I had quarrelled with Lisbeth; had quarrelled beyond all hope of redemption and forgiveness, desperately, irrevocably, and it had all come about through a handkerchief - Mr. Selwyn's handkerchief.
At a casual glance this may appear all very absurd, not to say petty; but then I have frequently noticed that insignificant things very often serve for the foundation of great; and incidentally quite a surprising number of lives have been ruined by a handkerchief.
The circumstances were briefly these: In the first place, I had received the following letter from the Duchess, which had perturbed me not a little: MY DEAR DICK: I hear that that Agatha Warburton creature has written threatening to cut off our dear Lisbeth with the proverbial shilling unless she complies with her wish and marries Mr. Selwyn within the year.
Did you ever know of anything so disgusting?
If I were Lisbeth, and possessed such a 'creature" for an aunt, I'd see her in Timbuctoo first - I would! But then I forget the poor child has nothing in the world, and you little more, and "love in a cottage" is all very well, Dick, up to a certain time. Of course, it is all right in novels but you are neither of you in a novel, and that is the worst of it. If Providence had seen fit to make me Lisbeth's aunt, now, things might have been very different; hut alas! it was not to be. Under the circumstances, the best thing you can do, for her sake and your own, is to turn your back upon Arcadia and try to forget it all as soon as possible in the swirl of London and everyday life. Yours,CHARLOTTE C.
P.S. Of course, "Romance is dead ages and ages ago; still, it really would be nice if you could manage to run off with her some fine night!
Thus the fiat had gone forth, the time of waiting was accomplished; to- day Lisbeth must choose between Selwyn and myself.
This thought was in my mind as I strode along the river path, filling me with that strange exhilaration which comes, I suppose, to most of us when we face some climax in our lives. But now the great question, How would she decide? leaped up and began to haunt me. Because a woman smiles upon a man, he is surely a most prodigious fool to flatter himself that she loves him, therefore. How would she decide? Nay, indeed; what choice had she between affluence and penury? Selwyn was wealthy and favoured by her aunt, Lady Warburton, while as for me, my case was altogether the reverse. And now I called to mind how Lisbeth had always avoided coming to any understanding with me, putting me off on one pretence or another, but always with infinite tact. So Fear came to me, and Doubt began to rear its head; my step grew slower and slower, till, reaching the Shrubbery gate, I leaned there in doubt whether to proceed or not. Summoning up my resolution, however, I went on, turning in the direction of the orchard, where I knew she often sat of a morning to read or make a pretence of sewing.
I had gone but a little way when I caught sight of two distant figures walking slowly across the lawn, and recognised Lisbeth and Mr. Selwyn. The sight of him here and at such a time was decidedly unpleasant, and I hurried on, wondering what could have brought him so early.
Beneath Lisbeth's favourite tree, an ancient apple-tree so gnarled and rugged that it seemed to have spent all its days tying itself into all manner of impossible knots - in the shade of this tree, I say, there was a rustic seat and table, upon which was a work-basket, a book, and a handkerchief. It was a large, decidedly masculine handkerchief, and as my eyes encountered it, by some unfortunate chance I noticed a monogram embroidered in one corner - an extremely neat, precise monogram, with the letters F. S. I recognised it at once as the property of Mr. Selwyn.
Ordinarily I should have thought nothing of it, but to-day it was different; for there are times in one's life when the most foolish things become pregnant of infinite possibilities; when the veriest trifles assume overwhelming proportions, filling and blotting out the universe.
So it was now, and as I stared down at the handkerchief, the Doubtwithin me grow suddenly into Certainty. I was pacing restlessly up and down when I saw Lisbeth approaching; her cheeks seemed more flushed than usual, and her hand trembled as she gave it to me.
"Why, whatever is the matter with you?" she said; "you look so - so strange, Dick.""I received a letter from the Duchess this morning." "Did you?""Yes; in which she tells me your aunt has threatened to - ""Cut me off with a shilling," nodded Lisbeth, crossing over to the table.
"Yes," I said again. "Well?"
"Well?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Dick, stop tramping up and down like a - a caged bear, and sit down - do!"I obeyed; yet as I did so I saw her with the tail of my eye whip up the handkerchief and tuck it beneath the laces at her bosom.
"Lisbeth," said I, without turning my head, "why hide it - there?"Her face flushed painfully, her lips quivered, and for a moment she could find no answer; then she tried to laugh it off.
"Because I - I wanted to, I suppose !"
"Obviously!" I retorted; and rising, bowed and turned to go. "Stay a moment, Dick.I have something to tell you." "Thank you, but I think I can guess.""Can you?"
"Oh, yes."
