CHAPTER XIV
DIFFERENT VIEWS
The Lodgings at King's were built at a period when the college demandedthat its Warden should be a bachelor and a divine, and it containedneither morning-room nor boudoir. The Warden's breakfast-room was usedby Lady Dashwood for both purposes.
It was not such an inconvenient arrangement, because the Warden, as thewar advanced, had reduced his breakfast till it was now little more thanthe continental "petit dejeuner," and it could be as rapidly removed asit was brought in.
The breakfast-room was a small room and had no academic dignity, it waswhat Mrs. Robinson called "cosy." It was badly lighted by one window,and that barred, looking into the quadrangle. The walls were wainscoted.One or two pictures brightened it, landscapes in water-colour that hadbeen bought by the Warden long ago for his rooms when he was a collegetutor.
At the breakfast table on the morning following Gwendolen's briefinterview with the Barber's ghost, her place was empty.
No one remarked on her absence. The Warden came in as if nothing hadhappened on the previous night. He did not even ask the ladies how theyhad slept, or if they had slept. He appeared to have forgotten all aboutlast night, and he seated himself at the table and began opening hisletters.
Mrs. Dashwood gave him one furtive glance when he came in and respondedto his salutation. Then she also sat in silence and looked over herletters. She was making a great effort not to mind what happened to her,not to feel that outside these few rooms in a corner of an ancientcollege, all the world stretched like a wilderness. And this effort madeher face a little wan in the morning light.
Lady Dashwood poured out the coffee with a hand that was not quite assteady as usual, but she, too, made no reference to the events of lastnight. Nobody, of course, had slept but Gwendolen, and Gwendolen hadawakened from her sleep fresh and rosy.
It was only after several minutes had passed that Lady Dashwood remarkedacross the table to the Warden--
"I have kept Gwendolen in bed for breakfast, not because she is ill, sheis perfectly well, but because I want her to be alone, and to understandthat she has completely got over her little hysterical fit and issensible again."
The Warden looked up and then down again at his letters and said, "Yes!"
Lady Dashwood went on with her breakfast. She evidently did not expectany discussion. She had merely wished to make some reference to theoccurrence of last night in such a way as not to reopen the subject, butto close the subject--for ever.
"Is it your club morning?" asked the Warden, as he looked over hisletters.
"Yes," said Lady Dashwood.
"I'll come and help you to cut out," said May. "I'm an old hand."
"Why should you come?" said Lady Dashwood. "This is your holiday, andit's short enough."
She thought that the Warden noted the words, "short enough."
"I shall come," said May, and glancing at her aunt as she spoke, she nowfancied her grown a little thinner in the face since last night onlythat it was impossible. The lines in the face were accentuated by wantof sleep, it was that that made her face look thinner.
"I shall take Gwen," said Lady Dashwood. "She can hand us scissors andpins, and can pick up the bits." She spoke quite boldly and quietly ofGwendolen, and met May's eye without a flicker. "Our plan, May, is toget these young mothers and teach them at least how to make and mendtheir clothes. It isn't war work. It's 'after the war' work. Those youngmothers who have done factory work, know nothing about anything. We mustget something into their noddles. Two or three ladies will be there thismorning, and we shall get all the work ready for the next clubmeeting--mothers and babies. Babies are entertained in a separate room.We have tea and one half-hour's reading; the rest of the time gossip.Oh, how they do talk!"
"How much do you expect to get from the Sale of work to-day for yourclub?" asked May, avoiding the Warden's eye when he put out his hand toher for the cup of coffee that she was passing him.
"Not very much," said Lady Dashwood, "but enough, I hope."
A moment later and Lady Dashwood was opening her letters.
"Mr. Boreham," she remarked suddenly, "is bringing Mrs. Potten in to theSale. He is the last person I should expect to meet at a Sale of work inaid of a mother's club."
The Warden raised his eyes and apparently addressed the coffee-potacross the table.
"Boreham is usually suspicious of anything that is organised by what hecalls 'respectable people.'" Then he looked round at May Dashwood forthe first time. The reason why Boreham was going to drive Mrs. Potten into the Sale of work was obvious both to him and to Lady Dashwood. Maydid not meet the Warden's eye, though she was tinglingly conscious thatthey rested on her face.
"I object," she said, imitating Boreham's voice, "not only to therespectable members of the British public, but to the British public ingeneral. I am irritated with and express my animosity to the peoplearound me with frankness and courage. But I have no inimical feelingstowards people whom I have never met. Them I respect and love. Theirinstitutions, of which I know nothing, I honour."
The Warden's lips parted with a smile, as if the smile was wrung fromhim, but May did not smile. She was still making her effort, and waslooking down into her plate, her eyebrows very much raised, as if shewas contemplating there the portrait of somebody with compassionateinterest.
Lady Dashwood saw the Warden's smile, and saw him lean forward to lookat the downcast face of May, as if to note every detail of it.
Well into the early morning Lady Dashwood had lain awake thinking, andlistening mechanically to the gentle breathing of the girl beside her,and thinking--thinking of May's strange exhibition of emotion. WasMay----? No--that made things worse than ever--that made the irony ofher brother's fate more acute! That was a tragic thought! But it wasjust this tragic thought that made Lady Dashwood now at the breakfasttable observe with a subtle keenness of observation and yet withoutseeming to observe, or even to look. She sat there, absorbing May,absorbing the Warden, measuring them, weighing them while she tried toeat a piece of toast, biting it up as if she had pledged herself toreduce it to the minutest fragments.
"Perhaps I'm not fair to Mr. Boreham," said May, shaking her head. "ButI am an ignoramus. How can one," she said smiling, but keeping hereyelids still downcast, "how can one combine the bathing of babies andfeeding them, the dressing and undressing of them, the putting them tobed and getting them up again, with any culture (spelt with a 'c'). Iget only a short and rather tired hour of leisure in the evening inwhich to read?"
"You do combine them," he said, still bending towards her with the sametense look. "Only one woman in a thousand would."
The colour had slightly risen in May's face, and now it died away, forshe was aware that no sooner were the last words spoken than the Wardenseemed to regret them. At least he stiffened himself and looked awayfrom her, stared at nothing in particular and then put out his hand totake a piece of toast, making that simple action seem as if it were aprotest of resolute indifference to her.
May felt as if his hand had struck her. She had partly succeeded in hereffort and she had refused to glance at him. But she had not succeededin thinking of something else, and now this simple movement of his handmade thoughts of him burn in her brain. Why did this man, with all hiserudition, with his distinction, with all his force of character, hiswide sympathies and his curious influence over others, why did this manwith all his talk (and this she said bitterly) about life and death--andyes--about eternity, why did he bind himself hand and foot to a selfishand shallow girl? He who talked of life and of death, could he not standthe test of life himself?
The Warden rose from the table the moment that he had finished andlooked at his sister. She had put her letters aside and appeared to havefallen into a heavy preoccupation with her own thoughts.
"Can I see you--afterwards--for a moment in the library, Lena?" heasked.
Lady Dashwood's tired face flushed.
"I will come very soon," she said, and she pushed
her chair back alittle, as if to cover her embarrassment, and looked at her niece."May," she said, in a voice that did not quite conceal her trouble, "weought to start at a quarter to ten. That will give us two clear hoursfor our work."
May bent her head in assent. Neither of them was thinking of the Club.They could hear the Warden close the door behind him. Then Lady Dashwoodrose and casting a silent look at May, went out of the room.
In the library a fitful sunshine was coming and going from a cloudedsky. The curtains were drawn back and there seemed nothing in the roomthat could have justified even a hysterical girl in imagining a ghost.The Warden had left the door open, for he heard his sister coming up thestairs behind him.
Lady Dashwood came in, and she began speaking at once to cover herapprehension of the interview. "A funny sort of a day," she began. "Ihope it will keep up for this afternoon."
The Warden had gone to one of the windows, and he moved at the sound ofher voice.
"Mrs. Harding," she said, "has written to ask us to come in to tea, asshe's so near. It is convenient, as we shall only have to walk a fewsteps from our Sale, so I am going to accept by telephone."
The Warden came towards her, and taking a little case from his pocket,handed her some notes. "Will you spend that for me at your Sale?"
That was not his reason for the interview! Lady Dashwood took the notesand put them into her bag, and then waited a moment.
"I may possibly have to go to the Deanery this afternoon," he said, andthen he paused too.
"Very well," said Lady Dashwood. They both were painfully aware thatthis also was not what he wanted to say.
"Please let me have my lunch early, at a quarter to one," he said.
"I have asked Mr. Bingham here to dinner on Saturday, he seemed tointerest May, and, well, of course, it is not a lively holiday for herjust now."
Lady Dashwood's eyes were on him as she spoke. He seemed not to hear. Hewent up to his desk and turned over some papers, nervously, and he was aman who rarely showed any nervousness in his movements.
Then he suddenly said: "Gwendolen has practically accepted my offer."And he did not turn round and look at his sister.
It had come! She knew it was coming, and yet it was as keenly painful asif she had been wholly unprepared.
"I can't delay our engagement," he said. "I must speak to herto-day--some time."
Then he moved so as to face his sister, and their eyes met. Misery wasplainly visible in hers, in his the fixed determination to ignore thatmisery.
"May I ask you one question?" she began in a shaky voice.
He made no reply, but waited in silence for the question.
"When did it happen? I've no right to ask, dear, but tell me when did ithappen?"
There was a strange look of conflict in his face that he was unable tocontrol. "On Monday, just before dinner," he said, and he took somepapers from the desk as if he were about to read them. Then he put themdown again and took out his cigar case.
Lady Dashwood walked slowly to the door. When she reached it, sheturned.
"No man," she said, still with an unsteady voice, "is bound to carryout a promise made in a reckless moment, against his better judgment, apromise which involves the usefulness of his life. As to Belinda, Isuppose I must endure the presence of that woman next week; I mustendure it, because I hadn't the sense--the foresight--to prevent herputting a foot in this house."
The Warden's face twitched.
"Am I expecting too much from you, Lena?" he asked.
"Expecting too much!" Lady Dashwood made her way blindly to the door. "Ihave wrecked your life by sheer stupidity, and I am well punished." Atthe door she stayed. "Of course, Jim, I shall now back you up, throughthick and thin."
She went out and stood for a moment, her head throbbing. She had saidall. She had spoken as she had never spoken in her life before, she hadsaid her last word. Now she must be silent and go through with it allunless--unless--something happened--unless some merciful accidenthappened to prevent it. She went downstairs again and crossed the hallto the door of the breakfast-room. May was still there, holding anewspaper in her hands, apparently reading it.
Lady Dashwood walked straight in, and then said quietly: "They arepractically engaged." She saw the paper in May's hand quiver.
"Yes," said May, without moving her paper. "Of course."
Her voice sounded small and hard. Lady Dashwood moved about as if toarrange something, and then stood at the dull little window looking outmiserably, seeing nothing.
"I wonder--I hope, you won't be vexed with me. Aunt Lena," began May."You won't be angry----"
"I couldn't be angry with you," said Lady Dashwood briefly, "but----"She did not move, she kept her back to her niece.
"I want you to let me go away rather earlier than Monday," said May, andspeaking without looking towards her aunt. "I think I ought to go. Thefact is----"
Lady Dashwood turned round and came to her niece. "Do you think I am aselfish woman?" she asked. There was a strange note of purpose in hervoice.
May shook her head and tried to smile. She did smile at last.
"Then, May," said Lady Dashwood, "I am going to be selfish now. I askyou to stop till Monday, and help me to get through what I have to getthrough, even if you stay at some sacrifice to yourself. Jim hasdecided, so I must support him. That's clear."
May stared hard at the paper that was still in her hand, though she hadceased to read it.
"As you wish, dear aunt," she said, and turned away.
"Thanks," said Lady Dashwood, in a low voice. "I shall be ready to startin a few minutes," she went on, looking at her watch. Then she addedbitterly, "I'm not going to talk about it any more, but I must say onething. When you first shook hands with Jim he was already a pledged man.He is capable of yearning for the moon, but he has decided to put upwith a penny bun;" here she laughed a hard painful laugh. "Nobody caresbut I," she added. "I have said all I can say to him, and I am now goingto be silent."
The door of the breakfast-room was slightly open and they could hear thesound of steps outside in the hall, steps they both knew.
The Warden was in the hall. Lady Dashwood listened, and then called outto him: "Jim!" Her voice now raised was a little husky, but quite calm.They could hear the swish of a gown and the Warden was there, looking atthem. He was in his gown and hood, and held his cap in his hand. He wasat all times a notable figure, but the long robe added to the dignity ofhis appearance. His face was very grave.
"May has not seen the cathedral," said Lady Dashwood quietly, as if shehad forgotten their interview in the library, "and we shall be close toChrist Church. Our Sale, you know."
"Oh," said May, slowly and doubtfully, and not looking as if she werereally concerned in the matter.
"May ought to see the cathedral, Jim," said Lady Dashwood, "so, if youdo happen to be going to Christ Church, would you have time to take herover it and make the proper learned observations on it, which I can'tdo, to save my life?"
The Warden's eyes were now fixed on May. "You would like to see it?" heasked.
"You, May," said Lady Dashwood. It seemed necessary to make it veryclear to May that they were both talking about her.
"I?" said May, with her eyes downcast. "Oh, please don't trouble. Youmustn't when you're so busy. I can see the cathedral any time. I reallylike looking at churches--quite alone."
The Warden's blue eyes darkened, but May did not see them, she hadraised her paper and was smiling vaguely at the print.
The Warden said, "As you like, Mrs. Dashwood. But I am not too busy toshow you anything in Oxford you want to see."
"Thank you," said May, vaguely. "Thanks so much! Some time when you areless busy, I shall ask you to show me something."
The Warden looked at her for a more definite reply. She seemed to beunaware that he was waiting for it, and when she heard the movement ofhis robes, and his steps and then the hall-door close, she looked roundthe room and said "Oh!" again vaguely, and then she raised he
r eyebrowsas if surprised.
Lady Dashwood made no remark, she left the room and went into the hall.The irony of the situation was growing more and more acute, but therewas nothing to be done but to keep silence.
Another step was coming down the stairs, steps made by a youthful wearerof high heels. It was Gwendolen.
She looked just a little serious, but otherwise there was no trace onher blooming countenance of last night's tragedy. A little lump on herhead was all that remained to prove that she really had been frightenedand really and truly had stupidly thought there was something to befrightened of. Gwen constantly put her finger up to feel the lump on herhead, and as she did so she thought agreeably of the Warden.
"You see I'm not a bit frightened," she said, and her cheeks dimpled."When I passed near the library, I thought of Dr. Middleton."
"You understand, don't you, Gwen," said Lady Dashwood, "that I don'twant any talk about 'a ghost,' even though, you are now quite sensibleabout it. I don't think the Robinsons are silly, but Louise and theother two are like children, and must be treated as such."
"Oh no," said Gwen, innocently, "I won't!" And she meant what she said.It was true that she had just hinted at something, perhaps she even usedthe word "ghost," to the housemaid that morning, but she had made herpromise faithfully not to repeat what she had heard, so it was allright.
"We start at half-past ten," said Lady Dashwood.
Gwen said she would be punctual. Her face was full of mysterious andsubdued pleasure when she looked into the breakfast-room to see if byany chance Mrs. Dashwood was still there. The girl's fancy was excitedby the Warden's behaviour last night. She kept on thinking of his facein the lamp light. It looked very severe and yet so gentle. She wasactually falling in love with him, so she said to herself. The Barber'sghost was no longer alarming, but something to recall with a thrill ofinterest, as it led on to the Warden. She was burning to talk about theWarden. She was so glad she had delivered her letter to the Warden. Hewould be simply obliged to speak some time to-day. How exciting! Now,was Mrs. Dashwood in the breakfast-room? Yes, there she was, standing inthe window with a newspaper in her hand.
"Oh, good morning," said Gwen, brightly. "I must thank you for havingbeen so awfully sweet to me last night. It was funny, wasn't it, mygetting that fright? I really and truly was frightened, till Dr.Middleton came up and told me I needn't. Isn't he wonderful?" HereGwen's voice sank into a confidential whisper.
Mrs. Dashwood said "Yes" in a lingering voice, and she seemed about togo.
"I do think he is the nicest man I have ever met," said Gwen hurriedly,"don't you? But then, of course, I have reason to think so, after lastnight. It must have looked queer, I mean to any one merely looking on.How I _did_ sleep!" Then after a moment she said: "Don't you think he isvery good-looking? Now, do tell me, Mrs. Dashwood! I promise you I won'trepeat it."
"He is a very charming man," said May, "that is obvious."
"Wasn't it silly of me to think of the Barber's ghost--especially as itonly appears when some disaster happens to the Warden? I mean that isthe story. Now the Warden is perfectly well this morning, Iparticularly asked, though I knew he would be, of course. Now, if therehad been a real ghost, he ought to die to-day, or perhaps to-morrow.Isn't it all funny?" Then, as there came another pause, Gwendolen added,"I suppose it couldn't mean that he might die in a week's time--or sixmonths perhaps?" and her voice was a little anxious.
"Death isn't the only disaster," said May, "that can happen to a man."
"Don't you think it's about the worst?" said Gwen. "Worse even thanlosing lots of money. You see, if you are once dead, there you are! ButI needn't bother--there was no ghost."
"No, there was no ghost," said Mrs. Dashwood, and she laid her paperdown on a side table.
Gwen felt that she had not had a fair chance of a talk. In the absenceof anybody really young it was some comfort to talk to Mrs. Dashwood.She much preferred Mrs. Dashwood to Lady Dashwood. Lady Dashwood wassometimes "nasty," since that letter affair. Fortunately she had notbeen able to _do_ anything nasty. She had not been able to make theWarden nasty.
Gwen stood watching May, and then said in a low voice to detain her: "Iwish mother would come!"
"Do you expect her?" asked May, turning round and facing the girl.
"I do and I don't and I do," said Gwen. "That sounds jolly vague, Iknow, and please don't even say to Lady Dashwood that I mentioned it.You won't, will you? It jumped out of my mouth. Things do sometimes."
May smiled a little.
"Mother is so plucky," said Gwen; "I'm sure you'd like her--you reallywould, and she would like you. She doesn't by any means like everybody.She's very particular, but I think she would like you."
May smiled again, and this gave Gwen complete confidence.
"Our relations, you know, have really been a bit stingy," she said. "Toobad, isn't it, and there's been a bother about my education. Of course,mother needn't have sent me to school at all, only she's so keen ondoing all she can for me, much more keen than our relations have been.Why, would you believe it, Uncle Ted, my father's youngest brother, whois a parson in Essex, has been saving! What I mean is that the Scottsain't a bit well off--isn't it hard lines? You see I tell you all this,I wouldn't to anybody else. Well, Uncle Ted had saved for years for hisonly son--for Eton and Oxford: I don't think he'd ever given mother apenny. Wasn't that rather hard luck on mother?"
May said "Oh!" in a tone that was neutral.
"Well, but I'll explain," said Gwen, eagerly, "and you'll see. When poorTed was killed, almost at once in the war, there was all the Oxfordmoney still there. Mother knew about it, and said it couldn't be lessthan five hundred pounds, and might be more. And mother just went tothem and spoke ever so nicely about poor Ted being killed--it was suchhorrid luck on Uncle Ted--and then she just asked ever so quietly if shemight borrow some of the Oxford money, as there would be no use for itnow. She didn't even ask them to give it, she only asked to borrow, andshe thought they would like it to be used for the last two years of myschool, it would be such a nice thought for them. And would you believeit, they were quite angry and refused! So mother thought they ought toknow how mean it was of them. She is so plucky! So she told them thatthey had no sympathy with anybody but themselves, and didn't care aboutany Scott except their own Ted, who was dead and couldn't come to lifeagain, however much they hoarded. Mother does say things so straight.She is so sporting! But wasn't it horrid for her to have to do it?"
May had gradually moved to the door ready to go out. Now she opened it.
So this was the young woman to whom the Warden had bound himself, andthis was his future mother-in-law!
May left the breakfast-room abruptly and without a word.
She mounted the stairs swiftly. She wanted to be alone. As the servantswere still moving about upstairs, she went into the drawing-room.
There was no one there but that living portrait of Stephen Langley, andhe was looking at her across the wide space between them with an almostimperceptible sneer--so she thought.
The New Warden Page 14
