Comedies of Courtship

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER V

  A SECOND EDITION

  "Don't you think it's an interesting sort of title?" inquired LadyDeane of Mr. Laing.

  Laing was always a little uneasy in her presence. He felt not only thatshe was analyzing him, but that the results of the analysis seemed toher to be a very small residuum, of solid matter. Besides, he had beentold that she had described him as a "commonplace young man," a thingnobody could be expected to like.

  "Capital!" he answered, nervously fingering his eye glass. "TheTransformation of Giles Brockleton! Capital!"

  "I think it will do," said Lady Deane complacently.

  "Er--what was he transformed into, Lady Deane?"

  "A man," replied the lady emphatically.

  "Of course. I see," murmured Laing apologetically, stifling a desire toask what Giles had been before.

  A moment later the author enlightened him.

  "Yes," said she, "into a man, from a useless, mischievous, contemptibleidler, a parasite, Mr. Laing, a creature to whom----"

  "What did it, Lady Deane?" interrupted Laing hastily. He felt somehowas if he were being catalogued.

  "Just a woman's influence."

  Laing's face displayed relief; he felt that he was in his depth again.

  "Oh, got married, you mean? Well, of course, he'd have to pull up abit, wouldn't he? Hang it, I think it's a fellow's duty.

  "You don't quite understand me," observed Lady Deane coldly. "He didnot marry the woman."

  "What, did she give him the--I mean, wouldn't she have him, Lady Deane?"

  "She would have married him; but beside her he saw himself in his truecolors. Knowing what he was, how could he dare? That was hispunishment, and punishment brought transformation."

  As Lady Deane sketched her idea, her eyes kindled and her tone becameanimated. Laing admired both her and her idea, and he expressed hisfeeling's by saying:

  "Remarkable sort of chap, Lady Deane. I shall read it all right, youknow."

  "I think you ought," said she, rising, and leaving him to wonderwhether she had "meant anything."

  He gave himself a little shake, as though to escape from the atmosphereof seriousness which she had diffused about him, and looked round. Alittle way off he saw Dora Bellairs and Charlie Ellerton sitting sideby side. His brow clouded. Before Charlie came it had been hisprivilege to be Miss Bellairs's cavalier, and although he never hoped,nor, to tell the truth, desired more than a temporary favor in hereyes, he did not quite like being ousted.

  "Pretty good for a fellow who's just had the bag!" he remarkedscornfully, referring to Roger Deane's unauthorized revelation.

  It was the day before the exodus to Paris. Dora's period of wearywaiting had worn itself away, and she was acknowledging to Charlie thatthe last two or three days had passed quicker than she had ever thoughtthey could.

  "The first two days I was wretched, the next two gloomy, but these lastalmost peaceful. In spite of--you know what--I think you've done megood on the whole."

  "Don't mention it," said Charlie, flinging his arm over the back of theseat and looking at his companion.

  "And now--in the end," pursued Dora, "I'm actually a little sorry toleave all this; it's so beautiful," and she waved her parasol vaguelyat the hills and the islands, while with the other hand she took offher hat and allowed the breeze to blow through her hair.

  "It is jolly, isn't it?" she asked.

  "I should rather think it was," said Charlie. "The jolliest I've everseen." It was evident that he did not refer to the scenery.

  "Oh, you promised you wouldn't," cried Dora reproachfully.

  "Well, then, I'll promise again," he replied, smiling amiably.

  "What must I think of you, when only a week or so ago----? Oh, andwhat must you think of me to suppose I could? Oh, Mr. Ellerton!"

  "Like to know what I think of you?" inquired Charlie, quite unperturbedby this passionate rebuke.

  "Certainly not," said she, with dignity, and turned away. A momentlater, however, she attacked him again.

  "And you've done nothing," she said indignantly, "but suggest to papainteresting places to stop at on the way, and things he ought to see inParis. Yes, and you actually suggested going home by sea fromMarseilles. And all the time you knew it was vital to me to get home assoon as possible. To me? Yes, and to you _last week_. Shall I tell yousomething, Mr. Ellerton?"

  "Please," said Charlie. "Whisper it in my ear," and he offered his headin fitting proximity.

  "I shouldn't mind who heard," she declared. "I despise you, Mr.Ellerton."

  Charlie was roused to a protest.

  "For downright unfairness give me a girl!" said he. "Here have I takenthe manly course! After a short period of weakness--I admit that--Ihave conquered my feelings; I have determined not to distress MissTravers by intruding upon her; I have overcome the promptings of acowardly despair; I have turned my back resolutely on a past devoid ofhope. I am, after a sore struggle, myself again. And my reward, MissBellairs, is to be told that you despise me. Upon my honor, you'll bedespising Simon Stylites next."

  "And you wrote and told Miss Travers you were coming!"

  "All right. I shall write and toll her I'm not coming. I shall say,Miss Bellairs, that it seems to me to be an undignified thing----"

  "To do what I'm going to do? Thank you, Mr. Ellerton."

  "Oh, I forgot."

  "The irony of it is that you persuaded me to do it yourself."

  "I was a fool; but I didn't know you so well then."

  "What's that got to do with it?"

  "Everything."

  "You didn't know yourself, I'm afraid," she remarked. "You thought youwere a man of some--some depth of feeling, some constancy, a manwhose--whose regard a girl would value, instead of being----"

  "Just a poor devil who worships the ground you tread on."

  Dora laughed scornfully.

  "Second edition!" said she. "The first dedicated to Miss Travers."

  And then Charlie (and it is thing's like these which shake that faithin human nature that we try to cling to) said in a low but quitedistinct voice:

  "Oh, d----n Miss Travers!"

  Dora shot--it almost looked as if something had shot her, as it used,in old days, Miss Zazel--up from her seat.

  "I thought I was talking to a _gentleman_," said she, "I suppose you'lluse that--expression--about me in a week."

  "In a good deal less, if you treat me like this," said Charlie, and hisair was one of hopeless misery.

  We all recollect that Anne ended by being tolerably kind to wicked KingRichard. After all, Charlie had the same excuse.

  "I don't want to be unkind," said Dora more gently.

  "I'll do anything in the world to please you."

  "Then make papa go straight to Paris, and straight on from Paris," saidDora, using her power mercilessly.

  "Oh, I say, I didn't mean that, Miss Bellairs."

  "You said you'd do anything I liked."

  Charlie looked at her thoughtfully.

  "I suppose you've no pity?" he inquired.

  "For you? Not a bit,"

  "You probably don't know how beautiful you are?"

  "Don't be foolish, and--and impertinent."

  She was standing opposite to him. With a sudden motion, he sprangforward, fell on one knee, seized her ungloved hand, covered it withkisses, sprang up, and hastened away, crying as he went:

  "All right. I'll do it."

  Dora stood where he left her. First she looked at her hand, then atCharlie's retreating back, then again at her hand. Her cheek wasflushed and she trembled a little.

  "John never did that," she said, "at least, not without asking. Andeven then, not quite like that."

  She walked on slowly, then stopped and exclaimed:

  "I wonder if he ever did that to Mary Travers."

  And her last reflection was:

  "Poor boy. He must be--oh, dear me!"

  When Charlie reached the tennis-courts, he was, considering the moving
scene through which he had passed, wonderfully calm. In fact he wassmiling and whistling. Espying Sir Roger Deane, he went and sat down byhim.

  "Roger," said he, "I'm going with you and the Bellairs' to-morrow."

  "I know that."

  "Miss Bellairs wants to go straight through to England without stoppinganywhere."

  "She'll have to want, I expect."

  "And I've promised to try and get the General to do what she wants."

  "Have you though?"

  "I suppose, Roger, old fellow--you know you've great influence withhim--I suppose it's no use asking you to say a word to him?"

  "Not a bit."

  "Why?"

  "Because Maud particularly wants him to stay with us in Paris."

  "Oh, of course, if Lady Deane wishes it, I mustn't say a word. She'squite made up her mind about it, has she?"

  "Well, I suppose so."

  "She's strong on it, I mean? Not likely to change?"

  "I think not, Charlie."

  "She'd ask him to stay, as a favor to her?"

  "I shouldn't at all wonder."

  "Oh, well then, my asking him won't make much difference."

  "Frankly, I don't see why it should."

  "Thanks. I only wanted to know. You're not in a hurry, Roger? I mean,you won't ask your wife to go straight on?"

  "No, I shan't, Charlie. I want to stop myself."

  "Thanks, old chap! See you at dinner," and Charlie strolled off with areassured air.

  Sir Roger sat and thought.

  "I see his game," he said to himself at last, "but I'm hanged if I seehers. Why does she want to get back to England? Perhaps if I delay heras much as I can, she'll tell me. Hanged if I don't! Anyhow I'm gladto see old Charlie getting convalescent."

  The next morning the whole party left Cannes by the early train. TheBellairs, the Deanes, and Charlie Ellerton travelled together. Laingannounced his intention of following by the afternoon train.

  "Oh," said Lady Deane, "you'll get to Paris sooner than we do." Doralooked gloomy; so did Charlie, after a momentary, hastily smotheredsmile.

  The porter approached and asked for an address. They told him the GrandHotel, Paris.

  "If anything comes to-day, I'll bring it on," said Laing.

  "Yes, do; we shall have no address before Paris," answered GeneralBellairs.

  They drove off, and Laing, feeling rather solitary, returned to hiscigar. An hour later the waiter brought him two telegrams, one for Doraand one for Charlie, he looked at the addresses.

  "Just too late, by Jove! All right, garcon, I'll take 'em," and hethrust them into the pocket of his flannel jacket. And when, afterlunch, he could not stand the dullness any longer and went to MonteCarlo, he left the telegrams in the discarded flannels, where they laytill--the time when they were discovered. For Mr. Laing clean forgotall about them!