Bowen Marjorie

The Rake's Progress


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      He kissed her fingers.

      "In the withdrawing-room? I will go round by the garden; good-night."

      They parted; she to enter the house, he to make his way through the roses and laurels to the terrace at the back.

      The long windows still stood open as Susannah had left them; the gleam of candle-light fell over the stone balustrade and the flowers, the hyacinths, pinks, and tulips.

      Rose Lyndwood heard voices, light, laughing voices, and the rustle of silk; he stepped into the light and saw the Countess standing on the hearth.

      In her fair hands she held a fine lace scarf that fell over her gleaming dress, and she was looking at Marius, who showed her an ivory framed mirror, wonderfully carved.

      The Earl pushed the window a little wider open and entered the room.

      "Rose!" cried his mother in a frightened voice.

      Marius laid down the mirror and flushed; two years of change in each of them had sufficed to make his brother a stranger to him.

      Lord Lyndwood swept off his hat and crossed the room to kiss his mother's hands.

      She flushed and fluttered into her usual sweet aimless talk.

      "La! you startled me, Rose; we expected you to-morrow—and have you walked?—and I protest you have not noticed Marius!"

      "My horse fell lame and I left him at the lodge." The Earl turned to his brother—"Good evening, Marius."

      They looked at each other, and the younger man was overawed and abashed; then he laughed awkwardly.

      "I scarcely know you, my lord."

      Rose Lyndwood smiled.

      "Two years, Marius—you also have altered."

      He unclasped his cloak and flung it over a chair.

      The Countess glanced at him.

      "Is anything the matter?" she asked suddenly.

      "Can you see so much?" He was still smiling. "Yes, but I will not trouble you with it yet, my lady."

      He crossed to the table.

      "I must speak to Marius."

      An expression of annoyance clouded Lady Lyndwood's fair face.

      "This is a poor home-coming, Rose. I have not seen you for months—and 'tis the first evening I have had Marius."

      The Earl seated himself at the table.

      "I am sorry," he said.

      At his elbow lay the ivory framed mirror his brother had put down; it reflected the glimmer of his blue sleeve.

      "I am sorry," he repeated; "I had, however, better acquaint Marius—at once."

      He leant back in his chair and glanced from one to the other; his long grey eyes were half closed, and his disdainful, cold expression chilled and annoyed my lady.

      "Won't you acquaint me also, Rose?" she asked weakly. "I had better know."

      She was vaguely aware that with any personal misfortune he would never have troubled them; this, therefore, must be something overwhelming.

      The Earl looked at his brother, and Marius spoke.

      "Give me leave, my lady; let me hear what Rose has to say."

      His young face was serious and pale; the Countess clasped her hands and began to tremble.

      "It is about the estates. Susannah always said Mr. Langham mismanaged everything——"

      "Come into the library, Marius. We shall be back in half an hour."

      Lady Lyndwood sank on the leather settee.

      "There are no candles there, Rose, shall I ring?" Her anxious eyes appealed to him.

      "No," he answered, "this will suffice."

      He took one of the candles from the table and led the way from the room; Marius followed, very grave.

      The Countess heard them enter the next room and the door close after them.

      She glanced about her, at the scarf Marius had brought her, lying where she had let it slip, upon the hearth, at his mirror on the table, and beside it Rose's grey gloves and riding stock.

      The chamber grew unnaturally quiet; she was afraid to move; cruel memories that came to her always in the silences made her blood go cold; a look of age and suffering settled in her delicate face, she fixed her eyes on the portrait of her husband over the mantelshelf and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

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       Table of Contents

      The Earl set the candle on the mantelshelf, and its feeble rays dimly revealed the massive handsome chamber, the rows of books on carved shelves, the dark pictures, the heavy furniture.

      Marius fingered his cravat, and was silent; he felt constrained and ill at ease—troubled, not so much by the threatened revelation of misfortune as by the presence of his magnificent brother, who was a more splendid gentleman than any he had seen.

      "I wished to tell you first and alone," said Rose Lyndwood, "for I dare swear my lady will make a scene."

      He leant against the wall by the fireplace, the candle-light full over him. His light brown hair was unpowdered and tied with a turquoise ribbon in his neck; he wore no jewels; the silk flowers, pink and red, on his waistcoat sparkled with threads of gold. His complexion was naturally pale; at the corner of his full lower lip a patch of black velvet cunningly cut into the shape of a bat showed in contrast with it. His delicate fair brows were slightly frowning, and his languid lids almost concealed his eyes. He did not seem to see Marius, shyly observing him.

      "I have been looking into my affairs," he said. This remark meant nothing to Marius, and his brother saw it. "It's a damned unpleasant thing to say," he added, with a half-insolent smile, "but—it's ruin."

      Marius stared.

      "What do you mean?" he cried.

      Rose Lyndwood opened his eyes wide now and gave his brother a full glance.

      "I mean I am as far in debt as I can go—that my credit is no longer good for—anything. That Lyndwood must go to pay its mortgage, that is what I mean."

      "I don't understand," answered Marius stupidly.

      "Have you never heard of a man being ruined before?" asked the Earl. "Gad, it is not so rare!"

      "But in such a fashion—so suddenly."

      Rose Lyndwood shrugged his shoulders.

      "Not so suddenly, only we ignored everything until now. The crash—who cared as long as the money came from somewhere? Neither I nor you, nor my lady."

      Marius took a step towards his brother.

      "And my fortune?" he said.

      Lord Lyndwood gave him a kindly glance.

      "For that I am sorry," he answered, "and blame myself that ye have ever been led to believe there was anything solely yours, for now that I can no longer pay your allowance ye stand there as poor as I."

      Marius sat down by the desk against the wall.

      "Nothing?"