When Heriot informed his brother of his approaching marriage, Sir
Francis said, "I never offer advice to a man on matters of this sort";
and proceeded to advise. He considered the union undesirable, and used
the word.
Heriot replied, "On the contrary, I desire it extremely."
"You're of course the best judge of your own affairs. I'll only say
that it is hardly the attachment I should have expected you to form. It
appears to me--if I may employ the term--romantic."
"I should say," said Heriot, in his most impassive manner, "that that
is what it might be called. Admitting the element of romance, what of
it?"
"We are not boys, George," said Sir Francis. He added, "And the lady
is twenty-two! The father is an hotel-keeper in the United States, you
tell me, and the aunt lives in Wandsworth. Socially, Wandsworth is
farther than the United States, but geographically it is close. This
Mrs. Payne--or Baynes--is not a connection you will be proud of, I take
it?"
"I shall be very proud of my wife," said Heriot, with some stiffness.
"There are more pedigrees than happy marriages."
The Baronet looked at his watch. "As I have said, it's not a matter
that I would venture to advise you upon. Of course I congratulate you.
We shall see Miss Cheriton at Sandhills, I hope? and--er--Catherine
will be delighted to make her acquaintance. I have to meet Phil at
the Club. He's got some absurd idea of exchanging--wants to go out to
India, and see active service. And I got him into the Guards! Boys are
damned ungrateful.... When do you marry?"
"Very shortly--during the vacation. There'll be no fuss."
Sir Francis told his wife that it was very "lamentable," and Lady
Heriot preferred to describe it as "disgusting." But in spite of
adjectives the ceremony took place.
The honeymoon was brief, and when the bride and bridegroom came back to
town, they stayed in an hotel in Victoria Street while they sought a
flat. Ultimately they decided upon one in South Kensington, and it was
the man's delight to render this as exquisite as taste and money made
possible. The furniture for his study had simply to be transferred from
his bachelor quarters, but the other rooms gave scope for a hundred
consultations and caprices; and like a lad he enjoyed the moments in
which he and Mamie bent their heads together over patterns and designs.
She would have been more than human, and less than lovable, if in those
early weeks her disappointment had not been lost sight of; more than a
girl if the atmosphere of devotion in which she moved had not persuaded
her primarily that she was content. Only after the instatement was
effected and the long days while her husband was away were no longer
occupied by upholsterers' plans, did the earliest returning stir of
recollection come; only as she wandered from the drawing-room to the
dining-room and could find no further touches to make, did she first
sigh.
A gift of Heriot's--he had chosen it without her knowledge, and it had
been delivered as a surprise--was a writing-table; a writing-table
that was not meant merely to be a costly ornament. And one morning she
sat down to it and began another attempt at a play. The occupation
served to interest her, and now the days were not so empty. In the
evening, as often as he was able, Heriot took her out to a theatre,
or a concert, or to houses from which invitations came. The evenings
were enchantingly new to her; less so, perhaps, when they dined at
the solemn houses than when a hansom deposited them at the doors of a
restaurant, and her husband's pocket contained the tickets for a couple
of stalls. She was conscious that she owed him more than she could ever
repay; and though she had casually informed him that she had begun a
drama, she did not discuss the subject with him at any length. To dwell
upon those eternal ambitions of hers was to remind him that she had
said she would be dissatisfied, and he deserved something different
from that; he deserved to forget it, to be told that she had not an
ungratified wish! She felt ungrateful to realise that such a statement
would be an exaggeration.
In the November following the wedding it was seen that "Her Majesty had
been pleased, on the recommendation of the Lord Chancellor, to approve
the name of George Langdale Heriot to the rank of Queen's Counsel," and
Heriot soon found reason to congratulate himself on his step. A man
may earn a large income as a Junior, and find himself in receipt of a
very poor one as a Leader. There is an instance cited in the Inns of
Court of a stuff-gownsman, making eight thousand a year, whose income
fell, when he took silk, to three hundred. But Heriot's practice did
not decline. Few men at the Bar could handle a jury better, or showed
greater address in their dealings with the Bench. He knew instinctively
the moment when that small concession was advisable, when the attitude
of uncompromising rigour would be fatal to his case. He had his tricks
in court: the least affected of men out of it, in court he had his
tricks. Counsel acquire them inevitably, and one of Heriot's had been a
favourite device of Ballantyne's: in cross-examination he looked at the
witness scarcely at all, but kept his face turned to the jury-box. Why
this should be persuasive is a mystery that no barrister can explain,
but its effectiveness is undeniable. Nevertheless, he was essentially
"sound." As he had been known as "a safe man" while a Junior, so, now
that he had taken silk, he was believed in as a Leader. The figures
on the briefs swelled enormously; his services were more and more in
demand. Then by-and-by there came a criminal case that was discussed
day by day throughout the length and breadth of the kingdom--in
drawing-rooms and back parlours, in clubs and suburban trains, and
Heriot was for the Defence. The Kensington study had held him until
dawn during weeks, for he had to break down medical evidence. And on
the last day he spoke for five hours, while the reporters' pens flew,
and the prisoner swayed in the dock; and the verdict returned was "Not
Guilty."
When he unrobed and left the court, George Heriot walked into the
street the man of the hour; and he drove home to Mamie, who kissed him
as she might have kissed her father.
He adored his wife, and his wife felt affection for him. But the claims
of his profession left her to her own resources; and she had no child.