The Fool of Fate

Chapter I

A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE. " T)OSSIBLY I have not such a contented dis- A position as yours, Irene," Mrs. Forsyth remarked, as she placed her empty teacup on the table, " but I'm sure I should find it terribly dull." " Dull ? " Irene Ainsworth repeated : " why dull ? " " You arc so far from town, and you know scarcely anybody in Finchley, do you ? " " Very few, certainly, but we shall make acquaint ances, no doubt," was the cheerful rejoinder. " You see we are only just settled ; it has taken some time to get the place in comfortable order." " I expect so," Mrs. Forsyth responded, glancing approvingly round the charming, artisticallyarranged drawing-room. "These old houses are very picturesque, but there's generally any amount that wants putting to rights in them." " Well, it has been pleasant work to us, any way," Irene went on with a smile ; " I am really quite sorry it's all finished.

Now I suppose callers will begin to look us up ; meanwhile, I am perfectly content. The garden alone is a delight to me ; and George gets home at a quarter-past five." " And it's a quarter to five now," Mrs. Forsyth exclaimed ; " I must be thinking of going. It takes twenty minutes to get to King's Cross from Finchley, doesn't it ? " " But won't you wait and see George ? " Mrs, Ainsworth inquired, with faint cordiality. " No, thanks," the other replied ; then with a laugh she continued, " Now don't try to look sorry, Irene, you are not a bit of good at that sort of thing ; Fred says you are the most transparently truthful woman he knows, — not much of a com pliment to me, eh ? You don't want me to stay ; you are a rara avis, that's certain ; you've been married, — let me see, — eighteen months — oh ! you needn't be surprised at my accuracy, I recollect George's marriage as well as my own ; he was very spoony on me at one time, you know " " But why am I so extraordinary ?

" Mrs. Ains worth interrupted abruptly. " Why, after eighteen months I believe you regard a third person as an intruder on your domestic bliss, and that you still think your husband the most delightful companion in the world." "Of course I do," was the grave response The other lady shrugged her shoulders, and made a humorous little grimace. " Ah, that sort of idea, as a rule, doesn't survive the honeymoon ; it didn't carry me through mine, I was bored to death in three weeks. I suppose I shall shock you, Irene, but a very little of Fred's society goes a long way with me ; thank goodness we are surrounded by friends ; I should die, I believe, if I had many evenings alone with him." " You don't mean it, Mabel ! " Irene exclaimed earnestly ; " you shouldn't say such things, really." " But I do mean it," Mabel Forsyth retorted, rising and donning her long fur.

" Fred is deadly dull at home ; he never gets his law business off his mind for a minute from morning till night." " Ah, that's the worst of professions," Mrs. Ainsworth responded sympathetically ; " a merchant has a great advantage there ; when George leaves his office his brain is at rest, at least from business worries — of course, this would only be the case so long as things go well, but they have gone well with him so far, thank God. I suppose his mind being at ease when his day's work is finished is one reason why he is such a delightful companion. He is really a wonderfully observant man." " Indeed ? " Mrs. Forsyth exclaimed, raising her eyebrows in involuntary surprise. " Yes, and for a student of human nature he's a remarkably lucky man." "Really! In what way?" " I mean he comes in contact with so many curious circumstances and people."

" Does he ? Well, I must acknowledge Fred doesn't," Mrs. Forsyth said drily. " That's bedause, as you say, Mr. Forsyth is too preoccupied to notice things particularly," the other continued. " I am glad it isn't so in George's case, for scarcely a day passes without something happening which is most interesting, to me, at any rate." " Ah, then, I need not ask you if you subscribe to Mudie's," Mrs. Forsyth remarked with a laugh. " What do you mean ? " her companion inquired. " Why, truth is stranger than fiction, you know. You can't want to read romances, while your husband is able to supply you with so much of the real thing." " Mabel, how absurd ! " Irene cried, laughing too. " George's adventures are not thrilling, by any means — at least, not as a rule ; sometimes I admit he makes me anxious."

" Anxious ? why ? " " He is so careless of himself ; if he can help any one he never thinks of danger. Often I feel very uneasy about him. I wouldn't have him different, of course, but if he's home a little late I get quite fidgety." " Good gracious ! " the visitor ejaculated, opening her bright eyes in astonishment. " What in the world do you fear ? " " Oh, I don't know — nothing in particular," Irene replied ; " but I am always glad to have him safe home." " Even though when he does come he harrows you with the dangers he has passed ! " " Those exciting things happen very seldom, fortunately," Irene responded ; " but, don't you see, the smallest incidents interest me because they happen to him, and I know they are true." Mrs. Forsyth looked into her companion's clear eyes with a puzzled expression on her pretty face.

" Ah yes, they are true. That's the great thing, of course," she murmured. " It's everything," Irene replied, simply. " How gravely you speak ! " Mabel said, " I don't believe you've got over the hero-worship ping age yet. I recollect when I was a big girl at school, and you were a little one, how you used to gush about your great men." " I don't fancy I ever gushed about anything," Irene responded quietly, " but I have always admired and reverenced what seemed to me to be noble and good." " And George is the great man now, eh ? " Mabel continued, with a somewhat provoking smile. Her cheeks glowing with annoyance, Irene answered warmly, — "You are making fun of me, Mabel. George is not a hero, by any means ; I don't know that he's even unusually clever, but he's a brave, good man, honourable and true to the core, and I respect and love him ; if you cannot respect your husband too I am sorry for you from my heart."

" Oh, my dear ! " the visitor exclaimed in dis. may, " you overwhelm me ; you don't understand a joke, evidently. I meant no harm. Good-bye." Taking a hurried leave of her friend, Mrs. Forsyth withdrew. " I cannot make Irene out," she muttered, as she walked down the road in the direction of the station. " Is she a humbug, or is she as blind as a bat ? Well, whichever way it is, I have hard work to restrain my mischievous inclinations when I'm in her society. Oh, ho ! here comes the student of human nature, ready primed, I'm sure, by the look of him. I must chaff him a little. Irene always makes me feel rather small — I'll take it out of him." Watching from her window, Mrs. Ainsworth saw her husband accosted by her pretty visitor. " He won't be in for another twenty minutes now," she said, turning away with a sigh ; " he will be sure to walk with her to the station.

I wish he hadn't met her ; it's unreasonable of me, I'm afraid, but I do not like Mabel ; I wonder whether it's true that George ever cared for her. I will ask him. I shouldn't fancy she was at all his style — at any rate, she is very different from me." Leaning her elbows on the mantelshelf, Irene gazed into the looking-glass, which reflected a rather serious pale face, with straight dark brows, a well-defined chin, and a finely-formed but some what thin-lipped mouth. Had it not been for the eyes, the countenance might have been considered too determined for a woman ; but the eyes were clear and steadfast, and in their depths could be seen an almost pathetic intensity of sympathy. Altogether, one interested in such matters might have read in the face that its owner possessed a certain obstinacy of opinion, but almost danger ously ready sympathies, dangerous because through the force of such sympathy she might come to suffer severely.

After scrutinising her countenance intently, with a somewhat impatient gesture of the head Mrs. Ainsworth walked to the window again. " How foolish I am ! " she mused. " Of course she is very far better-looking than I am ; but George has proved he does not set any particular store upon such things. Ah, here he comes ! Oh, what has happened to him ? " she exclaimed aloud. " His coat is all over mud ! " Running to the door, Irene opened it. " Why, George ! " she cried, " what is the matter ? " " The matter, darling ? " he repeated, taking the anxious face between his hands and kissing it tenderly. " Yes ; you are smothered in mud." "Ah, what quick eyes you have! I'll tell you about that in a minute. I've just met Mabel Forsyth." " I know ; I saw you," Irene responded, helping him off with the muddy coat.

" I had to walk to the station with her. I didn't want to, I can tell you," he continued, his face flushing as he recollected the uncomfortable quarter of an hour he had passed with his sharp-tongued companion. Irene noticed his heightened colour with a slight sense of misgiving ; but she made no remark until he was seated in the library with his cup of tea in his hand, and then she said quietly, — " George, do you like Mabel ? " He hesitated a moment before answering, with increased colour, — " I don't like her, Queenie ; in fact, sometimes I detest her." His wife could not restrain a smile at his vehemence. " But did you always feel like that, George ? " " Yes, I think so," he replied, frowning at the remembrance of the merciless chaffing he had undergone. " Oh, don't let us talk about her, Queenie !

I never want to see her again." " Nor do I," the young wife said gravely. "When she was at school she was satirical and sharp, but I had no idea then that she was un truthful. Why, she actually said you were an admirer of hers in the old days— before you met me, you know." " What nonsense ! " the husband retorted quickly. "I never cared for her. People used to say she was pretty ; I didn't think so." " Oh, she must have been pretty, George— very pretty ! She looked lovely this afternoon, and she must be — yes, she is six years older than I am — she must be seven-and-twenty." " Well, 1 don't think anything of her, so there's an end of that. Golden-haired, cherry-lipped dolls are not in my style, I suppose. Now, dear, let us talk about something else." Her face radiant with happiness, Irene seated herself on an ottoman close to her husband, and leaning up against him, placed her elbow on his knee.

As she did this he winced slightly, and looking up she saw that his brow was furrowed as if by pain. " George ! " she cried, " did I hurt you ? " " Only the least bit in the world," he answered, smiling at her. " Lean back again ; I haven't told you my adventure yet." " Why, no ! How could I have forgotten ? But you are not hurt, are you ? " she asked, in quick alarm. " No, no ; don't you worry. I have only bruised my knee a trifle. I had forgotten it until you put your elbow down upon it." " I am so sorry," she murmured, laying her soft palm gently on the injured spot. " Poor fellow ! How did it happen, George ? " " Well, I've had a tumble ; rather a bad one." " Ah ! tell me about it." She took his hand in both of hers, and nestled her cheek against his sleeve. Lying back in his luxurious easy chair, George Ainsworth looked lovingly down on his wife, and drew a deep breath of complete satisfaction.

" It was close by the bank it happened," he said. " I was crossing the road — you know it's very busy just there — when suddenly I heard a great shouting. I looked round and saw that a couple of horses' attached to an enormous van, had bolted, and there, just in the middle of the road, in front of the wild animals, was a tiny child, whose mother stood on the kerb, screaming with terror." " Oh, George 1 " she gasped, clinging tightly to his hand. "Well, there was no time to think about it, Queenie ; I made a pounce upon the child, and flung it to a man near. The next moment I was knocked down and rolling in the mud, — the van wheels went within a couple of inches of my head." " Oh, my love, my love ! " she cried, shuddering ; " you might have been killed ! " " I should have been if the thing had gone over me, of course," he answered, brightly, " but you see it didn't." " And the woman — the poor mother, what did she say ?

" Irene asked, looking adoringly up at him. " I can't remember, really," he replied ; " you see, I was a bit shaken and confused ; it was an awfully close shave, there's no doubt of that. I know she made a tremendous fuss — went down on her knees and called me her child's preserver, or something absurd of that sort." "It wasn't absurd, George," the girl said, her eyes sparkling with pride ; " you saved the little child's life, but it's like you to make light of it. Oh, my dearest, you did right ; you acted like a noble, brave man, but I tremble to think of your danger. Oh, George ! what should I have done if anything had happened to you ? Are you quite sure your knee is not really hurt? Is there nothing I can do for it ? " " No, love, there is nothing at all," he responded, gently ; " you are making mountains out of mole hills, Queenie.

I shall be all right to-morrow. Why, you silly child, you are crying ! " " I am so proud of you," she sobbed, " so proud of my husband, but you have frightened me. You will be careful, George, for my sake, will you not ? That poor mother, she will pray for you to night." Four days after, George came home a couple of hours later than usual, and by the time he appeared Irene's face was white with anxiety. " I am so sorry, dear," he said, remorsefully. " I am afraid you have been uneasy ; I ought to have sent a wire, but the fact is, I met Charlie Morton by chance, and he asked me to have a turn in the park with him. I didn't like to refuse, and I'm glad I didn't, because we came across a lot of interesting folk, whom Charlie wouldn't have known unless I'd pointed them out. He is a regular country cousin now, you know, and it was a treat to him."

" I shouldn't have expected that Mr. Morton would take much interest in the world of fashion," Irene responded, somewhat coldly ; " he's rather a boor, isn't he ? " " My dear, no ! " George cried in astonishment. " Charlie Morton a boor ? Good heavens ! " " Oh, well, I'm mistaken, no doubt," she inter posed, quickly. " I don't know him, of course. Well, who did you see, George ? " "Oh( a lot of big swells. Gladstone and Ran dolph Churchill, and John Burns." " John Burns doing the park ! " she cried, with a laugh. " You don't mean that he was addressing a meeting, I suppose ? " " No, he was in the drive," the husband went on. " And then there was Mrs. Bartley Pollard in an outrageous costume. You never saw such a thing — a glittering helmet of a bonnet, a sort of green shot silk gown, and a yellow parasol."

" Oh, George, how awful ! Not yellow, surely." " Yes, bright yellow. I ought to know, because just as we were passing she happened to drop the thing. There was a rush for it, I can tell you ; but I was the lucky man ; I handed it back to her, and received the sweetest smile in the world as my reward." " Now, George ! " " She's lovely, Irene," he went on merrily ; " it doesn't matter what she wears, she's irresistible, though she is nearly fifty. The other fellows looked as if they would like to have jumped on me ; but, no matter, the recollection of that gracious smile is mine,— they can't rob me of that." "And what did Mr. Morton think of the charmer ? " Irene asked. " Oh, I don't recollect ; by the-bye, Irene, Morton is coming to dine with us to-morrow." " Very well, George." He noted her change of tone at once, "Nothing wrong, is there, dear?

No other engagemcnt? " " No," she answered, smiling ; " how quick you are. I thought I was disguising my feelings splendidly." "You need never hope to do that, Queenie," the husband said ; " you can't dissemble one little bit." " Well, I'm not sorry for that," she answered ; " it's a hateful power." " It's useful sometimes," he retorted. " Don't say that," she interrupted ; " it's a species of falsehood after all. But about Mr. Morton ; of course I am glad to see any friend of yours, and this is the first of your old friends that I've been THE FOQL OF FATE. able to welcome in our own home ; but I confess I am prejudiced against him." " My dearest girl, why ? He's a capital fellow." " Ah, George, you are so generous ! I cannot forget that Mr. Morton is, or, at any rate, used to be, cruel." " Cruel !

" the husband repeated in astonishment. " It was cruel of him to bully you so at school ; and then that fight, you know." "That fight?" George Ainsworth murmured, in profound perplexity. " Yes, you recollect, that grand fight ; when you conquered, although he was older and bigger than you." " Oh, ah — yes ! " Ainsworth cried, with a slight smile of amusement. " I had forgotten for the moment. But, Queenie, you mustn't allude to that ; Morton wouldn't like it. Besides, you need not owe him any grudge on that account. That fight was a splendid thing for me ; licking the captain of the school made a little hero of me. The boys carried me round the playground on their shoulders afterwards." "Did they?" she cried excitedly; "you didn't tell me that before. " I thought you were both insensible."

" Oh, I wasn't ; Morton was a bit muddled certainly." " But how extraordinary it was that you should have beaten him." " Not so extraordinary after all," George con tinued, airily ; " I was wiry, you see, and I under stood the science of the thing ; moreover, my blood was up ; I couldn't stand his bullying. In fact, might was right in my case, and I licked him soundly. He came out of the matter well, too ; for he made me a splendid apology the next day before all the school, and we've been firm friends ever since."

Chapter II. Cross Purposes

BUT though Irene Ainsworth did her best to overcome her prejudices against her husband's friend, she did not succeed, and when Charles Morton arrived the next afternoon, an hour before George would be back from the City, she was anything but pleased. " How tiresome ! " she murmured, walking slowly towards the drawing-room ; " how shall I amuse him for a whole hour ? " When she entered the room, however, she was at the outset agreeably surprised. Before she had time to speak, both her hands were clasped warmly by a man whose gigantic, well-knit frame towered above her. " You must forgive me," he said, releasing her almost immediately ; " I am very unceremonious, I'm afraid, but I am so delighted to make your is acquaintance ; you know I have almost a paternal feeling of affection for George."

"You are very good, I'm sure," she replied, regarding the kindly, sun-burnt face with some sur prise, for anything less like a bully than that good natured-looking giant it was impossible to imagine. " Ah, don't say that," he interrupted heartily ; " my love for George dates back a long way. We were schoolfellows, — perhaps you haven't heard that." " Yes, I have," Irene answered shortly. " I shall never forget my first sight of your husband," Morton continued, seating himself on Irene's invitation, and smiling almost tenderly on his young hostess. " By Jove ! how queer it seems to think of the rogue being married ! He's a fine fellow now, and looks strong, too ; but in those days he was the most fragile, delicate little chap you could well imagine ; such big soft eyes he had, and such tiny white hands.

As I say, I shall never forget the day his poor mother gave him into my charge." "Indeed?" Irene responded, puzzled and annoyed by her visitor's manner, which, knowing what she did of those old school-days, struck her as being in the worst possible taste. " Yes," the unconscious Morton went on, his light grey eyes suddenly growing misty, " George's mother was a beautiful woman ; he is something like her, but he is bright and cheery, and she had such a sad, lovely countenance ; she knew that she was slowly dying then, and there was a pathetic expression in her eyes that went straight to my heart, rough cub of a schoolboy as I was. ' You will take care of him, won't you?' she said— her voice was like a musical instrument, so sweet — ' he has never been away from me before, and he is so weak and small.' " Morton paused a minute, and cleared his throat, which had become very husky, but Irene did not speak, being afraid lest the anger she experienced should get the upper hand of her politeness.

" He was small and weak in those days cer tainly," Morton resumed. " Why, when he first came he couldn't do the long walks, and I got permission to carry him on my shoulder, and he used to tell me stories — things he had made up, you know— as we went along." " Really ! " Irene ejaculated, with a curling lip ; " you must have been enormously strong, indeed ! " " Well, I was as tall as I am now — six feet three — when I was sixteen, and he was the smallest child of ten I have ever seen ; he didn't look a day more than eight, and he was so pretty. I assure you, little Ainsworth was a sort of sacred ibis at school ; not one of the chaps would have dared to annoy him, because there would have been ' the giant ' to settle accounts with ; that was my nick name, you understand ? " Irene was quite thankful to hear her husband's latch-key at this moment, for Charles Morton's society was becoming perfectly unendurable to her.

With the recollection in her mind of what George had repeated to her only the night before, their guest's conversation was well-nigh insupportable. By the time dinner was announced, however, she had contrived to calm herself, perceiving that it was clearly her duty to make George's friend com fortable, whether she liked him or not ; but she determined that, so far as lay in her power, she would prevent the conversation becoming reminis cent, lest her indignation should find vent in words. Therefore, at the first mention of the school-days, she struck in with, — "And how did you enjoy the park yesterday, Mr. Morton ? I am glad you saw so many celebrities." " To be frank, Mrs. Ainsworth, I didn't care much about it," Morton replied; "you see, I've been so out of the world for the last eight years— since I took up farming, in fact — that all the faces appeared strange to me, and therefore rather uninteresting."

" But you know Gladstone and Lord Randolph Churchill by sight, I suppose ? " " To be sure I do." " And they were there, George says." " Ah, then, he must have seen them after he left me," Morton continued ; " we were only together about ten minutes, after all. He deserted me very quickly. By-the-bye, George, who was your pretty friend with the golden hair and bird-like eyes ? " With a quick flush, George looked up at his puzzled wife. " He means Mabel Forsyth," he explained. " Oh, was she there ? You didn't mention her," Irene cried, involuntarily. " No, I forgot her," he continued, very ill at ease ; " she gave me a lift across the park in her victoria. I must have been with her when I saw Gladstone and the rest." There was an embarrassed silence after this. Irene was annoyed that she had appeared surprised at her husband's inadvertent suppression of this fact, to which she really attached no importance ; and George was vexed because he had not wished his wife to know of the encounter.

It happened that he had some very worrying law business which Fred Forsyth was managing for him ; and his sole reason for accepting the lady's invitation to drive with her had been that he might arrange for a meeting with her husband at their home after business hours. He did not want to explain this to Irene, however, for the fact of his being in any difficulty had been carefully kept from her, — firstly, because painful circumstances in her life had impressed her with a nervous horror of anything like litigation ; and secondly, because the business itself was the result of an action of his own which, he was aware, she would disapprove of most strongly. Very uncomfortable, for he perceived that in some way he had put his foot into it, Charles Morton came to the rescue as soon as he could collect himself.

" You haven't felt any more of that tumble last Thursday, George, I hope ? " he said, at length. " Oh, did you see that ? " Irene cried, grateful to him for turning the conversation into such a congenial channel. "Why, of course I did," the giant replied, brightly — " I picked him up." " And wasn't there tremendous excitement ? " the young wife continued, her eyes sparkling. " That poor woman — how horribly frightened she must have been ! " " What poor woman ? " Morton asked, " Why, the mother of the child." " I don't know what you are alluding to," Morton said, much puzzled ; " I'm speaking " " Oh, look here ! " George interrupted, hastily ; " you two are at cross purposes ; you are thinking of Friday's tumble, not of Thursday's, Morton." " My dear fellow, it was Thursday," Morton argued ; " I was coming from the bank, and " "It was Friday, I tell you," George persisted, kicking his friend under the table ; " you get the days muddled up, Charlie, — country folks always do."

" But did you fall down on Friday again, George ? " his wife exclaimed in astonishment. " My dear, what has come to you — why didn't you tell me ? " " Because I didn't want you to know anything about it," George replied. " I felt such a complete fool, you see " " Well, I must say you looked it, old chap," Morton cried, laughing heartily. " It was in the middle of the road, just by the bank, Mrs. Ainsworth. I saw him go down on a bit of orange peel, and the funny part of it was he didn't make any effort to move, but lay there, flat on his back, staring at the sky with a seraphic innocence of ex pression that was positively killing. I was sorry, of course, for he made himself in a pretty pickle ; but I could sec he wasn't hurt, and I don't know when I laughed so much." " Oh, come, shut up ! " George interposed good naturedly.