Love in a Cloud: A Comedy in Filigree

The Count drew himself up proudly. Then he in his turn bowed profoundly.

"You do eet too much to me honor," he said, with a dignity which was worthy of his family. "Ladies, votre serviteur."

He made his exit in a manner to be admired. Mrs. Croydon feigned to shrink aside as he passed her, but Mrs. Neligage looked at her with so open a laugh at this performance that confusion overcame the dame of bugles, and she moved forward disconcerted. She had not yet gained a seat, when Miss Wentstile faced her with all her most unrestrained fashion.

"I shouldn't think, Mrs. Croydon, that you, with the stain of a divorce court on you, were in position to throw stones at Count Shimbowski. He has done nothing but follow the customs to which he's been brought up."

"Perhaps that's true of Mrs. Croydon too," murmured Mrs. Neligage to Alice.

"If you wanted to tell me," Miss Wentstile went on, "why didn't you tell me when he was not here? No wonder foreigners think we are barbarians when a nobleman is insulted like that."

"I didn't mean to tell you," Mrs. Croydon stammered humbly. "It just came out."

"Why didn't you mean to tell me?" demanded Miss Wentstile, whose anger had evidently deprived her for the time being of all coolness.

"Why, I thought you were engaged to him!" blurted out Mrs. Croydon, fairly crimson from brow to chin.

"Engaged!" echoed Miss Wentstile, half breathless with indignation.

Mrs. Neligage came to the rescue, cool and collected, entirely mistress of herself and of the situation.

"Really, Mrs. Croydon," she suggested, smiling, "don't you think that is bringing Western brusqueness home to us in rather a startling way? We don't speak of engagements until they are announced, you know."

"But Miss Wentstile told me the other day that she might announce one soon," persisted Mrs. Croydon, into whose flushed face had come a look of baffled obstinacy.

Mrs. Neligage threw up her hands in a graceful little gesture. She played private theatricals infinitely better than Mrs. Croydon. There was in their art all the difference between the work of the most clumsy amateur and a polished professional.

"There is nothing to do but to tell it," she said, as if appealing to Miss Wentstile and Alice. "The engagement was that of Miss Endicott and my son. Miss Wentstile never for a moment thought of marrying the Count. She knew from me that he gambled and was a famous duelist."

Alice put out her hand suddenly, and caught that of the widow.

"Oh, Mrs. Neligage!" she cried.

The widow patted the girl's fingers. The face of Miss Wentstile was a study for a novelist who identifies art with psychology.

"Of course I ought not to have told, Alice," Mrs. Neligage went on; "but I'm sure Mrs. Croydon is to be trusted. It isn't fair to your aunt that this nonsensical notion should be abroad that she meant to marry the Count."

Mrs. Croydon was evidently too bewildered to understand what had taken place. She awkwardly congratulated Alice, apologized to Miss Wentstile for having made a scene, and somehow got herself out of the way.

"What an absolutely incredible woman! With the talent both she and Mr. Barnstable show for kicking up rows in society," observed Mrs. Neligage, as soon as the caller had departed, "I should think they would prevent any city from being dull. I trust they will pass the time till their next divorce somewhere else than here."

XXVIII

THE UNCLOUDING OF LOVE

Miss Wentstile sat grimly silent until they heard the outer door downstairs close behind the departing guest. Then she straightened herself up.

"I thank you, Louisa," she said gravely; "you meant well, but how dared you?"

"Oh, I had to dare," returned Mrs. Neligage lightly. "I'm coming into the family, you know, and must help keep up its credit."

"Humph!" was the not entirely complimentary rejoinder. "If you cared for the credit of the family why didn't you tell me about the Count sooner? Is he really a fast man?"

"He's been one of the best known sports in Europe, my dear Miss Wentstile."

"Why didn't you tell me then?"

"Why should I? I wasn't engaged to Harry then, and if the Count wanted to reform and settle down, you wouldn't have had me thwart so virtuous an inclination, would you?"

"I thought you wanted him to marry Alice!"

"I only wanted Alice out of the way of Jack," the widow confessed candidly.

"Why?" Miss Wentstile asked.

The spinster was fond of frankness, and appreciated it when it came in her way.

"Because I hated to have Jack poor, and I knew that if Alice married him you'd never give them a cent to live on."

Alice, her face full of confusion and pain, moved uneasily, and put her hand on the arm of Mrs. Neligage once more, as if to stop her. The widow again patted the small hand reassuringly, but kept her eyes fixed full on those of the aunt.

"You took a different turn to-day," the spinster observed suspiciously.

"I had to save you to-day," was the ready answer; "and besides I can't do anything with Jack. He's bound to marry Alice whether you and I like it or not, and he's going to work in a bank in the most stupid manner."

To hear the careless tone in which this was said nobody could have suspected that this speech was exactly the one which could most surely move the spinster, and that the astute widow must have been fully aware of it.

"So you are sure I won't give Alice anything if she marries Jack, are you?" Miss Wentstile said. "Well, Alice, you are to marry Jack Neligage to save me from the gossips."

"It seems to me," Alice said, blushing very much, "that if I can't have any voice in the matter, Jack might be considered."

"Oh, my dear," returned Mrs. Neligage quickly, "do you suppose that if I made an alliance for Jack, he would be so undutiful as to object?"

Alice burst into a laugh, but Miss Wentstile, upon whom, in her ignorance of the engagement between Jack and May, the point was lost, let it pass unheeded.

"Well," she said, "I think I'll surprise you for once, Louisa. If Jack will stick faithfully to his place in the bank for a year, I'll give him and Alice the dot I promised the Count."

Mrs. Neligage got away from Miss Wentstile's as soon as possible, leaving Alice to settle things with her aunt, and taking a carriage at the next corner, drove to Jack's lodgings. She burst into his room tumultuously, fortunately finding him at home, and alone.

"Oh, Jack," she cried, "I didn't mean to, but I've engaged you again!"

He regarded her with a quizzical smile.

"Matchmaking seems to be a vice which develops with your age," he observed. "I got out of the other scrape easily enough, and I won't deny that it was rather good fun. I hope that this isn't any worse."

"But, Jack, dear, this time it's Alice!"

"Alice!" he exclaimed, jumping up quickly.