It was a curious thing about Madame Frabelle that, though she was
perfectly at ease in any society, and really had seen a good deal of the
world, all her notions of life were taken from the stage. She looked
upon existence from the theatrical point of view. Everyone was to her a
hero or a heroine, a villain or a victim. To her a death was a
_dénouement_; a marriage a happy ending. Had she known the exact
circumstances in which Edith went to see the wounded hero, Madame
Frabelle's dramatic remarks, the obvious observations which she would
have showered on her friend, would have been quite unendurable.
Therefore Edith chose to say merely that she was going to see an old
friend, so as not to excite her friend's irritable imagination by any
hint of sentiment or romance on the subject.
During her absence in the afternoon, it happened that Mrs Mitchell had
called, with a lady whom she had known intimately since Tuesday, so she
was quite an old friend. Madame Frabelle had received them together in
Edith's place. On her return Madame Frabelle was full of the stranger.
She had, it seemed been dressed in bright violet, and did nothing but
laugh. Whether it was that everything amused her, or merely that
laughter was the only mode she knew of expressing all her sentiments,
impressions and feelings, Madame Frabelle was not quite sure. Her name
was Miss Radford, and she was thirty-eight. She had very red cheeks, and
curly black hair. She had screamed with laughter from disappointment at
hearing Mrs Ottley was out; and shrieked at hearing that Madame Frabelle
had been deputed to receive them in her place. Mrs Mitchell had
whispered that she was a most interesting person, and Madame Frabelle
thought she certainly was. It appeared that Mrs Mitchell had sent the
motor somewhere during their visit, and by some mistake it was a long
time coming back. This had caused peals of laughter from Miss Radford,
and just as they had made up their minds to walk home the motor arrived,
so she went away with Mrs Mitchell, giggling so much she could
hardly stand.
Miss Radford also had been highly amused by the charming way the boudoir
was furnished, and had laughed most heartily at the curtains and the
pictures. Edith was sorry to have missed her. She was evidently a
valuable discovery, one of their new treasures, a rare _trouvaille_ of
the Mitchells.
Madame Frabelle then told Edith and Bruce that she had promised to dine
with the Mitchells one day next week. Edith was pleased to find that
Eglantine, and also Bruce, who had by now returned home, were so full of
Mrs Mitchell's visit and invitation, that neither of them asked her a
single question about Aylmer, and appeared to have completely forgotten
all about him.
* * * * *
As Madame Frabelle left them for a moment, Edith observed a cloud of
gloom over Bruce's expressive countenance. He said:
'Well, really! Upon my word! This is a bit too much! Mind you, I'm not
at all surprised. In fact, I always expected it. But it is a bit of a
shock, isn't it, when you find old friends throwing you over like this?'
He walked up and down, much agitated, repeating the same thing in
different words: that he had never been so surprised in his life; that
it was what he had always known would happen; that it was a great shock,
and he had always expected it.
At last Edith said: 'I don't see anything so strange about it, Bruce.
It's natural enough they should have asked her.'
'Oh, is it? How would they ever have known her but for us?'
'How could they ask her without knowing her? Besides we went there last.
We lunched with them only the other day.'
'That's not the point. You have missed the point entirely.
Unfortunately, you generally do. You have, in the most marked way, a
woman's weakness, Edith. You're incapable of arguing logically. I
consider it a downright slight; no, not so much a slight as an
insult--perhaps injury is the _mot juste_--to take away our guest and
not ask us. Not that I should have gone. I shouldn't have dreamed of
going, in any case. For one thing we were there last; we lunched there
only the other day. Besides, we're engaged to dine with my mother.'
'Mrs Mitchell knew that; that's why she asked Madame Frabelle because
she would be alone.'
'Oh, how like you, Edith! Always miss the point--always stick up for
everyone but me! You invariably take the other side. However, perhaps it
is all for the best; it's just as well. Nothing would have induced me to
have gone--even if I hadn't been engaged, I mean. I'm getting a bit
tired of the Mitchells; sick of them. Their tone is frivolous. And if
they'd pressed me ever so much, nothing in the world would have made me
break my promise to my mother.'
'Well, then, it's all right. Why complain?'
Bruce continued, however, in deep depression till they received a
message from the Mitchells, asking Edith if she and her husband couldn't
manage to come, all the same, if they were not afraid of offending the
elder Mrs Ottley. They could go to Bruce's mother at any time, and the
Mitchells particularly wanted them to meet some people tomorrow night--a
small party, unexpectedly got up.
'Of course you won't go,' said Edith to Bruce from the telephone. 'You
said you wouldn't under any circumstances. I'll refuse, shall I?'
'No--no, don't! Certainly not! Of course I shall go. Accept immediately.
They're quite right, it is perfectly true we can go to my mother any
other day. Besides, I don't think it's quite fair to old friends like
the Mitchells to throw them over when they particularly want us and ask
us as a special favour to them, like this.'
'You don't think, perhaps, that somebody else has disappointed them, and
they asked us at the last minute, to fill up?' suggested Edith, to whom
this was perfectly obvious.
Bruce was furious at this suggestion.
'Certainly not!' he exclaimed. 'The idea of such a thing. As if they
would treat me like that! Decidedly we will go.'
'All right,' she said, 'just as you wish. But your mother will be
disappointed.'
Bruce insisted. Of course the invitation was accepted, and once again he
was happy!
* * * * *
And at last Edith was able to be alone, and to think over her meeting
with Aylmer. A dramatic meeting under romantic circumstances between two
people of the Anglo-Saxon race always appears to fall a little flat;
words are difficult to find. When she went in, to find him looking thin
and weak, pale under his sunburn, changed and worn, she was deeply
thrilled and touched. It brought close to her the simple, heroic manner
in which so many men are calmly risking their lives, taking it as a
matter of course, and as she knew for a fact that he was forty-two and
had gone into the New Army at the very beginning of the war, she was
aware he must have strained a point in order to join. She admired
him for it.
He greeted her with that bright expression in his eyes and with the
smile that she had always liked so much, which lighted up like a ray of
sunshine the lean, brown, somewhat hard, face.
She sat down by his side, and all she could think of to say was: 'Well,
Aylmer?'
He answered: 'Well, Edith! Here you are.'
He took her hand, and she left it in his. Then they sat in silence,
occasionally broken by an obvious remark.
* * * * *
When he had left three years ago both had parted in love, and Aylmer in
anger. He had meant never to see her again, never to forgive her for her
refusal to use Bruce's escapade as a means of freeing herself, to marry
him. Yet now, when they met they spoke the merest commonplaces. And
afterwards neither of them could ever remember what had passed between
them during the visit. She knew it was short, and that it had left an
impression that calmed her. Somehow she had thought of him so much that
when she actually saw him again her affection seemed cooler. Had she
worn out the passion by dint of constancy? That must be strange.
Unaccountably, touched as she was at his wishing to see her just after
he had nearly died, the feeling now seemed to be more like a warm
friendship, and less like love.
The little nurse had seen her out. Edith saw that she had been crying.
Evidently she was quite devoted to Aylmer, and, poor girl, she probably
regarded Edith as a rival. But Edith would not be one, of that she was
determined. She wondered whether their meeting had had the same effect
on Aylmer. She thought he had shown more emotion than she had.
'He will be better now,' Dulcie Clay had said to her at the door.
'Please come again, Mrs Ottley.'
Edith thought that generous.
It seemed to her that Dulcie was as frank and open as a child. Edith, at
any rate, could read her like a book. It made her feel sorry for the
girl. As Edith analysed her own feelings she wondered why she had felt
no jealousy of her--only gratitude for her goodness to Aylmer.
All her sensations were confused. Only one resolution was firm in her
mind. Whether he wished it or not, they should never be on the terms
they were before. It could only lead to the same ending--to unhappiness.
No; after all these years of separation, Edith would be his friend, and
only his friend. Of that she was resolved.