Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  ‘I knew at the time that what I did might cost me your love, and though you won’t believe this, I did it for your sake.’

  ‘I wish I had a whip in my hand that I might slash you across the face.’

  For a moment he did not say anything. She was quivering with indignation and with contempt.

  ‘You see, it has cost me your love,’ he said. ‘I suppose it was inevitable.’

  ‘I am ashamed that I ever loved you.’

  ‘Good-bye.’

  He turned round and walked slowly to the door. He held his head erect, and there was no sign of emotion on his face. But as soon as he was gone Lucy could keep her self-control no longer. She sank into a chair, and hiding her face, began to sob as though her poor tortured heart would break.

  XVIII

  Alec went back to Lancashire next day. Much was still required before the colliery could be put once more in proper order, and he was overwhelmed with work. Lucy was not so fortunate. She had nothing to do but to turn over in her mind the conversation they had had. She passed one sleepless night after another. She felt ill and wretched. She told Lady Kelsey that her engagement with MacKenzie was broken off, but gave no reason; and Lady Kelsey, seeing her white, tortured face, had not the heart to question her. The good lady knew that her niece was desperately unhappy, but she did not know how to help her. Lucy never sought for the sympathy of others and chose rather to bear her troubles alone. The season was drawing to a close, and Lady Kelsey suggested that they should advance by a week or two the date of their departure for the country; but Lucy would do nothing to run away from her suffering.

  ‘I don’t know why you should alter your plans,’ she said quietly.

  Lady Kelsey looked at her compassionately, but did not insist. She felt somehow that Lucy was of different clay from herself, and for all her exquisite gentleness, her equanimity and pleasant temper, she had never been able to get entirely at close quarters with her. She would have given much to see Lucy give way openly to her grief; and her arms would have been open to receive her, if her niece had only flung herself simply into them. But Lucy’s spirit was broken. With the extreme reserve that was part of her nature, she put all her strength into the effort to behave in the world with decency; and dreading any attempt at commiseration, she forced herself to be no less cheerful than usual. The strain was hardly tolerable. She had set all her hopes of happiness upon Alec, and he had failed her. She thought more of her brother and her father than she had done of late, and she mourned for them both as though the loss she had sustained were quite recent. It seemed to her that the only thing now was to prevent herself from thinking of Alec, and with angry determination she changed her thoughts as soon as he came into them.

  Presently something else occurred to her. She felt that she owed some reparation to Bobbie: he had seen the truth at once, and because he had pointed it out to her, as surely it was his duty to do, she had answered him with bitter words. He had shown himself extraordinarily kind, and she had been harsh and cruel. Perhaps he knew that she was no longer engaged to marry Alec MacKenzie, and he must guess the reason; but since the night of the dance he had not been near them. She looked upon what Alec had told her as addressed to her only, and she could not repeat it to all and sundry. When acquaintances had referred to the affair, her manner had shown them quickly that she did not intend to discuss it. But Robert Boulger was different. It seemed necessary, in consideration of all that had passed, that he should be told the little she knew; and then she thought also, seized on a sudden with a desire for self-sacrifice, that it was her duty perhaps to reward him for his long devotion. She might at least try to make him a good wife; and she could explain exactly how she felt towards him. There would be no deceit. Her life had no value now, and if it really meant so much to him to marry her, it was right that she should consent. And there was another thing: it would put an irrevocable barrier between herself and Alec.

  Lady Kelsey was accustomed to ask a few people to luncheon every Tuesday, and Lucy suggested that they should invite Bobbie on one of these occasions. Lady Kelsey was much pleased, for she was fond of her nephew, and it had pained her that she had not seen him. She had sent a line to tell him that Lucy was no longer engaged, but he had not answered. Lucy wrote the invitation herself.

  My Dear Bobbie:

  Aunt Alice will be very glad if you can lunch with us on Tuesday at two. We are asking Dick, Julia Crowley, and Canon Spratte. If you can come, and I hope you will, it would be very kind of you to arrive a good deal earlier than the others; I want to talk to you about something.

  Yours affectionately,

  Lucy.

  He answered at once.

  My Dear Lucy:

  I will come with pleasure. I hope half-past one will suit you.

  Your affectionate cousin,

  Robert Boulger.

  ‘Why haven’t you been to see us?’ she said, holding his hand, when at the appointed time he appeared.

  ‘I thought you didn’t much want to see me.’

  ‘I’m afraid I was very cruel and unkind to you last time you were here,’ she said.

  ‘It doesn’t matter at all,’ he said gently.

  ‘I think I should tell you that I did as you suggested to me. I asked Alec MacKenzie pointblank, and he confessed that he was guilty of George’s death.’

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Bobbie.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, looking up at him with tear-laden eyes.

  ‘Because I know that you were very much in love with him,’ he answered.

  Lucy flushed. But she had much more to say.

  ‘I was very unjust to you on the night of that dance. You were right to speak to me as you did, and I was very foolish. I regret what I said, and I beg you to forgive me.’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Lucy,’ he said warmly. ‘What does it matter what you said? You know I love you.’

  ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such love,’ she said. ‘You make me dreadfully ashamed of myself.’

  He took her hand, and she did not attempt to withdraw it.

  ‘Won’t you change your mind, Lucy?’ he said earnestly.

  ‘Oh, my dear, I don’t love you. I wish I did. But I don’t and I’m afraid I never can.’

  ‘Won’t you marry me all the same?’

  ‘Do you care for me so much as that?’ she cried painfully.

  ‘Perhaps you will learn to love me in time.’

  ‘Don’t be so humble; you make me still more ashamed. Bobbie, I should like to make you happy if I thought I could. It seems very wonderful to me that you should want to have me. But I must be honest with you. I know that if I pretend I’m willing to marry you merely for your sake I’m deceiving myself. I want to marry you because I’m afraid. I want to crush my love for Alec. I want to make it impossible for me ever to weaken in my resolve. You see, I’m horrid and calculating, and it’s very little I can offer you.’

  ‘I don’t care why you’re marrying me,’ he said. ‘I want you so badly.’

  ‘Oh, no, don’t take me like that. Let me say first that if you really think me worth having, I will do my duty gladly. And if I have no love to give, I have a great deal of affection and a great deal of gratitude. I want you to be happy.’

  He went down on his knees and kissed her hands passionately.

  ‘I’m so thankful,’ he murmured. ‘I’m so thankful.’

  Lucy bent down and gently kissed his hair. Two tears rolled heavily down her cheeks.

  Five minutes later Lady Kelsey came in. She was delighted to see that her nephew and her niece were apparently once more on friendly terms; but she had no time to find out what had happened, for Canon Spratte was immediately announced. Lady Kelsey had heard that he was to be offered a vacant bishopric, and she mourned over his disappearance from London. He was a spiritual mentor who exactly suited her, handsome, urbane, attentive notwithstanding her mature age, and well-connected. He was just the man to be a bishop. Then Mrs. Crowl
ey appeared. They waited a little, and presently Dick was announced. He sauntered in jauntily, unaware that he had kept the others waiting a full quarter of an hour; and the party was complete.

  No gathering could be tedious when Canon Spratte was present, and the conversation proceeded merrily. Mrs. Crowley looked ravishing in a summer frock, and since she addressed herself exclusively to the handsome parson it was no wonder that he was in a good humour. She laughed appreciatively at his facile jests and gave him provoking glances of her bright eyes. He did not attempt to conceal from her that he thought American women the most delightful creatures in the world, and she made no secret of her opinion that ecclesiastical dignitaries were often fascinating. They paid one another outrageous compliments. It never struck the good man that these charms and graces were displayed only for the purpose of vexing a gentleman of forty, who was eating his luncheon irritably on the other side of her. She managed to avoid talking to Dick Lomas afterwards, but when she bade Lady Kelsey farewell, he rose also.

  ‘Shall I drive you home?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not going home, but if you like to drive me to Victoria Street, you may. I have an appointment there at four.’

  They went out, stepped into a cab, and quite coolly Dick told the driver to go to Hammersmith. He sat himself down by her side, with a smile of self-satisfaction.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ she cried.

  ‘I want to have a talk to you.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s charming of you,’ she answered, ‘but I shall miss my appointment.’

  ‘That’s a matter of complete indifference to me.’

  ‘Don’t bother about my feelings, will you?’ she replied, satirically.

  ‘I have no intention of doing so,’ he smiled.

  Mrs. Crowley was obliged to laugh at the neatness with which he had entrapped her. Or had he fallen into the trap which she had set for him? She really did not quite know.

  ‘If your object in thus abducting me was to talk, hadn’t you better do so?’ she asked. ‘I hope you will endeavour to be not only amusing but instructive.’

  ‘I wanted to point out to you that it is not civil pointedly to ignore a man who is sitting next to you at luncheon.’

  ‘Did I do that? I’m so sorry. But I know you’re greedy, and I thought you’d be absorbed in the lobster mayonnaise.’

  ‘I’m beginning to think I dislike you rather than otherwise,’ he murmured reflectively.

  ‘Ah, I suppose that is why you haven’t been in to see me for so long.’

  ‘May I venture to remind you that I’ve called upon you three times during the last week.’

  ‘I’ve been out so much lately,’ she answered, with a little wave of her hand.

  ‘Nonsense. Once I heard you playing scales in the drawing-room, and once I positively saw you peeping at me through the curtains.’

  ‘Why didn’t you make a face at me?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re not going to trouble to deny it?’

  ‘It’s perfectly true.’

  Dick could not help giving a little laugh. He didn’t quite know whether he wanted to kiss Julia Crowley or to shake her.

  ‘And may I ask why you’ve treated me in this abominable fashion?’ he asked blandly.

  She looked at him sideways from beneath her long eyelashes. Dick was a man who appreciated the artifices of civilisation in the fair sex, and he was pleased with her pretty hat and with the flounces of her muslin frock.

  ‘Because I chose,’ she smiled.

  He shrugged his shoulders and put on an air of resignation.

  ‘Of course if you’re going to make yourself systematically disagreeable unless I marry you, I suppose I must bow to the inevitable.’

  ‘I don’t know if you have the least idea what you’re talking about,’ she answered, raising her eyebrows. ‘I’m sure I haven’t.’

  ‘I was merely asking you in a rather well-turned phrase to name the day. The lamb shall be ready for the slaughter.’

  ‘Is that a proposal of marriage?’ she asked gaily.

  ‘If not it must be its twin brother,’ he returned.

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve told me, because if I’d met it in the street I should never have recognised it, and I should simply have cut it dead.’

  ‘You show as little inclination to answer a question as a cabinet minister in the House of Commons.’

  ‘Couldn’t you infuse a little romance into it? You see, I’m American, and I have a certain taste for sentiment in affairs of the heart.’

  ‘I should be charmed, only you must remember that I have no experience in these matters.’

  ‘That is visible to the naked eye,’ she retorted. ‘But I would suggest that it is only decent to go down on your bended knees.’

  ‘That sounds a perilous feat to perform in a hansom cab, and it would certainly attract an amount of attention from passing bus-drivers which would be embarrassing.’

  ‘You could never convince me of the sincerity of your passion unless you did something of the kind,’ she replied.

  ‘I assure you that it is quite out of fashion. Lovers now-a-days are much too middle-aged, and their joints are creaky. Besides it ruins the trousers.’

  ‘I admit your last reason is overwhelming. No nice woman should ask a man to make his trousers baggy at the knees.’

  ‘How could she love him if they were!’ exclaimed Dick.

  ‘But at all events there can be no excuse for your not saying that you know you are utterly unworthy of me.’

  ‘Wild horses wouldn’t induce me to make a statement which is so remote from the truth,’ he replied coolly. ‘I did it with my little hatchet.’

  ‘And of course you must threaten to commit suicide if I don’t consent. That is only decent.’

  ‘Women are such sticklers for routine,’ he sighed. ‘They have no originality. They have a passion for commonplace, and in moments of emotion they fly with unerring instinct into the flamboyance of melodrama.’

  ‘I like to hear you use long words. It makes me feel so grown up.’

  ‘By the way, how old are you?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘Twenty-nine,’ she answered promptly.

  ‘Nonsense. There is no such age.’

  ‘Pardon me,’ she protested gravely. ‘Upper parlour maids are always twenty-nine. But I deplore your tendency to digress.’

  ‘Am I digressing? I’m so sorry. What were we talking about?’

  Julia giggled. She did not know where the cab was going, and she certainly did not care. She was thoroughly enjoying herself.

  ‘You were taking advantage of my vast experience in such matters to learn how a man proposes to an eligible widow of great personal attractions.’

  ‘Your advice can’t be very valuable, since you always refused the others.’

  ‘I didn’t indeed,’ she replied promptly. ‘I made a point of accepting them all.’

  ‘That at all events is encouraging.’

  ‘Of course you may do it in your own way if you choose. But I must have a proposal in due form.’

  ‘My intelligence may be limited, but it seems to me that only four words are needed.’ He counted them out deliberately on his fingers. ‘Will — you — marry — me?’

  ‘That is both clear and simple.’ She pressed back the thumb which he had left untouched. ‘I reply in one: no.’

  He looked at her with every sign of astonishment.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.

  ‘You heard quite correctly,’ she smiled. ‘The reply is in the negative.’

  She resisted a mad, but inconvenient, temptation to dance a breakdown on the floor of the hansom.

  ‘You’re joking,’ said Dick calmly. ‘You’re certainly joking.’

  ‘I will be a sister to you.’

  Dick reflected for a moment, and he rubbed his chin.

  ‘The chance will never recur, you know,’ he remarked.

  ‘I will bear the threat that is implied in that w
ith fortitude.’

  He turned round and taking her hand, raised it to his lips.

  ‘I thank you from the bottom of my heart,’ he said earnestly.

  This puzzled her.

  ‘The man’s mad,’ she murmured to a constable who stood on the curb as they passed. ‘The man’s nothing short of a raving lunatic.’

  ‘It is one of my most cherished convictions that a really nice woman is never so cruel as to marry a man she cares for. You have given me proof of esteem which I promise I will never forget.’

  Mrs. Crowley could not help laughing.

  ‘You’re much too flippant to marry anybody, and you’re perfectly odious into the bargain.’

  ‘I will be a brother to you, Mrs. Crowley.’

  He opened the trap and told the cabman to drive back to Victoria Street, but at Hyde Park Corner he suggested that Mrs. Crowley might drop him so that he could take a stroll in the park. When he got out and closed the doors behind him, Julia leaned forward.

  ‘Would you like some letters of introduction before you go?’ she said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘It is evident that unless your soul is dead to all the finer feelings, you will seek to assuage your sorrow by shooting grizzlies in the Rocky Mountains. I thought a few letters to my friends in New York might be useful to you.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s very considerate of you, but I fancy it’s scarcely the proper season. I was thinking of a week in Paris.’

  ‘Then pray send me a dozen pairs of black suède gloves,’ she retorted coolly. ‘Sixes.’

  ‘Is that your last word?’ he asked lightly.

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘I thought you might mean six and a half.’

  He lifted his hat and was gone.

  XIX

  A few days later, Lady Kelsey and Lucy having gone on the river, Julia Crowley went to Court Leys. When she came down to breakfast the day after her arrival, she found waiting for her six pairs of long suède gloves. She examined their size and their quality, smiled with amusement, and felt a little annoyed. She really had every intention of accepting Dick when he proposed to her, and she did not in the least know why she had refused him. The conversation had carried her away in her own despite. She loved a repartee and notwithstanding the consequences could never resist making any that occurred to her. It was very stupid of Dick to take her so seriously, and she was inclined to be cross with him. Of course he had only gone to Paris to tease, and in a week he would be back again. She knew that he was just as much in love with her as she was with him, and it was absurd of him to put on airs. She awaited the post each day impatiently, for she constantly expected a letter from him to say he was coming down to luncheon. She made up her mind about the menu of the pleasant little meal she would set before him, and in imagination rehearsed the scene in which she would at length succumb to his passionate entreaties. It was evidently discreet not to surrender with unbecoming eagerness. But no letter came. A week went by. She began to think that Dick had no sense of humour. A second week passed, and then a third. Perhaps it was because she had nothing to do that Master Dick absorbed a quite unmerited degree of her attention. It was very inconvenient and very absurd. She tormented herself with all sorts of reasons to explain his absence, and once or twice, like the spoiled child she was, she cried. But Mrs. Crowley was a sensible woman and soon made up her mind that if she could not live without the man — though heaven only knew why she wanted him — she had better take steps to secure his presence. It was the end of August now, and she was bored and lonely. She sent him a very untruthful telegram.