by Elinor Glyn
300 PARK STREET,
Wednesday, _November 23d._
Oh, how silly to want the moon! But that is evidently what is the matterwith me. Here I am in a comfortable house with a kind hostess, and noimmediate want of money, and yet I am restless, and sometimes unhappy.
For the four days since I arrived Lady Ver has been so kind to me, takenthe greatest pains to try and amuse me and cheer me up. We have drivenabout in her electric brougham and shopped, and agreeable people have beento lunch each day, and I have had what I suppose is a _succes_. At leastshe says so.
I am beginning to understand things better, and it seems one must have noreal feelings, just as Mrs. Carruthers always told me, if one wants toenjoy life.
On two evenings Lady Ver has been out, with numbers of regrets at leavingme behind, and I have gathered that she has seen Lord Robert, but he hasnot been here, I am glad to say.
I am real friends with the angels, who are delightful people, and verywell brought up. Lady Ver evidently knows much better about it than MaryMackintosh, although she does not talk in that way.
I can't think what I am going to do next. I suppose soon this kind ofdrifting will seem quite natural, but at present the position galls me forsome reason. I _hate_ to think people are being kind out of charity. Howvery foolish of me, though!
Lady Merrenden is coming to lunch to-morrow. I am interested to see her,because Lord Robert said she was such a dear. I wonder what has become ofhim. He has not been here--I wonder--No, I am _too_ silly.
Lady Ver does not get up to breakfast, and I go into her room and havemine on another little tray, and we talk, and she reads me bits out of herletters.
She seems to have a number of people in love with her--that must be nice.
"It keeps Charlie always devoted," she said, "because he realizes he ownswhat the other men want."
She says, too, that all male creatures are fighters by nature; they don'tvalue things they obtain easily, and which are no trouble to keep. Youmust always make them realize you will be off like a snipe if they relaxtheir efforts to please you for one moment.
Of course there are heaps of humdrum ways of living, where the husband isquite fond, but it does not make his heart beat, and Lady Ver says shecouldn't stay on with a man whose heart she couldn't make beat when shewanted to.
I am curious to see Sir Charles.
They play bridge a good deal in the afternoon, and it amuses me a littleto talk nicely to the man who is out for the moment, and make him not wantto go back to the game.
I am learning a number of things.
_Night._
Mr. Carruthers came to call this afternoon. He was the last person Iexpected to see when I went into the drawing-room after luncheon, to waitfor Lady Ver. I had my out-door things on, and a big black hat, which israther becoming, I am glad to say.
"You here!" he exclaimed, as we shook hands.
"Yes, why not me?" I said.
He looked very self-contained and reserved, I thought, as if he had notthe least intention of letting himself go to display any interest. Itinstantly aroused in me an intention to change all that.
"Lady Verningham kindly asked me to spend a few days with her when we leftTryland," I said, demurely.
"Oh, you are staying here! Well, I was over at Tryland the day beforeyesterday--an elaborate invitation from Lady Katherine to 'dine and sleepquietly,' which I only accepted as I thought I should see you."
"How good of you," I said, sweetly. "And did they not tell you I had gonewith Lady Verningham?"
"Nothing of the kind. They merely announced that you had departed forLondon, so I supposed it was your original design of Claridge's, and Iintended going round there some time to find you."
Again I said it was so good of him, and I looked down.
He did not speak for a second or two, and I remained perfectly still.
"What are your plans?" he asked, abruptly.
"I have no plans."
"But you must have--that is ridiculous--you must have made some decisionas to where you are going to live!"
"No, I assure you," I said, calmly, "when I leave here on Saturday I shalljust get into a cab and think of some place for it to take me to, Isuppose, as we turn down Park Lane."
He moved uneasily, and I glanced at him up from under my hat. I don't knowwhy he does not attract me now as much as he did at first. There issomething so cold and cynical about his face.
"Listen, Evangeline," he said, at last. "Something must be settled foryou. I cannot allow you to drift about like this. I am more or less yourguardian, you know--you must feel that."
"I don't a bit," I said.
"You impossible little--witch." He came closer.
"Yes, Lady Verningham says I am a witch, and a snake, and all sorts ofbad, attractive things, and I want to go somewhere where I shall be ableto show these qualities. England is dull. What do you think of Paris?"
Oh, it did amuse me launching forth these remarks; they would never comeinto my head for any one else!
He walked across the room and back. His face was disturbed.
"You shall not go to Paris--alone. How can you even suggest such a thing?"he said.
I did not speak. He grew exasperated.
"Your father's people are all dead, you tell me, and you know nothing ofyour mother's relations. But who was she? What was her name? Perhaps wecould discover some kith and kin for you."
"My mother was called Miss Tonkins," I said.
"_Called_ Miss Tonkins?"
"Yes."
"Then it was not her name. What do you mean?"
I hated these questions.
"I suppose it was her name. I never heard she had another."
"Tonkins," he said--"Tonkins," and he looked searchingly at me with hismonk-of-the-Inquisition air.
I can be so irritating, not telling people things, when I like, and it wasquite a while before he elicited the facts from me, which Mrs. Carruthershad often hurled at my head in moments of anger, that poor mamma's fatherhad been Lord de Brandreth and her mother, Heaven knows who!
"So you see," I ended with, "I haven't any relations, after all, have I?"
He sat down upon the sofa.
"Evangeline, there is nothing for it; you must marry me," he said.
I sat down opposite him.
"Oh, you are funny!" I said. "You, a clever diplomat, to know so little ofwomen! Who in the world would accept such an offer?" and I laughed andlaughed.
"What am I to do with you?" he exclaimed, angrily.
"Nothing." I laughed still, and I looked at him with my"affair-of-the-devil" look. He came over and forcibly took my hand.
"Yes, you are a witch," he said--"a witch who casts spells and destroysresolutions and judgments. I determined to forget you, and put you out ofmy life--you are most unsuitable to me, you know--but as soon as I see youI am filled with only one desire. I _must_ have you for myself. I want tokiss you--to touch you. I want to prevent any other man from looking atyou--do you hear me, Evangeline?"
"Yes, I hear," I said; "but it does not have any effect on me. You wouldbe awful as a husband. Oh, I know all about them!" and I looked up. "I sawseveral sorts at Tryland, and Lady Verningham has told me of the rest, andI know you would be no earthly good in that role!"
He laughed, in spite of himself, but he still held my hand.
"Describe their types to me, that I may see which I should be," he said,with great seriousness.
"There is the Mackintosh kind--humble and 'titsy pootsy,' and a sort ofunder-nurse," I said.
"That is not my size, I fear."
"Then there is the Montgomerie--selfish and bullying, and near aboutmoney."
"But I am not Scotch."
"No--well, Lord Kestervin was English, and he fussed and worried, andlooked out trains all the time."
"I will
have a groom of the chambers."
"And they were all casual and indifferent to their poor wives--andboresome--and bored! And one told long stories, and one was stodgy, andone opened his wife's letters before she was down!"
"Tell me the attributes of a perfect husband, then, that I may learnthem," he said.
"They have to pay all the bills----"
"Well, I could do that."
"And they have not to interfere with one's movements. And one must be ableto make their hearts beat."
"Well, you could do _that_!" and he bent nearer to me. I drew back.
"And they have to take long journeys to the Rocky Mountains for monthstogether, with men friends."
"Certainly not!" he exclaimed.
"There, you see!" I said; "the most important part you don't agree to.There is no use talking further."
"Yes, there is! You have not said half enough. Have they to make yourheart beat, too?"
"You are hurting my hand."
He dropped it.
"Have they?"
"Lady Ver said no husband could do that. The fact of their being one keptyour heart quite quiet, and often made you yawn; but she said it was notnecessary, as long as you could make theirs so that they would do all youasked."
"Then do women's hearts never beat--did she tell you?"
"Of course they beat. How simple you are for thirty years old! They beatconstantly for--oh--for people who are not husbands."
"That is the result of your observations, is it? You are probably rightand I am a fool."
"Some one said at lunch yesterday that a beautiful lady in Paris had herheart beating for you," I said, looking at him again.
He changed--so very little. It was not a start, or a wince even--justenough for me to know he felt what I said.
"People are too kind," he said. "But we have got no nearer the point. Whenwill you marry me?"
"I shall marry you--never! Mr. Carruthers," I said, "unless I get into anold maid soon and no one else asks me! Then if you go on your knees I mayput out the tip of my fingers, perhaps!" and I moved towards the door,making him a sweeping and polite courtesy.
He rushed after me.
"Evangeline!" he exclaimed. "I am not a violent man as a rule; indeed, Iam rather cool, but you would drive any one perfectly mad. Some day someone will strangle you--witch!"
"Then I had better run away to save my neck," I said, laughing over myshoulder as I opened the door and ran up the stairs, and I peeped at himfrom the landing above. He had come out into the hall. "Good-bye," Icalled, and, without waiting to see Lady Ver, he tramped down the stairsand away.
"Evangeline, what _have_ you been doing?" she asked, when I got into herroom, where her maid was settling her veil before the glass, and tremblingover it. Lady Ver is sometimes fractious with her--worse than I am withVeronique, far.
"Evangeline, you look naughtier than ever--confess at once."
"I have been as good as gold," I said.
"Then why are those two emeralds sparkling so, may one ask?"
"They are sparkling with conscious virtue," I said, demurely.
"You have quarrelled with Mr. Carruthers--go away, Welby! Stupid woman,can't you see it catches my nose!"
Welby retired meekly. (After she is cross, Lady Ver sends Welby to thetheatre. Welby adores her.)
"Evangeline, how dare you! I see it all. I gathered bits from Robert. Youhave quarrelled with the very man you must marry!"
"What does Lord Robert know about me?" I said. That made me angry.
"Nothing; he only said Mr. Carruthers admired you at Branches."
"Oh!"
"He is too attractive--Christopher! He is one of the 'married women'spets,' as Ada Fairfax says, and has never spoken to a girl before. Youought to be grateful we have let him look at you--minx!--instead ofquarrelling, as I can see you have." She rippled with laughter, while shepretended to scold me.
"Surely I may be allowed that chastened diversion!" I said. "I can't go totheatres!"
"Tell me about it," she commanded, tapping her foot.
But early in Mrs. Carruthers's days I learned that one is wiser when onekeeps one's own affairs to one's self, so I fenced a little, and laughed,and we went out to drive finally, without her being any the wiser. Goinginto the park, we came upon a troop of the 3d Life Guards, who had beenescorting the king to open something, and there rode Lord Robert in hisbeautiful clothes and a floating plume. He did look so lovely, and _my_heart suddenly began to beat--I could feel it, and was ashamed, and it didnot console me greatly to reflect that the emotion caused by a uniform isnot confined to nursemaids.
Of course it must have been the uniform and the black horse--Lord Robertis nothing to me. But I hate to think that, mamma's mother having beennobody, I should have inherited these common instincts!
