CHAPTER VII.
The autumn crept on. Freke had gone to Wareham, to Judith's delight, butshe found that she had rejoiced too soon, for he was at Barn Elms nearlyevery day. The still, silent enmity between Judith and himself showeditself, on her part, by a certain fine scorn--an almost imperceptibleraising of her narrow brows, that was infuriating to Freke. Still, hecould not shake her self-possession. She even listened to his talk, andto his captivating violin-playing, with a cool and critical pleasure.When, as often happened, his step was heard in the hall at twilight, andhe would walk into the drawing-room or the dining-room, as if Barn Elmswere his home, with his violin in his hand--for he kept one at BarnElms--and seating himself would begin to play in his masterly way,Judith would listen as closely as Jacqueline. But the spell was merelythe spell of the music. She could listen to the celestial thrilling ofthe strings, the soft lamenting, without in the slightest degreesuccumbing to the player--not even when Freke, playing a wanderingaccompaniment, like another air from the one he was singing, would singsome of Heine's sea-songs, in which she could almost hear the sound ofthe wind as it rose and wailed and died upon the waves. When the musicstopped, and Freke would look at her piercingly, she was no more movedby it emotionally than General Temple was, who pronounced it "uncommonfine fiddling, by George! Some of the tunes haven't got much tune,though." This unbroken resistance on Judith's part piqued Frekeimmeasurably; but quite naturally, as it often is with men of histemperament, as he could not please her, he determined to spite her--andhe did it by a silent, furtive courtship of Jacqueline. Of this, neitherGeneral nor Mrs. Temple suspected anything. In one sense, the girl hadsuffered from neglect. Beverley had been the favorite of both parents.He had been the conventional good son, the comfort of his parents'hearts, while Jacqueline was more or less of a puzzle to both of them.In vain Mrs. Temple tried to interest her in household affairs;Jacqueline would have none of them. She shocked and mystified her motherby saying that she hated Barn Elms--it was so old and shabby, and therewere not enough carpets and curtains in the house; and the hair-clothfurniture in the drawing-room made her ill. Mrs. Temple, who excelledin all sweet, feminine virtues, who would have loved and bettered anyhome given her, thought this sort of thing on Jacqueline's part verydepraved. The mother and the daughter did not understand each other,and could not. Judith's superior intelligence here came in. Jacquelineloved her, and, while she obeyed her mother from sheer force of willon Mrs. Temple's part, she rebelled against being influenced byher. Judith, on the contrary, without a particle of authority overJacqueline, could do anything she wished with her. Mrs. Temple couldonly command and be obeyed in outward things, but Judith ruledJacqueline's inner soul more than anybody else.
The county people, outside of the Severn neighborhood, still heldperfectly aloof from Throckmorton. This angered him somewhat, although,as a matter of fact, the people who did recognize him supplied him withall the company he wanted; for Throckmorton was always enough forhimself, and depended upon no man and no woman for his content. He hadbought Millenbeck and come there for a year, and a year he would stay,no matter what the Carters and the Carringtons and the Randolphs thoughtabout it. Then he really had enough of company, and all the books andcigars he wanted, and plenty of the finest shooting, although he neverkilled a robin after that absurd promise he made to Jacqueline, but henever saw one without giving a thought to her and a grim smile athimself. And so the quiet autumn slipped away. Throckmorton felt everyday the charm of exquisite repose. In his life he had known a gooddeal of excitement--the four years of the war he had been in activeservice all the time--and this return to quiet and a sort of refinedprimitiveness pleased him. He was charmed with the simplicity of thepeople at Barn Elms--the simplicity of genuine country people, whoseoutlook is upon nature. He had often heard that country people neverwere really sophisticated, and he began to believe it. Even in thestirrings of his own heart toward the place of his boyhood, after thelapse of so many busy and exciting years, he recognized the spell thatNature lays softly upon those whose young eyes have seen nothing buther. Throckmorton, in spite of a certain firmness that was almosthardness, was at heart a sentimentalist. He found content, pleasure,and interest in this lazy, dreamy life. Of happiness he had discoveredthat, except during that early married life of his, he had none, forhe was too wise to confound peace and happiness. At forty-four, whenhis dark hair had turned quite gray, he acknowledged to himselfthat nothing deserved the name of happiness but love. But all thesedreams and fancies he kept to himself, and revolved chiefly in hismind when he was tramping along the country roads with a gun over hisshoulder, or stretched before a blazing wood-fire in the library atMillenbeck smoking strong cigars by the dozen. He managed to keep hissentimentalism well out of sight, not because he was ashamed of it, butbecause he respected it.
Freke was a positive acquisition to him. Throckmorton had that sort ofbroad, masculine tolerance that can find excuses for everything a manmay do except cheating at cards. Freke came constantly to Millenbeck,much oftener than Throckmorton went to Wareham.
Millenbeck, though, was a pleasant place to visit. Throckmorton had leftthe restoration and fitting up of the place to people who understoodtheir business well; and consequently, when he arrived, he found he hadone of the most comfortable, if not luxurious, country-houses that couldbe imagined. His fortune, which at the North would have been nothingmore than a handsome competence, was a superb patrimony in the ruinedVirginia, and with ready money and Sweeney anybody could be comfortable,Throckmorton thought. The Rev. Edmund Morford also gave him much of his(Morford's) company, and obtained a vast number of household receiptsand learned many contrivances for domestic comfort from Sweeney.
"Be jabers, the parson's more of an ould woman than mesilf," Sweeneywould remark to his colored coadjutors. "He can make as good white gravyas any she-cook going, and counts his sheets and towels every week asreg'lar as the mother of him did, I warrant," which was quite true.But the parson's good heart outweighed his innocent conceit and hiseffeminate beauty with Throckmorton. Morford tried conscientiously toget Throckmorton into the church, but with ill success.
"Sink the parson, Morford," Throckmorton would laugh. "Perhaps I'll getmarried some day, and my wife will pray me into heaven, like most of themen who get there, I suspect."
Nevertheless Throckmorton had a reverent soul, and, although he wouldhave turned pale and have been constrained by an iron silence had hegot up and tried to open his mouth on the subject of the inscrutableproblems that Morford attacked with such glib self-sufficiency, herevered religion and did not scoff even at the callowest form of it.
Both Jack and himself got to going over to Barn Elms often;Throckmorton, however, being an old bird, exercised considerablewariness, so as not to collide with Jack at these times. Jack keptup acontinual fire from ambush at his father, regarding which of the youngwomen at Barn Elms the major would eventually capitulate to; butThrockmorton treated this with the dignified silence that was the onlyweapon against Jack's sly rallying. As for General Temple, he regardedall of Throckmorton's visits as particularly directed toward himself,for the purpose of acquiring military knowledge; and Throckmorton heardmore of the theory of war from General Temple at this time than he everheard in all his life before. While the general, who had all campaigns,modern and ancient, at his finger-ends, declaimed with sonorousconfidence on the mistakes of Hannibal, Caesar, Scipio, and otherwell-known military characters, Throckmorton listened meekly, seldomventuring an observation. General Temple indicated a faint surprise thatThrockmorton, during his career, had never undergone any of thethrilling adventures which had actually happened to General Temple, whowould have been a great soldier after the pattern of Brian de BoisGuilbert; nor could Throckmorton convince him that he, Throckmorton,conceived it his duty to stay with his men, and considered unnecessaryseeking of danger as unsoldier-like in the highest degree. Throckmorton,however, did not argue the point. In place of General Temple'sinnumerable and real hair-breadth escapes, and horses
shot under him,Throckmorton could only say that the solitary physical injury hereceived during the war was a bad rheumaticky arm from sleeping in thewet, and a troublesome attack of measles caught by visiting his men inthe hospital. But General Temple knew that Throckmorton had beenmentioned half a dozen times in general orders, and had got severalbrevets, while General Temple had narrowly missed half a dozencourts-martial for being where he didn't belong at a critical time. Thefact that he was in imminent personal danger on all these occasions,General Temple considered not only an ample excuse, but quite a featherin his cap.
Occasionally, though (during the general's disquisitions),Throckmorton's eye would seek Judith's as she sat under the lamp, witha piece of delicate embroidery in her hand, stitching demurely, andsomething like a smile would pass between them. Judith understood thejoke. The mingled softness and archness of her glance was very beautifulto Throckmorton, but it had not the power over him of Jacqueline'scoquettish air. Throckmorton was rather vexed at the charm thiskittenish young thing cast over him. He had always professed a greataversion to young fools, who invariably turn into old bores, but hecould not deny that he was more drawn to sit near Jacqueline in her lowchair, than to Judith sitting gracefully upright under the lamp. ThatJacqueline was not far off from folly, he was forced to admit to himselfevery time he talked with her, but the admission brought with it aslight pang. Then he never lost sight of the disparity in their years;and this was painful because of the secret attraction he felt for her.Sometimes, walking home from Barn Elms, across the fields in autumnnights, he would find himself comparing the two women, and wishing thatthe older woman possessed for him the subtle charm of the younger one.Any man might love Judith Temple--she was so gentle, so unconscious ofher own superiority to the average woman, so winning upon one's reasonand self-respect--and then Throckmorton would sigh, and stride fasteralong the path in the wintry darkness. Suppose--suppose he shouldseriously try to win Jacqueline? How long would he be happy? And whatsort of a life would it be for her, with that childish restlessness andinability to depend for one moment on herself? And Throckmorton knewinstinctively that, although he possessed great power in bending womento his will, it was not in him to adapt himself to any woman. He mightlove her, indulge her, adore her, but he could not change his fixed andimmutable character one iota. It would be a peculiar madness for him tomarry any woman who did not possess adaptability in a high degree; andthis Throckmorton had known, ever since he had grown hair on his face,went only with a certain mental force and breadth in women. He had thewhole theory mapped out, that the more intellectual a man was, the lessadaptable he was, while with women the converse was strikingly true--themore intellectual a woman was, the more adaptable she was. He also knewperfectly well that in women the emotions and the intellect are soinextricably involved that a woman's emotional range was exactly limitedby her intellectual range; that there is nothing more commonplace ina commonplace woman than her emotions. Nay, more. He remembered Dr.Johnson's thundering against female fools: "Sir, a man usually marries afool, with the expectation of ruling her; but the fool, sir, invariablyrules the man." But all this went to pieces when he saw Jacqueline. Shewas to him as if a figure of Youth had stepped out of a white Greekfrieze; and whenever he realized this charm of hers, he sighed tohimself profoundly.
People are never too old or too sensible to commit follies, but peopleof sense and experience suffer the misery of knowing all about theirfollies when they do commit them.
To Freke, who was incomparably the keenest observer in all this littlecircle, the whole thing was a psychic study of great interest. He hadthe art in a singular degree of getting outside of his own emotions; andthe fact that he had been guilty of the egregious folly of falling inlove with Judith at first sight made him only keener in studying outthe situation. He took an abstract pleasure in partly confiding hisdiscoveries to Mrs. Sherrard, who was a bold woman, and had become anout-and-out partisan of his--the only one he could count on, exceptJacqueline, under the rose. It was a subject of active concern whyFreke ever bought Wareham in the beginning, and still more so why heshould continue to stay there. When pressed on the subject by Mrs.Sherrard--they were sitting in the comfortable drawing-room at TurkeyThicket, the blazing wood-fire making the dull wintry afternoon, andthe flat, monotonous landscape outside more dreary by contrast--Frekedeclared that he had settled in the country in order to cultivate thedomestic virtues to advantage.
"Pooh!" said Mrs. Sherrard.
Freke then hinted at a possibility of his marrying, which, consideringhis divorced condition, gave Mrs. Sherrard a thrill of horror. He saw inan instant that this divorce question was one upon which Mrs. Sherrard'sprejudices, like those of everybody else in the county, were adamantine,and not to be trifled with; so he dropped the obnoxious subject promptlyand wisely.
"The fact is," he said, standing up with his back to the fire, andcausing Mrs. Sherrard to notice how excellent was his slight butwell-knit figure, "I've got to live somewhere, and why not here? I don'tknow whether I've got anything left of my money or not--anything, thatis, that my creditors or my lawyers will let me have in peace--butthere's excellent shooting on the place, and it only cost a song. Ithink I can stay here as long as I can stay anywhere; you know I am asort of civilized Bedouin anyhow. And then I own up to a desire to seethat little comedy between--between--Millenbeck and Barn Elms playedthrough. It's an amusing little piece."
Mrs. Sherrard pricked up her ears. Freke's reputation as a conqueringhero had inspired in her the interest it always does in the femalebreast. Was it possible that he shouldn't be making love to eitherJudith or Jacqueline?
"I'll tell you what," he cried, smiling, "they are the most preciouspack of innocents at Barn Elms! There's my uncle--a high-minded,good-natured, unterrified old blunderbuss--the most unsophisticated ofthe lot. Then my aunt, who belongs properly to the age of Rowena andRebecca--and Judith."
Here Freke's countenance changed a little from its laughingcarelessness. His rather ordinary features were full of a piercing andsubtile expression.
"Judith fancies, because she has been a wife, a mother, and a widow,that she knows the whole gamut of life, when actually she has onlystruck the first note correctly a little while ago--no, I forget--thatyoung one. But that's very one-sided, although intense. She loves thechild because he is her own, not because he is Beverley's--rather inspite of it, I fancy."
Mrs. Sherrard, in the excitement of the moment--for what is moreexciting than unexpected and inside discoveries about ourneighbors?--got up too.
"I knew it--I knew it!" she answered, her sharp old eyes getting bright."I saw Judith when she was a bride, and she wasn't in the leastrapturous. And the next time I saw her she had on that odd widow's capshe wears, and that blessed baby in her arms; and if ever I saw secrethappiness painted on any human countenance it was hers; and all the timeshe was trying to imagine herself broken-hearted for Beverley Temple."
"Fudge!" almost shouted Freke. "It's my belief she'd have traded off sixhusbands like Beverley for one black-eyed boy like that young one."
"Beverley," began Mrs. Sherrard, delighted, yet fluttered by this plainspeaking, "you remember, was a big, handsome fellow--rode like acentaur, danced beautifully, the best shot in the county--as politeas a dancing-master or--General Temple--as brave as a lion--"
"Oh, good God, don't talk to me about Beverley Temple! He was the mostwooden-headed Temple I ever knew, and that's saying a good deal, ma'am!"responded Freke, with energy.
"_You_ are no fool," said Mrs. Sherrard, as if willing to argue thepoint.
"Yes, but you couldn't any more take me as a type of the Temples thanyou could take Edmund Morford as a type of the Sherrards. Lord, Mrs.Sherrard, what an ass your nephew is!"
"Isn't he, though? But he is a good soul," was Mrs. Sherrard's answer.
Was it Judith or was it Jacqueline that Freke was trying his charms on,thought Mrs. Sherrard, taking her afternoon nap over the fire, afterFreke left. Freke, however, really could not
have enlightened her. ForJudith his admiration increased every day--her very defiance of him wascaptivating to him. He well knew that she hated every bone in his body,and he had made up his mind, as a set-off to this, to get a descriptionof a certain scene during the war out of Throckmorton some time in herpresence. It was a species of vivisection, but she deserved it--deservedit richly--for had she not brought it on herself by the way she treatedhim, Temple Freke? And then Jacqueline--she was certainly a fascinatinglittle object, though not half the woman that Judith was--this Frekemagnanimously allowed, riding briskly along the country road in thewintry twilight.
The family at Barn Elms had never yet dined with Throckmorton, owingto General Temple's continued wrestle with the gout, that had now madehim a prisoner for four long weeks. Mrs. Temple, who every day gotfonder of George, as she called Throckmorton, had promised to dine atMillenbeck when the general was able to go; but, as she invested alltheir intercourse with Millenbeck with the solemnity of a formalreconciliation, she delayed until the whole family could go in stateand ceremony. At last Dr. Wortley, having gained a temporary advantageover Delilah, and brought General Temple to observe his (Dr. Wortley's)regimen, instead of Delilah's, a week or two marked a decidedimprovement. The general's Calvinism abated, his profanity mended, andhe became once more the amiable soldier and stanch churchman that he wasby nature.
"Now, Mrs. Temple," said Throckmorton one evening as he was going away,"if you will keep the general out of mischief for a day or two longer,you will be able to pay me that long-promised visit. Let me know, so Ican get Mrs. Sherrard and Dr. Wortley--and Morford and Freke; but you,my dear friend, will be the guest of honor."
Mrs. Temple blushed like a girl, with pleasure--Throckmorton's way ofsaying this was so whole-souled and affectionate.
"You say right, my dear Throckmorton," remarked General Temple, puttinghis arm around Mrs. Temple's waist, "the tenderest, sweetest, mostobedient wife"--at which Simon Peter, putting wood on the fire,snickered audibly, and Throckmorton would have laughed outright had hedared.
So it was fixed that on the following Friday evening they were all todine at Millenbeck, Mrs. Temple promising to watch the general, lest heshould relapse into gout and gloom--and a promise from Mrs. Temple was apromise. She went about, a little surprised at the complete way thatThrockmorton had brought her round. Here was one Yankee whom she lovedwith a genuine motherly affection--and he was a Virginia Yankee,too--which she esteemed the very worst kind.
Jacqueline, as usual, was off her head at the notion of going, andJudith's suppressed excitement did not escape Mrs. Temple's eye. Both ofthem, provincials of provincials, as they were, felt a true femininecuriosity regarding the reputed splendors of Millenbeck, which was, infact, destined to dazzle their countryfied eyes.
On the Friday evening, therefore, at half-past six, they foundthemselves driving down the Millenbeck lane. General Temple had begun,figuratively speaking, to shake hands across the bloody chasm from themoment he started from Barn Elms. He harangued the whole way upon thetouching aspect of the reconciliation between the great leaders of thehostile armies, as typified by his present expedition. Going down thelane they caught up with Mrs. Sherrard, being driven by Mr. Morford in atop buggy.
"Jane Temple, are we a couple of fools?" called out Mrs. Sherrard,putting her head out of the buggy.
"No, Katharine Sherrard, we are a couple of Christians," piouslyresponded Mrs. Temple.
General Temple thrust his bare head out of the carriage-window, holdinghis hat in his hand, as it was his unbroken rule never to speak to awoman with his head covered, and entered into a disquisition respectingthe ethics of the great civil war, which lasted until they drew up tothe very door of Millenbeck.
A handsome graveled drive led up to the door, and a _porte-cochere_,which was really a very modest affair of glass and iron, had been thrownover the drive; but, as it was the only one ever seen in the county, allof them regarded it with great respect. Throckmorton, with old-timeVirginia hospitality, met them at the steps. Like all true gentlemen, hewas a model host. As he helped Mrs. Temple to alight, he raised hersmall, withered hand to his lips and kissed it respectfully.
"Welcome to Millenbeck, my best and earliest friend," he said.
"George Throckmorton," responded Mrs. Temple, with sweet gravity, "youhave taught forgiveness to my hard and unforgiving heart."
Within the house was more magnificence. The inevitable great, dark,useless hall was robbed of its coldness and bleakness by soft Turkishrugs placed over the polished floor. There was no way of heating it inthe original plan, but Throckmorton's decorator and furnisher had hitupon the plan of having a quaint Dutch stove, which now glowed redlywith a hard-coal fire. The startling innovation of lighting the broadoak staircase had likewise been adopted, and at intervals up thestairway wax-candles in sconces shed a mellow half-light in the hallbelow.
General Temple was exuberant. He shook hands with Throckmorton half adozen times, and informed him that, strange as the defection of aVirginian from his native State might appear, he, General Temple,believed that Throckmorton was actuated by conscientious though mistakennotions in remaining in the army after the breaking out of the war.
"Thank you," laughed Throckmorton, immensely tickled; "I haven'tapologized for it yet, have I, general?"
Up-stairs, in a luxurious spare bedroom, the ladies' wraps were laidaside. Here, also, that perfect comfort prevailed, which is rare inVirginia country-houses, although luxury, in certain ways, is commonenough. As they passed an open door, going down, they caught sight ofThrockmorton's own room. In that alone a Spartan simplicity reigned.There was no carpet on the spotless floor, and an iron bedstead, a largetable, and a few chairs completed the furnishing of it. But it had anair of exquisite neatness and military preciseness in it that made anatmosphere about Throckmorton. Over the unornamented mantel two swordswere crossed, and over them was a pretty, girlish portrait of Jack'smother. Judith, in passing, craned her long, white neck to get a betterlook at the portrait, was caught in the act by Mrs. Temple, and blushedfuriously.
She had a strange sensation of both joy and fear in coming toThrockmorton's house. In her inmost soul she felt it to be a crime ofgreat magnitude; and, indeed, the circumstances made it about as nearlya crime as such a woman could commit. More than that, if it should everbe known--and it was liable to be known at any moment--the deliberateforeknowledge with which she went to Millenbeck, she would never beallowed to remain another hour under the roof of Barn Elms: of that muchshe was perfectly sure. This, however, had but little effect on her,although she was risking not only her own but her child's future; butthe conviction that it was absolutely wrong for her to go, caused her tomake some paltering excuse when Throckmorton first asked her. He put itaside with his usual calm superiority in dealing with her scruples aboutgoing to places, and she yielded to the sweet temptation of obeying hiswishes. She took pains, though, to tell Freke herself that she wasgoing--a risky but delicious piece of braggadocio--at which Freke liftedhis eyebrows slightly. Inwardly he determined to make her pay for herrashness. She was the only woman who had ever fought him, and he was notto be driven off the field by any of the sex.
Judith's blush lasted until she reached the drawing-room, and made hernot less handsome. There the gentlemen were being dazzled by stillfurther splendors. This room, which was large and of statelyproportions, was really handsome. Throckmorton, who cared nothing forluxury, and whose personal habits were simplicity itself, was yet toobroad-minded to impress his own tastes upon anybody else. Since mostpeople liked luxury, he had his house made luxurious; and his own roomwas the only plain one in it. Jack's was a perfect bower, "more fit," asThrockmorton remarked with good-natured sarcasm, "for a young lady'sboudoir than a bunk for a hulking youngster." In the same wayThrockmorton managed to dress like a gentleman on what Jack spent onhats and canes and cravats; but nobody ever knew whether Throckmorton'sclothes were new or old. His personality eclipsed all his belongings.
Jacque
line was completely subdued by the luxury around her. No humansoul ever loved these pleasant things of life better than she lovedthem. Comfort and beauty and luxury were as the breath of life to her.She had hungered and thirsted for them ever since she could remember.Going down the stairs she caught Judith's hand, with a quick, childishgrasp. The lights, the glitter, almost took her breath away; and whenshe saw a great mound of roses on the drawing-room table, got fromNorfolk by the phenomenal Sweeney, she almost screamed with delight.
"God bless my soul, this is pleasant!" remarked Dr. Wortley, rubbing hishands cheerfully before the drawing-room fire, where the gentlemen,including Morford and Freke, were assembled. "Here we are all met again,under Millenbeck's roof, as we were before the war. Let by-gones beby-gones, say I, about the war."
"Amen," answered Mrs. Temple, after a little pause, piously and sweetly.
Sweeney, who could make quite a dashing figure as a waiter, nowappeared, dressed in faultless evening costume of much newer fashionthan Throckmorton's, and announced dinner. Throckmorton, with his mostgraceful air--for he was on his mettle in his own house, and with thosecharming, unsophisticated women--gave his arm to Mrs. Temple; thegeneral, with a grand flourish, did the same to Mrs. Sherrard; Judithhad the doctor of divinity on one hand and the doctor of medicine on theother and Jacqueline brought up the rear with Jack Throckmorton andTemple Freke. Judith, when she saw this arrangement, comforted herselfwith the reflection that, if anybody could counteract Freke's influenceover Jacqueline, it was Jack Throckmorton, whom Jacqueline candidlyacknowledged was infinitely more attractive to her than the master ofMillenbeck.
But Jacqueline needed no counteraction. Freke, who read her perfectly,was secretly amused, and annoyed as well, when he saw that Jacquelinewas every moment more carried away by Throckmorton's wax-candles andcarved chairs and embroidered screens and onyx tables, and glass andplate. He felt not one thrill of the jealousy of Throckmorton, whereJacqueline was concerned, that Throckmorton sometimes felt for him,because he was infinitely more astute in the knowledge of human andespecially feminine weaknesses and follies; and he saw that the chairsand tables at Millenbeck were much more fascinating to Jacqueline thanThrockmorton with his matured grace, his manly dignity. Freke, too,having long since worn out his emotions, except that slight lapse asregarded Judith, for whom he always _felt_ something--admiration, orpity, or a desire to be revenged--had an acute judgment of women whichwas quite unbiased by the way any particular woman treated or felttoward him. Judith, although she hated him, and he frankly admitted shehad cause to, he ranked infinitely above Jacqueline. He had seen, longbefore, that Jacqueline, if she ever seriously tried, could drawThrockmorton by a thread, and it gave Freke a certain contempt forThrockmorton's taste and perception. Any man who could prefer Jacquelineto Judith was, in Freke's esteem, wanting in taste; for, after all, heconsidered these things more as matters of taste than anything else.
The dinner was very merry. When the general had told his fifthlong-winded story of his adventures and hair-breadth escapes during thewar, Mrs. Temple, with a glance, shut him up. Freke was in his elementat a dinner-table, and told some ridiculous stories about the straits towhich he had been reduced during his seven years' absence inEurope--"when," as he explained "my laudable desire to acquire knowledgeand virtue threatened to be balked at every moment by my uncle gettingme home. However, I managed to stay." He told with much gravity how hehad been occasionally reduced to his fiddle for means of raising thewind, and had figured in concert programmes as Signor Tempolino, atwhich stories all shouted with laughter except Mrs. Temple and thegeneral--Mrs. Temple sighing, and the general scowling prodigiously.Edmund Morford, who was afraid that laughing was injurious to hisdignity, tried not to smile, but Freke was too comical for him.
Amid all the laughter and jollity and good-cheer, Jacqueline sat,glancing shyly up at Throckmorton once in a while with a look thatNature had endowed her with, and which, had she but known it, was a fullequivalent to a fortune. She had never, in all her simple provinciallife, seen anything like this--endless forks and spoons at the table;queer ways of serving queerer things; an easy-cushioned chair to sit in;no darns or patches in the damask; and the aroma of wealth, an easyincome everywhere. The desire to own all this suddenly took possessionof her. At the moment this dawned upon her mind, she actually started,and, opening her fan in a flutter, she knocked over a wine-glass, whichJack deftly replaced without stopping in his conversation. Then shebegan to study Throckmorton under her eyelashes. He was not so old,after all, and did not have the gout, like her father. And then shecaught his kind eyes fixed on her, and flashed him back a look thatthrilled him. Jack was talking to her, but she managed to convey subtlyto Throckmorton that she was not listening to Jack, which pleased themajor very much, who had heretofore found Jack a dangerous rival in allhis looks and words with Jacqueline.
Freke, telling his funny stories, did not for one moment pretermit hisstudy of the little comedy before him--Jacqueline and Throckmorton andJudith. It was as plain as print to him. Judith, in her black gown,which opened at the throat and showed the white pillar of her neck, andwith half-sleeves that revealed the milky whiteness of her slender arms,sat midway the table, just opposite Jacqueline. Usually Judith's colorwas as delicate as a wild rose, but to-night it was a carnation flush.
"Is Throckmorton a fool?" thought Freke, in the midst of an intervalgiven over to laughter at some of his stories, which were as short andpithy as General Temple's were sapless and long drawn out; forThrockmorton, who did nothing by halves, and was constitutionallyaverse to dawdling, returned Jacqueline's glances with compoundinterest. Before they left the table, two persons had seen the promisingbeginning of the affair, and only two, none of the others having asuspicion. These two were Freke and Judith.
The knowledge came quickly to Judith. Women can live ages of agony in amoment over these things. Judith, smiling, graceful, waving her largeblack fan sedately to and fro, by all odds the handsomest as well as themost gifted woman there, felt something tearing at her heart-strings,that she could have screamed aloud with pain. But even Freke, who saweverything nearly, did not see that; he only surmised it. It was nearlyten o'clock before they went back into the drawing-room. Throckmortongave nobody occasion to say that he devoted himself particularly to anyof the four women who were his guests; but his look, his talk, hismanner to Jacqueline underwent a subtile change; and when he sat andtalked to Judith he thought what a sweet sister she would make, andblessed her for her tenderness to Jacqueline. Judith's color had beengradually fading from the moment she caught Throckmorton's glance atJacqueline. She was now quite pale, and less animated, less interesting,than Throckmorton ever remembered to have seen her. At something he saidto her, she gave an answer so wide of the mark that she felt ashamedand apologized.
"I was thinking of my child at that moment and wondering if he wereasleep," she said.
From the moment of that first meaning glance of Throckmorton's atJacqueline, the evening had spun out interminably to Judith. Mrs. Templenoticed it with secret approval, as a sign of loyalty to her widowhood.
At eleven o'clock a move was made to go, when Throckmorton suddenlyremembered that he had not showed them his modest conservatory, whichappeared quite imposing to their provincial eyes. He took Judith intothe little glass room opening off the hall. It was very hot, very damp,and very close, as such places usually are, and full of a faint, sicklyperfume. Freke followed them in. At last he had got his chance. He beganto talk in his easy, unconstrained way, and in a minute or two had gotthe conversation around to something they had been speaking of the nightof the party at Turkey Thicket.
"You were saying," said Freke, "something about a bad quarter of an houryou had with that old sorrel horse of yours--"
"Well, I should say it was a bad quarter of an hour," answeredThrockmorton. "To be ridden down and knocked off my horse was badenough, with that strapping fellow pinioning my arms to my side so Icouldn't draw my pistol; and old Tartar, perfectly mad
with fright--theonly time I ever knew him to be so demoralized--tearing at the reinsthat wouldn't break and that I couldn't loose my arm from, and everytime I looked up I saw his fore-feet in the air ready to come down onme--"
"And what sort of a looking fellow was it you say that rode you down?"
"A tall, blonde fellow--an officer evidently.--Good God! Mrs. Beverley,what is the matter?" For the color had dropped out of Judith's face asthe mercury drops out of the tube, and she was gazing with wide, wildeyes at Throckmorton. How often had she heard that grewsome story--eventhat the plunging horse was a sorrel! But at least Freke should not seeher break down. She heard herself saying, in a strange, unnatural voice:
"Nothing. I think it is too warm for me in here." Throckmorton took herby the arm and led her back into the hall, and to a small window whichhe opened. He felt like a brute for mentioning anything connected withthe war--of course it must be intensely painful to Judith--but shestopped his earnest apologies with a word.
"Don't blame yourself--pray, don't. It was very warm--and Freke--oh, howI hate him!"
Throckmorton had been afraid she was going to faint, but the energy withwhich she brought out her last remark convinced him there was nodanger. It brought the blood surging back to her face in a torrent.
Nobody else had known anything of the little scene in the conservatory;and then Throckmorton had to show Jacqueline over it, and Judith caughtsight of him, standing in one of his easy and graceful attitudes,leaning over Jacqueline in expressive pantomime; and then came thegeneral's big, musical voice: "My love, it is now past eleven o'clock;we must not trespass on Throckmorton's hospitality." Throckmorton feltat that moment as if the evening had just begun; while to Judith itseemed as if there was a stretch of years of pain between the dawn andthe midnight of that day--a pain secret but consuming.
There was the bustle of departure, during which Judith managed to say toFreke:
"You have had your revenge--perfect but complete."
"That's for calling me a liar," was Freke's reply. It was, moreover, forsomething that Judith had made him suffer--absurd as it was that anywoman could make Temple Freke suffer. But, after what he had seen thatnight, he reflected that it was perhaps a work of supererogation tobuild a barrier between Judith and Throckmorton. The major had otherviews.
Throckmorton handed the ladies into the carriage; and, in spite of thelight from the open hall-door, and _not_ from the carriage-lamps--forthe Barn Elms carriage had long parted with its lamps--he pressed alight kiss on Jacqueline's hand, under General and Mrs. Temple's veryeyes, without their seeing it. Judith, however, saw it, and was thankfulthat it was dark, so that the pallid change, which she knew came overher, was not visible.
Throckmorton went back into the house, shut himself up in his own den,and smoked savagely for an hour. Yes, it was all up with him, heruefully acknowledged.
Throckmorton: A Novel Page 7
