MARY
On the Sunday Rodney Elmore kept his engagement with the third young
woman, with the punctiliousness on which, in such matters, he prided
himself. He went down to Brighton on the Pullman, Limited, and was met
at the station by Mary Carmichael. He exclaimed, at sight of her:
"You angel!--to come and meet me!"
"I'm not quite sure that I did come to meet you, in the strict sense.
I'd nothing to do; I've always a feeling that the queerest lot of
people come by this train, the oddest sort of week-enders--didn't you
notice how the platform reeked of perfume?--so that its arrival's
generally worth seeing. Besides, between ourselves, I'd a kind of
notion that Tom might come by it. If he had I should have ignored you
utterly, and should have explained that something within told me he
was coming, and that was why I was here. Wouldn't he have been
enraptured?"
As he listened--and, in his observant way, took in the details of her
appearance--Rodney was conscious, not for the first time, of how
beneficent Providence had been in making girls in such variety.
Stella, emblematic of the domestic virtues; Gladys, for physical
pleasure; Mary, suggestive of the arch in the sky, which, though a man
may walk for many days, he shall never find the end of. To his
thinking she was as many-tinted as a rainbow; as beautiful, as
elusive. He doubted if the average man were her husband whether he
would have any but the dimmest comprehension of her at the finish; she
had a knack of surprising even him. He had known her a good long time,
yet he admitted to himself that in many respects she was still wholly
beyond his comprehension, and he prided himself, not without reason,
on his gift for understanding persons of the opposite sex.
They went down towards the Hove lawns in a fly, and were still in
Queen's Road when she said:
"So you've done it at last."
He turned towards her as if a trifle startled.
"Done what?"
"Asked Stella to be your wife."
"How on earth do you know that?"
"My simple-minded babe, aren't I the very dearest friend Stella has in
the world? And didn't she, directly you left her yesterday afternoon,
send me a telegram conveying the news? Do you think she would keep it
a moment longer than she could help from me, especially as she is
perfectly well aware that I've been on tip-toe for it for goodness
alone knows how long? And aren't I expecting a letter of at least half
a dozen pages to-morrow morning to tell me all about it? I wired my
congratulations to her at once, and I almost wired them to you; then I
thought I'd keep them till you came this morning. My congratulations,
Rodney, dear."
He was more taken aback than he would have cared to own. What an idiot
he had been! Had he had his senses about him he would have given
Stella to understand that the new relationship between them must be
kept private till it suited him to make it public. That she should
have telegraphed to Mary the moment he had left her! Could anything be
more awkward? If to Mary, why not to others? To her mother, her
father, her brother, her cousins, and her aunts; and she had crowds of
dearest friends. Possibly by now the news was known to fifty people;
they would spread it over the face of the land. Had he foreseen such a
state of things he would have torn his tongue out rather than have
said what he did in Regent's Park. Imbecile that he was; he had
forgotten altogether that that was just the tale a girl of a sort
loves to tell. Had he had his wits about him he might have known that
she would be all eagerness to proclaim her happiness to her friends.
To have had a private understanding with Stella might have been fun.
He might have lied to her; played the traitor; done as he pleased--it
would not have mattered if her heart was broken so long as she
suffered in silence. But the affair assumed quite a different
complexion if her confounded relations were to have their parts in it.
He would have to endure all kinds of talkee-talkee from her mother.
That oaf Tom might want to thrust his blundering foot into what was no
concern of his. Worst of all, there was her father. Rodney was quite
certain that he would want to regularise the position at once; that he
himself would be helpless in his hands. Mr. Austin would require a
clear statement of his intentions; having got it, he would see that it
was adhered to. Being opposed to long engagements, he would want to
fix the wedding day--and he would fix it. Rodney was uncomfortably
conscious that he had made such a conspicuous ass of himself that,
being delivered into her father's strong hands, almost before he knew
it he might find himself the husband of Stella Austin.
He shuddered at the thought--a fact which was observed by the young
lady at his side.
"Whatever is the matter? You shook the fly! You haven't thanked me for
my congratulations, nor do you seem so elated as I expected. You know
I'm not sure that it was quite nice of you to propose to another girl
on the very day before the one on which you knew you were coming down
to me. For all you could tell, I was expecting you to propose to me."
"If I'd only thought there was the slightest chance, wouldn't I have
loved to."
"I suppose for the sake of practice."
"Well--there are girls with whom one would like to practice
love-making."
"That's a nice thing to say, and you an engaged man of less than
four-and-twenty hours' standing. There's a taximeter--stop him! Pay
the driver of this silly old cab and let's get into the taxi."
The transfer was effected, the driver of the "silly old cab"
expressing himself on the subject with some frankness. When they were
in the taxi the lady set forth the idea which had been in her mind.
"I don't want to go on to the horrid lawns and see the stupid people
in their ugly dresses; I can't take you to aunt's house, because, as
you know, she's away, and I don't want the servants to talk; I don't
want to lunch at either of the hotels, because I hate them all; I do
want to go where we can be all by ourselves, so I suggest the Devil's
Dyke. This taxi will romp up; it's the most vulgar place I know, so we
go where we please and do as we choose--everybody does up there."
So it was the Devil's Dyke. The taxi did "romp up." They had lunch at
the hotel, and afterwards went out on to the downs, Rodney carrying a
rug which he had borrowed from the hotel over his arm. They had not to
go far over the slopes before they had left the few people who were up
there behind, and were as much alone as if they had the world to
themselves. Rodney spread the rug on the grass at the bottom of one of
those little hollows shaped like cups which are to be found
thereabouts by those who seek. On it they reclined; the gentleman lit
a cigar, the lady a cigarette. They were as much at home with each
other as either could desire. Their conversation was frankness itself.
"When I feel like liking it," observed the lady, "this is just the
sort of thing I do like. You're engaged, and I'm engaged, so we ought
to be nice to each other. Do you mind my kissing you?"
"Not a bit."
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, he removing his cigar to
enable her to do it. Then she blew her cigarette smoke in his face and
laughed. He said nothing; he was thinking that there was a good deal
to be said for being on such terms with three nice girls. After all,
there might be something in the Mohammedan's idea of paradise. She was
silent for a moment; then inquired:
"Why did you ask Stella after all? Because you knew she'd like you
to?"
He considered his reply.
"No; not altogether. Of course, at the beginning I never meant to,
then all of a sudden I felt as if I had to. I had a sort of feeling
that it would be such fun."
"And was it fun?"
"Distinctly; I wouldn't mind going through it all over again."
"Wouldn't you? Now you'll have to marry her."
"Shall I?"
"Don't you want to marry her?"
"I do not."
"That's unfortunate, because you certainly will have to."
"We'll see."
"Stella'll see--or, rather, her family will. If it were any other but
the Austin family I should have said that a person of your eel-like
slipperiness----"
"Thank you."
"Might have wriggled away; but if you wriggle away it will be out of
the frying-pan into the fire. For ever so long the family has been
expecting you to ask Stella to marry you; you've fostered the
expectation, and now that you have asked her, if you try to sneak out
of your engagement, Mr. Austin will make things so uncomfortable that
you'll find it easier to make Stella Mrs. E."
"And do you want to marry Tom?"
"I do not. All the same, I expect I shall."
"Why? If you don't want to?"
Miss Carmichael sent a cloud of smoke up into the air.
"A girl's position is so different from a man's. I must marry someone,
and, so far as I can see, it may as well be Tom."
"Why must you marry someone?"
"Don't be absurd! Can you conceive me as a spinster? Rather than be an
old maid I'd--marry you; I can't say anything stronger."
"You've a friendly way of paying compliments."
"My dear young fellow; as a--chum, when I'm in the mood, you're
ripping, simply ripping; but as a husband--good Lord, deliver us! If
Stella understood you only a quarter as well as I do she'd be only too
glad to let you go the very first moment you showed the faintest
inclination to bolt."
"And, pray, what sort of wife do you think you'll make?"
Again a pause, while more cigarette smoke went into the air.
"Depends on the man."
"I presume to what extent you can fool him."
"I can imagine a man to whom I would be all that a wife could be, the
whole happiness of his whole life."
"I can't."
"That's because you don't understand me as well as I do you."
"What sort of wife do you think that you'll make Tom?"
"Oh, he'll be content."
"Poor devil!"
"I'm not so sure; it's a good thing to be content. Each time I put my
arms about his neck he'll forgive me everything."
"So far as I gather, the difference between me as a husband and you as
a wife consists in this: that while I'm going to be found out, you're
not. I don't see why you should be so sure of the immunity you refuse
to me."
"I admit that in this world one never can be sure of anything. I quite
credit you with as much capacity to throw dust in a woman's eyes as I
have to throw dust in a man's. Still, there is a difference between us
of which I'm conscious, though just now I'm too lazy to attempt an
exact definition. I really can't see why you object to Stella; she'll
make you a good wife."
"Hang your good wives!"
"My child! Do you want a bad one? You should have no difficulty in
being suited."
"Is a sinner likely to be happy if mated to a saint?"
"Would he be happier if mated to another sinner? In that case you
might do well to marry me--which I doubt."
"I don't. I'm disposed to think that ours would be an ideal union."
"I wonder."
"Neither would expect the other to be perfect; each would allow the
other a wider range of liberty for purely selfish reasons."
"I say, wouldn't it be rather a joke if you were to throw over Stella
and I were to throw over Tom and we were to marry each other?"
"I'd do it like a shot if it weren't for one drawback--that we both of
us are penniless."
"That is a nuisance, since we are both of us so fond of what money
stands for. If you had five thousand a year perhaps I might marry you
after all."
"I'm sure you would."
"Pray why are you sure? You've a conceit!"
"I am sure."
"If--I say if--I were to marry you, would you give me a good time?"
"The very best--a time after your own heart."
"Would you? Lots of frocks?"
"All the frocks your soul desired."
"Everything I wanted?"
"That's a tall order. I'm only human."
"That certainly is true. I shouldn't be surprised if you were more
generous even than Tom."
"I don't call that sort of thing generosity. A man gives things to a
woman he cares for because he has a lively sense of favours to come."
"That's candid. You've given me one or two trifles already. Has that
been with a lively sense of favours to come?"
"Perhaps."
"You wretch! Would you care for me a little?"
"I care for you more than a little now, as you are perfectly well
aware."
She turned and whispered something in his ear. He smiled, but kept
silent. Presently she said aloud:
"It would be rather a joke if we were to marry. Now that the idea's
got into my head I can't get it out again. It makes little thrills go
all over me--dear little thrills. I hope that if ever you do marry me
it will be before I have had to resort to any of women's aids to
beauty. I should like you to have me just as I am, while I am really
at my best and while I can still bear the most searching
investigation. My complexion's my own; I use no powder, rouge, or
pencil. I haven't a false tooth in my head or even a stopped one. I've
only a weeny pad on the top of my head, which is rendered absolutely
necessary by the present style of hairdressing--everything about me's
true."
"Outside."
"Sir! I dare say we shouldn't make such a very bad pair. Would
you--like to marry me?"
"Given an assured position, I would marry you."
"Well, then, I'll tell you what we might do. You might marry Stella,
and--dispose of her with some nice painless thing like chloral; and I
might marry Tom, and--delicately dispose of him. Then we should both
of us have an assured position, and--we could marry."
"There's more in the idea than meets the eye."
She threw the fag-end of her cigarette away from her and laughed.
"You're simply ripping!" she exclaimed.