Coelebs: The Love Story of a Bachelor
Page 25
didn't happen to tell you, I suppose, as he did me when wefirst met, with an air of weary resignation to the obligation of hisprofession, that he had to marry because unmarried medical men were at adisadvantage?"
Sophy looked amused.
"I don't think if he had I should have placed undue importance on that,"she replied.
"Perhaps not, since you have no intention to assist him in hisdifficulty. But imagine what a complacent reflection it will be for hiswife when she realises that she owes the honour of the bestowal of hisname upon her to the accident which made him a doctor, and to thesuper-sensitiveness of the feminine portion of his practice."
"And because of that unfortunate remark of his," Sophy observed with anair of reproach, "you intend to snub him badly one day."
"Snubbing," Peggy returned, "is a wholesome corrective for conceitedmen."
"I don't think he is nearly so conceited," Sophy contended, "as thepompous person you delight in encouraging to make a fool of himself."
It was significant that although no mention was made of Mr Musgrave'sname, although her sister's description was so little accurate as to be,in Peggy's opinion, a libel, she nevertheless had no difficulty inrecognising to whom Sophy thus unflatteringly alluded. For a moment shedid not answer, having no answer ready, which was unusual. She metSophy's steadfast eye with a slightly deprecating look, as though sheacknowledged reluctantly the justice of the rebuke to herself containedin the other's speech. Then she laughed. There was a quality ofmischief in the satisfied ring of the laugh, a captivatinginfectiousness in its quiet enjoyment. Sophy laughed with her.
"It's too bad of you, Peggy," she protested.
"You have not, for all your shrewdness," observed Peggy deliberately,"gauged Mr Musgrave's character correctly. He couldn't make a fool ofhimself, because he has no foolish impulses. He is the antithesis of aconceited person. He is a simple, kindly soul, with a number of falseideas of life, and a few ready-made beliefs which he is too conservativeto correct or individualise. Aunt Ruby is bent on modernising him; butto modernise John Musgrave would be like pulling down a Norman tower andreconstructing on its foundation a factory-chimney of red brick. Iprefer Norman towers myself, though they may have less commercialvalue."
"You don't mean," said Sophy, opening her eyes very wide, "that you likeJohn Musgrave?"
"As for that," returned Peggy provokingly, "he is, I think, a verylikeable person. I believe," she added, with another quiet laugh, "thathe entertains a similar opinion of me."
"Does he know you smoke?" inquired Sophy with sarcasm.
"He does. He has attempted unsuccessfully to check the habit."
Sophy appeared to find this amusing. Her merriment had the effect ofmaking Peggy serious again.
"I think being in love is transforming you into a sentimental goose,"she remarked with some severity. "It is plain that you consider everyone must be suffering from the same, idiotic complaint. It will be arelief when you are married. That is the surest cure for sentiment thathas been discovered up to the present."
Sophy threw the end of her cigarette in the fire and started to brushher hair.
"On the next occasion when I visit the Hall," she observed maliciously,"I anticipate there will be no smoking allowed in your bedroom."
"It is a vile practice in anyone's bedroom," Peggy returned amiably.
"Besides," added Sophy with a laugh, "it is so unwomanly."
Mr Musgrave also was engaging in his after-dance reflections as heprepared for bed in a room in which there burned no comforting fire. Hehad taken the rose from his pocket on removing his dress-coat becausehis man when he brushed the coat in the morning was very likely to gothrough his pockets, and Mr Musgrave had no wish for him to discoveranything so altogether foreign to a gentleman's effects in hispossession. He placed the rose on his dressing-table, and was soembarrassed at the sight of this incongruous object among hishair-brushes, and other manly accessories of the toilet, that he wasunable to proceed with his undressing for staring at the thing. Odd howdisconcerting a trifle such as an artificial rose can become adrift fromits natural environment. Seen in the front of Peggy's dress the effecthad been simply pleasing; seen in his own bedroom the flimsy thing ofdyed silk became a symbol--a significant, sentient thing, inexplicablyand closely associated with its late wearer. It was as though inlooking at it he looked at Peggy Annersley; looked at her as in amirror, darkly, from which her smiling face, looked back at him.
Perplexed and immeasurably disconcerted, he stared about him, searchingfor some safe place in which to secrete the thing. Finally he took itup, unlocked a drawer in a writing-table before the window, andhurriedly, and with a guilty sense of acting in a manner unusual, if notabsolutely foolish, he thrust the rose out of sight in the farthestcorner of the drawer, where it came in contact with another frivolousfeminine article; to which article also, besides its natural scent ofkid, clung the same subtle, elusive fragrance of violets which clungabout the silken petals of the rose; which clung, as a matter of fact,about everything that Peggy wore.
Mr Musgrave shut the drawer hurriedly and locked it, and threw thebunch of keys on the dressing-table where he could not fail to see themwhen dressing in the morning, and be reminded by the sight of them totransfer them to his pocket. The drawer in the writing-table was therepository for the few and very innocent secrets which John Musgravejealously guarded from all eyes but his own.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
A few days after the dance at the Hall Doctor Fairbridge motored outfrom Rushleigh to pay a call upon Mrs Chadwick. Nominally the call wasupon Mrs Chadwick; the object of his visit, however, was to see herniece. It was an object shared by so many that his chance of gettingPeggy alone seemed very uncertain. It would appear as though every onewere bent on frustrating his attempts to draw her aside from the rest;as though Peggy herself abetted them in their unkind design.
There were staying in the house a number of young people of both sexes.It seemed to Doctor Fairbridge that many of the girls were quite amiableand charming; nevertheless, the majority of the men evinced apredilection for Peggy's society, which predilection, since he shared init, he might better have understood.
When a man has made up his mind that he wants to marry; when, moreover,he is equally decided in his selection of his future wife, there is onthe face of it no reason for delay. Doctor Fairbridge was fullydetermined on both points; he was also conscious of the danger of delayin the case of a girl so popular as Peggy; therefore he decided to presshis suit on the first opportunity, and he hoped the opportunity wouldpresent itself that afternoon. Since it showed no likelihood ofoffering itself, since Peggy betrayed no readiness to assist him,desperation emboldened him to ask her to go with him into theconservatory for a few minutes' private talk.
"Oh!" murmured Peggy, changing colour, "that sounds so dreadfullymysterious."
She accompanied him, nevertheless. Mrs Chadwick, looking after them asthey passed through the glass doors and stepped into the moist andenervating atmosphere of the fernery, which led out from the longdrawing-room, looked anxious. She was so certain as to what DoctorFairbridge intended saying, and so uncertain what Peggy would say inresponse, that she felt strongly tempted to propose a general move inthe same direction. But for the conviction that putting off theinevitable is not to put an end to it, she would have proposed this;instead she diverted the general attention by starting one of herinimitable anecdotes; and in the uproarious laughter which greeted thestory the retreat of Peggy and her cavalier was successfully covered.
The sound of the merriment penetrated to the fernery, and brought asmile of sympathy to Peggy's lips. She looked for some response at hercompanion, but Doctor Fairbridge was so extraordinarily grave that thebrightness faded from Peggy's face and left her serious too, and alittle embarrassed by the silence which fell between them, which heappeared unequal to break. She started to talk in a professional mannerabout the ferns; but Doctor Fairbridge had no intention of wasting histime
on horticultural matters, and he plunged forthwith into the subjecthe had so keenly at heart. A little halting in his speech, and lessassured in manner than when he had solicited the interview, he stoodbefore Peggy, and looked earnestly into the wilful grey eyes, which atthe moment were serious enough.
"Miss Annersley," he began--and finding this address too formal for theoccasion, hastily substituted her Christian name--"Peggy, I think youcan't be altogether unprepared for what I am about to say. You mustknow by now how things are with me. I love you. I have loved you eversince I first met you."
He spoke as though the meeting had taken place years before instead oftwo months ago.
"Tell me," he added, with eager