The Imaginary Marriage. Henry St. John Cooper
would make her happy; he knew that what she said was true—Lady Linden would not oppose Tom Arundel if marriage between Marjorie and himself was out of the question. It would be making the way clear for her: it would be giving her happiness, doing her the greatest service that he could. Of his own sacrifice, his own disappointment he thought not now; realisation of that would come later.
At first it seemed to him a mad, a nonsensical scheme, yet it was one that might so easily be carried out. If one doubt was left as to whether he would do it, it was gone the next moment.
"Hugh, would you do—would you do this for me?"
"There is very little that I wouldn't do for you, little maid," he said, "and if I can help you to your happiness I am going to do it."
She crept closer to him; she laid her cheek against his shoulder, and held his hand in hers.
"Tell me just what you will say."
"I haven't thought that out yet."
"But you must."
"I know. You see, if I say I am married, naturally she will ask me a few questions."
"When she gets—gets her breath!" Marjorie said with a laugh; it was the first time she had laughed, and he liked to hear it.
"The first will probably be, How long have I been married?"
"Do you remember you used to come to Marlbury to see me when I was at school at Miss Skinner's?"
"Rather!"
"That was three years ago. Supposing you married about then?"
"Fine," Hugh said. "I married three years ago. What month?"
"June," she said; "it's a lovely month!"
"I was married in June, nineteen hundred and eighteen, my lady," said Hugh. "Where at, though?"
"Why, Marlbury, of course!"
"Of course! Splendid place to get married in, delightful romantic old town!"
"It is a hateful place, but that doesn't matter," said Marjorie. She seemed to snuggle up a little closer to him, her lips were rippling with smiles, her bright eyes saw freedom and love, her heart was very warm with gratitude to this man who was helping her. But she could not guess, how could she, how in spite of the laughter on his lips there was a great ache and a feeling of emptiness at his heart.
"So now we have it all complete," he said. "I was married in June, nineteen eighteen at Marlbury; my wife and I did not get on, we parted. She had a temper, so had I, a most unhappy affair, and there you are!" He laughed.
"All save one thing," Marjorie said.
"Goodness, what have I forgotten?"
"Only the lady's name."
"You are right. She must have a name of course, something nice and romantic—Gladys something, eh?"
Marjorie shook her head.
"Clementine," suggested Hugh. "No, won't do, eh? Now you put your thinking cap on and invent a name, something romantic and pretty. Let's hear from you, Marjorie."
"Do you like—Joan Meredyth?" she said.
"Splendid! What a clever little brain!" He shut his eyes. "I married Miss Joan Meredyth on the first of June, or was it the second, in the year nineteen hundred and eighteen? We lived a cat-and-dog existence, and parted with mutual recriminations, since when I have not seen her! Marjorie, do you think she will swallow it?"
"If you tell her; but, Hugh, will you—will you?"
"Little girl, is it going to help you?"
"You know it is!" she whispered.
"Then I shall tell her!"
Marjorie lifted a pair of soft arms and put them about his neck.
"Hugh!" she said, "Hugh, if—if I had never known Tom, I—"
"I know," he said. "I know. God bless you." He stooped and kissed her on the cheek, and rose.
It was a mad thing this that he was to do, yet he never considered its madness, its folly. It would help her, and Hurst Dormer would never know its golden-haired mistress, after all.
CHAPTER II
IN WHICH HUGH BREAKS THE NEWS
Lady Linden had just come in from one of her usual and numerous inspections, during which she had found it necessary to reprove one of the under-gardeners. She had described him to himself, his character, his appearance and his methods from her own point of view, and had left the man stupefied and amazed at the extent of her vocabulary and her facility of expression. He was still scratching his head, dazedly, when she came into the drawing-room.
"Hugh, you here? Where is Marjorie?"
"Down by the pond, I think," he said, with an attempt at airiness.
"In a moment you will make me angry. You know what I wish to know. Did you propose to Marjorie, Hugh?"
"Did I—" He seemed astonished. "Did I what?"
"Propose to Marjorie! Good heavens, man, isn't that why I sent you there?"
"I certainly did not propose to her. How on earth could I?"
"There is no reason on earth why you should not have proposed to her that I can see."
"But there is one that I can see." He paused. "A man can't invite a young woman to marry him—when he is already married!"
It was out! He scarcely dared to look at her. Lady Linden said nothing; she sat down.
"Hugh!" She had found breath and words at last. "Hugh Alston! Did I hear you aright?"
"I believe you did!"
"You mean to tell me that you—you are a married man?"
He nodded. He realised that he was not a good liar.
"I would like some particulars," she said coldly. "Hugh Alston, I should be very interested to know where she is!"
"I don't know!"
"You are mad. When were you married?"
"June nineteen eighteen," he said glibly.
"Where?"
"At Marlbury!"
"Good gracious! That is where Marjorie used to go to school!"
"Yes, it was when I went down to see her there, and—"
"You met this woman you married? And her name?"
"Joan," he said—"Joan Meredyth!"
"Joan—Meredyth!" said Lady Linden. She closed her eyes; she leaned back in her chair. "That girl!"
A chill feeling of alarm swept over him. She spoke, her ladyship spoke, as though such a girl existed, as though she knew her personally. And the name was a pure invention! Marjorie had invented it—at least, he believed so.
"You—you don't know her?"
"Know her—of course I know her. Didn't Marjorie bring her here from Miss Skinner's two holidays running? A very beautiful and brilliant girl, the loveliest girl I think I ever saw! Really, Hugh Alston, though I am surprised and pained at your silence and duplicity, I must absolve you. I always regarded you as more or less a fool, but Joan Meredyth is a girl any man might fall in love with!"
Hugh