CHAPTER XII.
THE MARQUIS OF LOSSY.
With Leon, the Doctor's suggestion had worked differently, though nonethe less potently, despite the fact that the lad himself did notdetect the symptoms, as did the girl. I think a woman's instincts aremore attuned to the influences of the softer passions than are aman's. Certainly it has been often observed that she will recognizeevidences of love, which man passes by unnoted and unheeded. If a girlis quicker to discover that she is loved, she also admits sooner thatshe is in love, though the admission be made only to herself. Thus, aswe have seen, the Doctor's charm operated upon Agnes.
When Leon awoke that same morning, it was a sudden awakening fromdreamless sleep. He recalled nothing of what had occurred during theprevious night, nor had he even a suspicion that Agnes had been in histhoughts at all. Nevertheless he dressed himself with feverish haste,and, contrary to his usual custom, he left the house and went "for awalk," or so he explained his action to himself. Yet very soon he hadreached the nearest station of the Suburban Elevated railroad, and wasrapidly borne towards the city. During this trip he thought that hewas going to town to obtain some chemicals which he needed in thelaboratory, but, as there was no immediate necessity for them, hemight have delayed their purchase for several days. The truth was hewas answering a scarcely recognized inward restlessness, whichdemanded action of some sort. The cause of this change from his normalhabit was that "something was the matter" with him, as he afterwardsexpressed it. But at the time he did not seek an explanation of hismood. He did procure the chemicals, but having done so, instead ofreturning home, he walked aimlessly for several blocks, until hestopped, seemingly without purpose, before a florist's shop. In aninstant he had formulated a design, "on the spur of the moment" hetold himself, though it was but the outcome of the secret agency whichcontrolled his whole conduct that day. He went in and purchased somerose-buds, selecting red ones, and he wrote the card which Agnes foundupon them. When he reached the signature he quickly scribbled "Leon,"and then he paused. The thought within his mind was, "I have no othername." Therefore he did not continue. Thus it is evident that thesingle signature was not a familiarity, either intended or implied,but a response to that feeling, ever within his consciousness, that hehad no right to call himself "Grath"! Upon this point he was eversensitive. He hastened to the Judge's house and left the bouquet atthe door. Then he returned to Villa Medjora with a lighter heart, and,man-like, he wrongly attributed this to the ozone with which themorning air was laden. As yet he did not suspect that he had fallen inlove. I wonder why we use the term "fallen" in this connection, asthough the acquirement of this chief passion of the human heart were adescent, rather than an elevation of the soul, as it surely is. Forone must be on a higher plane, from that moment when he abandonshimself as the first consideration of his thoughts, and begins tosacrifice his own desires, that he may add to the pleasures ofanother.
The first meeting between Agnes and Leon was one to which the formerlooked forward with anticipated embarrassment, while Leon scarcelythought of it at all, until the moment came. But when they did meet,all was reversed. The girl was self-possession personified, while Leonnever before found words so tardily arriving to meet the demands ofconversation. He went to his own room that night, and wondered whathad come to him, that he should have been so disturbed in the presenceof one for whom hitherto he had had rather a tolerance, because of herintellectuality, than any feeling of personal inferiority such as nowoccupied his thoughts. How could he be less than she? Was he not aman, while she--she was only a woman? Only a woman! Ah! Therein liesthe mysterious secret of man's undoing; of his lifelong slavery, thatthe wants of woman shall be supplied. Yet women prate of women'srights, deploring the fact that they are less than those, who,analysis would show, are but their slaves.
From this time on, the bud of love in the hearts of these two youngpeople advanced steadily towards maturity, and, before very long,Agnes was living in a secret elysium of her own creation. She nolonger questioned her own feelings. She freely admitted to herselfthat all her future happiness depended upon obtaining and enjoyingLeon's love. But she had come to be very sure of the fulfilment of herheart's desire, since Leon's visits became more and more frequent, andhis books and science apparently lost their power to allure him awayfrom her side. The situation was very entertaining to her, who was sofond of analyzing and studying the intricate problems of life; and, tosuch as she, what could be happier occupation than probing the heartof him to whom she had intrusted her own? She thought she saw soplainly that he loved her, that it puzzled her to tell why it was thatas yet he himself was not aware of this fact. But at last theawakening came.
One pleasant afternoon in early summer, they were walking down FifthAvenue, deeply engrossed in a discussion of another of Correlli'snovels. Leon read novels in these days. He said he did so because itwas so pleasant to discuss them with Agnes. Besides, he found thateven in novels there might be something to learn. They were speakingof that excellent work, _Thelma_.
"I think that it is Correlli's most finished work," Agnes was saying;"but I am surprised at the similarity between it and Black's novel,_The Princess of Thule_."
"I have not yet read that. Wherein lies the resemblance?"
"In both books we find the story divided into three parts. First, theyoung Englishman seeking surcease from the _ennui_ of fashionablesociety by a trip into the wild north country. Black sends his hero toIreland, and Correlli allows hers to visit Norway. Each discovers thedaughter of a descendant of old time kings; the _Princess of Thule_ inone, and _Thelma_, the daughter of the Viking, in the other. Themarriage ends the first part in each instance. In the second, we findthe wedded couples in fashionable London society, and in each the girlfinds that she is incongruous with her surroundings, and after bearingwith it awhile, abandons the husband and returns to her old home,alone. The finale is the same in each, the husband seeking his runawaywife, and once more bringing her to his arms."
"Still, Miss Agnes,"--the formal "Miss Dudley" of the earlier days hadbeen unconsciously abandoned--"what you have told is only a theme. Twoartists may select the same landscape, and yet make totally differentpictures."
"So they have in this instance, and I think that Correlli's managementof the subject is far in advance of Black's, as beautiful and astouching as that master's story is. The death of the old Vikingtranscends anything in _The Princess of Thule_. I do not at alldisparage Correlli's work, only--well--it is hard to explainmyself--but I would be better pleased had there been no likenessbetween the two."
"Yet I have no doubt that it is accidental, or, if there was anyimitation, that it was made unconsciously. I believe that a writer mayrecall what he has read long before, and clothing the idea in his ownwords, may easily believe that it is entirely original with himself.There is one speech which Thelma makes, which I think most beautiful.You remember where the busy-body tries to make mischief by tellingThelma that her husband has transferred his love to another? Thelmareplies, in substance, that if her husband has ceased to love her, itmust be her own fault, and to illustrate her meaning she says that oneplucks a rose, attracted by its fragrance, but when at last it isunconsciously thrown away, it is not because of fickleness, but ratherbecause the rose having faded, has lost its power to charm, and so iscast aside. I think it was very touching for Thelma to make such acomparison, charging herself with the fault of losing the love of herhusband."
"Yes! It is very pretty and poetical, but like poetry in general, itis not very sensible. I think that if a man has enjoyed theattractions of his wife in her youthful days he should cherish her themore when her charms have begun to fade. There is quite a differencebetween a rose, which in losing its outward beauty loses all, and awoman who, however homely in feature, may still possess a soul asbeautiful as ever."
"Indeed, Miss Agnes, I indorse your sentiments. Such a man would be abrute. But Thelma's husband was not of that mould. He was true toher."
"Yes," said Agnes, smiling; "but Th
elma's charms had not faded, noreven begun to decline. Her simile was inapt as applied to herself."
"Exactly! It was her heart, and not her head that gave birth to thebeautiful sentiment. But I am sure that her husband would have lovedher, however ugly she might have grown. I am sure that, in his place,I would have done so."
"You? Why, Mr. Grath, I thought that you told me you would never loveany one?" She spoke the words with mischievous intent, and glanced athim archly, as she watched the effect of the speech.
Leon blushed and became confused. He was at a loss for words, but wasrelieved from the necessity of formulating an answer, by an occurrencewhich threatened to end in a tragedy. They were crossing a street atthe moment, and so intent had they become upon their discourse, thatthey scarcely heard the warning cries of the excited people. Amaddened horse was running away, and as at length Leon was aroused tothe imminence of some danger, intuitively, rather than by anywell-defined recognition of what threatened, he gave one hasty glancein the direction from which the animal was approaching, and with arapid movement he encircled Agnes's waist with his arm, and drew herback, barely in time to escape from the horse and cab which rattledby.
It was in this instant that Leon's awakening came to him. In presenceof a danger which threatened to deprive him forever of the girl besidehim, he became suddenly aware of the fact that she was essential tohis future happiness. At last he knew that he loved Agnes, and fromhis silence as he took her home, and the tenderness of his tones atparting, Agnes instantly knew that he had been aroused. She alreadybegan to look forward to their next meeting, and to wonder whether hewould at once unbosom himself. She meant to help him as much aspossible. Poor fellow! He would be very much abashed, she had nodoubt. She would not be coy and tantalizing as so many girls are. Shethought that such affectation would be beneath her. Her sense ofjustice forbade it. No! She would be very nice to him. She would showno signs of uneasiness as he floundered about seeking words. She wouldwait patiently for what he would say, and then, when he had said thewords, why, then--well, then it would be time enough at that sweetmoment to decide what to do. She would make him happy, at any rate. Ofthat she was determined. There should be no ambiguity about her reply.And in this mood the girl awaited the wooing.
Leon did not sleep at all that night, or if he slumbered, it was onlyto dream of Agnes. A hundred times he saw her mangled beneath thehoofs of that runaway horse, and suffered agonies in consequence; eachtime awakening with a start, to find beads of perspiration upon hisbrow. Again his vision was more pleasing, and in dream-land heimagined himself united to Agnes, and living happily ever afterward,as all proper books tell us that married lovers do. At last the daydawned, and with impatience he awaited that hour when with proprietyhe could call upon his sweetheart. He had a very good excuse, for byaccident, (_sic?_) he had left his umbrella at the house the daybefore, and already it was growing cloudy. He might need it, andtherefore of course he should go for it before it should actuallybegin to rain.
It was scarcely noon when Leon was announced to Agnes, who was in hermorning room, sipping a cup of chocolate, and wondering when he wouldcome. And now he was here. She expected to find him _distrait_, andlacking in manner and speech, as she had seen him in the dawning ofhis passion. She was therefore wholly unprepared for what followed. IfLeon had been bashful in her presence when he did not comprehend thecause of his disconcertion, having discovered that he loved Agnes,hesitation vanished. There was no circumlocution about his method atall. He was impulsive by nature, and, when a purpose was once welldefined in his breast, he was impatient until he had put it intooperation. Thus, without even alluding to the umbrella which he hadostensibly made the object of his visit, in accounting for it tohimself, he addressed Agnes as follows:
"Miss Agnes, I have scarcely slept all night because of what mighthave happened through my carelessness yesterday."
"I do not understand you," said Agnes, and indeed she did not. Shesaw, however, that he intended to speak very directly, and was herselfdisconcerted.
"I mean the narrow escape which you had from being run over. I shouldhave had my wits about me, and have prevented you from being in suchdanger."
"You saved my life!" she spoke softly, and drooped her head.
"I do not know. But for me it would not have been in need of saving.But if I did save your life, I know that I preserved what is dearestin all the world to myself. No! Let me speak, please! I have awakenedfrom a dream. I have lived in dream-land for many weeks, and I havenot understood. I have been near you, and I have been happy, but in mystupidity I did not see that it was because of your companionship thatI was happy. In the moment when I was in danger of losing you, Irealized how great the loss would be. Had you died, I must have diedtoo. Because--because, Agnes, I, I, to whom the idea of love hasalways been repellent, I tell you that I love you. I love you with aspecies of worship which is enthralling. My whole being, my life, mysoul is all yours. If you do not accept my love, then I have nofurther wish to live. Speak! Speak to me! I cannot wait longer. Tellme that you love me, or--or merely nod your head, and I will go!"
To such wooing as this how could woman answer? She had promisedherself that she would not be ambiguous in speech, but now she learnedthat directness was demanded, and though her whole heart yearned forhim, and she pitied the anguish which was born of his anxiety, shefound it hard to say the words, which could not in honor be retracted.So, for a moment, she was silent, and he misunderstood. He thoughtthat her hesitation was born of sympathy for him, and that she did notspeak because she feared to cause him pain by refusing him. He felt apiercing throb of agony cross his heart, and his cheek paled. Hereeled and would have fallen, for he had not seated himself, but heclutched the mantel for support. In a moment he mastered himselfsufficiently to say hoarsely:
"I do not blame you! I am a nameless vagabond, and have beenpresumptuous! Good-bye!"
He turned away and was leaving the apartment swiftly, when his stepswere arrested by a cry that thrilled him through with joy that was aspainful as his sorrow had been.
"Leon! Leon! I love you!" Agnes cried, arresting his departure, and,as he turned and came again towards her, she was standing upright, andherself made the movement which gave him the privilege of embracingher.
By a singular chance, while they were thus enfolded in love's firstrapturous clasp, and therefore oblivious of all the world exceptthemselves, Judge Dudley, who had not yet left the house, entered theroom. He saw them, but they did not observe him. Instantly he realizedthat the Doctor's scheme had borne fruition. He hesitated but for amoment, and then, stepping lightly, he went out of the room, anddeparted from the house.
How often do our joys and sorrows approach us hand in hand? Therecomes a moment fraught with bliss; the draught is at our lips, and wetake one lingering sip of ecstasy, when on a sudden the brimming glassis dashed aside, and a cloud of misery enshrouds us round about! Thusit happened to Leon.
After an hour of joyous converse with Agnes, now "his Agnes," hestarted for home. Arriving there, he ran lightly up the steps, as iftreading on air. He was whistling a merry tune, as he opened the doorof his room, and closed it again having entered. His mind was filledwith ecstatic anticipation of what the future had in store for him. Itdid not seem possible that anything could happen to disturb the sweetcurrent of his thoughts. Yet a moment later he was arrested by thesound of a moan, an agonizing groan that filled his heart with dread.Again it was repeated, and immediately he knew that it was Lossy, whowas suffering. He stooped and looked under the bed. There, indeed, washis fond animal friend, but around his mouth there was an ominous massof foam. Had the poor beast gone mad? With a pang of anxiety, Leondrew the bedstead away from the wall, and went behind it to whereLossy had dragged himself. One glance into the dog's eyes turned up tomeet his with all the loving intelligence of his customary greeting,and Leon dismissed the idea of rabies. Tenderly he lifted the dog andcarried him to a table near the window, upon which he made a bed withpillows. He wiped the f
oam from his lips, and as he did so Lossygently protruded his tongue and licked his master's hand. He alsofeebly wagged his tail, and endeavored to rise, but his exhaustedcondition prevented, and with a groan he dropped back and lay therecrying piteously as a child might do. Leon could not comprehend thetrouble. "What is the matter with him?" he asked himself. "Hecertainly was well this morning." As he looked, the foam began togather again, as Lossy worked his lips in such a way as to eject thesaliva from his mouth. Suddenly the explanation came to Leon."Aconite!" he cried aloud. "Lossy has been poisoned! By whom? Perhapshe got into the laboratory. But how? How did he get at the poison? Oh!If I had only remained at home this morning!"
But regrets for the past are ever impotent, and Leon did not wastemuch time deploring what had gone before. He quickly procured somecharcoal, and mixing it with milk administered it to his dog. Thefoaming ceased, and the beast seemed more comfortable, but it wasquestionable whether any permanent benefit would result from the useof the antidote.
While Leon sat watching his pet, with a growing pain gnawing at hisheart as the conviction thrust itself upon him that the dog would die,his door opened and Madame Medjora appeared. Coming forward she lookedat Lossy a moment, and then said:
"Do you think that the brute will die?"
"I am afraid that he will," mournfully answered Leon.
"Then why doesn't he die right off," she said. "It is several hourssince I gave him the poison."
"You gave him the poison?" exclaimed Leon, springing up in wrath. "Youpoisoned Lossy, and you dare to tell me of it?"
"I dare to tell you? Yes! I dare do anything that woman can do. I am adescendant of soldiers. The brute ate one of my lace handkerchiefs,and I was glad of the excuse to be rid of him. There! You know thetruth now, what will you do about it?"
As she uttered the words, Madame drew herself up to the full height ofher commanding figure, and it would have been a daring man who wouldhave attacked her. But when even feeble men are urged on by rage, theydo deeds which braver men would hesitate to attempt. Utterly bereft ofthe restraining faculty of reason, by the information that his pet hadbeen intentionally destroyed, Leon sprang forward, and would haveseized the proud neck of Madame between his powerful hands, in anendeavor to carry out the desire to throttle her, which had forceditself upon his brain, but at that very instant Dr. Medjora came in,and, with a single glance, appreciating that the lad was besidehimself, he rushed forward and held him firmly.
"What does this mean, Leon?" the Doctor demanded.
"She has poisoned Lossy! Let me go! I will kill her!"
Leon struggled fiercely to be free, but he found himself restrained bymuscles which were like steel. The Doctor, however, was himselftremendously moved by what he heard. Addressing his wife he asked:
"Did you do that? Does he speak the truth?"
"I gave the beast poison. Yes! What of it?"
"Then you are a wicked fiend, Madame. Leave the room!"
"I will not!" replied Madame, with energy.
"Leave the room, or else I will release the boy. Go! go quickly whilstyou may!" The Doctor's tones were imperative, and as the woman lookedinto the faces of the two men, her courage left her, and with amuttered imprecation she hurried from the room. As the door closedafter her, the Doctor released Leon, but by a swift movementintercepted him as he endeavored to escape from the apartment, andturning the key in the lock he took it out, and thus prevented Leonfrom following his wife.
"Leon, my dear boy," said the Doctor, in tones expressive of thedeepest sympathy, "let us see what we can do for Lossy. Perhaps it isnot too late to save him, and it is better to do that, than to ventyour anger upon a woman."
"A woman! Do not call her by that name. She is a contamination to hersex. Pardon my speaking so of your wife, Doctor, but--but--she hasmurdered Lossy. Murdered my dog, just as I called such a deed murder,in the little story which I showed to you that day in the woods. Doyou remember?"
"Perfectly, but there can be no murder unless he dies. Let me see!"
"Yes! Yes! Save him! Use your wonderful knowledge to save this dumbbrute, as I have seen you pluck infants from the brink of the grave.Save my pet, my kind friend! Save him and I will do anything for you!Only save my Lossy!"
Poor Leon! This was the one love which had been his for so many years.How long he had taken comfort and pleasure in lavishing his affectionupon his dog, who had learned to understand and obey his slightestnod.
Dr. Medjora examined Lossy carefully, and looked very grave. Presentlyhe looked up, and placing one hand tenderly on Leon's head, he spokesoftly:
"Be brave, my lad. Many such bitter moments as this must be bornethrough life. You must meet them like a courageous man."
"There is no hope?" sobbed Leon.
"None! He is dying now! See how faint his respirations are?"
With a cry of anguish Leon fell to his knees and gazed into his dog'seyes. He patted the head lying so limp and listless, and in responsepoor Lossy made one feeble effort. He gazed back into his master'sface, and Leon ever afterward claimed that, in that last lingeringlook, he detected the living soul which was about to depart from hisdying dog. Lossy painfully opened his mouth and protruded his tongueso that it barely touched Leon's hand in the old-time affectionatesalutation, and the soul of the dog departed for that realm beyond theveil.
Leon leaned forward a moment, with his ear to the dog's heart,listening for an answering vibration, which would indicate that lifeyet lingered, but, receiving none, with a cry he fell forward to thefloor and burst into uncontrollable sobs.
Doctor Medjora, wise physician that he was, made no futile effort torestrain these tears, knowing them to be the best outlet for naturalgrief. With a glance filled with tender love for his _protege_, heunlocked the door and passed out unobserved, leaving Leon with allthat remained of the Marquis of Lossy.
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