The Imaginary Marriage | Page 4

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 sat gripping the arms of his chair. What had he done, or rather
what had Marjorie done? What desperate muddle had that little maid
led him into? He had counted on the name being a pure invention, and
now--
"Where is she?" demanded Lady Linden.
"I don't know--we--we parted!"
"Why?"

"We didn't get on, you see. She'd got a temper, and so--"
"Of course she had a temper. She is a spirited gel, full of life and fire
and intelligence. I wouldn't give twopence for a woman without a
temper--certainly she had a temper! Bah, don't talk to me, sir--you sit
there and tell me you were content to let her go, let a beautiful creature
like that go merely because she had a temper?"
"She--she went. I didn't let her go; she