he was occupied with the important matter he described asthe "other reason," and so in the two or three short notes she wrote himshe abstained from questioning any more.

  Furthermore, she reflected that however much she might wish to be away,it was most emphatically not the thing to do. On the whole, she wouldstay where she was.

  She was roused from her reverie by Clementine, who entered in a halo ofsmiles, as though she were the bearer of good news. In the first placeshe had a telegram, which proved to be from Claudius, dated Berlin, andsimply announcing the fact that he would sail at once. Margaret couldhardly conceal her great satisfaction, and the colour came so quickly toher face as she read the flimsy bit of paper from the cable office thatClementine made the most desperate efforts to get possession of it, orat least to see the signature. But Margaret kept it under her pillow forhalf an hour, and then burned it carefully by the taper, to Clementine'sinexpressible chagrin.

  Meanwhile, however, there were other news in the wind, and when theartful Frenchwoman had succeeded in opening the window just so that aray of light should fall on madam's face, she fired her second shot.

  "Monsieur le Duc is of return, Madame," she said, suddenly turningtowards her mistress.

  "The Duke?" repeated Margaret innocently. "When did he come?"

  "Ah, Madame," said the maid, disappointed at having produced so littleeffect, "it is precisely what I do not know. I come from meetingMonsieur Veelees upon the carrefour. He has prayed me to present thecompliments of Monsieur le Duc and to ask at what hour Madame laComtesse would be in disposition to see him."

  "Ah, very well," said the Countess. "I will get up, Clementine."

  "Si tot, Madame? it is yet very morning," argued the girl with a littleshow of polite surprise.

  "That is indifferent. Go, Clementine, and tell Monsieur le Duc I willsee him at once."

  "At once, Madame? I run," said Clementine, going slowly to the door.

  "Enfin--when I am dressed. Don't you understand?" said Margaretimpatiently.

  "Parfaitement, Madame. I will speak with Monsieur Veelees." And shevanished.

  It was a bright November morning, and though there had been a slightfrost daring the night, it was fast vanishing before the sun. Margaretwent to the window and breathed the cool air. An indescribable longingseized her to be out, among trees and plants and fresh growingthings--to blow away the dark dreams of the night, the visions of Barkerand Screw, and of the ballroom, and of that detestable Japanese boudoir.She hurried her toilet in a manner that completely aroused Clementine'svigilant suspicion.

  "Helas," Clementine used to say to Willis the Duke's servant, "Je ne luiai jamais connu d'amant. I had pourtant much hoped of MonsieurClodiuse." But she never ventured such remarks when old Vladimir was athand.

  When the Countess was dressed she went out into her little drawing-room,and found the Duke looking more sunburnt and healthy than ever, though atrifle thinner. The rough active Western life always agreed with him. Hecame forward with a bright smile to meet her.

  "Upon my word, how well you look!" he exclaimed as he shook hands; andindeed she was beautiful to see, for if the sleepless night had made herpale, the good news of Claudius's coming had brought the fire to hereyes.

  "Do I?" said she. "I am glad; and you look well too. Your run on theprairies has done you good. Come," said she, leading him to the window,"it is a beautiful day. Let us go out."

  "By all means: but first I have some good news for you. Fitzdoggin hastelegraphed me that Claudius--I mean," he said, interrupting himselfand blushing awkwardly, "I mean that it is all right, you know. Theyhave arranged all your affairs beautifully." Margaret looked at himcuriously a moment while he spoke. Then she recognised that the Dukemust have had a hand in the matter, and spoke very gratefully to him,not mentioning that she had received news direct, for she did not wishto spoil his pleasure in being the first to tell her. To tell the truth,the impulsive Englishman was rather in doubt whether he had not betrayedthe Doctor's secret, and seemed very little inclined to say anythingmore about it.

  "I wish," she said at last, "that we could ride this morning. I have notbeen on a horse for ever so long, and I want the air."

  "By Jove," cried the Duke, overjoyed at the prospect of breaking aninterview which seemed likely to lead him too far, "I should think so. Iwill send and get some horses directly. The very thing, by Jove!" And hewent to the door.

  "How are you going to get anything fit to ride in New York, at suchshort notice?" asked Margaret, laughing at his impetuosity.

  "There's a fellow here lends me anything in his stable when I am in NewYork," he answered, half out of the room. "I'll go myself," he calledback from the landing, and shut the door behind him. "Upon my word," hesaid to himself as he lighted a cigarette in the cab, and drove away tohis friend's stable, "she is the most beautiful thing I ever saw. Ialmost let the cat out of the bag, just to please her. I don't wonderClaudius is crazy about her. I will talk about the West when we areriding, and avoid the subject." With which sage resolution his Graceseemed well satisfied. When he returned, he found Margaret clad in amarvellous habit, that reminded him of home.

  "The horses will be at the Park by the time we have driven there," hesaid. "We will drive up." He made no toilet himself, for being Englishand to the saddle born, he cared not a jot how he looked on horseback.In half an hour they were mounted, and walking their horses down thebroad bend of the road where it enters the Central Park. Margaret askedabout Lady Victoria, and the Duke, to make sure of not getting off thetrack, immediately began talking about the journey they had just made.But Margaret was not listening.

  "Do you know?" she said, "it is very pleasant to feel I am not poor anylonger. I suppose it is a very low sentiment."

  "Of course," said the Duke. "Beastly thing to have no money."

  "Do you know--" she began again, but stopped.

  "Well," said the Duke, following her first train of thought, "it alwaysseems to me that I have no money myself. I don't suppose I am exactlypoor, though."

  "No," laughed Margaret, "I was not thinking of that."

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "I think I will confide in you a little, for you have always been such agood friend to me. What do you know of Mr. Barker?"

  "I am sure I don't know," said the Englishman, taken off his guard bythe question. "I have known him some time--in this sort of way," headded vaguely.

  "I believe," said the Countess bluntly, "that it was Mr. Barker who madeall this trouble for Dr. Claudius."

  "I believe you are right," answered the Duke suddenly turning in hissaddle and facing her. "I wonder how he could be such a brute?"

  Margaret was silent. She was astonished at the readiness with which hercompanion assented to her proposition. He must have known it all along,she thought.

  "What makes you think so?" he asked presently.

  "What are your reasons for believing it?" she asked, with a smile.

  "Really," he began; then shortly, "I believe I don't like his eyes."

  "Last night," said Margaret, "I was talking with him at a party. Ichanced to speak of the Doctor's coming back, and Mr. Barker laughed andsneered, and said it was ridiculous."

  The Duke moved angrily in his saddle, making the horse he rode shake hishead and plunge a little.

  "He is a brute," he said
at last.

  "Your horse?" inquired Margaret sweetly.

  "No--Barker. And pray what did you answer him? I hope you gave him alesson for his impertinence."

  "I told him," said she, "that I had documents in my possession thatwould establish his right as well as any he could get in Germany."

  "Barker must have been rather taken aback," said the other in high glee."I am glad you said that."

  "So am I. I do not imagine I shall see much of Mr. Barker in future,"she added demurely.

  "Um! As bad as that?" The Duke was beginning to catch the drift of whatMargaret was saying. She had no intention of telling him any more,however. Bitterly as she felt towards Barker, she would not allowherself the triumph of telling her friend she had refused to marry him.

  "I know it is a very womanly fancy," she said, "but I want to ride fast,please. I want exercise."

  "All right," said the Duke, and they put their horses into a canter. TheCountess felt safe now that her friends had returned and that Claudiushad telegraphed he was about to sail. She felt as though her troubleswere over, and as if the world were again at her feet. And as theygalloped along the roads, soft in the warm sun to the horses' feet,breathing in great draughts of good clean air, the past two monthsseemed to dwindle away to a mere speck in the far distance of her life,instead of being entangled with all the yesterdays of the dark seasonjust over.

  And Claudius--the man who made all this change in her life, who hadopened a new future for her--how had he passed these months, shewondered? To tell the truth, Claudius had been so desperately busy thatthe time had not seemed so long. If he had been labouring in any othercause than hers it would have been insupportable. But the constantfeeling that all he did was for her, and to her advantage, and that atthe same time she was ignorant of it all, gave him strength and courage.He had been obliged to think much, to travel far, and to act promptly;and for his own satisfaction he had kept up the illusion that he was inHeidelberg by a cunning device. He wrote constantly, and enclosed theletters to the old notary at the University, who, with Teutonicregularity, stamped and posted them. And so it was that the date of theletter, written in St. Petersburg, was always two or three days olderthan that of the postmark. For Claudius would not put a false date atthe head of what he wrote, any more than, if Margaret had written toask him whether he were really in Heidelberg or not, he would havedeceived her in his answer. Probably he would not have answered thequestion at all. The letters were merely posted in Heidelberg; andMargaret had trusted him enough not to notice or be willing to commentupon the discrepancy.

  And, by dint of activity and the assistance of the persons to whom hehad letters, he had succeeded in bringing the Countess's business to asatisfactory conclusion. He found it just as Mr. Bellingham had toldhim. In an autocratic country, if you are to have justice at all, youwill have it quickly. Moreover, it was evident to the authorities that aman coming all the way from America, and presenting such credentials asClaudius brought, deserved to be attended to at once--the more so whenhis whole appearance and manner were such as to create a small _furore_,in the Embassy circles. Claudius went everywhere, saw every one, andused every particle of influence he could obtain to further the objectof his visit. And so it was that, at the end of a month or so, a special_ukase_ provided for the payment in perpetuity to herself and her heirsfor ever of the jointure-money first decreed to the Countess Margaretfor life only from the estates of her late husband, Count Alexis of theGuards. This was even more than Claudius had hoped for--certainly morethan Margaret had dreamt of. As for Nicholas, Claudius cared nothingwhat became of him, for he probably thought him a foolish Nihilist, andhe knew enough of the Countess's character to be sure she would neverlet her brother suffer want, whatever his faults.

  So when he had concluded the affair he hastened to Berlin, telegraphingfrom thence the news of his immediate return. In less than a fortnight,at all events, he ought to be in New York. The thought gave him infiniterelief; for, since he had finished his business in Petersburg, thereaction which in strong natures is very sure to follow a great effort,for the very reason that strong natures tax their powers to the utmost,recklessly, began to make itself felt. It seemed to him, as he lookedback, that he had heard so little from her. Not that he complained; forhe was fully sensible of her goodness in writing at all, and hetreasured her letters as things sacred, even to the envelopes, andwhatsoever had touched her hand. But he felt keenly that he was in totalignorance of her doings; and one or two references to Barker troubledhim. He too had his suspicions that the scheming American had beenconcerned in the sudden fit of caution developed by Messrs. Screw andScratch. He too had suspected that his quondam friend had beeninsincere, and that everything was not as it should be. But he wasneither so wise as Margaret, who would have told him not to soil hishands with pitch, nor so supremely indifferent as the Duke, who wouldhave said that since he had got the money it didn't matter in the leastif Barker were a brute or not. On the contrary, Claudius promisedhimself to sift the evidence; and if he discovered that Barker wasguilty of any double-dealing, he would simply break his neck. And asClaudius thought of it, his teeth set, and he looked capable of breakingany number of necks, then and there.

  But for all his wrath and his suspicions, the real cause of Barker'sstrange behaviour never presented itself to his mind. It never struckhim that Barker could aspire to Margaret's hand; and he merelyconcluded that the young man had laid a plot for getting his money. Ifany one had related to Claudius the scene which took place at Mrs. VanSueindell's the very night when he sent his telegram, he would havelaughed the story to scorn in perfect good faith, for he could not havebelieved it possible. Nor, believing it, would he have cared. And so herushed across Europe, and never paused till he had locked himself intohis stateroom on board the steamer, and had begun a long letter toMargaret. He knew that he would see her as soon as a letter could reachher, but that made no difference. He felt impelled to write, and hewrote--a letter so tender and loving and rejoicing that were it toappear in these pages no lover would ever dare write to his lady again,lest she chide him for being less eloquent than Claudius, Phil.D. ofHeidelberg. And he wrote on and on for many days, spending most of histime in that way.

  Meanwhile, the Duke and Margaret cantered in the Park, and talked of allkinds of things; or rather, the Duke talked, and Margaret thought ofClaudius. Before they returned, however, she had managed to let the Dukeknow that the Doctor was on his way back; whereat the Englishmanrejoiced loudly. Perhaps he would have given a great deal to knowwhether they were engaged, to be married; but still Margaret gave nosign. It was far from her thoughts; and the fact had only presenteditself in that form to her on the spur of the moment, the precedingevening, as likely to prove a crushing blow at once to Mr. Barker'splotting and Mr. Barker's matrimonial views. But while the Duke talked,she was thinking. And as the situation slowly unfolded its well-knownpictures to her mind, she suddenly saw it all in a different light.

  "I must be mad," she thought. "Barker will tell every one; and the Dukeought not to know it except from me!"

  "Speaking of Dr. Claudius--" she began; the Duke was at that momenttalking earnestly about the Pueblo Indians, but that was of noimportance. "Speaking of the Doctor, you ought to know--I would ratherthat no one else told you--we are going to be married."

  The Duke was so much surprised--not so much at the information as at hermanner of imparting it--that he pulled up short. Seeing him stop, shestopped also.

  "Are you very much astonished?" she asked, pushing the gray veil up toher hat, and looking at him smilingly out of her deep, dark eyes. TheDuke spoke no word, but leapt from his horse, which he left standing inthe middle of the path, surprised into docility by the sudden desertion.There were a few wild-flowers growing by the road, which here ledthrough a wooded glade of the Park; they were the flowers calledMichaelmas daisies, which bloom until November in America. He picked agreat handful of them, and came running back.

  "Let me be the first to congratul
ate you, my dear friend," he said,standing bareheaded at her stirrup, and offering the flowers with ahalf-bashful smile that sat strangely on a man of his years. It was aquick, impulsive action, such as no one could have expected from him whodid not know him intimately well--and few could boast that they did.Margaret was touched by his look and manner.

  "Thanks," she said, bending over her saddle-bow, and taking the daisiesas he held them up to her. "Yes, you are the first--to congratulate me,"which was true. He still stood looking at her, and his hand wouldhardly let go the flowers where his fingers touched hers. His face grewpale, then ashy-white and he steadied himself against her horse's neck.

  "What is the matter? are you ill? have you hurt yourself?" askedMargaret in real alarm, for he looked as though he were going to faint,and it was a full minute since he had come back to her from theroadside. Then he made a great effort and collected himself, and thenext instant he had dashed after his horse, which was wandering awaytowards the trees.

  "I did feel queer for a minute," he said when he was once more in thesaddle and by her side. "I dare say it is the heat. It's a very hot day,now I think of it. Would you allow me a cigarette? I hate to smoke inpublic, you know, but it will make me all right again." Margaretassented, of course, to the request; it was morning, in the recesses ofthe Park, and nobody would see. But she looked strangely at him for aminute, wondering what could have produced his sudden dizziness.

  They rode more slowly towards the entrance of the Park, and theCountess's thoughts did not wander again. She talked to her companion onevery subject he broached, showing interest in all he said, and askingquestions that she knew would please him. But the latter part of theride seemed long, and the drive home interminable, for Margaret was inhaste to be alone. She was not sure that the Duke's manner had changedsince he had turned so strangely pale, but she fancied he spoke as ifmaking an effort. However, they reached the hotel at last, andseparated.

  "Thanks, so much," she said; "it has been such a delightful morning."

  "It has indeed," said he, "and--let me congratulate you once more.Claudius is a gentleman in every way, and--I suppose he is as worthy ofyou as any one could be," he added quickly, in a discontented voice, andturned away, hat in hand. She stood looking after him a moment.

  "I wonder," she said to herself as she entered her room and closed thedoor. "Poor man! it is not possible, though. I must be dreaming. Ah me!I am always dreaming now, it seems to me;" and she sank down in a chairto wait for Clementine.

  And so it is that some women go through life making far more victimsthan they know of. There are some honest men who will not speak, unlessthey have a right to, and who are noble enough to help those who have aright. The Duke had known Margaret ever since she had married Alexis, ashas been said. Whether he had loved her or not is a question not soeasily answered. Certain it is that when she told him she was going tobe married to Claudius he turned very pale, and did not recover theentire use of his mind for a whole day.

  Nevertheless, during the succeeding fortnight he devoted himselfsedulously to Margaret's amusement, and many were the things that he andshe and Lady Victoria, and the incomparable Miss Skeat, who alwaysenjoyed everything, planned and carried out together. Margaret did notshun society or shut herself up, and more than once she saw Barker inthe street and in the crowds at parties. The houses in America are sosmall that parties are always crowded. But he had the good sense toavoid her, and she was not troubled by any communication from him.Clementine, indeed, wondered that so few flowers came, for a day or two,and old Vladimir pondered on the probable fate of Mr. Barker, who, hesupposed, had been sent to Canada in chains for some political offence,seeing that he called no longer. But these faithful servitors could notask questions, and sources of information they had none. Barker,however, as Margaret had anticipated, had been active in spreading thenews of her engagement; for, before very long, callers were plenty, andflowers too, and many were the congratulations that poured in. Then shesaw the wisdom of having informed the Duke of her position before anyofficious acquaintance could do it for her. The Duke, indeed, saw veryfew people in New York, for he hated to be "entertained," but he knew agreat many men slightly, and some one of them would probably haveobliged him with the information.

  One morning as he and the Countess were about to drive up to the Parkfor their daily ride, which had become an institution, the servantpresented a card, saying the gentleman was anxious to see her ladyshipat once, if possible. The card was that of Mr. Screw, of Screw andScratch.

  "Very well," said the Countess, who was pulling on her gloves, andholding her riding-stick under one arm as she did so. "Ask him to comeup." The Duke moved to withdraw.

  "Don't go, please," said Margaret; and so he remained. A moment laterMr. Screw's yellow head and small eyes appeared at the door.

  "The Countess Margaret?" he inquired deferentially.

  "Yes. Mr. Screw, I believe?"

  "The same, Madam. A--pardon me, but--I desired to speak with you alone,"stammered the lawyer, seeing that the Duke did not move.

  "I have asked the--this gentleman, who is my friend, to remain," saidMargaret calmly. "You may speak freely. What is your business with me,sir?" She motioned him to a chair, and he sat down opposite her, hat inhand. He would have liked to hook his legs into each other and put hishands into his pockets, but he was too well bred for that. At last hetook courage.

  "Frankly, Madam, I have come to discharge a moral duty, and I will speakplainly. I am informed on credible authority that you are engaged tomarry a gentleman, calling himself Dr. Claudius--a--a tall man--fairbeard?"

  "Your information is correct, Mr. Screw," said Margaret haughtily, "I amengaged to be married to Dr. Claudius."

  "As one of the executors of the late Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand, deceased,"proceeded Mr. Screw slowly, "I feel it my duty, as an honest man, toinform you that there are serious doubts as to whether the gentleman whocalls himself Dr. Claudius is Dr. Claudius at all. The person inquestion disappeared two months ago, and has not been heard of since, asfar as I can make out. I have no interest in the matter as far as itconcerns yourself, as you may well imagine, but I have thought it rightto warn you that the gentleman whom you have honoured with a promise ofmarriage has not established his claim to be the person he representshimself."

  Margaret, who, after the first words, had foreseen what Mr. Screw hadcome to say, and who believed that very respectable and honest man to beconcerned in the plot against Claudius, was naturally angry, but she hadthe good sense to do the right thing.

  "Mr. Screw," she said in her commanding voice, icily, "I am deeplyindebted to you for your interference. Nevertheless, I am persuaded thatthe gentleman to whom I am engaged is very really and truly the personhe represents himself to be. A fact of which my friend here willprobably be able to persuade you without difficulty." And she forthwithleft the room. The Duke turned upon the lawyer.

  "Look here, Mr. Screw," he said sharply, "I am the--well, never mind myname, you can find out from the people downstairs. I am an Englishgentleman, and I know who Dr. Claudius is. I knew his father; I broughthim to this country in my yacht. I am prepared to go into court thisminute and swear to the identity of the gentleman you are slandering.Slandering, sir! Do you hear me?" The ducal anger was hot. "And exceptfor the fact that Dr. Claudius will be here to speak for himself the dayafter to-morrow morning, I would take you into court now by main forceand make you hear me swear to him. Do you hear me, sir?"

  "My dear sir," began Mr. Screw, who was somewhat taken aback by thisburst of wrath.

  "Don't call me 'your dear sir,'" said the nobleman, moving towardsScrew.

  "Sir, then," continued the other, who had not an idea to whom he wasspeaking, and perhaps would not have cared had he known, being such anhonest man, "I cannot conceive why, if you are so certain, you have notcome forward before, instead of allowing your friend to go to Europe inorder to procure evidence he might have obtained here."

  "I am not going to argue with y
ou," said the Duke. "Dr. Claudius wouldhave gone to Europe in any case, if that is any satisfaction to you.What did you come here for?"

  "Because I thought it right to warn an unsuspecting lady of her danger,"answered Mr. Screw boldly.

  "Is that true? Do you really believe Claudius is not Claudius?" askedthe Duke, coming close to the lawyer and looking him in the eyes.

  "Certainly, I believe him to be an impostor," said the other returninghis gaze fearlessly.

  "I suppose you do," said the Duke, tolerably satisfied. "Now then, whosent you here?"

  "No one sent me," answered Screw with some pride. "I am not in the habitof being sent, as you call it. It was in the course of a conversation Ihad with Mr. Barker, the other day--"

  "I thought so," interrupted the Englishman. "I thought Mr. Barker was atthe bottom of it. Will you please to deliver a message to Mr. Barker,with my compliments?" Screw nodded solemnly, as under protest.

  "Then be kind enough to tell him from me that he is a most infernalblackguard. That if he attempts to carry this abominable plot anyfurther I will post him at every one of his clubs as a liar and a cheat,and--and that he had better keep out of my way. As for you, sir, I wouldadvise you to look into his character, for I perceive that you are anhonest man."

  "I am obliged to you, sir," said Mr. Screw, with something of a sneer."But who are you, pray, that ventures to call my clients by such uglynames?"

  "There is my card--you can see for yourself," said the Duke. Screw readit. His anger was well roused by this time.

  "We have small respect for titles in this country, my Lord Duke," saidhe stiffly. "The best thing I can say is what you said to me, that youimpress me as being an honest man. Nevertheless you may be mistaken."

  "That is a matter which will be decided the day after to-morrow," saidthe other. "Meanwhile, in pursuance of what I said, I thank you verysincerely indeed"--Mr. Screw smiled grimly--"no, I am in earnest, Ireally thank you, on behalf of the Countess Margaret, for the honourablepart you have endeavoured to perform towards her; and I beg your pardonfor having mistaken you, and supposed you were in the plot. But give mymessage to Mr. Barker--it is actionable, of course, and he may takeaction upon it, if he likes. Good-morning, sir."

  "Good-morning," said Screw shortly, somewhat pacified by the Duke'sfrank apology.

  "I think I settled him," said the peer to Margaret, as they got into thecab that was to drive them to the Park. And they cantered away in royalspirits.

  CHAPTER XX.

  Whatever reason may say, whatever certainty we may feel, the last hoursof waiting for an ocean steamer are anxious ones. The people at theoffice may assure us twenty times that they feel "no anxietywhatever"--that is their stock phrase; our friends who have crossed theocean twice a year for a score of years may tell us that any vessel maybe a few hours, nay, a few days, behind her reckoning; it may seemmadness to entertain the least shadow of a doubt--and yet, until thefeet we love are on the wharf and the dear glad hands in ours, theshadow of an awful possibility is over us, the dreadful consciousness ofthe capacity of the sea.

  The Duke, who, but for his anxiety to see the end, would have long sincebeen on his way to England, had taken every precaution to ascertain thedate of the ship's arrival. He took it for granted that Claudius wouldsail in the Cunard steamer, and he found out the vessel which sailednext after the Doctor had telegraphed. Then he made arrangements to beinformed so soon as she was sighted, determined to go down in theCustom-House tug and board her at the Quarantine, that he might have thesatisfaction of being first to tell Claudius all there was to be told.

  "The day after to-morrow," he had said to Margaret, "we may safelyexpect him," and he watched, with a sort of dull pleasure, the lightthat came into her eyes when she heard the time was so near.

  The first disappointment--alas, it was only the first--came on theevening before the appointed day. The Duke received a note from theoffice to the effect that late arrivals having reported very heavyweather, it was feared that the steamer might be delayed some hours. Heat once inquired for the Countess, but found to his annoyance that bothshe and his sister had gone to the theatre. He had been out when theywent, and so they had taken Miss Skeat as a sort of escort, and weredoubtless enjoying themselves mightily. It was necessary, however, thatMargaret should know the news of the delay before she went to bed, forit would have been cruel to allow her to wake in the morning with theassurance that Claudius might arrive at any moment.

  "If I wait for them, and make a fuss, she will think it is somethingserious," reflected the Duke with more than usual tact. So he wrote anote, simply stating that he had news of a delay in the arrival of somehours,--perhaps a whole day, he added, wishing to be on the safe side.He gave the note to Vladimir, and went away to his rooms.

  Margaret and Lady Victoria came home together in great spirits, laughingand rustling in their silk cloaks as they entered the littledrawing-room, and sat down by the fire for a chat. Then Vladimir broughtthe Duke's note. Margaret read it by the firelight, and her face fellsuddenly.

  "What is it, dear?" asked Lady Victoria affectionately, as she noticedher companion's distressed look.

  "Nothing--I suppose I ought not to be anxious. The steamer is delayed,that is all," and she gave the English girl her brother's note.

  "Oh, if it had been anything serious he would have sat up for us. Itwill probably be in in the afternoon instead of in the morning." ButMargaret's eyes were heavy and her gladness was gone from her.

  "Do you ever have presentiments?" she asked, as they separated half anhour later.

  "Never," answered Lady Victoria cheerily, "and if I ever do they nevercome true."

  "I do," said Margaret, "I have a feeling that I shall never see himagain." Poor Countess! She looked very miserable, with her white faceand weary eyes.

  Early the next morning Lady Victoria told her brother what had been theeffect of his note. He was very angry with himself for not having put itinto better shape, and he determined to repair his error by devotinghimself entirely to watching for the steamer. With this object, he wentdown to the Cunard office and established himself with a novel and a boxof cigarettes, to pass the day. He refused to move, and sent out in theafternoon for something to eat. The people in the office did not knowhim, and he felt free to be as Bohemian as he pleased. Once in thecourse of the day he was told that a French steamer had come in and hadmet with very heavy weather, losing a boat or two. It was possible, theysaid, that the Cunarder, which had sailed on the day following thisvessel's departure, though from a nearer point, might be delayed anothertwenty-four hours. For his part, he felt no fear of the safe arrival ofthe ship, in due time. The odds are a thousand to one that a companywhich has never lost a vessel at sea will not lose any particular oneyou name. Nevertheless, he arranged to be called up in the night, if herlights were sighted, and he returned somewhat disconsolately to thehotel. Again he bethought him that if he told the Countess he had passedthe day in the steamer office she would overrate his anxiety and soincrease her own.

  Margaret was really very unreasonable. There was not the slightest doubtthat the steamer was safe, but she had become possessed, as LadyVictoria expressed it, by this unaccountable presentiment, that herfair-haired lover was gone from her for ever. Hideous things came upbefore her, poor drowned faces in the green swirl of the waves, mendead, and dying men grasping frantically at the white water-crestsbreaking over them, as though the rushing foam were a firm thing andcould save them. She heard the wild thin wind screeching across theocean furrows, breathless in his race with death. And then all seemedquiet, and she could see a grand form of a man, stiff-limbed and stark,the yellow hair all hanging down and the broad white throat turned up indeath, floating solemnly through the deep green water, and seaweed, andooze, far down below the angry waves.

  She struggled hard against these dark thoughts; but it was no use. Theywould come back, and all through the evening she sat by her fire, witheyes wide, and parted lips, staring at the embers and str
aining herhearing to catch the sound of some one coming to the door--some onebearing the welcome news that the good ship was sighted at last. But nosound came, all through that weary evening, nor any message of comfort.Lady Victoria sat with her, and Miss Skeat, pretending not to notice herdistressed mood; and once or twice the Duke came in and spoke cheerfullyof what they would do "when Claudius came back." But Margaret went toher room at last with a heavy heart, and would not be comforted.

  To tell the truth, the Duke firmly expected to receive the news of theship's arrival during the night, and so great was his anxiety to relieveMargaret that he insisted upon Willis and Vladimir sitting up all night,so as to be sure of having the message delivered the moment it arrived.The Russian and the English servants hated each other, and he wascertain they would not give each other any rest. But the Duke sleptsoundly, and waking at daybreak yelled viciously for Willis.

  "Well?" he said, "I suppose you went to sleep. Where is the telegram?"

  "There's no telegraph been yet, your Grace;" said the gray man-servant,who looked as though he had been up several nights instead of one.

  "Oh!" said the Duke with a change of voice. He was not given to bullyinghis servants, and always regretted being hasty with them, but hisconviction had been strong that the message ought to have come in thenight.

  Having spent the day previous in the office, he felt in duty bound notto relinquish his post until the Countess's doubts were set at rest. Sohe got into a cab; for, like many foreigners, he hated the ElevatedRoad, and was driven down town to the Bowling-Green.

  It rained heavily all the morning, and the Duke, who, as may beimagined, was not generally given to spending his days in steamboatoffices, was wonderfully and horribly bored. He smoked and kicked thechairs and read his novel, and was generally extremely uneasy, so thatthe clerks began to find him a nuisance, not having any idea that hewas a real living swell. And still it rained, and the newspaper vendorslooked in, all drizzly and wet, and the gay feathers of New Yorkbusiness seemed draggled.

  Suddenly--it might have been at two o'clock--there was a stir in theoffice, a rattling of feet on the board floor, and a sort of generalrevival.

  "She's in sight," a clerk called out to the Duke. His Grace stretchedhimself and departed. He had ascertained that the Custom-House tug didnot start for two hours after the ship was sighted. So he sent atelegram to Margaret to announce that her waiting was over, and then, topass the time, he went, and got something to eat. In due season he wasseated in the single cabin of the little high-pressure boat, as itploughed its way bravely through the waves and the rain to meet thegreat ocean monster. The Custom-House officials, cheery well-fed men,who know the green side of a XX[4], and are seldom troubled with gloomyforebodings, chatted and chaffed merrily together. One of them was verybald, and appeared to be a perpetual laughing-stock for the rest.

  [Footnote 4: Twenty dollars.]

  "Well, Ike," shouted one of his companions between two pulls of a smallblack bottle, "you _hev_ got a skatin' rink on to the top of _your_head, and no _mistake_". The other grinned, and retorted to the effectthat it was better to have the outside smooth than the inside soft.

  "Well, I guess you got both, like a water-melon," returned the firstspeaker.

  There are seldom more than one or two passengers on the Custom-Housetug, and on this occasion the Duke was alone. He could not stand theatmosphere of tobacco and whisky in the cabin, and made his way alongthe side to the engine-room, leaving the Custom-House men to their smokeand their repartee.

  It was almost five o'clock, and already nearly dark, when they came upwith the great steamer. In five minutes the Duke was over the side,hurrying down to find his friend. Not seeing him anywhere, he found thebursar and inquired for Dr. Claudius. The officer replied that he hadnot made his acquaintance on the voyage, but offered the Duke a list ofthe passengers, remarking that the ship was unusually crowded for thetime of year.

  The Duke ran his finger down the list, then thinking he had missed thename he sought, he held the paper close to the lamp. But there was no"Dr. Claudius" there. His face fell and his heart beat fast, for he hadbeen so positively certain. Poor Margaret! What would she do? Howfoolish of Claudius not to telegraph the day he sailed!

  "You are quite sure there are no omissions here?" asked the Duke of thebursar.

  "Quite sure, sir," answered he. "Wait a minute, though," he said, as theDuke dropped the list, "there was a passenger taken ashore at Queenstownvery ill. A tall man, I should say, though they carried him. He had notregistered on board, and he was so ill he gave up the passage. I couldnot tell you his name."

  "Had he a light beard?" asked the Duke in great alarm.

  "Um! yes; a large beard at all events. I remember how he looked as theycarried him past. He was awfully pale, and his eyes were closed."

  "My God!" exclaimed the Duke; "it must have been he! Does no one knowhis name?"

  "The captain may. He would not see you now, just going into port, but Iwill go and ask him," added the officer kindly, seeing how muchdistressed the other seemed to be.

  "Do--thanks--please ask him--yes!" he ejaculated, and sank into a chair.The bursar returned in a quarter of an hour.

  "I am sorry to say, sir," he said, "that no one seems to have known hisname. It sometimes happens. I am very sorry."

  The Duke saw there was nothing to be done. It was clear that Claudiuswas not on board; but it was by no means clear that Claudius was notlying ill, perhaps dead, in Queenstown. The poor Englishman bit his lipsin despair, and was silent. He could not decide how much he ought totell Margaret, and how much he ought to keep to himself. The sickpassenger seemed to answer the description, and yet he might not havebeen the Doctor for all that. Tall man--pale--he would be pale anyhow ifhe were ill--fair beard--yes, it sounded like him.

  "I wish Vick were here," said the Duke to himself; "she has so muchsense." Immediately the idea of consulting with his sister developeditself in his mind. "How can I get ashore?" he asked suddenly.

  "I am afraid you will have to wait till we are in," said the friendlyofficer. "It will not be more than an hour now."

  Impelled by some faint hope that the Doctor's name might have beenomitted by some accident, the Duke rose and threaded his way among thecrowding passengers, as they got their traps together and moved aboutthe great saloons. He pursued every tall man he saw, till he could catcha glimpse of his face. At last he met a towering figure in a darkenedpassage way.

  "My dear Claudius!" he cried, holding out his hand. But the strangeronly paused, muttered something about a "mistake" and passed on. Theexcitement grew on the Duke, as it became certain that Claudius was noton board, and never in the whole of his very high and mighty life had hebeen in such a state of mind. Some of the passengers noted his uneasymovements and exchanged remarks in an undertone, as he passed andrepassed.

  "He is probably crazy," said an Englishman.

  "He is probably drunk," said an American.

  "He is probably a defaulting bank cashier," said a Scotchman.

  "He looks very wild," said a New York mamma.

  "He looks very unhappy," said her daughter.

  "He is very well dressed," said her son, who got his clothes half yearlyfrom Smallpage.

  But the time passed at last, and the great thing came up to her pier,and opened her jaws and disgorged her living freight down a steep plankon to dry earth again; and the Duke, with a final look at the stream ofdescending passengers, forced his way ashore, and jumped into the firstcab he saw.

  "Drive to the nearest Elevated station," he shouted.

  "Which avenue?" inquired the driver with that placidity which cabmenassume whenever one is in a hurry.

  "Oh, any avenue--damn the avenue--Sixth Avenue of course!" cried theDuke in a stew.

  "Very good, sir--Sixth Avenue Elevated, did you say?" and hedeliberately closed the door and mounted to his box.

  "What shall I tell her--what shall I say?" were the questions thatrepeated themselves with stu
nning force in his ear as he rattled throughthe streets, and slid over the smooth Elevated Road, swiftly towards hishotel. He had still some few hundred yards to walk from the station whenhe got out. His courage failed him, and he walked slowly, with bent headand heavy heart, the bearer of bad news.

  Leisurely he climbed the steps, and the few stairs to his room. Therestood Lady Victoria under the gaslight, by the fire, looking at theclock.

  "At last," she cried, "how _did_ you miss him?"

  "Whom?" asked her brother dejectedly.

  "Why, Claudius, of course!"

  "Claudius is not come," he said in a low voice.

  "Not come?" cried Lady Victoria, "not come? Why he has been here thesetwo hours, with Margaret!"

  The Duke was fairly overpowered and worn-out with excitement, and hefell back into a chair.

  "How the--" he began, but checked the expletive, which found ventelsewhere, as expletives will. "Where the devil did he come from?"

  "From Europe, I believe," said she. "Don't swear about it."

  "Excuse me, Vick, I am bowled out; I was never so taken aback in mylife. Tell me all about it, Vick." And he slowly recovered his sensesenough to appreciate that Claudius had really arrived, and that he, thefriend who had taken so much trouble, had somehow missed him after all.But he was honestly glad.

  "I only saw him a moment, and I came in to your room to wait. Of courseI let him go in there alone."

  "Of course," assented her brother gravely.

  "Margaret was waiting for him, for she got your telegram that the shipwas in sight at three o'clock, and he got here at five; I thought it wasvery quick."

  "Devilish quick, indeed," said her profane brother under his breath."Tell me all about it," he added aloud.

  It was easily enough explained, and before they went to bed that nightevery one understood it all. It was simply this--Claudius had come byanother steamer, one of the German line, and had chanced to arrive acouple of hours before the Cunarder. Margaret had received the Duke'smessage, as Lady Victoria had said, and, as Claudius appeared soonafterwards, she saw no discrepancy.

  The tall Doctor left his slender luggage to the mercy of the CustomHouse, and, hailing a cab, paid the man double fare in advance to hurryto the hotel. He could hardly wait while the servant went through theformality of taking up his name to the Countess, and when the messagecame back that he would "please to step up upstairs," as the stereotypedAmerican hotel phrase has it, he seemed indeed to make of the stairwaybut a single step.

  One moment more, and he was kneeling at her feet, trembling in everylimb and speechless, but kissing the fair white hands again and again,while she bent down her flushed dark cheek till it touched his yellowhair. Then he stood up to his height and kissed her forehead and claspedhis fingers about her waist and held her up to the length of his mightyarms before him, unconscious, in his overmastering happiness, of thestrength he was exerting. But she laughed happily, and her eyes flashedin pride of such a man.

  "Forgive me, my beloved," he said at last. "I am beside myself withjoy." She hid her face on his breast as they stood together.

  "Are you very glad to come back?" she asked at last, looking up to himwith a smile that told the answer.

  "Glad is too poor a word, my dear, dear lady," he said simply.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later they were still seated side by side on the deep sofa.Claudius had told her everything, for, now that he had accomplished hismission, there were to be no more secrets; and there were tears inMargaret's dark eyes as she heard, for she knew what it had cost him toleave her, knowing how he loved. And then they talked on.

  "If it is to be so soon, dear," she said, "let it be on Christmas Day."

  "So be it. And, beloved, where shall we go?" he asked.

  "Oh, away--away from New York, and--and Mr. Barker and Mr. Screw and allthese horrid people," she cried; for she too had confessed and told himall.

  "Yes," he said; and was silent for a moment. "Dear one," he began again,"there is one thing more that you ought to know--" he stopped.

  "Yes?" she said interrogatively.

  "My blessed lady, I have told you the story of my birth for the firsttime to-day. I thought you ought to know it."

  "That would never have made any difference, Claudius," she answered halfreproachfully.

  "My uncle--my father's brother--died a week before I sailed."

  "I am sorry, dear," said she in ready sympathy; "were you fond of him?"She did not realise what he meant.

  "I never remember to have seen him," he replied; "but--he diedchildless. And I--I am no longer a _privat-docent_." Margaret turnedquickly to him, comprehending suddenly.

  "Then you are the heir?" she asked.

  "Yes, darling," he said softly. "It is a great name, and you must helpme to be worthy of it. I am no longer Dr. Claudius." He added the lastsentence with a shade of regret.

  "And you need never have taken any trouble about this stupid money,after all? You are independent of all these people?"

  "Yes," he answered, with a smile, "entirely so."

  "I am so glad,--so glad, you do not know," said she, clasping her handson his shoulder. "You know I hated to feel you were wrangling with thoselawyers for money;" and she laughed a little scornfully.

  "We will have it, all the same," said Claudius, smiling, "and you shalldo as you like with it, beloved. It was honestly got, and will bring noill luck with it. And now I have told you, I say, let us go to myfather's house and make it ours." He spoke proudly and fondly. "Let mewelcome my dear lady where her match was never welcomed before."

  "Yes, dear, we will go there."

  "Perhaps the Duke will lend us the yacht?" said Claudius.

  "Yes," said Margaret, and there was a tinge of sadness in her voice,"yes, perhaps the Duke will lend us the yacht."

  THE END.