CHAPTER XVI

EXPLANATIONS

Gwen was thoroughly miserable. On returning from the churchyard she had shut herself up in her bedroom, after a sobbing description to Mrs. Perage and Vane of what had taken place. In this seclusion she remained, speaking little, eating less, and only sleeping occasionally when exhausted Nature insisted upon having her own sensible way. The trouble Gwen was now undergoing seemed ever so much worse than that which she had already undergone. The death of her father had been dreadful, but he had been such a tyrant that--to speak plainly--his loss had not broken her heart. But now she felt certain that her heart was really and truly broken, as the idea of losing Owain was like a nightmare. The girl by this time fully recognized that she loved her cousin dearly, even though that love had grown as rapidly and unexpectedly as Jonah's gourd. Perhaps, like the same, it would perish as quickly. Gwen attempted to assure herself of this, but could not self-hypnotise herself into such a belief. Her passion was too genuine, too strong, too overwhelming, to be got rid of so easily.

Yet--she asked herself this question frequently--how could she believe that Owain loved her, when she had heard from his own lips that he had proposed to another girl? Gwen considered that she had been very generous in forgiving his masquerading, although she admitted that under the circumstances the assumption of a false name had been pardonable. But that he should have loved some one else, and should have proposed to that some one, seemed to her to be monstrous. It was impossible for her to forget or forgive such a thing. She assured herself that self-respect demanded the adoption of this merciless attitude, but the cause of it--which she would not admit--was really jealousy. But whatever it was the feeling made her wretched, and for long hours the poor child tossed and turned and shivered and wept, as she wondered what her future was likely to be. She had youth, she had beauty, she had money, but all these desirable things were as dust and ashes, lacking the companionship of the man she loved. And as he had condemned himself out of his own month she could not see how the position of things was to be altered.

In her bluff way, Mrs. Perage was very sorry for the girl, as she saw how truly genuine was her suffering. The old lady strongly sympathized with that despairing feeling of youth which believes that the world has come to an end because things do not turn out as expected. Not that she believed Gwen's world had ended, but understood easily enough how the girl thought so. To put matters right, Mrs. Perage set herself to work in the hope of proving that the sun was merely obscured for the moment. For a day and a night she left the sufferer alone, so that she might get over the first stage of misery and anger. Then the old dame entered the bedroom and proceeded to develop her scheme, which she hoped would put the crooked straight.

"Well, my dear," she said in a brisk and heartless manner, as she seated herself on the bed, "have you overcome your fit of self-pity?"

"Oh, how unkind you are," wailed Gwen, who did not expect such a speech. "My heart is broken."

"No, my dear, your vanity is hurt."

"Vanity? I have no vanity."

"Well, well, we will call it pride, self-respect, dignity, or any other pretty name which appeals to you," said Mrs. Perage complacently. "Anyhow, you can't lie here amongst the ruins of your life. Have some breakfast and get up."

"I can't eat and I can't drink. How can you expect me to?" cried Gwen, who was intensely exasperated by this matter-of-fact speech. "You will make me angry, Mrs. Perage."

"I want to, since anger will make you see things in a more sensible light. You can't live on air, you know, my dear, or on love either, especially as this last is nonexistent."

The spirit of contradiction, begotten by anger, made the invalid resent this last remark. "Love isn't nonexistent," she declared crossly. "I love Owain still, although he doesn't deserve my affection in the least. I call it a shame for him to come here and save my life and make me love him, when all the time he is engaged to another girl."

"Who told you that he was?" inquired Mrs. Perage dryly, and very well satisfied with the result her conversation was producing.

"He told me so himself, and I told you how he was," said Gwen incoherently. "He admitted that he had proposed to the nasty daughter of that horrid woman."

"Well," said Mrs. Perage coolly, "a young man must gain experience somehow."

"Owain shan't gain any at my expense," retorted Gwen viciously. "After all, I don't think that he is worth troubling about."

"Of course he isn't," said Mrs. Perage, wishing to emphasize this opinion. "So lie down and go to sleep and forget all about him. You can't eat, you know."

"Yes, I can." Gwen rose in the bed angrily. "I shall have my breakfast and get up and go about things just as if nothing had happened."

Mrs. Perage shook her old head wisely. "You have not the strength."

"I have--I have. Ring the bell and order some tea and toast."

"Peter is bringing up some sort of a meal, my dear. Ah, there is his knock. I will take the tray," and Mrs. Perage went to the door to do so, chuckling at the way in which she was dealing with the situation. "Give it to me, Peter; now you can go. By the way, Gwen, shall I send him for the doctor?"

"No. I'm quite well," said the girl indignantly. So Peter was dismissed and the tray was placed on the bed. "Leave me to eat, Mrs. Perage, and you can come back after I have dressed."

"Foolish! Foolish!" said the old dame, leaving the room. "You are attempting too much." And she departed, still chuckling to think how easily this somewhat difficult young lady had fallen into the trap.

Gwen, quite ignorant that she was acting exactly as Mrs. Perage desired, sipped the tea and nibbled at the toast. Pride speedily came to her aid, and when the meal was finished she felt much better. Self-pity was now merged in a sense of anger that Owain had dared to treat her so shamefully, therefore she dressed herself in her prettiest frock with the intention of proving to him that she felt his treachery less than he might have expected. When she walked into the drawing-room, Mrs. Perage looked up to see a smartly dressed young lady with sparkling eyes and a fine colour, in place of the white-faced invalid she had left. So far the result of the experiment was distinctly good.

"And of course," suggested the old lady artfully, "you have quite decided to throw Owain overboard."

"What else would you have me do?" demanded Gwen revengefully.

"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage in a meditative manner. "I think I should ask for an explanation."

"There can be no explanation likely to satisfy me."

"That entirely depends upon my common-sense way of looking at things," said Mrs. Perage dryly. "Or on your common-sense, if you come to that. By the way, that girl is coming down here this afternoon--she will arrive in an hour."

"What girl?"

"Hum!" Mrs. Perage skirted round the subject and did not give an entirely direct reply. "Your breakfast has been your luncheon, for it is now two o'clock, so such a queer exchange of meals must have upset you. Perhaps you had better not be present."

"What girl are you talking about?" asked Gwen, her colour coming and going, although she knew perfectly well what was meant. "And I am in quite enough good health to see any girl. How dare she come here?"

"Ah!"--Mrs. Perage chuckled,--"you guess what I mean, I see. Well, my dear Jim was rather put out about your quarrel with Hench, so he suggested at my desire that it would be as well for him to go to town and bring Mademoiselle Zara with him down here to explain matters."

"I don't require any explanation," said Gwen, holding her head very high.

"Bless the girl, did I say so? This Zara woman is coming to explain to me. I may as well be plain, Gwen. It was I who told Jim to go to town and fetch her, since it is necessary that I should learn what a rascal Hench is."

"He's not a rascal; I'm sure he's not a rascal." Gwen stamped her foot and grew very red.

"Oh yes, he is, my dear. To propose to one girl and to make love to another is not right. I must inquire into his character, you know, so as to see if he is a decent man to know. Now Mademoiselle Zara can tell us the truth. But I don't want you to be present."

"But I shall!" cried Miss Evans, with another stamp. "It is my right to be present. The explanation concerns me more than any one else."

"Oh, well, if you insist upon being present, I have no more to say." Mrs. Perage shrugged her shoulders, and making a wilful mistake. "Did you say 'present' or 'pleasant'?"

"Pleasant. You must be pleasant to Mademoiselle Zara, as, after all, you do not care anything for your cousin."

"I do. All the same I am angry with him. I shall be present and be pleasant just as I please. And now I shall take a walk in the park so as to calm my nerves. I'm sure Owain has upset them enough." And Gwen hastily departed, while Mrs. Perage chuckled more than ever.

"Fiery little Welsh temper she has," murmured the old lady. "I don't envy Hench when he makes her his wife. Hum! So that's settled. Let us hope good will come of the interview." She rubbed her nose. "Gwen's a handful to manage, but by contradiction I fancy that I have secured my own way."

Of course this was quite true, although Miss Evans, walking in the park, was perfectly sure that she was acting contrary to Mrs. Perage's wishes. By this time the girl was in a fine temper, ready to quarrel with any one about anything. In fact she felt very much inclined to fight for what she considered were her rights, so far as concerned her cousin. In some queer way, Gwen arrived at the conclusion that by saving her life Hench had given her some sort of claim over him. Of course, she would never marry him; nothing would ever induce her to marry such a faithless person. But she intended to hint at her fantastic claim by ordering him to make Zara his wife. Then, on further reflection, she did not like him to marry the dancer, as she loved him herself. Still, as he was unworthy of her love, perhaps it would be as well to allow him to carry out his proposal to Madame Alpenny's daughter. He would certainly be miserable, which would serve him right, as Zara was bound to be a minx and a cat and several other disagreeable things. In this incoherent way Miss Evans thought, while working off her anger as best she could by walking at top speed up one path and down another. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry, to rage or to fret; all she did know was that everything seemed to be wrong, and that the bottom had fallen out of creation.

When Gwen again ventured into the house, she found the drawing-room tenanted by Mrs. Perage, her nephew, and two visitors. One of these was a handsome, untidily dressed young fellow, who wore his hair rather long after the manner of musicians; the other was a tall girl, gaunt, striking-looking, with something of the gipsy in her appearance. She wore a red velvet hat and a long red velvet mantle, the violent hues of which harmonized well with her somewhat sallow complexion and bold dark eyes. When Gwen entered, this girl was laughing and showed a row of very white teeth, which added to her handsome looks.

"Mademoiselle Zara, this is Miss Evans," said Mrs. Perage, rising to make a rapid introduction. "Gwen, this is Madame Alpenny's daughter, and Mr. Bracken, to whom she is engaged."

"Engaged?" Gwen started back and gasped. "But I don't understand."

"Mademoiselle Zara will explain," said Mrs. Perage swiftly, and collecting the two men with her eyes. "Mr. Bracken, I must show you my garden, as I am sure you take an interest in flowers. Come with me. You also, Jim, as you must go to Mrs. Bell's and bring Hench here."

"I don't wish to see him," called out Gwen hurriedly, but Mrs. Perage took no notice of the speech, as she had already conducted the two men out of the room, leaving the two girls alone.

Gwen eyed Zara and Zara eyed Gwen with great curiosity, and used their intuitions with so much skill that in two minutes each girl knew all about the nature of the other girl. Miss Evans could not deny but what the dancer was handsome enough to attract any one, even the most fastidious, while Zara thought that Gwen was one of the most charming young ladies she had ever seen.

"I'm sure he will be very happy with you," she said abruptly.

"Who?" asked Gwen, sitting down and getting ready to fence.

Zara laughed meaningly. "My dear, there is only one 'he' in the world for you."

"So I thought, until I found him out," retorted Miss Evans sharply.

"Oh, I understand all about your finding him out. Mr. Vane gave me a full description of my mother's meddling. But if you had waited to hear what took place after your departure from the churchyard there would have been no need for me to come down."

"I did not ask you to come down," said Gwen pointedly.

"You did not. Mrs. Perage did, however, as she was anxious for your mistake to be corrected. I am anxious, also, else I would not have troubled to take this long journey."

"Why did you undertake it, then?"

"Because I have the greatest respect for Mr. Hench."

"The greatest love, you mean."

"Indeed, I mean nothing of the sort," said Zara candidly. "I have no more love for Mr. Hench than I have for that table. Didn't you hear Mrs. Perage say that I was engaged to Mr. Bracken?"

"Yes! I suppose you are," admitted Gwen reluctantly. "But there is always one who loves and one who is loved, you know."

"Heine, the German poet, said that, Miss Evans. I congratulate you on the wide range of your reading. It shows that you are not narrow, and not being narrow, I trust that you will do Mr. Hench justice."

"He proposed to you. I heard him say so myself."

"My dear," said the dancer, after the lenient fashion of an elder sister, "Mr. Hench at that time would have proposed to any woman of decent character and decent looks. Your Heine quotation implied that although I did not love him, he loved me. There you are entirely wrong. He admired me, certainly, but----"

"But he proposed to you," interrupted Miss Evans doggedly.

Zara's cheeks grew crimson and her voice became sharper. "We are two women talking together," she said decisively. "Therefore, it is useless for us to skirt about the bush as we would do with men. Mr. Hench never loved me; he had no conception of love when he proposed, and I told him so. Can't you understand how a lonely man must wish for a home and a comrade, so that he may have some centre in life? I used those very words to him. Mr. Bracken gives me that true love which is more than admiration, which was all Mr. Hench had to offer. He could not give me his heart because he did not know that he possessed one. Since coming here he has made the discovery that he has a heart and he has given it to you."

"Have you seen him; did he tell you so?"

It took Zara a moment or so to quell her rising anger, and she felt inclined to shake this silly little girl who was not to be convinced by common-sense explanations. "I have not seen Mr. Hench, nor if you wish it will I see him."

"Oh, it's nothing to me," said Gwen with an air of finality.

"Then it ought to be. Mr. Vane told me what Mr. Hench told him."

"What is that?"

"You know quite well," retorted Zara tartly. "It is that Mr. Hench loves you better than you deserve."

"How can you tell what I deserve?"

"I am only going by what I see of you now," said the dancer patiently. "You really love Mr. Hench, and you are fighting against your feelings, because you believe that he loves me, which is not the case. As you can see that I am speaking the truth, it is unworthy of you to speak as you do. Therefore, I say that Mr. Hench loves you better than you deserve. I don't know," cried Zara, becoming exasperated, "why you force me to make so unnecessary an explanation, as you are quite aware of what I mean."

Gwen was so impressed by the dancer's earnest speech that she became much more reasonable. "I am a pig, I know," she murmured rather inelegantly. "But it isn't pleasant to love a man and then to hear from his own lips that he proposed to another woman."

"Pooh! You are making a mountain out of a molehill," said Zara contemptuously. "If Mr. Hench had proposed to me after he met you, then there might be some sense in your attitude. But I tell you he did not know the meaning of love when he proposed to me, and would have proposed to any other woman just as readily. His first acquaintance with love was when he saved your life. He is heart and soul devoted to you. My dear"--Zara rose, and bending over Gwen, took her hand--"don't be foolish and throw away a love which will make you the happiest woman in the world."

"Can you swear that Owain loves me?" asked Gwen, more and more impressed.

"Personally, I cannot. But from what Mr. Vane has told me I certainly can declare that Mr. Hench adores you."

"Yes." Miss Evans stared hard at nothing. "I believe he does."

"Then why are you making all this trouble?"

"You are a woman and ask me that?"

Zara laughed. "It is absurd, I know. But I am anxious to put things right. My mother made trouble and I came down to make peace. Don't send me away with my errand unaccomplished."

Gwen jumped up and kissed the dancer. "No, I won't. I am quite satisfied with your explanation. I have been very silly and have made myself quite ill in worrying over things. And if Owain comes----"

"Owain is coming," interrupted Zara quickly, as she glanced out of the open French window of the room. "Yonder he is with Mr. Vane, who was sent to bring him by Mrs. Perage. My dear"--she kissed Gwen's cheek--"I will slip out to join Mrs. Perage and Ned in the garden. You stay here and make it up with Mr. Hench. No half-measures, mind. Be generous and loyal." And with a smiling nod the dancer flitted through the window just as the footsteps of Owain were heard in the hall.

"Oh!" said Gwen, drawing a long breath, "how nearly I have lost him."

Vane had sense enough not to enter along with his friend, as he thoroughly understood the saying about two being company and three none. In a most loyal fashion he obliterated himself, and Owain walked into the room by himself. The young man looked worn and ill, so that Gwen's heart was touched, and she felt ashamed of her conduct, which was responsible for his wilted appearance. Almost without thought she flew into his arms.

"I'm a horrid creature," she murmured. "Do forgive me and I'll be good."

"Oh!"--Owain's pale face flushed suddenly and his brown eyes sparkled--"then you don't believe----"

"I believe that you love me. Mademoiselle Zara has explained everything."

"Thank God for that. Where is she?"

"Do you wish to see her?" asked Miss Evans jealously.

"Only to thank her. But that can come later. Meantime"--he bent and kissed her three or four times--"oh, Gwen, how could you think that I loved any one in the world but you--you--you?"

"I was silly and wicked and--and----"

"No! No! There was some cause for your anger, as Madame Alpenny told so skilful a lie. It wasn't all a lie, of course, as I did propose to Zara."

"I know you did, and I know why you did. But you will be much happier with me than with her," said the girl naïvely.

"Than with any one, Gwen," cried the young man fervently. "Oh, my dear, to think how nearly I have lost you."

"I said that to myself about you, just before you entered," whispered Gwen in a penitent tone. "Do forgive me."

"On condition that you forgive me," pleaded Owain fondly.

"Dear, there is nothing to forgive," said the girl, abasing herself. "It is all my fault--all my fault. I'm a nasty little jealous animal."

"Just the kind of animal I like." Owain pressed her hard in his arms. "I'll never, never let you go again, and now that we are together and you are on my side, I am prepared to face the worst."

"Face what?"

"Ah, I forgot; you don't understand. I have a long explanation to give." Hench paused and looked nervous, as he drew Gwen to a chair and sat down to take her on his knee. "You won't hate me, or doubt me?"

"Never! Never!" Gwen positively. "I'll never doubt you again. What is the matter?"

"Murder is the matter!"

"What?" She started back and stared at his perturbed face. "The murder of----"

"Yes! The murder of your father. You know that tramp you suspect?"

"The one who asked the way to the Gipsy Stile? Yes."

"I am that tramp."

"It's impossible."

"It is quite true. I have explained matters to Vane and to Mrs. Perage. Now I must explain them to you. Having admitted that I am the tramp you suspect----"

Gwen stopped him by laying her hand over his mouth. "I don't suspect the tramp, now that you are he," she said vehemently. "You are innocent, I am sure."

"How can you be sure?" asked Hench sharply. "Because you saved my life," replied Gwen in a truly feminine fashion. "No one who saved a person's life would commit a murder."

"Well, I can scarcely admit the logic of that reasoning," said Hench, unable to refrain from a smile, in spite of the desperate situation. "But I am glad that you so far trust me."

"I trust you to the death."

"Darling!"--he kissed her--"that gives me the courage to tell you all!" And he did tell her all then and there, from the time of the conversation with Madame Alpenny down to the moment when she accused him in the churchyard. "So you see, Gwen," he concluded in a melancholy tone, "that although perfectly innocent, this woman has the power to have me arrested."

"You shall not be arrested," said Gwen, with sparkling eyes and red cheeks.

"Then you don't believe me to be guilty?"

"What a silly question to ask." This time it was Gwen who kissed. "Is it likely that I would still be sitting on your knee if I thought you killed my father? Of course, the whole thing is difficult and mysterious, but I am on your side, Owain, and we will fight it out together."

"Yes! Yes!" Hench rose and swung her off her feet right into his arms. "I am not afraid now. Your love will give me strength to conquer my enemies. But it will be an ordeal for you."

"An ordeal which will prove the depth of my love, dear. And I deserve such an ordeal. I doubted you once; but I'll never, never, never, never doubt you again. Owain, darling, everything will come right. There is Mr. Vane and Mrs. Perage and myself and you. Against us is only that horrid old woman."

"She holds a strong hand in the game, though," murmured the young man doubtfully. "We hold a stronger. Right will always prevail against might."

"Gwen! Gwen! You are a tower of strength. You put new life into me. Yes, we will fight; we will fight, fight to the end."

"And win!" cried Gwen. "Oh, never doubt, Owain. We must win!"