Produced by Ted Garvin and PG Distributed Proofreaders
AT LOVE'S COST
By CHARLES GARVICE
AT LOVE'S COST
CHAPTER 1
"Until this moment I have never fully realised how great an ass a mancan be. When I think that this morning I scurried through what mighthave been a decent breakfast, left my comfortable diggings, and wascooped up in a train for seven hours, that I am now driving in apelting rain through, so far as I can see for the mist, what appears tobe a howling wilderness, I ask myself if I am still in possession of mysenses. I ask myself why I should commit such lurid folly. Last night Iwas sitting over the fire with a book—for it was cold, though not socold as this," the speaker shivered and dragged the collar of hisovercoat still higher—"at peace with all the world, with Omar purringplacidly by my side, and my soul wrapped in that serenity which belongsto a man who has long since rid himself of that inconvenientappendage—a conscience, and has hit upon the right brand ofcigarettes, and now—"
He paused to sigh, to groan indeed, and shifted himself uneasily in thewell-padded seat of the luxurious mail-phaeton.
"When Williams brought me your note, vilely written—were you sober,Stafford?—blandly asking me to join you in this mad business, I smiledto myself as I pitched the note on the fire. Omar smiled too, the verycigarette smiled. I said to myself I would see you blowed first; thatnothing would induce me to join you, that I'd read about the lakes toomuch and too often to venture upon them in the early part of June; infact, had no desire to see the lakes at any time or under anyconditions. I told Omar that I would see you in the lowest pit ofTophet before I would go with you to—whatever the name of this placeis. And yet, here I am."
The speaker paused in his complaint to empty a pool water from hismackintosh, and succeeded—in turning it over his own leg.
He groaned again, and continued.
"And yet, here I am. My dear Stafford, I do not wish to upbraid you; Iam simply making to myself a confession of weakness which would bepitiable in a stray dog, but which in a man of my years, with myexperience of the world and reputation for common sense, is simplycriminal. I do not wish to reproach you; I am quite aware that noreproach, not even the spectacle of my present misery would touch yourcallous and, permit me to frankly add, your abominably selfish nature;but I do want to ask quite calmly and without any display of temper:what the blazes you wanted to come this way round, and why you wantedme with you?"
The speaker, a slightly built man, just beyond the vague line of"young," glanced up with his dark, somewhat sombre and yet softlycynical eyes at the face of his companion who was driving. Thiscompanion was unmistakably young, and there was not a trace of cynicismin his grey-blue eyes which looked out upon the rain and mist withpleasant cheerfulness. He was neither particularly fair nor dark; butthere was a touch of brighter colour than usual in his short, crisphair; and no woman had yet found fault with the moustache or the lipsbeneath. And yet, though Stafford Orme's face was rather too handsomethan otherwise, the signs of weakness which one sees in so manygood-looking faces did not mar it; indeed, there was a hint ofstrength, not to say sternness, in the well-cut lips, a glint of powerand masterfulness in the grey eyes and the brows above them whichimpressed one at first sight; though when one came to know him theimpression was soon lost, effaced by the charm for which Stafford wasfamous, and which