By eight o'clock in the morning the last of the regiments had marched out of Brussels. A little later the Duke followed, accompanied by his staff, and a profound silence descended on the city. Judith had fallen asleep some hours before, with the sound of the trumpets and the tread of many feet in her ears. When she awoke the morning was considerably advanced. Her first feeling was of surprise to find everything quiet, for the shouting and the drumming and the bugle-calls had seemed to run through her dreams. She got up, and looked out between the blinds upon a sun-baked street. A cat curled on the steps of a house opposite was the only living thing in sight. No uniforms swaggered down the street, no ladies in muslins and chip hats floated along to pay their morning calls or to promenade in the Park.
She dressed, and went down to the salon on the first floor. Worth had gone out, but he came in presently with the newspapers. It was being reported in the cafes that the Duke had ridden out in high spirits, saying that Blucher would most likely have settled the business himself by that time and that he would probably be back in Brussels for dinner. The general opinion seemed to be that no action would be fought that day. It was thought that the bulk of the British troops could not be brought up in time. Judith did not know whether to be glad or sorry; the suspense would be as hard to bear as the sound of cannon, she thought.
"Quite a number of people are leaving for Antwerp. Worth observed. "Lady Fitzroy has gone, and I met D. Lancey just before he went off to join the Army, who told me that he had prevailed upon that poor young wife of his to go, too." He paused, but she made no comment. He smiled. "Well, Judith?"
"You would not wish to go if I were not here."
"Very true, but that can hardly be said to have a bearing on the case."
"I don't want to run away, if you think it would not be wrong in me to stay. I hope you don't mean to talk to me of defeat, for I won't listen if you do."
"Like you, I'm of a sanguine disposition. But young Julian's nurse beat us both in that respect. She has taken him out into the Park for an airing, and the only emotion roused in her breast by all the racket that went on during the night was a strong indignation at having a child's rest disturbed."
"Ah, she is a phlegmatic Scot! I have no fear of her losing her head."
They were interrupted by the butler's coming into the room with the announcement that Lady Barbara Childe was below and wished to speak to the Earl.
Judith was astounded. She had not thought that after their encounter on the previous night Lady Barbara would dare to accost her again, let alone call at her residence. She looked at Worth, but he merely raised his eyebrows, and said: "Well, I am at home, and perfectly ready to receive visitors. I don't understand why they are left in the hall. Beg her ladyship to come up."
"Yes, my lord," said the butler, his bosom swelling at the reproof. "I should have done so in the first place . But that her ladyship desired me to carry the message."
He withdrew, stately and outraged. The door had scarcely shut behind him when Judith's feelings got the better of her. She exclaimed: "I wish you had sent her about her business! I do not see why I should be obliged to receive her in my house! And that you should be willing to do so gives me a very poor opinion of your loyalty to Charles!"
"I cannot think that Charles would thank me for turning Lady Barbara away from my door," he replied.
There was no time for more; the butler opened the door and announced Barbara; and she came into the room with her long, mannish stride.
Judith rose, but before she had time to speak she was forestalled.
"I didn't mean to force myself into your presence," Barbara said. "I am sorry. My business is with your husband." She paused, and a wintry, rueful smile flashed across her face. "Oh, the devil! My curst tongue again! Don't look so stiff: I have not come to wreck your marriage." This was said with a good deal of bitterness. She forced herself to speak more lightly, and added, looking in her clear way at Worth: "I couldn't could I? You at least have never succumbed to my famous charms."
"No, never," he replied imperturbably. "Will you not sit down?"
"No; I do not mean to stay above a minute. The case is that I am in the devil of a quandary over my horses. Would you be so obliging as to house them for me in your stables? There is the pair I drive in my phaeton, and my mare as well."
"Willingly," he said. "But - forgive me - why?"
"My brother and his wife are leaving Brussels this morning. They are gone by this time, I daresay. The house in the Rue Ducale is given up. My own groom is not to be trusted alone, and I do not care to stable the horses at the hotel. They tell me there is already such a demand for horses to carry people to Antwerp that by nightfall it will be a case of stealing what can't be hired."
"Lord and Lady Vidal gone!" Judith exclaimed, surprised into breaking her silence.
"Oh yes!" Barbara replied indifferently. "Gussie has been in one of her confounded takings ever since the news was brought in last night, and Vidal is very little better."
"But you do not mean to remain here alone, surely?"
"Why not?"
"It is not fit!"
"Ah, you doubt the propriety of it! I don't care for that." Her mouth quivered, but she controlled it. Judith noticed that she had twisted the end of her scarf tightly between her fingers and was gripping it so hard that her gloves seemed in danger of splitting. "Both my brothers are engaged in this war," she said. "And Charles."
"I had not supposed that Charles's fate was any longer a concern of yours," Judith said.
"I am aware of that. But it is my concern, nevertheless." She stared at Judith with haunted eyes. "Perhaps I may never see him again. But if he comes back I shall be here." She drew a sobbing breath, and continued in a hard voice: "That, however, is my affair. Lord Worth, you are very obliging. My groom shall bring the horses round during the course of the day. Goodbye!" She held out her hand, but drew it back, flushing a little. "Oh - ! You would rather not shake hands with me, I daresay!"
"I have not the least objection to shaking hands with you," he replied, "But I should be grateful to you if you could contrive to stop being foolish. Now sit down and try to believe that your differences with my brother leave me supremely indifferent."
She smiled faintly, and after a brief hesitation sat down in the chair by the table. "Well, what now?" she asked.
"Are you staying with friends? May I have your direction?"
"I am at the Hotel de Belle Vue."
"Indeed! Alone?"
"Yes, alone, if you discount my maid."
"It will not do," he said. "If you mean to remain in Brussels you must stay here."
She looked at him rather blankly. "You must be mad!"
"I am quite sane, I assure you. It can never be thought desirable for a young and unprotected female to be staying in a public hotel. In a foreign capital, and in such unsettled times as these, it would be the height of folly."
She gave a short laugh. "My dear man, you forget that I am not an inexperienced miss just out the schoolroom! I am a widow, and if it comet to folly, why, I make a practice of behaving foolishly!"
"Just so, but that is no reason why you should not mend your ways."
She got up. "This is to no purpose. It is unthinkable that I should stay in your house. You are extremely kind, but -"
"Not at all," he interrupted. "I am merely protecting myself from the very just anger I am persuaded my brother would feel were he to find you putting up at a hotel when he returns to Brussels."
She said unsteadily: "Please - ! We will not speak of Charles. You don't wish me to make a fool of myself, imagine."
He did not answer; he was looking at Judith. She was obliged to recognise the propriety of his invitation. Shd did not like it, but good breeding compelled her to say, "My husband is right. I will have a room prepared at once, Lady Barbara. I hope you will not find it very disagreeable: we shall do our best to make your stay comfortable."
"Thank you. It is not I who would find such a visit disagreeable. You dislike me cordially: I do not blame you. I dislike myself."
Judith coloured, and replied in a cool voice: "I have not always done so. There have been times when I have liked you very well."
"You hated me for what I did to Charles."
"Yes."
"0 God, if I could undo - if I could have it back, all this past month! It is useless! I behaved like the devil I am. That wretched quarrel! The very knowledge that I was in the wrong drove me to worse conduct! I have never been answerable to anyone for my misdeeds: there is a fiendish quality in me that revolts at the veriest hint of - but how should you understand? It is not worthy of being understood!"
She covered her face with her hands. Worth walked across the room to the door, and went out.
Judith said in a kinder tone: "I do understand in part. I was not always so docile as you think me. But Charles! There is such a sweetness of temper, such nobility of mind -"
"Stop!" Barbara cried fiercely. "Do you think I don't know it?" I knew it when he first came up to me, and I looked into his eyes, and loved him. I knew myself to be unworthy! The only thing I did that I am not ashamed of now was to try not to let him persuade me into becoming engaged to him. That impulse was the noblest I have ever felt. Though I knew I should not, I yielded. I wanted him, and all my life I have taken what I wanted, without thought or compunction!" She gave a wild laugh. "You despise me, but you should also pity me, for I have enough heart to wish I had more."
"I do pity you," Judith said, considerably move "But having yielded -"
"Yes! Having yielded, why could I not submit? I do not know, unless it be that from the day I marrie Jasper Childe I swore I would never do so, never allow myself to be possessed, or governed, or even guide: Don't misunderstand me! I am not trying to find excuses for myself. The fault lies deeper: it is in my curst nature!"
"I have sometimes thought," Judith said, after a short pause, "that the circumstances of your engagement made it particularly trying for you. In this little town we are obliged to live in a crowded circle from which there can be no escape. One's every action is remarked, and discussed. It is as though your engagement to Charley; was acted upon a stage, in all the glare of footlights, for the amusement of your acquaintances."
"Oh, if you but knew!" Barbara exclaimed. "You do,in part, realise the evils of my situation but you cannot know what a demon was roused in me by finding myself the object of every form of cheap wit on the one hand, and of benign approval upon the other! It was said that I had met my match, that I was tamed at last, that I should soon settle down to a life of humdrum propriety! You would have had the strength to disregard such nonsense: I had not. When I was with Charles it did not signify. Every annoyance ,was forgotten in his presence; even my damnable restlessness left me. But he was busy; he could not be always at my side; and when he was away from me I was bored. If he had married me when I begged him to! But no! It would not have answered. There must still have been temptation."
"Yes, I am very sensible of that. You are so much admired: it must have been hard indeed to give up your -" She hesitated.
"My flirtations," said Barbara, with a melancholy smile. "It was hard. You know that I did not give them up. When I look back upon the past month it is with loathing, believe me! It was as though I was swept into a whirlpool! I could not be still."
"Oh, do no speak of it! I myself have been conscious of what you describe. There has been no time for reflection, no time for anything but pleasure! It was as though we were all a little mad. But I believe Charles understood how it was. He said once to me that the life we were leading was ruinous. It was very true! I do not deny that your wildness made him anxious; indeed, I have blamed you bitterly for it. But all that was nothing!"
"You are thinking of my having made your brother fall in love with me. It was very bad of me."
"The provocation was severe. I honoured you for coming up to Harriet so handsomely that day. There can be no excuse for her behaviour. It vexed me when you made him go to you at the Richmond's party, but I'd not blame you entirely. But afterwards! How could you have let it go on? Forgive me! I did not mean to advert to this subject. It is over, and should be forgotten. I do not know what passed between you and Charles."
"Everything of the most damnable on my part." Barbara said.
"I daresay you might lose your temper. But your conduct since that night! You left nothing undone that could hurt him."
"Nothing!" Barbara said. "Nothing that could drive him mad enough to come back to me! I would not go to him: he was to come to me - upon my own terms.Folly! He would not do it, nor did I wish him to. The news that war had broken out brought me to my senses. There was no room then for pride. Even if his affections had been turned in another direction - but could not believe it could be so, for mine were unaltered! He turned from me in the ballroom, but thought I saw, in his eyes, a look -"
Her voice was suspended; she struggled to regain her composure, and after a moment continued: "I tried to find him. Nothing signified but that I should see him before he went away. But he had gone. Perhaps I shall never see him again."
She ended in a tone of such dejection that Judith was impelled to say, with more cheerfulness than she felt "We shall not think of that, if you please! Recollect that his employment on the Duke's staff is to his advantage. He will not be in the line. Why, how absurd this is! He has survived too many engagements for us to have the least reason to suppose that he will not survive this one. Indeed, all the Duke's aides-de-camp have been with him for a long time now. Depend upon it, they will come riding back in the best of health and spirits . Meanwhile, I do earnestly beg of you to remain with us!"
"Thank you. I will do so, and try not to disgrace you. You won't be plagued with me too much, I hope. I shall be busy. Indeed, I ought not to be here now. I have promised to go to Madame de Ribaucourt's. She has made herself responsible for the preparation for the wounded, and needs help."