Happy-go-lucky

by Ian Hay

  II

  Meanwhile, upstairs, Lady Adela was concluding a stately andwell-balanced harangue. Of her two auditors Mr. Mainwaring appeared tobe paying more attention. He looked supremely unhappy.

  Tilly sat bolt upright on a hard chair, staring straight through LadyAdela at the opposite wall. Occasionally her hand stole to her belt. Itis regrettable to have to add, in the interests of strict veracity, thatthe greater part of Lady Adela's carefully reasoned and studiouslymoderate address was flowing in at one ear and out at the other. Tillyhad no clear idea that she was being spoken to; she was only vaguelyconscious that any one was speaking at all. All her thoughts wereconcentrated on the last page of Dicky's letter--all she had read sofar. She sat quite still, occasionally nodding intelligently to put hervisitors at their ease. Once or twice her lips moved, as if repeatingsome formula.

  "Do not imagine, Miss Welwyn," Lady Adela was saying, "that we are inany way angry or resentful at what has occurred. We are merely grieved,but at the same time _relieved_. So far from wishing you ill inconsequence of this attempt upon your part to--to better yourself, myhusband and I are here to offer to do something for you. You must notthink that we want to be unkind or harsh. This is a difficult andpainful interview for both of us--"

  "For all of us, Miss Welwyn," murmured Mr. Mainwaring.

  "You appreciate that fact, I hope, Miss Welwyn," said Lady Adela in aslightly louder tone; for the girl made no sign.

  Tilly nodded her head absently.

  "He loves me! He loves me!" she murmured to herself. "He loves mestill!"

  Lady Adela ploughed on. She was a kindly woman, and in her heart shefelt sorry for Tilly. Not that this fact assisted her to understandTilly's point of view, or to remember what Dicky had never forgotten,namely, that the girl before her was a lady. She laboured, too, under agrievous disadvantage. Deep feeling was to her a thing unknown. Shehad never thrilled with tremulous rapture. The sighing of a woundedspirit had no meaning for her. Her heart was a well-regulated andrhythmatic organ, and had always beaten in accordance with the laws ofwhat its owner called common sense. It had never fluttered or stoodstill.

  Lady Adela had married her husband because he was rich and she was theyoungest daughter of a great but impoverished house; and after thesingular but ineradicable habit of her sex, she had founded her entireconception of life upon her own experience of it. To her, marriage wasa matter neither of romance nor affinity. It was a contract: a sacredcontract, perhaps,--in her own case it had even been fully choral,--buta mere matter of business for all that. To her, her son's ideal bridewas a well-bred young woman with the same tastes and social circle ashimself, and possibly a little money of her own. It had never occurredto her that Love contained any other elements. Accordingly she ploughedon; trying to be fair; quite prepared to be generous. She offered to"advance" Tilly in life. She talked vaguely of setting her up "in alittle business." She remarked several times that she was anxious to dothe right thing, adding as in duty bound that certain conditions wouldbe attached to any arrangement which might be made, "the nature of whichyou can probably imagine for yourself, my dear." She begged Tilly tothink things over, and assured her that no reasonable request would berefused. Altogether Lady Adela's was a very conciliatory andwell-balanced proposition. Had it been made by an encroaching railwaycompany to a landed proprietor in compensation for compulsory ejectionfrom his property, or by a repentant motorist to an irate henwife, itmight fairly have been regarded as a model of justice and equity. As ascheme for snatching an amiable but weak-minded young man from theclutches of a designing harpy, it erred if anything on the side ofgenerosity. But as a tactful attempt to convey to a young girl theinformation that she could never marry the man she loved, it was a pieceof gross brutality. But Lady Adela did not know this.

  Fortunately Tilly heard little or nothing. Occasionally a stray sentencefocused itself on her mind. "My husband and I communicated our views toour son this morning," was one. "Impart our decision _ourselves_ ...avoid the necessity of a painful interview ... unnecessarycorrespondence," and the like--the disconnected phrases fell upon herears; but throughout it all the girl sat with her head in the clouds,fingering her letter and hugging her secret. Once Lady Adela, in aflight of oratory, half-rose from her seat. Tilly, with a vague hopethat the call was over, put out a hand, which was ignored.

  But the interview came to an end at last; and Lady Adela, conscious of adifficult task adequately and tactfully performed, but secretly troubledby Tilly's continuous apathy, rose to her feet. Tilly mechanicallystood up, too.

  "Good-morning, Miss Welwyn," said Lady Adela, offering her hand. "Wehave to thank you for a patient hearing."

  Tilly smiled politely, shook hands, but said nothing. Mr. Mainwaring,his heart sore for the girl, timidly signalled to his wife to leave herin peace.

  "Do not trouble to show us out," said Lady Adela; and departedimposingly through the door.

  With a long sigh of relief Tilly dropped back into her seat. Suddenlyshe was aware that she was not yet alone. Mr. Mainwaring had lingeredin the room. He came forward now, and took the girl's hand in both ofhis.

  "My dear, my dear!" he said quickly. "I wish you were my daughter. Godgive you a good husband!"

  There was an ominous cough upon the landing outside; and the oldgentleman, recalled to a sense of duty, trotted obediently out of theroom, closing the door behind him.

  Tilly snatched the letter from her belt.

  "He loves me!" she murmured. "He loves me! He loves me still!"

  She was not referring to Mr. Mainwaring senior.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE FINAL FREAK

  Tilly finished writing her letter, signed and addressed it, and leanedback in her chair.

  She had just declined to marry Dicky Mainwaring.

  "That's done, anyhow," she said to herself, with the instinctivecheerfulness of those who are born plucky. "Now I'll go out and post itbefore the Family come home, and then perhaps a little walk roundBloomsbury will give me an appetite for tea." But as Tilly rose brisklyto her feet her eye fell upon the letter from Dicky, lying beside theanswer to it which she had just written. For the tenth time she pickedit up and re-read certain passages.

  _I don't think I ever loved you as I did yesterday afternoon. As Iwatched you fighting that brave, uphill battle of yours in the face ofthe most awful odds--Mother and Sylvia are awfully odd, you know--Isuddenly realised how utterly and entirely I had become part of you--oryou of me, if you like. I was on your side in that plucky,preposterous, transparent little conspiracy from start to finish, andwhen the crash came I think I was harder hit than anybody. The onlycomplaint I have to make is that you did not take me into yourconfidence. I could have put you up to one or two tips which might havemade all the difference--you see, I have known Mother and Sylvia longerthan you have--and we could have enjoyed the fruits of victory together.Still, I forgive you for your obstinacy in trying to put the enterprisethrough single-handed. It was very characteristic of you, and anythingthat is characteristic of you is naturally extra precious to me. Sodon't imagine that yesterday's little interparental unpleasantness isgoing to make any difference to you and me--to You and Me!_

  "To You--and Me!" echoed Tilly softly.

  _... You will probably receive a call from my esteemed parents. Theymean well, but I mistrust their judgment. They will probably intimatethat we must never see one another again, or something of that kind. Iam afraid it is just possible that my dear old mother will offer youcompensation, of a sort. If she does, try to forgive her. She does notunderstand. Not at present, that is. One day she will laugh atherself--which will establish a record--and apologise to you for havingentertained the idea._

  "No, she won't!" observed Tilly at this point.

  _... It seems ridiculous, does n't it, that any one should seriously setout to appeal to you to "ab
andon your demands" upon me? As if thingswere not entirely the other way. It is I who am making demands uponyou, dearest. The idea! To lecture you as if you were some designinglittle adventuress, instead of the most wonderful worker of miraclesthat ever lived--the girl who made bricks without straw--the girl whomade a man of Dicky Mainwaring!_

  _... So do not be afraid with any amazement--do you know where thatquotation comes from?--at anything my mother may say. She will probablypile on the agony a bit about the various kinds of trouble that await acouple who marry out of different social circles, and punk of that kind.She is a dear thing, my old mother, but very feminine. When she wantsto argue about anything she always begins by begging the question.Besides, our love is big enough to square any circle, social orotherwise. So don't you worry, little girl. Leave things to me, and--_

  Tilly read more slowly and yet more slowly, and then stopped readingaltogether. Then she rose slowly to her feet, crossed the room, andstood gazing into the fire. She did not know what begging the questionmeant, but she had other food for reflection. Connie Carmyle was right.When it comes to a pinch, letters are useless things, and being uselessare, more often than not, dangerous.

  On the mantelpiece stood two framed photographs--one of Tilly, the otherof Dicky. The original of the first addressed the second.

  "I wish you had n't put in that last bit, Dicky dear ... '_Abandon mydemands_' ... '_A little adventuress_.' ... That's what I am, when allis said and done. A little adventuress, trying to better herself! LadyAdela is right and we were wrong. What else could you think of me,Dicky, once you married me and found me out--a silly, hysterical, commonlittle chit? ... There's your letter, dear. I dare say I could have gotquite a lot for it in a court of law; but some adventuresses are n't upto sample. They have no spirit."

  Dicky's much-read epistle dropped into the flames, and Tilly turned withsudden briskness from her lover's photograph to her own.

  "As for you, Tilly Welwyn," she observed severely, "just remember thatyou are only an ordinary, hard-working, matter-of-fact little Londonwork-girl. You can put all fancy notions about fairy princes andhappy-ever-after out of your head. You are getting a big girl now, youknow. You must live your life and go your own way; and sometimes--onlysometimes, mind!--when you are feeling downhearted and up against it,I'll allow you to let your thoughts go back to the best man that everwalked; and although you may cry a bit, you will thank God you did notspoil his life by marrying him."

  The doors leading onto the landing creaked, and Amelia peeped cautiouslyin. Tilly started guiltily. None of us like to be caught talking toourselves. The habit savours of exclusiveness--and other things.

  "Tilly dear," said little 'Melia listlessly, "the new lodger has comewith his luggage. Could you give him a hand with it? Everybody is out,and it's rather heavy for me."

  "All right," said Tilly readily. "I'll be down in half a minute."

  Amelia disappeared, leaving the doors open; and Tilly hastily assumed abusiness-like yet hospitable expression, suitable for the welcoming of asecond-floor.

  "One thing more, though, my girl," she remarked sternly, releasing herfeatures for a moment in order to address her own reflection in theovermantle mirror. "Just remember that this will require a real_effort_. It's all very well to feel heroic just now, and talk aboutgiving him up, and living your own life, and so on; but it won't beeasy. You will have to put your back into it. Supposing you meet him inthe street one day? What then? Can you walk past him? You know you areas weak as water where he is concerned. What are you going to do aboutit?"

  Tilly met her own eyes in the glass, and looked very determined. Theeyes in the glass responded by filling with tears. Tilly turned awayimpatiently from this disloyal exhibition.

  "Very well, then," she said. "If you are as weak as that about it, youmust just make up your mind to _avoid_ him--that's all. There's nothingelse for it. You must never see him again.... And I love him so!" sheadded inconsequently.... "Poor Tilly!"

  Little 'Melia appeared in the doorway again.

  "He's bringing up his portmanteau," she announced breathlessly, andvanished.

  Tilly turned towards the door. Laborious steps were audible upon thestaircase, as of one ascending with a heavy load. Presently a man in agreat-coat passed the open doorway. On his left shoulder he carried alarge portmanteau, which hid his face. He passed up the second-floorstaircase and out of sight.

  Tilly, hot and cold by turns, stood shaking in the middle of the floor.

  There was a bump overhead. Then steps descending, slowly. He wascoming back.

  Tilly shut her eyes tight for a full half-minute; then opened them andtottered forward with a cry.

  In the doorway--laughing, joyous, open-armed--stood The Freak.

  "You foolish, foolish Tilly!" he said; and caught her as she fell.

  THE END

  The Riverside Press CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A

  By Ian Hay

  THE FIRST HUNDRED THOUSAND.SCALLY: THE STORY OF A PERFECT GENTLEMAN. With Frontispiece.A KNIGHT ON WHEELS.HAPPY-GO-LUCKY. Illustrated by Charles E. Brock.A SAFETY MATCH. With frontispiece.A MAN'S MAN. With frontispiece.THE RIGHT STUFF. With frontispiece.

  HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK