IN RECKLESS MOOD
Once the ladies had departed, Sir George brightened visibly. He
reached out eagerly for the claret and drank two glasses rapidly.
Ralph declined the decanters, and also the cigar that his host handed
him. He contented himself with a cigarette; he replied more or less
vaguely to Sir George's idle chatter. It seemed almost incomprehensible
to him that a father could sacrifice a daughter to a scoundrel like
Mayfield, and accept the situation as if it had been the most natural
thing in the world.
"I feel bound to have a few words with you, Sir George," he said
presently. "More by accident than anything else I seem to have been
dragged into your family secrets. We will not go into the reason why I
was in a position to render you a service a night or two ago. It is
unfortunate that that service should have proved useless, but it is
more than probable than those papers will turn up again."
"Never," Sir George said emphatically. "Mayfield will take care of
that. He knows that so long as he holds the papers I am quite in his
power. He will lend me the money to put me right in the comfortable
assurance that at the expiration of six months it will come back to
him again. Take him all in all, Mayfield is perhaps the most clever
scoundrel that I have ever come across, which is saying a great deal."
"You are convinced that Mayfield is a finished scoundrel, then?"
"My dear fellow, what other conclusion could I come to? His
every action proves it. He has worked this thing out in the most
cold-blooded way. The fellow ought to be hounded out of society and
kicked out of every respectable house. No club should tolerate him.
He's a rascal clean through."
There was honest indignation ringing in every word that Sir George
said. Ralph listened with cynical amusement.
"And yet you are going to give your only child as a hostage to the man
who has planned your social ruin," he said. "You are going to sell
your daughter, and the price is to be the silence of a scoundrel! Good
heavens, man, can't you realise the enormity of your crime? To save
yourself from unpleasantness, you permit your daughter to give herself
up to a lifetime of horror and degradation. Is this a specimen of your
family pride? You are so fond of the race, so passionately attached to
it, that you are paving the way for that rascal Mayfield eventually to
succeed you as the head of the house! If you do this thing you will be
judged for it, as sure as we are face to face at this moment. If you
permit it, then you are a greater rascal by far than even Mayfield
is."
Ralph's words rang out clear and true, his voice vibrated with anger.
A dull flush mounted to the face of the elder man, a feeble anger
filled his eyes.
"I can't permit you to speak to me like this," he protested. "I--I
must be the best judge of what is right and proper for my child. And
Mary is pretty certain to have her own way in the end. My good fellow,
you speak as if Mary's future was in your special keeping. Anybody
would think that you had fallen in love with the girl."
"I have," Ralph said calmly. "I love Mary with my whole heart and
soul. I can see the beauties of her mind as clearly as I can see the
beauty of her face under that crust of pride and arrogance. It will be
my task to remove the husk so that the flower can be seen in all its
loveliness. It may not trouble you much, it may be no particular
satisfaction to you, but Mary is not going to marry Horace Mayfield.
When the time comes, Mary will marry _me_. But I fear that there is a
time of humiliation and suffering and poverty before her first,
poverty in which you will have your share, Sir George. It rests
practically in the girl's own hands; she can take up the sunshine of
the future when she chooses."
"The fellow's mad," Sir George muttered. "Clean mad. My dear Darnley,
you are talking the most abject nonsense. On your own confession you
are a poor man; you have lost everything as I did by trusting to that
scoundrel. I mean to Mayfield, who----"
"Precisely. We both know that man to be what he is. And in spite of
what you know, you are going to let your daughter marry him and give
her your blessing. Truly the family pride of which you boast is a poor
thing! You are prepared to commit a crime to support it. Now tell me
your honest opinion--do you suppose for a moment that Mayfield would
marry Mary if she came to him empty-handed?"
Sir George shook his head; he was man of the world enough to see
Ralph's point.
"I don't think he would," he said. "Mayfield is sufficient of a
business man to know the value of money. Of course he's fond of the
girl, which is quite natural. But I fail to see what your question has
to do with the matter."
Ralph was not blind to the hopelessness of his task. Truly it is
difficult to know the real standard of even one's closest friend. Up
to a certain point, Ralph had regarded Sir George as an honourable
man, who would have shrunk from any act calculated to pain or harm any
fellow creature. Dashwood would probably have protested himself that
such was the case. And yet here he was, prepared to sacrifice his only
child on the altar of his sinful selfishness.
A bitter contempt filled Ralph; he would have liked to turn on this
man and tear him to tatters with sharp-edged words. Were all people
alike when it came to the test? Ralph wondered. He half rose from his
seat, and then sat down again. It was impossible to quarrel with
Mary's father; there was nothing to gain by such a course. And Sir
George seemed to divine little of what was passing in the mind of his
young companion.
The elder man had regained his equanimity now. He was sure that Mary
would do what he called the right thing. It was rather a nuisance, and
so forth, but then it was absurd to imagine that any girl could
imperil the good name of such a family as the Dashwoods. As Sir George
sipped his wine, he caught sight of his own head and shoulders in a
Florentine mirror on the far side of the room, and, unconsciously
almost, set his tie straight. It seemed incredible to Ralph that the
man could think of such things at such a moment. But there it was. Sir
George poured out for himself another glass of wine.
"I can see that you are vexed," he said in his polished easy way. "As
a friend of ours you naturally would be. In addition, you are
naturally prejudiced against our friend, Horace Mayfield. So am I, but
we must make the best of it. After all, there are many standards of
honour. Mayfield is a business man; he has been trained to methods
which are not in accordance with our views. All is fair in love and
war, he would argue. We must not be too hard on our fellow creatures,
Darnley."
"The fellow is a scoundrel," Ralph said hoarsely. "He is bad to the
very core of his being. He would never see the inside of Dashwood Hall
again if you could be free of him. And when I think of your daughter
as that man's wife----"
Ralph paused. He was unable to proceed. His quick imagination
travelled on ahead of him; he could picture Mary's future in the
darkest colours. He knew only too well the fire and force and passion
that lay under the cold exterior. He could guess at the unspeakable
humiliation to come from Mayfield's very touch. And this would go on
not for days, but for years. And Mary would never murmur, she would
confide in nobody, she would hug the galling chains to her breast
until the canker entered the heart of the flower and killed it ...
But Dashwood was talking again. Ralph was so lost in his own gloomy
thoughts that he had some difficulty in picking up the thread.
"And there is another thing, my dear fellow," Sir George murmured.
"You will excuse my saying so, but you are taking on yourself a little
too much. Mary owes her life to you on two different occasions. I am
sure that we are both of us exceedingly grateful to you. And you have
proved yourself to be a real friend in other ways. Still, that does
not give you the right to harp upon this topic quite so freely. When
Mary marries Mayfield----"
"She never will do so," Ralph cried, forgetting himself for the
moment. "Rest assured that this hateful marriage will never take
place. You may look surprised, but wait and see. I have not finished
with Mayfield yet. After this evening is over, and I have heard Miss
Dashwood's decision for the last time----"
"I decline to discuss the matter any further, really I do," Sir George
protested. "My dear fellow, your remarks are in bad taste. As a
gentleman, you must see that such is the case. I must ask you to
change the subject."
Ralph placed a firm bridle upon his tongue. He had almost forgotten
himself; he had come very near to betraying the great secret.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "As you say, I am going too far. I shall
not err in that way again, but will leave you in peace to your cigar
and your claret. Perhaps I shall be able to get some music in the
drawing-room. The quietude of this house fascinates me, all the more
because I have not been accustomed to this kind of thing."
Sir George smiled in a benign manner.
"I can understand your feelings," he said. "By all means leave me to
my cigar. It has been a very disturbing evening."