"I wanted to ask her to marry me."
There he was dangling, and what a fish! The dear woman licked her chops,
not vulgarly, of course, but mentally.
Paliser, who knew perfectly well what she was at, smiled tantalisingly.
"It is beastly to boast, but I am an epicure."
What in the world does he mean? the dear woman wondered. But she said:
"Of course you are."
Paliser, who was enjoying himself hugely, resumed: "An epicure, you
know, postpones the finest pleasures. He does so sometimes because of
the enchantment of distance and again because he can't help himself.
That has been my case."
It was fully a moment before Mrs. Austen got it. Then she said: "But I
told you, didn't I? Mr. Lennox is dead and buried."
It was quick work. Paliser, admiring her agility, laughed. "So recently
though! The immortelles have not had time to fade."
That would have made a saint swear! Not being a saint, Mrs. Austen
contented herself with virtuous surprise. "But there were none! I told
you that. I told you that any attraction he may have had for my child,
he shocked straight out of her. Not deliberately. Dear me, I would not
have you fancy such a thing for a moment. Nor would I misjudge him. I
hope I am too conscientious. But such interest as the child had in
him--an interest I need hardly say that was girlish and immature--he
destroyed."
The picture, bold but crude, had its defects. To remedy them, Mrs.
Austen applied the brush. "That singing-girl! You know whom I mean. I
saw you with her the night we went to the Bazaar."
Paliser nodded. He knew indeed! He knew too that, for a moment, he had
fancied that Cassy was in love with Lennox. But that idea he had long
since abandoned and what she could now be doing in this galley intrigued
him.
With a free hand Mrs. Austen laid on the colours. "You will hardly
credit it, but we as good as caught him with her. As good or as bad. It
is a matter of taste. For me it was very painful. A woman should be
spared such an experience. As for Margaret, while the child certainly
did not understand--how could she?--yet, even in her innocence, she
realised--well--that he is just what you said."
It was a bit thick and Paliser began to laugh.
Mrs. Austen saw that he did not believe her. The fact annoyed and in
vexation she piled it on. "Afterward, in this very room, I taxed him
with it and he admitted it."
What a lie! thought Paliser, who specialised in that article. But, a
second thought prompting, he wondered whether it were a lie. His
knowledge of Cassy refuted it. At the same time, where women are
concerned, you never know. One thing, however, he did know. In his
quality of expert he knew that there are statements which, whether true
or false, may come in handy and, comfortably, he smiled.
"So that was the reason why the engagement was broken."
"What more would you have?" replied the candid creature, who now felt
that he had swallowed it.
Quite as comfortably, Paliser returned to his muttons. "I may cease then
to be an epicure?"
There was the fish again, but how to land him? The glittering fisherlady
could not bind and gag the bait and drop her into his mouth. At any such
attempt, the bait would pack and go, might even go without packing. Yet
there was the fish, eager, willing, the gills awiggle. Barring a few
gold-fish in Bradstreet, in Burke and in Lempriere, this fish was the
pick of the basket. To see him glide away, and for no other earthly
reason than because the bait refused to be hooked, was simply inhuman.
Flesh and blood could not stand it. No, nor ingenuity either. Instantly
the angler saw that in default of bait, a net may do the trick and, with
the ease of a prestidigitateur, she produced one.
"You have my blessing!"
Paliser laughed and bowed. He was in it, it was where he wanted to be
and he liked it. But in view of existing domestic arrangements, he was
in it a bit too soon and, wriggling through a mesh, he stopped laughing
and looked solemn.
"You are very good. But beforehand my father will expect to be consulted
and, just at present, that is impossible. The physicians would forbid
it."
"The poor dear old man! You don't mean----"
Paliser half raised a hand. The gesture was slight but expressive. One
never knew!
But so much the better, thought Mrs. Austen. Pending the delay she could
so bombard the bait, bombard her day in, day out, and the whole night
through, that, like Liege and Namur, her resistance would crumble, and
meanwhile he would come in for everything, or nearly everything, she
reflected, and the reflection prompting, she affected concern.
"Has your sister been informed?"
"I cabled her to-day," said Paliser, who had done nothing of the kind.
With the same concern, Mrs. Austen lied as freely. "It is too sad for
words." But at once the air of the sympathiser departed, replaced by
that of the hostess. Through one door the men were entering. Through
another came the girls.
Kate Schermerhorn approached. "Dear Mrs. Austen, Margaret's all right,
but she has a headache." As she spoke, she threw a glance at Cantillon.
Poppet Bleecker also approached. "It is too bad, Margaret is such a
dear! I would like to stop on but they tell me my maid is here. Thank
you so much, dear Mrs. Austen."
The lady stood up. "But you are not all going!" They all were though.
She knew it and was glad of it. The object of the dinner was achieved
and achievement, however satisfactory, is fatiguing. "You too!" she
successively exclaimed at Ogston and Cantillon. "And you also!" she
exclaimed at Paliser, to whom, dropping her voice, she added: "If
possible, remember me to him."
As they went, Verelst surveyed her. He stood against the mantel, his
back to the empty grate.