The Woman with One Hand, and Mr. Ely's Engagement

"I have lived for her, and worked, and hoped, and dreamed, until she has grown to be the centre of my being. Does she mean all that to you?"

"What business have you to ask me such a question? When you have ruined Mrs. Jones do you put a similar inquiry to Jones? I should think Jones would feel that you were a logical sort of person if you did."

"Ah, but here she is not your wife."

"But she's going to be!"

"As I live she never will."

"Hang it, sir; don't I tell you that she promised?"

"And don't I tell you that was a mistake. If you will keep cool I will give you an explanation. If you decline to listen to an explanation, you must be content to realise the fact."

"Look here, Mr. Summers, you are a sort of man with whom I have had very little to do-"

"My misfortune-not your fault."

"But I suppose you have some idea of common decency, if you have none of honour-"

"I hope I have."

"And I ask you if you think it's decent, directly a woman has promised a man to be his wife, to go behind his back and induce the woman to dishonour herself and him?"

"But that is not what I have done."

"It is what you have done. One day Miss Truscott promises to be my wife, the next-directly my back is turned-you come and persuade her to be false to herself and me."

"My good Ely, there is one factor you are omitting from your calculations, and that is-love."

"Which with you stands higher-love or honesty?"

"Oh, they both go hand-in-hand. Would it have been honest for her to have married you when she loved me?"

"Pooh! Stuff and nonsense! I never heard such impudence! What the dickens do you mean by saying that the woman who has promised to be my wife loves you?"

"You perceive, it is from that that I saved you-that curse of all existence, that canker which eats into the very root of life-a loveless marriage. But there are not many signs of gratitude, that I can see."

And Mr. Summers sighed. Mr. Ely gasped.

"Look here, Mr. Summers, I am not a fighting man."

"No?"

"But if I were-!"

"Yes. If you were? Go on!"

"By George, sir, if I were-!" At this moment Mr. Ash entered the room. "I'm sorry, Ash, that you have come. You've interrupted the most agreeable interview that I ever had in all my life."

"I'm surprised, Mr. Summers, after what has passed, to see you here."

"Why? I assure you I'm not at all surprised at seeing you."

Rising, Mr. Summers held out his hand. But Mr. Ash declined to see it.

"Oh, take his hand! For goodness' sake take his hand! Shake it off his wrist! Don't let him suppose that you're not delighted to have the pleasure."

"Our friend Ely-"

"Your friend Ely! What the dickens, sir, do you mean by calling me your friend?"

Very red in the face, Mr. Ely struck an attitude in front of Mr. Summers which was probably intended to express ferocity. Mr. Summers tugged at his beard, and smiled. Mr. Ash interposed.

"I can hardly think, Mr. Summers, that it is necessary for me to suggest that your presence is not required here."

"My dear fellow, I am only waiting to obtain a little information."

"What information can you possibly expect to receive?"

"I only want to know where Miss Truscott is."

"Yes, that's all! That's all he wants to know! A more modest request I never heard! He only wants to know where my wife is!"

"Excuse me, Ely, but Miss Truscott is not your wife!"

"But she's going to be!"

"That she will never be!"

"Hang it, sir!" Mr. Ely rushed forward. But again Mr. Ash thought it advisable to interpose.

"Mr. Summers, be so kind as to leave this house."

"Oh, don't turn him out! For goodness' sake don't turn him out! Pray tell him where the lady is! And also acquaint him with the situation of the spoons! And entreat him, next time he calls, to bring his burglar friends, and other relatives."

Mr. Ash endeavoured to pacify his friend. But the attempt was vain. Mr. Ely's blood was up. His wrongs were more than he could bear.

"My dear Ely, I beg that you will not pay the slightest attention to this-gentleman."

"Attention! Not me! I'm not paying the attention! It's he! And to my young woman, by the Lord!"

Still tugging at his beard, Mr. Summers laughed and turned away.

"I'm sorry you cannot give me the information I require. And you really are inhospitable, Ash, you really are. But never mind, I'll have my revenge! When you come to see me I'll not show you the door; nor Ely, if he'll condescend to call."

He had reached the window when the door opened, and Mrs. Clive appeared.

"Ah, here is Mrs. Clive! I am sure that Mrs. Clive will take pity on a man, especially a man in the forlorn situation which I am. May I ask if you can tell me where I am likely to find Miss Truscott?"