AND THE SOUND OF WEDDING BELLS
Sir James came through the hall with them, carelessly taking his cap
from the horn of an antelope on the wall as he passed it. He came down
the steps, along the gardens to the side gate, and through it into the
park, talking to Mrs. Dangerfield of the changes he had found in the
gardens of the Grange after his last five years of big game shooting
about the world.
Mrs. Dangerfield had not liked her errand; and she was in no mood for
companionship. But she could not drive him from her side on his own
land. They walked slowly; the Twins forged ahead. When Sir James and
Mrs. Dangerfield came out of the park, the Twins were out of sight.
Mere politeness demanded that he should walk the rest of the way with
her.
When the Twins were out of the hearing of their mother and Sir James,
the Terror said:
“Well, he was quite decent about it. It made him much more
uncomfortable than we were. I suppose it was because we’re more used to
Mum.”
“What did the silly idiot want to give us away at all for?” said the
unappeased Erebus.
“Oh, well; he didn’t mean to. It was an accident, you know,” said the
Terror.
His provident mind foresaw advantages to be attained from a closer
intimacy with Sir James.
“Accident! People shouldn’t have accidents like that!” said Erebus in a
tone of bitter scorn.
When he and Mrs. Dangerfield came out of the park, Sir James
diplomatically fell to lauding the Twins to the skies, their beauty,
their grace and their intelligence. The diplomacy was not natural (he
was no diplomat) but accidental: the Twins were the only subject he
could at the moment think of. He could not have found a quicker way to
Mrs. Dangerfield’s approval. She had been disposed to dislike him for
having been blackmailed by them; his praise of them softened her heart.
Discussing them, they came right to the gate of Colet House; and it was
only natural that she should invite him to tea. He accepted with
alacrity. At tea he changed the subject: they talked about her.
He came home yet more interested in her, resolved yet more firmly to
see more of her. With a natural simplicity he used his skill in
woodcraft to compass his end, and availed himself of the covert
afforded by the common to watch Colet House. Thanks to this simple
device he was able to meet or overtake Mrs. Dangerfield, somewhere in
the first half-mile of her afternoon walk.
They grew intimate quickly, thanks chiefly to his simple directness;
and he found that his first impression that he wanted her more than he
had ever wanted anything in his life, more even than he had wanted, in
his enthusiastic youth, to shoot a black rhinoceros, was right. He had
been making arrangements for another shooting expedition; but he
perceived now very clearly, indeed, that it was his immediate duty to
settle down in life, provide the Hall with a mistress, and do his duty
by his estate and his neighbors.
He had had no experience of women; but his hunting had developed his
instinct and he perceived that he must proceed very warily indeed, that
to bring Mrs. Dangerfield over the boundary-line of friendship into the
land of romance was the most difficult enterprise he had ever dreamed
of. But he had a stout heart, the hunter’s pertinacity, and a burning
resolve to succeed.
He wanted all the help he could get; and he saw that the Twins would be
useful friends in the matter. But did they chance on him walking with
their mother, or at tea with her, they held politely but gloomily
aloof. He must abate their hostility.
He contrived, therefore, to meet them on the common as they were
starting one afternoon on an expedition, greeted them cheerfully,
stopped and said: “I’m awfully sorry I gave you away the other day. But
I never saw your mother till I’d done it.”
“Don’t mention it,” said the Terror with cold graciousness.
“So you ought to be,” said Erebus.
“It’s a pity you should lose your fishing. If I’d known how good you
both were at it, I should have given you leave when I got your letter,”
said Sir James hypocritically. “But I was misinformed about you.”
“It’s worse that mother should lose the trout. She does hate butcher’s
meat so, and it is so difficult to get her to eat properly,” said
Erebus in a somewhat mollified tone.
“It’s like that, is it?” said Sir James quickly; and an expression of
deep concern filled his face.
“Yes, and she did eat those trout,” said Erebus plaintively.
Sir James knitted his brow in frowning thought; and the Twins watched
him with little hope in their faces. Of a sudden his brow grew smooth;
and he said:
“Look here: you mayn’t fish my water; but there’s no reason why you
shouldn’t fish Glazebrook’s. _I_ think that a man who nets his water
loses all rights.”
“Yes, he does,” said the Terror firmly.
“Well, with one watching while the other fishes, it ought to be safe
enough; and I’ll stand the racket if you get prosecuted and fined. I
want to take it out of that fellow Glazebrook—he’s not a sportsman.”
The Terror’s face had brightened; but he said: “But how should we
account for the fish we took home?”
“You can reckon them presents from me. They would be—practically—if I’m
going to pay the fines,” said Sir James.
The eyes of both the Twins danced: this was a fashion of dealing
tenderly with exactitude which appealed to them. The Terror himself
could not have been more tender with it.
“That’s a ripping idea!” said Erebus in a tone of the warmest approval.
The peace was thus concluded.
Having thus abated their hostility, Sir James spared no pains to win
their good will. He gave the Terror a rook-rifle and Erebus boxes of
chocolate. If he chanced on them when motoring in the afternoon he
would carry them off, bicycles and all, in his car and regale them with
sumptuous teas at the Grange; and at Colet House he entertained them
with stories of the African forest which thrilled Mrs. Dangerfield even
more than they thrilled them. But he won their hearts most by his
sympathy with them in the matter of their mother’s appetite, and by
joining them in little plots to obtain delicacies for her.
Having discovered how grateful it was to her, he lost no opportunity of
taking the short cut to her heart by praising them. He laid himself out
to be useful to her, to entertain and amuse her, trying to make for
himself as large as possible a place in her life. She was not long
discovering that he was in love with her; and the discovery came as a
very pleasant shock. None of the neighbors, much less Captain Baster,
who, during her stay at Colet House, had asked her to marry them, had
attracted her so strongly as did Sir James. Even as her delicacy made
the strongest appeal to his vigorous robustness, so his vigorous
robustness made the strongest appeal to her delicacy.
But Little Deeping is a censorious place; and its gossips are the
keener for having so few chances of plying their active tongues. When
no less than four ladies had on four several occasions met Sir James
and Mrs. Dangerfield walking together along the lanes, those tongues
began to wag.
Then old Mrs. Blenkinsop, the childless widow of a Common Councilman of
London, one morning met the Twins in the village. They greeted her
politely and made to escape. But she was in the mood, her most constant
mood, to babble. She stopped them, and with a knowing air, and even
more offensive smile, said:
“So, young people, we’re going to hear the sound of wedding bells very
soon in Little Deeping, are we?”
Erebus merely scowled at her, for more than once she had talked about
them; but the Terror, in a tone of somewhat perfunctory politeness,
said:
“Are we?”
“I should have thought you would have known all about it,” she said
with a cackling little giggle. “Mind you tell me as soon as you’re
told: I want to be one of the first to congratulate your dear mother.”
“What do you mean?” snapped the Terror with a disconcerting suddenness;
and his eyes shone very bright and threatening in a steady glare into
her own.
“Oh, nothing—nothing!” cried Mrs. Blenkinsop, flustered by his
sternness. “Only seeing Sir James so much with your mother—But
there—there’s probably nothing in it—the Morgans always were rovers—one
foot at sea and one on shore—I dare say he’ll be in the middle of
Africa before the week is out. Good morning—good morning.”
With that she sprang, more lightly than she had sprung for years, into
the grocer’s shop.
The Twins looked after her with uneasy eyes, frowning. Then Erebus
said: “Silly old idiot!”
The Terror said nothing; he walked on frowning. At last he broke out:
“This won’t do! We can’t have these old idiots gossiping about Mum. And
it’s a beastly nuisance: Sir James was making things so much more
cheerful for her.”
“But you don’t think there’s anything in what the old cat said? It
would be perfectly horrid to have a stepfather!” cried Erebus in a
panic.
The Terror walked on, frowning in deep thought.
“_Do_ you think there’s anything in it?” cried Erebus.
“I dare say there is. Sir James is always about with Mum; and he’s
always very civil to us—people aren’t generally,” said the Terror.
“Oh, but we must stop it! We must stop it at once!” cried Erebus.
“Why must we?”
“It would be perfectly beastly having a step-father, I tell you!” cried
Erebus fiercely.
“It isn’t altogether what we like—there’s Mum,” said the Terror. “She
does have a rotten time of it—always being hard up and never going
anywhere. And, after all, we shouldn’t mind Sir James when we got used
to him.”
“But we should! And look how we stopped the Cruncher!”
“Sir James isn’t like the Cruncher—at all,” said the Terror.
“All stepfathers are alike; and they’re beastly!” cried Erebus.
“Now, it’s no good your getting yourself obstinate about it,” said the
Terror firmly. “That won’t be of any use at all, if they’ve made up
their minds. But what’s bothering me is what that old cat meant by
saying that the Morgans were rovers.”
Erebus’ frown deepened as she knitted her brow over the cryptic
utterance of Mrs. Blenkinsop. Then she said in a tone of considerable
relief:
“She must have meant that he wasn’t really in earnest about marrying
Mum.”
“Yes, that’s what she did mean,” growled the Terror. “And she’ll go
about telling everybody that he’s only fooling.”
“But I don’t think he is. I don’t think he would,” said Erebus quickly.
“No more do I,” said the Terror.
They walked nearly fifty yards in silence. Then the Terror’s face
cleared and brightened; and he said cheerfully:
“I know the thing to do! I’ll go and ask him his intentions. That’s
what people said old Hawley ought to have done when the Cut—you know:
that fellow from Rowington—was fooling about with Miss Hawley.”
“All right, we’ll go and ask him,” said Erebus with equal cheerfulness.
“No, no, you can’t go. I must go alone,” said the Terror quickly. “It’s
the kind of thing the men of the family always do—people said so about
Miss Hawley—and I’m the only man of the family about. If Uncle Maurice
were in London and not in Vienna, we might send for him to do it.”
Erebus burst into bitter complaint. She alleged that the restrictions
which were applied to the ordinary girl should by no means be applied
to her, since she was not ordinary; that since they cooperated in
everything else they ought to cooperate in this; that he was much more
successful in those exploits in which they did cooperate, than in those
which he performed alone.
“It’s no good talking like that: it isn’t the thing to do,” said the
Terror with very cold severity. “You know what Mrs. Morton said about
Miss Hawley and the Cut—that the men of the family did it.”
“You’re only a boy; and I’m as old as you!” snapped Erebus.
“Well, when there isn’t a man to do a thing, a boy does it. So it’s no
use you’re making a fuss,” said the Terror in a tone of finality.
Erebus protested that the upshot of his going alone would be that Sir
James would presently be their detested stepfather; but he went alone,
early in the afternoon.
He was now on such familiar terms at the Grange that Mawley took him
straight to the smoking-room, where his master was smoking a cigar over
his after-lunch coffee. Sir James welcomed him warmly, for he was
beginning to learn that the Terror was quite good company, in the
country, and poured him out a cup of coffee.
The Terror put sugar and cream into it and forthwith, since a simple
matter of this kind did not seem to him to call for the exercise of his
usual diplomacy, said with firm directness: “I’ve come to ask your
intentions, sir.”
“My intentions?” said Sir James, not taking him.
“Yes. You see some of the old cats who live about here are saying that
you’re only fooling,” said the Terror.
“The deuce they are!” cried Sir James sharply with a sudden and angry
comprehension.
“Yes. So of course the thing to do was to ask your intentions,” said
the Terror firmly.
“Of course—of course,” said Sir James.
He looked at the Terror; and in spite of his anger his eyes twinkled.
Then he added gravely: “My intentions are not only extremely serious
but they’re extremely immediate. I’d marry your mother to-morrow if
she’d let me.”
“That’s all right,” said the Terror with a faint sigh of relief. “Of
course I knew you were all right. Only, it was the thing to do, with
these silly old idiots talking.”
“Quite so—quite so,” said Sir James.
There was a pause; and Sir James looked again at the Terror tranquilly
drinking his coffee, in a somewhat appealing fashion, for he had been
suffering badly from all the doubts and fears of the lover; and the
Terror’s serenity was soothing.
Then with a sudden craving for comfort and reassurance, he said: “Do
you think your mother would marry me?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea; women are so funny,” said the Terror
with a sage air.
Sir James pulled at his mustache. Then the compulsion to have some
one’s opinion of his chances, even if it was only a small boy’s, came
on him strongly; and he said:
“I wish I knew what to do. As it is we’re very good friends; and if I
asked her to marry me, I might spoil that.”
The Terror considered the point for a minute or two; then he said: “I
don’t think you would. Mum’s very sensible, though she is so pretty.”
Sir James frowned deeply in his utter perplexity; then he said: “I’ll
risk it!”
He rang the bell and ordered his car. He talked to the Terror jerkily
and somewhat incoherently till it came; and the Terror observed his
perturbation with considerable interest. It seemed to him very curious
in a hard-bitten hunter of big game. They started and in the two level
miles to Little Deeping Sir James changed his car’s speeds nine times.
As they came very slowly up to Colet House, the Terror said with an air
of detachment: “I should think, you know, Mum could be rushed.”
He had definitely made up his mind that it would be a good thing for
her.
“If I only could!” said Sir James in a tone of feverish doubt.
Mrs. Dangerfield was mending a rent in a frock of Erebus when he
entered the drawing-room; and at the first glance she knew, with a
thrill half of pleasure, half of apprehension, why he had come.
At the sight of her Sir James felt his tremulous courage oozing out of
him; but with what was left of it he blurted out desperately:
“Look here, Anne, dear, I want you to marry me!”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Dangerfield, rising quickly.
“Yes, I want it more than ever I wanted anything in my life!”
Mrs. Dangerfield’s face was one flush; and she cried: “B-b-but it’s out
of the question. I—I’m old enough to be your mother!”
“Now how?—I’m three years and seven months older than you,” said Sir
James, taken aback.
“I shall be an old woman while you’re still quite young!” she
protested.
“You won’t ever be old! You’re not the kind!” cried Sir James with some
heat; and then with sudden understanding: “If that’s your only reason,
why, that settles it!”
With that he picked her up and kissed her four times.
When he set her down and held her at arm’s length, gazing at her with
devouring eyes, she gasped somewhat faintly: “Oh, James, you are—ever
so much more—impetuous—than I thought. You gave me—no time.”
“Thank goodness, I took the Terror’s tip!” said Sir James.
THE END