The Eagle's Shadow

vigorously.

'You beautiful child!' said Miss Hugonin.

'Er—Jukesbury,' said the Colonel, mysteriously, 'there's a little cognac in the cellar that—er—' The Colonel jerked his thumb across the hallway with the air of a conspirator. 'Eh?' said the Colonel.

'Why—er—yes,' said Mr. Jukesbury. 'Why—ah—yes, I think I might.'

They went across the hall together. The Colonel's hand rested fraternally on Petheridge Jukesbury's shoulder.

XXX

The next day there was a general exodus from Selwoode, and Margaret's satellites dispersed upon their divers ways. Selwoode, as they understood it, was no longer hers; and they knew Billy Woods well enough to recognise that from Selwoode's new master there were no desirable pickings to be had such as the philanthropic crew had fattened on these four years past. So there came to them, one and all, urgent telegrams or insistent letters or some equally unanswerable demand for their presence elsewhere, such as are usually prevalent among our guests in very dull or very troublous times.

Miss Hugonin smiled a little bitterly. She considered that the scales had fallen from her eyes, and flattered herself that she was by way of becoming a bit of a misanthrope; also, I believe, there was a note concerning the hollowness of life and the worthlessness of society in general. In a word, Margaret fell back upon the extreme cynicism and world-weariness of twenty-three, and assured herself that she despised everybody, whereas, as a matter of fact, she never in her life succeeded in disliking anything except mice and piano-practice, and, for a very little while, Billy Woods; and this for the very excellent reason that the gods had fashioned her solely to the end that she might love all mankind, and in return be loved by humanity in general and adored by that portion of it which inhabits trousers.

But, 'The rats always desert a sinking ship,' said Miss Hugonin, with the air of one delivering a particularly original sentiment. 'They make me awfully tired, and I don't care for them in the least. But Petheridge Jukesbury is a dear, and I may be poor now, but I did try to do good with the money when I had it, and anyhow, Billy is going to get well.'

And, after all, that was the one thing that really mattered, though of course Billy would always despise her. He would be quite right, too, the girl thought humbly.

But the conventionalities of life are more powerful than even youthful cynicism and youthful heart-break. Prior to devoting herself to a loveless life and the commonplaces of the stoic's tub, Miss Hugonin was compelled by the barest decency to bid her guests Godspeed.

And Adele Haggage kissed her for the first time in her life. She had been a little awed by Miss Hugonin, the famous heiress—a little jealous of her, I dare say, on account of Hugh Van Orden—but now she kissed her very heartily in farewell, and said, 'Don't forget you are to come to us as soon as possible,' and was beyond any question perfectly sincere in saying it.

And Hugh Van Orden almost dragged Margaret under the main stairway, and, far from showing any marked abhorrence to her in her present state of destitution, implored her with tears in his eyes to marry him at once, and to bring the Colonel to live with them for the rest of his natural existence.

For, 'It's damned impertinent of me, of course,' Mr. Van Orden readily conceded, 'and I suppose I ought to beg your pardon for mentioning it, but I do love you to a perfectly unlimited extent. It's playing the very deuce with my polo, Miss Hugonin, and as for my appetite—why, if you won't have me,' cried Hugh, in desperation, 'I—I really, you know, I don't believe I'll ever be able to eat anything!'

When Margaret refused him—for the sixth time, I think—I won't swear that she didn't kiss him under the dark stairway. And if she did, he was a nice boy, and he deserved it.

And as for Sarah Ellen Haggage, that unreverend old parasite brought her a blank cheque signed with her name, and mentioned quite a goodly sum as the extent to which Margaret might go for necessary expenses.

'For you'll need it,' she said, and rubbed her nose reflectively. 'Moving is the very deuce for wasting money, because so many little things keep cropping up. Now, remember, a quarter is quite enough to give any man for moving a trunk. And there's no earthly sense in your taking a cab, Margaret —the street-car will bring you within a block of our door. These little trifles count, dear. And don't let Celestine pack your things, because she's abominably careless. Let Marie do it—and don't tip her. Give her an old hat. And if I were you, I would certainly consult a lawyer about the legality of that idiotic will. I remember distinctly hearing that Mr. Woods was very eccentric in his last days, and I haven't a doubt he was raving mad when, he left all his money to a great, strapping, long-legged young fellow, who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Getting better, is he? Well, I suppose I'm glad to hear it, but he'd much better have stayed in Paris—where, I remember distinctly hearing, he led the most dissipated and immoral life, my dear—instead of coming over here and upsetting everything.' And again Mrs. Haggage rubbed her nose—indignantly.

'He didn't!' said Margaret. 'And I can't take your money, beautiful! And I don't see how we can possibly come to stay with you.'

'Don't you argue with me!' Mrs. Haggage exhorted her. 'I'm not in any temper to be argued with. I've spent the morning sewing bias stripes in a bias skirt—something which from a moral-ruining and resolution-overthrowing standpoint simply knocks the spots off Job. You'll take that money, and you'll come to me as soon as you can, and —God bless you, my dear!'

And again Margaret was kissed. Altogether, it was a very osculatory morning for Miss Hugonin.

Mr. Jukesbury's adieus, however, were more formal; and—I am sorry to say it—the old fellow went away wondering if the rich Mr. Woods might not conceivably be very grateful to the man who had saved his life and evince his gratitude in some agreeable and substantial form.

Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston, also, were somewhat unenthusiastic in their parting. Kennaston could not feel quite at ease with Margaret, brazen it as he might with devil-may-carish flippancy; and Kathleen had by this an inkling as to how matters stood between Margaret and Billy, and was somewhat puzzled thereat, and loved the former in consequence no more than any Christian female is compelled to love the woman who, either unconsciously or with deliberation, purloins her ancient lover. A woman rarely forgives the man who has ceased to care for her; and rarelier still can she pardon the woman who has dared succeed her in his affections.

And besides, they were utterly engrossed with one another, and utterly happy, and utterly selfish with the immemorial selfishness of lovers, who cannot for a moment conceive that the whole world is not somehow benefited by their happiness and does not await with breathless interest the outcome of their bickerings with the blind bow-god, and from this providential delusion derive a meritorious and comfortable glow. So Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston parted from Margaret with kindness, it is true, but not without awkwardness.

And that was the man that almost she had loved! thought Margaret, as she gazed on the whirl of dust left by their carriage-wheels. Gone with a few perfunctory words of sympathy!

And for my part, I think that the base Indian who threw a pearl away worth more than all his tribe was, in comparison with Felix Kennaston, a shrewd and long-headed man. If you had given me his chances, Margaret ... but this, however, is highly digressive.

The Colonel, standing beside her, used language that was unrefined. 

His aspirations as to the future of Mr. Kennaston and Mr. Jukesbury, it appeared, were both lurid and unfriendly.

'But why, attractive?' queried his daughter.

'May they be qualified with such and such adjectives!' desired the Colonel, fervently. 'They tried to lend me money—wouldn't hear of my not taking it! In case of necessity.' Bah!' said the Colonel, and shook his fist after the retreating carriages. 'May they be qualified with such and such adjectives!'

How happily she laughed! 'And you're swearing at them!' she pouted. 'Oh, my dear, my dear, how hard you are on all my little friends!'

'Of course I am,' said the Colonel, stoutly. 'They've deprived me of the pleasure of despising 'em. It was worth double the money, I tell you! I never objected to any men quite so much. And now they've gone and behaved