III
The "Jack," whose more distinguished patronymic was so gayly caracollingdown the road to posterity, had arrived, and after dressing hastily,sought his mother. Her hair was done, her gown laced; she dismissed hermaid at once, and while her eyes melted, in the fashion of mothers, sheembraced her son with something more than maternal warmth: a curioussuggestion of relief, of stepping out of her own personality and leavingit like a heap of clothes on the floor. This attitude had occasionallypuzzled her idol, but he was too masculine to analyze. She was his bestfriend and a delightful person to have for a mother; her soul might beher own possession undisturbed. He admired her almost as much as he didhimself, and to-night he kissed her fondly and told her gallantly thatshe was looking even more beautiful than usual.
"It is all this white after the dead black," said Lady Victoria, smilingappreciatively. "I am thankful that prolonged mourning is out of date;it made a fright of me and was getting on my nerves." She wore no jewelssave a high diamond dog-collar and a few sparkling combs in her hair,but she made a superb appearance with the long white sweep of shouldersand bust, her brilliant eyes and smart tailed gown of black chiffon andIrish lace. Her arms, no longer rounded as when artists had fought topaint her, were but half-revealed under floating sleeves, and her fairtapering hands were even younger than her face.
She opened a large black fan and moved it slowly while looking intentlyat her son's bent profile. "Something has gone wrong," she said. "Haveyou seen Julia Kaye again?"
"No, I was invited to Maundrell Abbey last week, but couldn't manage it,of course. And I knew she was to be here. Nothing has gone wrong--but Ihad rather a shock this morning. I met Zeal at the club. He looks like adeath's head. He vowed he was taking even better care of himself thanusual, but his chest is bad again. He talked about going to Davos--thevery word makes me sick! In the next breath he said he might go out toAfrica. Can't you hurry on his marriage?--persuade Carry that it is herduty to go with him?"
"I should have no difficulty persuading Carry. The rub is with him.Compulsory asceticism has bred misogyny, and misogyny scruples. He saysthat he has sins enough to his account without laying up a reckoningwith posterity. If it were not for you I should agree with him. I feellike a conspirator--"
"There is no reason why his children should be consumptive. Carry'sphysique is Wagnerian, and she is just the woman to look after herchildren herself. Zeal's health was thrown to the dogs by a weakindulgent frivolous mother, and what she left him he disposed of laterwhen he made as great an ass of himself as might have been expected. Heis a hypochondriac now and would keep a close watch on his heir's healthand habits; you may be sure of that. He ought not to be in Londonnow--it is stifling--went up for some business meeting or other--seemedto wish to avoid details. I hope to heaven he has not been relieving themonotony of his life by some rotten speculation. I begged him to comedown here, but he wouldn't--says that his hand is no longer steadyenough to hold a gun--it's awful!--worse because I'm not merely fond ofhim and regretting the possible loss of a good friend--I have felt likea beast all day. But I can't help it. For God's sake write and persuadehim to go to Davos at once--and picture the delights of a pretty anddevoted nurse. I feel as if I had ashes in my mouth--and yesterday I wasso happy!" he burst out, with the petulance of a child.
"I will write to-night," she said, soothingly. "He has a very slow formof consumption; I have the assurance of his doctors. And at least he hascommitted himself with Carry, and announced his intention to marry assoon as a sojourn somewhere has made him feel fit again. You know howmuch better he always is when he comes back. Put it out of your mindto-night. I want you to be as happy as I am. Everybody is talking of thebrilliance of your campaign--"
"Much good brilliance will do me if I am to rot in the Upper House!"
"Put it out of your mind; don't let apprehension control you for amoment. Believe me, will-power counts in life for more than everythingelse combined, and if it isn't watched it weakens."
"All right, mummy. You are never so original as when you preach. SoJulia Kaye came down this afternoon? Talk about will. Mine should be ofpure steel; I have ordered her out of my consciousness these last weeksat the point of the bayonet. She has written me exactly three times.However--those letters were charming," he added, with the sudden smilethat transfigured his face, routing the overbearing and contemptuousexpression that had won him so many enemies; friends and flatterers andthe happy circumstances of his life had combined thoroughly to spoilhim. "Do you maintain that will can win a woman?" he added, sharply.
She was the woman to laugh outright at such a suggestion. "No, nor thatit can uproot love, although it can give it a good shaking and lock itin the dark room. I doubt if you love Julia Kaye, but you will find thatout for yourself. You might bring her to terms by flirting a little withyour American cousin--"
"My what?" He opened his eyes as widely as he had ever done when aschool-boy.
"Of course--I forgot you know nothing of her. She wrote me fromAmbleside--I infer she has been 'doing' England; and as her credentialswere unimpeachable I asked her down. She has inherited a part of thenorthern estate and was brought up in the neighboring town ofRosewater--the American names are too silly. She seems quite _comme ilfaut_ and is remarkably handsome. I detest Americans, as you know, butthere certainly is something in blood. I liked her at once. She looksclever, and is quite off the type--none of the usual fluff. If shedoesn't bore me I shall keep her here for a while."
"I wish you would adopt her," he said, fondly. "I shouldn't be jealous,for I hate to think of you so much alone." He rose and kissed herlightly on the forehead, experience teaching him to avoid a stray hairfrom the carefully built coiffure. "I'll see if I can waylay Julia onthe stairs; she is always late. Keep from eleven to twelve for meto-morrow morning. I want to tell you about the campaign. It was aglorious fight!" His eyes sparkled at the memory of it. "I felt as ifevery bit of me had never been alive at once before. My opponent was asplendid chap. It meant something to beat him. The other side was in arage!--more than once yelled for half an hour after I took the platform.When I finished they yelled again for half an hour--to a differenttune." His slight, thin, rather graceless figure seemed suddenly toexpand, even to grow taller. Some hidden magnetism burst from him likean aura, and his cold pasty face and light gray eyes flamed intopositive beauty. "It was glorious! Glorious! I was intoxicated--I couldhave reeled, little as they suspected it. I wouldn't part for a secondwith the certainty that I am the biggest figure in young England to-day.I hate to sleep and forget it. If I cultivated modesty I should renounceone of the exquisite pleasures of life. Humility is a superstition. Theman who doesn't weed it out is an ass. To be young, well-born, withmoney enough, a brain instead of a mere intelligence, an essentialleader of men--Good God! Good God!" Then he subsided and blushed, jerkedup his shoulders and laughed. "Well--I never let myself go to any onebut you," he said. "And I won't inflict _you_ any longer."
Ancestors: A Novel Page 3
