THE BARGAIN
The memory of that long, dragging, magnificent meal is like a nightmare
to me. I loathed it all, the vulgar display of gold plate--I heard
afterwards who it was that Garret Dawson had cheated out of it--the
number of men-servants, the exotic flowers that made the room sickly,
the fruits out of their season.
We are simple people and not accustomed to such banquets; but I was
surprised to see how greedy some of the ladies were over the turtle
soup, the ortolans and truffles, all the fine things which must have
been brought from far off for the dinner. There was an incessant popping
of champagne corks, and I wondered at the frequent refilling of the
glasses. I did not drink wine--my grandmother did not consider it
becoming in a girl--and it seemed the hardest thing in the world to
procure a glass of water, judging by the delay in bringing it when I
asked for it.
Lady Ardaragh sat nearly opposite to us. I noticed that she was very
flushed and her eyes bright, and that she chattered and laughed a great
deal.
I had made up my mind that I would not speak to Richard Dawson, although
I was forced to sit by him, and that was a contact which I found most
detestable. But he would talk to me and sit close to me, and once when I
had turned away from him and addressed Sir Arthur Ardaragh, who was on
the other side of me, I caught my grandmother's eye on me with a look of
appeal.
I wished my godmother had been there. She had been invited to the
dinner, but she would not go nor consent to be civil to the Dawsons. Nor
would she believe that there was anything about Uncle Luke which might
not come into the light of day.
"And if there could be," she said proudly, "I would rather it was told
than go in terror of the Dawsons. I had as lief trust the world as them
any day."
After that glance of my grandmother I did not turn away again from
Richard Dawson, much as I detested his closeness and his breath upon my
cheek. I thought the dinner would never be over. As it went on I could
not but feel that he was making himself and me conspicuous. He drank a
good deal of wine, and the more he drank the more he leant to me and
tried to look into my eyes, so that I felt thoroughly sick and ashamed.
I could have pushed him away with both hands, but that was not possible
in the publicity of a dinner-table. He whispered in my ear, he leant to
me, he behaved as an infatuated lover, and presently it seemed to me
that my fellow-guests smiled here and there and looked significant. Lady
Ardaragh talked more than ever to the blasé-looking young lord who was
her neighbour and her colour was heightened. Her witticisms came to me
across the table, or a portion of them, and I thought she was saying
wild, unbecoming things. I was sure I saw Sir Arthur wince when I turned
to him. But it was all too much of a nightmare to myself to be greatly
concerned about the feelings of others, even those I liked very much.
At last the welcome signal was given for the ladies to leave the table.
When we had returned to the drawing-room the smart London ladies flocked
together in a bevy and began chattering like a field of starlings. Their
talk seemed to be altogether of their male acquaintances, whom they
called by their names--Jack and Tom and Reggie and Algy, and so on.
Lady Ardaragh sat down by my grandmother and talked to her in a low
voice. After the excitement of the dinner she seemed to have become pale
and quiet. I could hear that she was talking about her boy, who was a
great pet with Gran. I heard her say that he was growing too fast and
had been languid of late.
Mrs. Dawson came and sat by me. She sighed with quiet satisfaction as
she subsided into her chair.
"It all went off very well, dear," she said, "didn't it? Dawson was very
anxious that it should; and I couldn't eat a bit for thinking of what
would happen if it didn't go off well."
I answered her that it had gone off very well. It was impossible to
dislike her, poor soul; and it was easy to see that she had a wretched
life between her husband who was an intolerant tyrant to her and the
fine folk he liked to see about him now that his money was made, who
were rude and neglectful to her.
"I'm glad you think that, my dear," she said. "Indeed, I think Dawson
looked quite cheerful. And I was very glad to see that you and Rick were
making friends. He's a very good boy, my dear, although he's a bit
wild, having plenty of money and nothing to do but spend it. But he's a
very kind boy to his mother. I assure you, dear, there have been times
when I wouldn't have cared much to live if it hadn't been for my Rick."
It was a pitiful confession for the mistress of all this splendour; and
now that the anxiety and excitement were to some extent over she looked
pale and old and tired.
"I'm very glad you liked Rick," she said, "very glad. It isn't like
those who would care for him for his money." She nodded her head in the
direction of the chattering group. "I should be so glad to see my Rick
married to a nice, innocent, good girl. I haven't been so happy this
many a day as I've been since I've seen you and him making friends."
I could not bear to tell her that I did not like her son and that
nothing on earth would induce me to make friends with him, so I sat
silent and said nothing; and I think it did her good to talk, for she
prattled on in a gentle, monotonous way about her son's childhood and
school-days and of the kindnesses he had done her. Apparently she
thought him the finest, handsomest, best person in the world, and
apparently his father thought likewise, which was a much stranger thing.
She seemed to have no reticence at all, or I had unlocked her heart.
"When Rick is at home," she said, "Dawson is good-tempered, and is often
even kind to me. And Rick knows that, and has promised me not to go away
any more. I should be so glad if he would marry and settle down, and so
would Dawson. There's nothing Dawson wouldn't give him if he'd marry
according to his wishes."
At this moment some of the gentlemen arrived, and the group of ladies
broke up to admit the black coats. One man passed by and came on towards
the end of the room where we were. It was Richard Dawson.
I saw Lady Ardaragh suddenly move her skirt so as to leave a vacant
place on the sofa upon which she was sitting; but he disregarded the
invitation, if such it were, and came on towards us.
I saw him stoop to kiss his mother and the lighting up of the plain,
elderly face, and it came into my mind that however intolerable he was
to me, there must be another side of him for her.
For the remainder of that evening he never left my side, and no one
could dislodge him, to my great vexation. I thought he was doing it only
to annoy me. But I kept close to his mother, so that there was less
chance of his making me conspicuous, none at all of his whispering and
languishing as he had done at the dinner-table.
I could not see how my grandmother was taking it, since she sat at the
same side of the room as I did; but I was glad that Mr. Dawson kept my
grandfather in conversation so that he could not see what was going on,
for I felt sure that however much he might wish to be civil to the
Dawsons, he could not have endured Richard Dawson's attentions to me,
since he was very proud.
I have always been one to act on impulse, and of a sudden it occurred to
me that it might be possible to make Richard Dawson let poor Nora alone.
I suppose it must have been because his mother praised him so much that
I should have thought such a thing possible, for up to this I would have
believed nothing good of him.
And presently we were alone to all intents, for Mrs. Dawson dropped off
to sleep, and the party at the end of the room was playing some noisy
round game in which Lady Ardaragh had joined, and Sir Arthur had taken
her place beside Gran and they were talking together.
"Mr. Dawson," I said suddenly, "there is something I should like to say
to you."
"What is it?"
"Something I should like to ask you."
"Will you come out here on the balcony and ask me what it is? I promise
you I shall do it if it be within my power."
The promise determined me. All the windows were wide open, so that to go
on the balcony was not to be solitary. As I went out with him I noticed
that my grandmother looked after me with an amazed air. Well, I might be
mad to believe good of Richard Dawson on his mother's report, but it was
worth a trial. I went out on the balcony with him; and noticed that he
drew the curtains to after us. It was a thing a gentleman would not have
done and I detested him for it. But there was my poor Nora to be thought
of, so I endured it.