The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century

faintest of sighs, he moved and picked up a quill. He dipped it in the ink, and, with his other hand, drew towards him a sheaf of papers. Presently he was writing steadily. For perhaps twenty minutes the quill travelled to and fro across the pages; then it paused, and Richard looked up towards the door. It opened to admit Lady Lavinia. She came rustling into the room with her embroidery in her hand. She dropped her husband a mock curtsey and went over to a high-backed armchair, stretching out a dimpled hand to draw it forward. But even as her fingers touched it she had changed her mind, and fluttered over to the couch, there to seat herself with much swirling of brocades and arrangement of skirts. She then proceeded to occupy herself with her work, plying her needle hurriedly and jerkily. Richard watched her in silence, following each turn of the pretty hand and each movement of her fair head. The silence was evidently not to my lady's taste, for she presently began to beat an impatient tattoo on the floor with one slender foot. Still he said nothing, and she raised her pure china-blue eyes to his face. "Why so glum, Dick? Why do you not talk to me?" Her voice was rather high-pitched and childish, and she had a curious way of ending each sentence with an upward lilt and a long drawn-out accent, very fascinating to listen to. Richard smiled with an obvious effort. "Am I, my dear? I crave your pardon. Warburton has just been." Her face clouded over instantly, and the full-lipped mouth drooped petulantly. "He has seen him." "Oh?" She made the word twice its length, and filled it with disinterest. "Yes. Jack will have none of it. He asks me to be his steward and to use Wyncham as I will. He is very generous." "Yes, oh yes. And you will, Richard?" He ignored the question. "He--Warburton--says he is not much changed." "Oh?" Again the long-drawn monosyllable, accompanied by a tiny yawn. "He says he does not think--Jack--bears me ill-will--" He paused, as if expecting her to speak, but she was absorbed in arranging two flowers--culled from a bowl at her side--at her breast, and took no notice. Carstares turned his head away wearily. "If it were not for you, my dear, I would tell the truth. I believe I shall go crazed an I do not." "Dick!" ... She dropped the flowers on the floor and thought no more about them. "Dick!" "Oh, you need have no fear! I do not suppose," bitterly, "that I have the courage to face them all now--after six years." Lavinia moved restlessly, brushing her hand along the couch. "You will not do it, Richard? Promise! You _will_ not? I could not bear the disgrace of it; promise me you will never do it?" "No," he said slowly, not looking at her. "No, I cannot promise that." She sprang to her feet, flinging her broidery from her carelessly, and waved fierce, agitated little hands. "That means you will do it. You _want_ to disgrace me! You do not _care_ how you hurt me by holding this threat over my head so cruelly! You--" "Lavinia, for heaven's sake!" he implored, pushing back his chair. "Calm yourself!" He knew she was about to fly into one of her sudden passions, and frowned with acute vexation. "I will not! Oh yes, yes! You think me a shrew! I know! I know! But you need not frown on me, sir, for you are worse! No, I will not hush. I am a horrid woman, yes, but you are a cheat--a cheat--a cheat!" Carstares strode over to her. "Lavinia!" "No--no! Leave me alone! You make me miserable! You refuse me everything that I want most, and then you threaten to disgrace me--" "That is untrue!" cried Richard, goaded into replying. "I will not promise, that is all. What have I refused you that was within my means to give you? God knows you try your best to ruin me--" "There! There! 'Tis _I_ who am to blame! Pray, did you not induce my lord to leave his money to John when you knew he would have willed it all to you an you had kept silence? You took no thought to me--" "For heaven's sake, Lavinia, be still! You do not know what you are saying!" She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. "No--I am unreasonable! I know it, but don't _tell_ me so, for I cannot bear it! And don't look reproach at me, Richard! You drive me mad, I tell you!" She was sweeping up and down the room like some caged animal, lashing herself to a worse fury. "Say something, Richard! _Do_ something! Don't stand there so quietly! Oh, you should never have married me! I displease you, and you make me worse; and you do not see how 'tis that I cannot live without pleasure, and money! I am despicable? Yes, yes, but what are you? Oh, why did you tell me you cheated _after_ you had wedded me?" Angry sobs escaped her; her handkerchief was in shreds upon the floor. Carstares turned his back to her, that she might not see how she had contrived to hurt him, and the movement drove her to fresh fury. "Don't do that! Don't! Don't! You make me worse by your dreadful silence! Oh, if you really loved me!" "You cannot doubt that!" he cried out, wheeling suddenly round. "You know how I love you! Don't you?" He gripped her by the shoulders and swung her to face him. She trembled and gave a sobbing little laugh. As suddenly as it had come, her anger left her. "Oh, yes, yes! You do love me, Dicky?" She twined her arms about his neck and shrank closer. "God help me, yes!" he groaned, thrusting her away. "And you--you care for no one save yourself!" "No! No!" she cried, pressing up to him again. "Do not say that, Dick. Indeed, I love you, but I cannot live without gaiety--you know I cannot. Oh, I do not doubt but what I am very selfish, but 'tis the way I am fashioned, and I cannot change my nature. And now I have hurt you, and I did not mean to! I did not mean to!" "My dear, I know you did not; but try to be less a child, I beg of you! You are so uncontrolled, so--" "I knew you would say that," she answered in a dead voice. "You do not understand me. You expect me to be good, and patient, and forbearing, and I tell you 'tis not in my nature." "But, Lavinia, you can control your passions," he said gently. "No! I cannot! We Belmanoirs--as God made us, so we are--and He made us spendthrift, and pleasure-loving, and mad!" She walked slowly to the door. "But you do not understand, and you try to make me staid, and thoughtful, and a good mother, when I am dying for _life_, and excitement, and care not that for housewifery!" She opened the door slowly. "And now my head aches, and you look grave and say 'tis my wicked temper, when I want you to be sorry, and to be ready to do anything to comfort me. Why can you not take me to London, when you know how I long to be there, instead of in this gloomy house with nought to do, save mind my child and my needle? I am so tired of it all! So very tired of it all!" She would have left the room then, but he detained her. "Wait, Lavinia! You say you are unhappy?" She released the door handle and fluttered her hands expressively. "Unhappy? No, I am dull. I am ill-tempered. I am discontented. I am aught you please, so do not be sad, Richard. I cannot bear you to be solemn. Oh, why do we quarrel?" With one of her impulsive movements she was again at his side, with her beautiful face upturned. "Love me, Richard! Take me to London and never mind an I _do_ squander your money. Say you do not care! Say that nothing matters so long as I am happy! Why do you not say it? Does anything matter? Don't be prudent, Dicky! Be wild! Be reckless! Be anything rather than grave and old!" Her arms crept up to his coaxingly. "Take me to London!" Carstares smoothed the soft hair back from her forehead, very tenderly, but his eyes were worried. "My dear, I will take you, but not just yet. There is so much to be done here. If you will wait a little longer--" "Ah, if I will wait! If I will be patient and good! But I cannot! Oh, you don't understand, Dicky--you don't understand!" "I am sorry, dear. I promise I will take you as soon as possible, and we will stay as long as you please." Her arms fell away. "I want to go now!" "Dear--" "Very well--very well. We will go presently. Only don't reason with me." He looked at her concernedly. "You are overwrought, my love--and tired." "Yes," she agreed listlessly. "Oh yes; I will go now and rest. Forgive me, Dick!" She kissed her finger-tips and extended them to him. "I will be good one day." She turned and hurried out of the room and up the stairs, leaving the door open behind her. Richard stayed for a moment looking round at the signs of her late presence. Mechanically he stooped to pick up her embroidery and the pieces of her handkerchief. The two flowers were broken off short, and he threw them away. Then he left the room and went out on to the sunny terrace, gazing across the beautiful gardens into the blue distance. Across the lawn came a child of four or five, waving a grimy hand. "Father!" Richard looked down at him and smiled. "Well, John?" The boy climbed up the terrace steps, calling his news all the way. "'Tis Uncle Andrew, sir. He has rid over to see you, and is coming through the garden to find you." "Is he? Has he left his horse at the stables?" "Ay, sir. So I came to tell you." "Quite right. Will you come with me to meet him?" The little rosy face lighted up with pleasure. "Oh, may I?" he cried and slipped his hand in Richard's. Together they descended the steps and made their way across the lawn. "I have run away from Betty," announced John with some pride. "There's Uncle Andrew, sir!" He bounded away towards the approaching figure. Lord Andrew Belmanoir was Richard's brother-in-law, brother to the present Duke. He came up with John in his arms and tumbled him to the ground. "Good day, Dick! 'Tis a spoilt child you have here!" "Ay. He is but now escaped from his nurse." "Splendid! Come, John, you shall walk with us, and we'll confound fat Betty!" He slipped his arm through Richard's as he spoke. "Come, Dick! There's a deal I have to say to you." He grimaced ruefully. The child ran on ahead towards the woods, a great bull-mastiff at his heels. "What's to do now?" asked Richard, looking round into the mobile, dissipated countenance. "The devil's in it this time, and no mistake," answered his lordship with a rueful shake of his head. "Debts?" "Lord, yes! I was at Delaby's last night, and the stakes were high. Altogether I've lost about three thousand--counting what I owe Carew. And devil take me an I know where 'tis to come from! Here's Tracy turned saint and swears he'll see me damned before he hands me another penny. I doubt he means it, too." Tracy was the Duke. Richard smiled a little cynically; he had already had to lend his Grace a thousand guineas to pay off some "trifling debt." "He means it right enough. I believe it would puzzle him to find it." "Do you say so? Why, 'tis impossible man! Tracy was in town scarce a fortnight since, and he had a run of the devil's own luck. I tell you Dick, I saw him walk off with a cool five thousand one night! And then he denies me a paltry three! Lord, what a brother! And all with the air of an angel, as if _he_ had never lost at dice. And a homily thrown in! Anyone would think I had cheated, instead of--ahem!... Dick, I'm confoundedly sorry! Damned thoughtless of me--never thought about Jo--about what I was saying--I'm a fool!" For Richard had winced. "You cannot help that," he said, forcing a laugh. "Have done with your apologies, and continue." They had come to the stream by now, and crossed the little bridge into the wood. "Oh, there's not much more. 'Tis only that something must be done, for