CHAPTER III
MR. ELY ARRIVES
Miss Truscott was evidently not in the pleasantest frame of mind. Itwas unfortunate, for she was the kind of maid one feels instinctivelyought always to be in a pleasant frame of mind. Tall, slender, withgreat, big eyes, sunny hair, and the sweetest smile. The latter,however, was conspicuous by its absence, as she sat at thebreakfast-table with an open letter in her hand.
She was at breakfast with her aunt. Mrs. Clive was a precise old lady,who always indoors wore lace cuffs and collar, and the neatest ofcaps. It was a peculiarity of hers that she was never known to beanything but cool and self-possessed. Sometimes her niece was neither.Then it increased the young lady's sense of aggravation to observe howher aunt's demeanour contrasted with her own--as, for instance, it didnow.
"You don't seem to be in the least surprised or annoyed or hurt. Youquite take it for granted that I should be insulted."
Mrs. Clive considered for a moment before she answered. She sat boltupright, her hands in her lap, the model of decorum.
"My dear Lily, the younger generation is impetuous."
Miss Truscott sighed. To be called impetuous under the circumstancesof the case seemed almost more than she could bear.
"I write to my guardian on the whole four sides of a sheet of paper totell him that I must get away from this dreadful place or I shall die,and this is the answer he sends."
She spread the letter out before her on the table and read it aloud,with comments by the way.
"'My dear Lily' (yes, dear at any price, I know), 'I have read yourcharming letter with the greatest interest.' (Did anybody ever hearthe like of that? He read my charming letter with the greatestinterest, when I wrote to tell him that I quite believed that I shoulddie!) 'You are indeed a mistress of the epistolary art.' (That is apretty compliment to pay when you write and tell a person that life isnot worth living!) 'The account which you give of the doings of yourneighbours is most entertaining.' (Now I never mentioned a single wordabout anything but the state of my mind!) 'It is with the greatestpleasure that I hear of your continuance in good health.' (When thewhole letter was written to tell him that I was nearly dead!) 'I amglad to hear, too, that your aunt, Mrs. Clive, is still in theenjoyment of nature's greatest blessing.' (What nature's greatestblessing is I don't know, but I am sure I never even breathed yourname.) 'Pray convey to her my compliments.' (With pleasure, aunt!) 'Ienvy you your sojourn amidst summer's scenic splendours.' (That iswhat he says, and I actually told him that I was convinced that if Istayed any longer amidst what he calls 'summer's scenic splendours' Ishould just go raving mad!) 'Tied as I am to the Juggernaut ofcommerce, I can, however, but look and long.' Now did you--did youever hear anything like that? And yet you say the younger generationis impetuous! I should just like to have my affectionate guardianhere; I'd let him know what the Juggernaut really was!"
The young lady seemed a little excited, but the elder one was stillquite calm.
"You have forgotten the postscript, my dear."
"Forgotten the postscript! Oh, aunty, don't I wish I could!' By theway, a friend of yours, Mr. Frederic Ely, will be with you to-morrowmorning, perhaps almost as soon as you get this.' Perhaps the wretchis actually on the doorstep now!"
"Lily, Lily! How can you talk like that!"
"So he is a wretch! But never mind, it's all the same to me. 'He is agentleman for whose character I have the greatest respect. He will askmy dear Lily a question in which both he and I are deeply interested.I earnestly trust that my dear Lily's heart will answer Yes.' Talkabout a woman's postscript! Mr. Ash puts nothing in his letter, andthe whole library of the British Museum in his P.S.! Well, aunty, whatdo you think of that?"
"I congratulate you, my dear, on the near approach of your settlementin life."
Miss Truscott gave a little shriek, and then was dumb. She glared ather aunt as though she could believe neither her eyes or ears. Mrs.Clive went placidly on.
"It is indeed gratifying to learn that Mr. Ash has made his choice."
"Who has made his choice?" asked Miss Truscott between her littleteeth.
"One for whose character he has the greatest respect. Such wordscoming from Mr. Ash are satisfactory in the extreme. You are indeedfortunate in possessing a guardian who has your interests so entirelyat heart."
"What are you talking about?" asked Miss Truscott. "Do you think Ishall marry this man?"
"Lily!" exclaimed Mrs. Give. "You have such a singular way ofexpressing yourself. But perhaps"--the old lady smoothed hergown--"perhaps you are a little surprised."
Miss Truscott gave a sort of gasp.
"I am," she said. "I am a little surprised!"
"I suppose we are all when our turns come. I remember in my young dayswhen my dear mother told me that I was to marry Mr. Clive."
"Told you you were to marry Mr. Clive?"
"Yes, my dear. And I remember quite well how bewildered I was atfirst."
"Didn't you love him, then?"
"My dear, how can you ask me such a question! We were comparativestrangers. I had only been acquainted with him about three months."
"Three months! Good gracious! Why, I thought three minutes was longenough to fall in love!"
"Lily, I am amazed to hear you talk so flippantly! It is plain that itis quite time that you had more settled views of life. Among the newresponsibilities on which you are now about to enter I trust that youwill learn the solemnity of woman's position in the world, and thedeference which she owes to the married state."
Miss Truscott laughed. Her laughter was of rather an hysterical kind,as though it were near akin to tears. But Mrs. Clive was shocked. Sheregarded Miss Truscott with what she intended to be considered assevere disapprobation. Then, with her most stately air, she rose andleft the room. Pausing at the door, however, she delivered herself ofa final expression of her opinion.
"Lily, I am disappointed in you. I can only hope that Mr. Ely will nothave cause to be disappointed too."
When Miss Truscott was left alone she sat quite still, looking intovacancy. The smile about the corners of her mouth was hardly up to itsusual character for sweetness. There was a glitter in her eyes whichgave them quite a new expression. Suddenly she leaned her face uponher hands and shivered. It could hardly have been with cold, for thesun was shining and the day was warm. Then she got up, and beganpacing restlessly about the room.
"Is it a dream? Is it a dream?" Her hands were clasped with a sort ofhysteric energy.
"What does it matter! He has forgotten me! What fools we women are!"She took out a locket which was hidden in the bosom of her dress, andgazed upon the face which it contained.
"Willy!"--how softly she breathed the name--"twelve months since youtold me that story with your eyes--twelve months ago! Where have youbeen this weary time! I suppose it was an incident with you. I haveheard those sort of things are incidents with men. What a fool I wasto take it seriously! What fools we women are! I ought to have knownthat it was the fashion with Mr. Summers to love and ride away."
She stood gazing at the portrait. All at once something angeredher--some recollection, perhaps, of long ago. She snapped the slenderchain to which it was attached, and flung the locket on the floor. Asif not content with this degradation of her treasure, she placed herlittle foot upon it and crushed it beneath her heel.
"What fools we women are!"
For a moment she looked upon the ruins she had wrought. The prettylittle locket was crushed all out of shape. Then came penitence, andstooping down with streaming eyes she picked the broken locket up andpressed it to her lips; and, still upon her knees, flinging herselfface downwards on to the seat of a great arm-chair, she cried asthough her heart would break.
"I didn't mean to do it, Willy, I didn't mean to do it; but it's allthe same, it doesn't matter whom I marry now!"
She was only a girl: and it is a charming characteristic of the bettersort of girls that they will do foolis
h things at times.
But there was very little of the girl about her when Mr. Ely came; shewas the stateliest of young ladies then. The air of having just comeout of a bandbox was more apparent about Mr. Ely in the country eventhan in town. He was one of those very few men who are never seen outof a frock-coat. Throgmorton Street or a Devonshire lane it was thesame to him. Wherever he was his attire remained unaltered. But itmust be allowed that he was conscious that things were notcompatible--patent shoes, top-hat, frock-coat, and a Devonshire lane.So from the Devonshire lane he religiously stayed away. He did hisruralising in centres of fashion where his frock-coat was in place,and not in the equivalents of the Devonshire lane. He was not affectedby the modern craze for the country side. He objected to it strongly:a fact which he made plain as soon as he appeared on the scene.
Mrs. Clive received him. She began the conversation on what she fondlyconceived were the usual lines.
"How glad you must be to get into the country. It must be such achange from town."
"Change! I should think it is a change! Beastly change, by George!"
Mrs. Clive was a little shocked. The adverb did not fall sweetly onher ear. But Mr. Ely went glibly on. He had a grievance which hewished to air.
"Why they don't have decent cabs at the station I don't know. If therewas a live man in the place he'd put some hansoms on the road. Fly,they called the thing I came up in! Fly! I should like to know what'sthe aboriginal definition of 'to crawl'! And dusty! I left my markupon that seat, and that seat left its mark on me. I feel like aregular dustman--upon my word I do."
Miss Truscott made her first appearance at the luncheon-table. Themeal was not an entire success. This was partly owing to the fact thatMiss Trustcott seemed to have gone back into the glacial orprehistoric period, and partly because Mr. Ely still had his grievanceon his mind. Mrs. Clive did her best to entertain the company, but inspite of her meritorious efforts the conversation languished.
"And how are things in the City?" She felt that this was the sort ofquestion she ought to ask.
"All over the shop!"
Mrs. Clive started. She felt that the answer was not so explanatory asit might have been. Still she bravely persevered.
"Dear me! I suppose that commercial matters are affected by theseasons." She thought that this sort of remark would go home to thecommercial mind.
"Eh? Oh, yes; rather! I should think they were! In fine weathertraffics go up all round. Noras have gone up one, Doras oneseven-eighths, Trunks are flat: there's a rig-out there and rates arepooled, but this side bulls are in the right hole pretty near allalong the line. Bertha's about the only one got stuck."
Mrs. Clive was speechless. She looked at Miss Truscott with imploringeyes. But that young lady was tranquilly engaged with the contents ofher plate.
"Poor girl!"
It was a study to see Mr. Ely's face when the old lady made thisinnocent remark.
"I beg your pardon! What did you say?"
"I said, poor girl! I hope she has done nothing wrong."
"Who's done nothing wrong?"
"The young lady you mentioned. Miss Bertha, I think you said. I am notacquainted with her surname."
Mr. Ely was silent. He was not a man gifted with a keen sense ofhumour, and was not at all clear in his own mind that the old lady wasnot amusing herself at his expense. Mrs. Clive, conscious thatsomething was wrong, went painfully plodding on.
"I trust, Mr. Ely, that I have not, unintentionally, said something tohurt your feelings. Is the young lady a friend of yours?"
"What young lady?"
Mr. Ely placed his knife and fork together, with a little clatter, onhis plate. Was she at it again? This was more than a man could stand.
"Miss Bertha--the young lady you mentioned."
"Bertha's not a lady."
"Not a lady! Dear me! One of the lower classes! I perceive! Now Iunderstand. Ah, I'm afraid that from them anything may be expectednowadays."
Mr. Ely turned pink, not with suppressed mirth, but with what was verymuch like rage. For some moments an unprejudiced spectator might havedebated in his own mind as to whether he was not about to be profane.But if it were so, he conquered his impious tendency, and adoptedanother line of conduct instead. He rose from his seat. "If you willallow me, I'll go outside for a change of air"; and without waitingfor the required permission he marched through the French window outon to the lawn. The old lady turned to her niece--
"My dear Lily, what have I said or done?"
"My dear aunt, I believe that Bertha, in the slang of the StockExchange, signifies the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway. Isuspect that Mr. Ely imagines that you have been amusing yourself athis expense."
Mrs. Clive was aghast.
"Go to him, Lily. Don't leave him alone in his present state of mind.He might return at once to town!"
Miss Truscott rose with her most tranquil air.
"We might survive his departure if he did."
But her aunt was shocked.
"Lily, it pains me to hear such language from your lips. You are nowapproaching one of the most solemn moments of your life. Rise to theoccasion, child, and show that, although still a child in years, youhave within you the wherewithal with which to make a woman in goodtime."
Miss Truscott looked as if she could have said something if she would,but she refrained. She left the room without a word.
The Woman with One Hand, and Mr. Ely's Engagement Page 14
