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Updated: May 23, 2025
She understood. It was the farewell of the one man who had loved her in honor. Presently he seemed to dissolve into the shadows, and she knew that out of her life he had gone for ever. The next morning Fitzgerald found Cathewe's note under his plate. He opened it with a sense of disaster. "MY DEAR OLD JACK: I'm off. Found a pony and shall jog to Ajaccio by the route we came.
Coldfield, with the best intentions, nearer the truth than she knew. "I am sorry, Laura, that I never told you before." Hildegarde laughed. "Sooner or later this must happen. I worked too hard, perhaps. At any rate, the opera will know me no more." There was the hard blue of flint in Cathewe's eyes as they met and held Breitmann's. There was a duel, and the latter was routed.
"Was he quite square?" "I am beginning to believe that he was something between a cad and a scoundrel." "Did you know that among her forebears on her mother's side was the Abbe Fanu, who left among other things the diagram of the chimney?" "So that was it?" Cathewe's jaws hardened. Fitzgerald understood. Poor old Cathewe! "Most women are fools!" said Cathewe, as if reading his friend's thought.
A long breath of relief issued from his heart, and the rending doubt was dissipated: the vulture-shadow spread its dark pennons and wheeled down the west. A priceless thing is that friend upon whom one may shift the part of a burden. It seemed to be one of Cathewe's occupations in life to absorb, in a kindly, unemotional manner, other people's troubles.
He knew that when this child of his divided her affection with another man, that man would be deserving. "I would rather have them all as they are. They make fine comrades." He sighed thankfully. "Arthur seems to be out of the race." "Rather say I am!" with laughter. "Why, a child could read Arthur Cathewe's face when he looks at her. Isn't she simply beautiful?" "Very.
"I am glad he has found it. Didn't I wish him to have it?" "And you knew all this?" said Cathewe into the ear of the woman he loved. Thinly the word came through her lips: "Yes." Cathewe's chin sank into his collar and he stared at the crumbs on the cloth. "But what meant this argument with the drivers?" asked Coldfield. "Yes! I had forgotten that," supplemented the sailor.
Now it was everything; for without it he never could dare lift his eyes seriously to this lovely picture so close to him, let alone dream of winning her. He recalled Cathewe's light warning about the bones of ducal hopes. What earthly chance had he? Unconsciously he shrugged.
"So, Miss Killigrew, you believe that this treasure should be handed over to its legal owner?" Breitmann looked into her eyes for the first time that evening. "I have some doubt about the legal ownership, but the sentimental and moral ownership is his. A romance should always have a pleasant ending." "You are thinking of books," was Cathewe's comment.
"It did not matter at all to me," was Cathewe's thought, as he knocked on Fitzgerald's door and heard his cheery call, "I only wanted to know what sort of man he is." "Oh, I really don't know whether I like him or not," declared Fitzgerald. "I have run across him two or three times, but we were both busy. He has told me a little about himself. He's been knocked about a good deal.
The simplest way would be to state that Cathewe had gone back to Ajaccio. The why and wherefore should be left to the imagination. But, oddly enough, no one asked a second question. They accepted Cathewe's defection without verbal comment. What they thought was of no immediate consequence. Fitzgerald was gloomy till that moment when Laura joined him. To her, of course, he explained the situation.
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