THE INAUGURAL SOIREE.
"Oh, Lord Silverdale," cried Lillie exultantly when he made his usual
visit the next afternoon. "At last I have an unexceptional candidate. We
shall get under weigh at last. I am so pleased because papa keeps
bothering about that inaugural _soirée_. You know he is staying in town
expressly for it. But what is the matter?--You don't seem to be glad at
my news."
"I am afraid you will be grieved at mine," he replied gravely. "Look at
this in to-day's _Moon_."
Sobered by his manner, she took the paper. Then her face grew white. She
read, in large capitals:
"The Old Maids' Club.
"Interview with the President.
"Sensational Stories of Skittish Spinsters.
"Wee Winnie and Lillie Dulcimer."
"I called at the Old Maids' Club yesterday," writes a _Moon_ woman, "to
get some wrinkles, which ought to be abundant in such a Club, though
they are not. Miss Dulcimer, the well-known authoress, is one of the
loveliest and jolliest girls of the day. Of course I went as a
candidate, with a trumped-up story about my unhappy past, which Miss
Dulcimer will, I am sure, forgive me, in view of the fact that it was
the only way of making her talk freely for the benefit of my readers."
Lillie's eye glanced rapidly down the collection of distortions. Then
she dropped the _Moon_.
"This is outrageous," she said. "I can never forgive her."
"Why, is this the candidate you were telling me about?" asked Silverdale
in deeper concern.
"I am afraid it is!" said Lillie, almost weeping. "I took to her so, we
talked ever so long. Even Wee Winnie did not possess the material for
all these inaccuracies."
"What is this woman's name?"
"Wilkins--I already called her Diana."
"Diana?" cried Silverdale. "Wilkins? Great heavens, can it be?"
"What is the matter?"
"It must be. Wilkins has married his Diana. It was Mrs. Diana Wilkins
who called upon you--not Miss at all."
"What _are_ you talking about? Who are these people?"
"Don't you remember Wilkins, the _Moon_-man that I was up in a balloon
with? He was in a frightful quandary then about his approaching
marriage. He did not know what to do. It tortured him to hear anyone ask
a question because he was always interviewing people and he got to hate
the very sound of an interrogation.--I told you about it at the time,
don't you remember?--and he knew that marriage would bring into his life
a person who would be sure to ask him questions after business hours. I
was very sorry for the man and tried to think of a way out, but in vain,
and I even promised him to bring the Old Maids' Club under the notice of
his Diana. Now it seems he has hit on the brilliant solution of making
her into a Lady Interviewer, so that her nerves, too, shall be
hypersensitive to interrogatives, and husband and wife shall sit at home
in a balsamic restfulness permeated by none but categorical
propositions. Ah me! well, I envy them!"
"You envy them?" said Lillie.
"Why not? They are well matched."
"But you are as happy as Wilkins, surely."
"Query. It takes two to find happiness."
"What nonsense!" said Lillie.
She had been already so upset by the treachery and loss of the
misunderstood Diana, that she felt ready to break down and shed hot
tears over these heretical sentiments of Silverdale's. He had been so
good, so patient. Why should he show the cloven hoof just to-day?
"Miss Dolly Vane," announced Turple the magnificent.
A strange apparition presented itself--an ancient lady quaintly attired.
Her dress fell in voluminous folds--the curious full skirt was bordered
with velvet, and there were huge lace frills on the elbow-sleeves. Her
hair was smoothed over her ears and she wore a Leghorn hat. There were
the remains of beauty on her withered face but her eyes were wild and
wandering. She curtseyed to the couple with old-fashioned grace, and
took the chair which Lord Silverdale handed her.
Lillie looked at her inquiringly.
"Have I the pleasure of speaking to Miss Dulcimer?" said the old lady.
Her tones were cracked and quavering.
"I am Miss Dulcimer," replied Lillie. "What can I do for you?"
"Ah, yes, I have been reading about you in the _Moon_ to-day. Wee Winnie
and Lillie Dulcimer! Wee Winnie! It reminds me of myself. They call me
Little Dolly, you know." She simpered in a ghastly manner.
Lillie's face was growing pale. She could not speak.
"Yes, yes of course," said Silverdale smiling. "They call you Little
Dolly."
"Little Dolly!" she repeated to herself, mumbling and chuckling. "Little
Dolly."
"So you have been reading about Miss Dulcimer!" said Silverdale
pleasantly.
"Yes, yes," said the old lady, looking up with a start. "Little Lillie
Dulcimer. Foundress of the Old Maids' Club. That's the thing for me, I
thought to myself. That'll punish Philip. That'll punish him for being
away so long. When he comes home and finds Little Dolly is an old maid,
won't he be sorry, poor Philip? But I can't help it. I said I would
punish him and I will."
All the blood had left Lillie's cheek--she trembled and caught hold of
Lord Silverdale's arm.
"I shan't have you now, Philip," the creaking tones of the old lady
continued after a pause. "The rules will not allow it, will they, Miss
Dulcimer? It is not enough that I am young and beautiful, I must reject
somebody--and I have nobody else to reject but you, Philip. You are the
only man I have ever loved. Oh my Philip! My poor Philip!"
She began to wring her hands. Lillie pressed closer to Lord Silverdale
and her grasp on his arm tightened.
"Very well, we will put your name on the books at once," said the
Honorary Trier, in bluff, hearty tones.
Little Dolly looked up smiling. "Then I'm an old maid!" she cried
ecstatically. "Already! Little Dolly an old maid! Already! Ha! ha! ha!
ha! ha!"
She went off into a burst of uncanny laughter. Lord Silverdale felt
Lillie shuddering violently. He disengaged himself from her grasp and
placed her on the sofa. Then offering his arm to Miss Dolly Vane, who
accepted it with a charming smile, and a curtsey to Miss Dulcimer, he
led her from the apartment. When he returned Lillie was weeping
half-hysterically on the sofa.
"My darling!" he whispered. "Calm yourself." He laid his hand tenderly
on her hair. Presently the sobs ceased.
"Oh, Lord Silverdale!" she said in a shaken voice. "How good you are!
Poor old lady! Poor old lady!"
"Do not distress yourself. I have taken care she shall get home safely."
"Little Dolly! how tragic it was!" whispered Lillie.
"Yes, it was tragic. Probably it is not now so sad to her as it is to
us, but it is tragic enough, heaven knows. Lillie,"--he trembled as he
addressed her thus for the first time--"I am not sorry this has
happened. The time has come to put an end to all this make-believe. This
Old Maids' Club of yours is a hollow mockery. You are playing round the
fringes of tragedy--it is like warming your hands at a house on fire,
wherein wretched beings are shrieking for help. You are young and rich
and beautiful--Heaven pity the women who have none of these charms. Life
is a cruel tragedy for many--never crueller than when its remorseless
laws condemn gentle loving women to a crabbed and solitary old age. To
some all the smiles of fortune, the homage of all mankind--to others all
the frowns of fate and universal neglect, aggravated by contumely. You
have felt this, I know, and it is as a protest that you conceived your
club. Still can it ever be a serious success? I love you, Lillie, and
you have known it all along. If I have entered into the joke, believe
me, I have sometimes taken it as seriously as you. Come! Say you love
me, too, and let us end the tragi-comedy."
Lillie was obstinately silent for a moment, then she dried her eyes, and
with a wan little smile said, in tones which she vainly strove to render
those of the usual formula: "What poem have you brought me to-day?"
"To-day I have brought no poem, but I have lived one," said Lord
Silverdale, taking her soft unresisting hand. "But, like Lady Clara Vere
de Vere, you put strange memories in my head, and I will tell you some
verses I made in the country in my callow youth, when the world was new.
"PASTORAL.
"A rich-toned landscape, touched with darkling gold
Of misty, throbbing corn-fields, and with haze
Of softly-tinted hills and dreaming wold,
Lies warm with raiment of soft summer rays,
And in the magic air there lives a free
And subtle feeling of the distant sea.
"The perfect day slips softly to its end,
The sunset paints the tender evening sky,
The shadows shroud the hills with gray, and lend
A softened touch of ancient mystery,
And ere the silent change of heaven's light
I feel the coming glory of the night.
"O for the sweet and sacred earnest gaze
Of eyes divine with strange and yearning tears
To feel with me the beauty of our days,
The glorious sadness of our mortal years
The noble misery of the spirit's strife,
The joy and splendour of the body's life."
Lillie's hand pressed her lover's with involuntary tenderness, but she
had turned her face away. Presently she murmured:
"But think what you are asking me to do? How can I, the President of the
Old Maid's Club, be the first recreant?"
"But you are also the last to leave the ship," he replied, smiling.
"Besides, you are not legally elected. You never came before the
Honorary Trier. You were never a member at all, so have nothing to undo.
If you had stood your trial fairly, I should have plucked you, my
Lillie, plucked you and worn you nearest my heart. It is I who have a
position to resign--the Honorary Triership--and I resign it instanter. A
nice trying time I have had, to be sure!"
"Now, now! I set my face against punning!" said Lillie, showing it now,
for the smiles had come to hide the tears.
"Pardon, Rainbow," he answered.
"Why do you call me Rainbow?"
"Because you look it," he said. "Because your face is made of sunshine
and tears. Go and look in the glass. Also because--well, wait and I will
fashion my other reason into rhyme and send it you on our wedding morn."
"Poetry made while you wait," said Lillie, laughing. The laugh froze
suddenly on her lips, and a look of horror overswept her face.
"What is it, dearest?" cried her lover, in alarm.
"Wee Winnie! How can we face Wee Winnie?"
"There is no need to break the truth to her--we can simply get rid of
her by telling her she has never been elected, and never will be."
"Why," said Lillie, with a comic _moue_, "that would be harder to tell
her than the truth. But we must first of all tell father. I am afraid he
will be dreadfully disappointed at missing that inaugural _soirée_ after
all. You know he has been staying in town expressly for it. We have some
bad quarters of an hour before us."
They sought the millionaire in his sanctum but found him not. They
inquired of Turple the magnificent, and learned that he was in the
garden. As they turned away, the lovers both simultaneously remarked
something peculiar about the face of Turple the magnificent. Moved by a
common impulse, they turned back and gazed at it. For some seconds they
could not at all grasp the change that had come over it--but at last,
and almost at the same instant, they realized what was the matter.
_Turple the magnificent was smiling._
Filled with strange apprehensions, Silverdale and Lillie hurried into
the garden, where their vague alarm was exchanged for definite
consternation. The millionaire was pacing the gravel-paths in the
society of a strange and beautiful lady. On closer inspection, the lady
turned out to be only too familiar.
"Why it's Wee Winnie masquerading as a woman!" exclaimed Lord
Silverdale.
And so it proved--Nelly Nimrod in all the flush of her womanly beauty,
her mannish attire discarded.
"Why, what is this, father?" murmured Lillie.
"My child," said the millionaire solemnly. "As _you_ have resolved to be
an Old Maid, I--I--well I thought it only _my_ duty to marry. Even the
poorest millionaire cannot shirk the responsibilities of wealth."
"But father!" said Lillie in dismay. "I have changed my mind. I am going
to marry Lord Silverdale."
"Bless ye, my children!" said the millionaire. "You are a woman, Lillie,
and it is a woman's privilege to change her mind. But I am a man and
have no such privilege. I must marry all the same."
"But Miss Nimrod has changed her mind, too," said Lillie, quite losing
her temper. "And _she_ is not a woman."
"Gently, gently," said the millionaire. "Respect your stepmother to be,
if you have no respect for my future wife."
"Lillie," said Miss Nimrod appealingly, "do not misjudge me. I have
_not_ changed my mind."
"But you said you could never marry, on the ground that while you would
only marry an unconventional man, an unconventional man wouldn't want to
marry you."
"Well? Your father is the man I sought. He _didn't_ want to marry me,"
she explained frankly.
"Oh," said Lillie, taken utterly aback, and regarding her father
commiseratingly.
"It is true," he said, laughing uneasily. "I fell in love with Wee
Winnie, but now Nelly says she wants to settle down."
"You ought to be grateful to me, Lillie," added Nelly, "for it was
solely in the interest of the Old Maid's Club that I consented to marry
your father. He was always a danger to the Club; at any moment he might
have put forth autocratic authority and wound it up. So I thought that
by marrying him I should be able to influence him in its favor."
"No doubt you _will_ make him see the desirability of women remaining
old maids," retorted Lillie unappeased.
"Come, come, Lillie, be sensible!" said the millionaire. "Nelly shall
give Lillie a good dinner at the Junior Widows, one of those charming
dinners you and I have had there, and Lillie please send out the cards
for the inaugural _soirée_. I am not going to be done out of that and
nothing can now be gained by delay."
"But, sir, how can we inaugurate a Club which has never had any
members?" asked Silverdale.
"But what does that matter? Aren't there plenty of candidates without
them? Besides, nobody'll know. Each of the candidates will think the
others are the members. Tell you what, boy, they shall all dance at
Lillie's wedding, and we'll make that the inaugural _soirée_."
"But that would be to publish my failure to the world," remonstrated
Lillie.
"Nonsense, dear. It'll be published without that. Trust the _Moon_.
Isn't it better to take the bull by the horns?"
"Well, yes, perhaps you're right," said Lillie hesitating. "But I hope
the world will understand that it is only desperation at the collapse of
the Old Maids' Club that has driven me to commit matrimony."
She went back to the Club to write out the cards.
"What do you think of my stepmother?" she inquired pathetically of the
ex-Honorary Trier.
"What do I think?" said Lord Silverdale seriously. "I think she is the
punishment of Providence for your interference with its designs."
* * * * *
The explanatory poem duly came to hand on Lillie's wedding morn. It was
written on vellum in the bridegroom's best hand and ran--
RAINBOW.
Ah, why I call you "Rainbow," sweet?
The shadows 'fore your eyes retreat,
The ground grows light beneath your feet.
You smile in your superior way,
A Rainbow has no feet, you say?
Nay, be not so precise to-day.
Created but to soothe and bless,
You followed logic to excess,
Repressing thoughts of tenderness.
My life was chilled and wan and hoary,
You came, the Bow of ancient story,
To kiss the grayness into glory.
And now, as Rainbow fair to see,
A promise sweet you are to me
Of sorrow never more to be.
Besides the friends of the happy pair, nearly all the candidates were
present at the inaugural _soirée_ of the Old Maids' Club. Not quite
all--because Lillie who was rapidly growing conventional did not care to
have Clorinda Bell even accompanied by her mother, or by her brother,
the Man in the Ironed Mask. Nor did she invite the twins, nor the
osculatory Alice. But she conquered her prejudices in other instances,
and Frank Maddox, the art critic, came under the convoy of the composer,
Paul Horace, and Miss Mary Friscoe was brought by Bertie Smythe. The
Writers' Club also sent Ellaline Rand, and an account of the proceedings
appeared in the first number of the _Cherub_. The "Princess" was brought
by Miss Primpole, and Captain Athelstan and Lord Arthur came together in
unimpaired friendship. Eustasia Pallas and her husband, Percy Swinshell
Spatt, both their faces full of the peace that passeth understanding,
got a night off for the occasion and came in a hansom paid for out of
the week's beer-money. Turple the magnificent, who had seen them at home
in the servants' hall, was outraged in his deepest instincts and
multiplied occasions for offering them refreshments merely for the
pleasure of snorting in their proximity. The great Fladpick (Frank
Gray), accompanied by his newly-won bride, Cecilia, made the evening
memorable by the presence of the English Shakespeare, Guy Fledgely
brought Miss Sybil Hotspur, and his father, the baronet, was under the
care of Miss Jack. The lady from Boston wired congratulations on the
success of the Club from Yokohama whither she had gone to pick up
lacquer-work. Poor Miss Summerson, the lovely May, and the victim of the
Valentine were a triad that was much admired. Miss Fanny Radowski, whose
Oriental loveliness excited much attention, came, with Martin. Winifred
Woodpecker was accompanied by her mother, the resemblance between the
two being generally remarked, and Miss Margaret Linbridge seemed to
afford Richard Westbourne copious opportunities for jealousy. Even
Wilkins was there with his Diana, in an unprofessional capacity, Lillie
having relented towards her interviewer on learning that she had been
really engaged to Silverplume once and that she had not entirely drawn
on the stores of journalistic fancy. Silverplume himself was there,
unconscious to what he owed the invitation, and paying marked attention
to the unattached beauties. Miss Nimrod promenaded the rooms on the arm
of the millionaire. She had improved vastly since she had become
effeminate, and Lillie felt she could put up with her, now she would not
have to live with her. Even Silverdale's aunt, Lady Goody-Goody Twoshoes
could find no fault with Nelly now.
It was a brilliant scene. The apartments of the Old Maids' Club had been
artistically decked with the most gorgeous flowers that the millionaire
could afford, and the epigrams had been carefully removed so as to leave
the rooms free for dancing. As Lillie's father gazed around, he felt
that not many millionaires could secure such a galaxy of beauty as
circled in the giddy dance in his gilded saloon. It was, indeed, an
unexampled gathering of pretty girls--this inaugural _soirée_ of the Old
Maids' Club, and the millionaire's shirt-front heaved with pride and
pleasure and the Letter-Day Cupid that still hung on the wall seemed to
take heart of grace again.
"You got my verses this morning, Rainbow mine?" said Silverdale, when
the carriage drove off, and the honeymoon began.
It was almost the first moment they had had together the whole day.
"Yes," said Lillie softly. "And I wanted to tell you there are two lines
which are truer than you meant."
"I am indeed, a poet, then! Which are they?"
Lillie blushed sweetly. Presently she murmured,
"'You followed logic to excess,
Repressing thoughts of tenderness.'
"How did you know that?" she asked, her brown eyes looking ingenuously
into his.
"Love's divination, I suppose."
"My father didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"About my discovery in the algebra of love?"
"Algebra of love?"
"No, of course he didn't. I don't suppose he ever really understood it,"
said Lillie with a pathetic smile. "I think I ought to tell you now what
it was that made me so--so--you understand."
She put her little warm hand lightly into his and nestled against his
shoulder, as if to make amends.
After a delicious silence, for Lord Silverdale betrayed no signs of
impatience, Lillie confessed all.
"So you see I have loved you all along!" she concluded. "Only I did not
dare hope that the chance would come to pass, against which the odds
were 5999."
"But great heavens!" cried Lord Silverdale, "do you mean to say this is
why you were so cold to me all those long weary months?"
"It is the only reason," faltered Lillie. "But would you have had me
defy the probabilities?"
"No, no, of course not. I wouldn't dream of such a thing. But you have
miscalculated them!"
"Miscalculated them?"
Lillie began to tremble violently.
"Yes, there is a fallacy in your ratiocination."
"A fallacy!" she whispered hoarsely.
"Yes, you have calculated on the theory that the probabilities are
independent, whereas they are interdependent. In the algebra of love
this is the typical class of probabilities. The two events--your falling
in love with me, my falling in love with you--are related; they are not
absolutely isolated phenomena as you have superficially assumed. It is
our common qualities which make us gravitate together, and what makes me
love you is the same thing that makes you love me. Thus the odds against
our loving each other are immensely less than you have ciphered out."
Lillie had fallen back, huddled up, in her corner of the carriage, her
face covered with her hands.
"Forgive me," said Lord Silverdale penitently. "I had no right to
correct your mathematics on your wedding-day. Say two and two are six
and I will make it so."
"Two and two are not six and you know it," said Lillie firmly, raising
her wet face. "It is I who have to ask forgiveness for being so cruel to
you. But if I have sinned, I have sinned in ignorance. You will believe
that, dearest?"
"I believe anything that comes from my Rainbow's lips," said Lord
Silverdale. "Why, they are quite white! Let me kiss them rosy again."
Like a naughty child that has been chastened by affliction she held up
her face obediently to meet his. The lips were already blushing.
"But confess," she said, while an arch indefinable light came into the
brown eyes, "confess we have had a most original courtship."
[Illustration]
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Throughout the document, the oe-ligature was replaced with "oe".
Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the
speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate. Thus
the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in
the List of Illustrations, and the order of illustrations may not be the
same in the List of Illustrations and in the book.
Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected
unless otherwise noted.
Some corrections were made to quotation marks. Some of the use
of quotation marks was not consistent with current standards, but was
internally consistent and left unchanged. Some unpaired quotation marks
and an unpaired parenthesis mark were left as-is.
On the title page, a quotation mark was added before "THE BACHELOR'S
CLUB".
On page 17, "thy" was replaced with "they".
On page 20, a single quotation mark is replaced with a double quotation
mark.
On page 23, a double quotation mark was added after "What do men think?"
On page 25, a period was added after "Here is her photograph".
On page 27, "repectable" was replaced with "respectable".
On page 54, "promonitory" was replaced with "promontory".
On page 56, the comma after "I laughed" was replaced with a period.
On page 60, the comma after "blank expression" was deleted.
On page 72, a double quotation mark was added before "The plurality is
merely apparent."
On page 88, "æronaut" was replaced with "aeronaut".
On page 99, a comma was added after "(which is easy)".
On page 103, "did no" was replaced with "did not".
On page 111, the comma after "I love you was replaced with a period.
On page 112, a quotation mark was removed after "then silence any
more?".
On page 119, a closing single quotation mark was added after "the
epileptoid order".
On page 120, a period was removed after "Mr. and".
On page 124, a quotation mark was added after "only real life.".
On page 124, "The past was put" was replaced with "The past was but".
On page 127, "abut" was replaced with "about".
On page 136, the double quotation marks around "tag" were replaced with
single quotation marks.
On page 138, double quotation marks were replaced with single quotation
marks around "Now you see what I have had to put up with."
In the caption of the illustration that originally was on page 145,
"Advertsement" was replaced with "Advertisement".
On page 157, a quotation mark was added before "You know I don't".
On page 176, "might" was replaced with "night".
On page 186, a quotation mark was added after "those of the
photograph.".
On page 200, a comma was added after "Eleven Weekly Papers".
On page 242, a period was added after "rehearsal".
On page 244, "Miss Jacks" was replaced with "Miss Jack".
On page 244, a comma was removed after "conventional".
On page 253, "onomatopoeiac" was replaced with "onomatopoeic".
On page 261, a quotation mark was added before "Sybil's reply".
On page 264, "decend" was replaced with "descend".
On page 272, "then" was replaced with "them".
On page 276, a quotation mark was added after "in Fleet Street.".
On page 280, "well" was replaced with "will".
On page 280, a quotation mark was removed before "Years afterwards".
On page 288, "I no not" was replaced with "I do not".
On page 289, a period was after "become an Old Maid".
On page 299, the double quotation after "I had left my little all." was
changed to a single quotation mark.
On page 301, the double quotation mark was deleted after "Bucklesbury
Buildings----'".
On page 309, the quotation mark was removed in the subtitle of Chapter
XIX.
On page 318, "incompromise" was replaced with "incomprise".
On page 323, a quotation mark was added after "My poor Philip!".
On page 324, "body's li" was replaced with "body's life.".