Mr. Barton was waiting patiently for us in the white drawing-room, and we
had not been munching muffins for five minutes when the sound of wheels
crunching the gravel of the great sweep--the windows of this room look out
that way--interrupted our made conversation.
"This must be Bob arriving," Mr. Carruthers said, and went reluctantly
into the hall to meet his guest.
They came back together presently, and he introduced Lord Robert to me.
I felt at once he was rather a pet. Such a shape! Just like the Apollo
Belvedere! I do love that look, with a tiny waist and nice shoulders, and
looking as if he were as lithe as a snake, and yet could break pokers in
half like Mr. Rochester in _Jane Eyre_.
He has great, big, sleepy eyes of blue, and rather a plaintive expression,
and a little fairish mustache turned up at the corners, and the nicest
mouth one ever saw; and when you see him moving, and the back of his head,
it makes you think all the time of a beautifully groomed thorough-bred
horse. I don't know why. At once--in a minute--when we looked at each
other, I felt I should like "Bob." He has none of Mr. Carruthers's
cynical, hard expression, and I am sure he can't be nearly as old--not
more than twenty-seven or so.
He seemed perfectly at home--sat down and had tea, and talked in the most
casual, friendly way. Mr. Carruthers appeared to freeze up, Mr. Barton got
more _banal_, and the whole thing entertained me immensely.
I often used to long for adventures in the old days with Mrs. Carruthers,
and here I am really having them!
Such a situation! I am sure people would think it most improper! I alone
in the house with these three men! I felt I really would have to go--but
where?
Meanwhile I have every intention of amusing myself.
Lord Robert and I seemed to have a hundred things to say to each other. I
do like his voice--and he is so perfectly _sans gêne_ it makes no
difficulties. By the end of tea we were as old friends. Mr. Carruthers got
more and more polite and stiff, and finally jumped up and hurried his
guest off to the smoking-room.
I put on such a duck of a frock for dinner--one of the sweetest,
chastened simplicity, in black, showing peeps of skin through the thin
part at the top. Nothing could be more demure or becoming, and my hair
would not behave, and stuck out in rebellious waves and curls everywhere.
I thought it would be advisable not to be in too good time, so sauntered
down after I knew dinner was announced.
They were both standing on the hearth-rug. I always forget to count Mr.
Barton; he was in some chair, I suppose, but I did not notice him.
Mr. Carruthers is the taller--about one inch. He must be a good deal over
six feet, because the other one is very tall, too; but now that one saw
them together, Mr. Carruthers's figure appeared stiff and set besides Lord
Robert's, and he hasn't got nearly such a little waist. But they really
are lovely creatures, both of them, and I don't yet know which I like
best.
We had such an engaging time at dinner! I was as provoking as I could be
in the time, sympathetically, absorbingly interested in Mr. Barton's long
stories, and only looking at the other two now and then from under my
eyelashes; while I talked in the best demure fashion that I am sure even
Lady Katherine Montgomerie--a neighbor of ours--would have approved of.
They should not be able to say I could not chaperone myself in any
situation.
"Dam good port this, Christopher," Lord Robert said, when the '47 was
handed round. "Is this what you asked me down to sample?"
"I thought it was to give your opinion about the pictures?" I exclaimed,
surprised. "Mr. Carruthers said you were a great judge."
They looked at each other.
"Oh--ah--yes," said Lord Robert, lying transparently. "Pictures are
awfully interesting. Will you show me them after dinner?"
"The light is too dim for a connoisseur to investigate them properly," I
said.
"I shall have it all lit by electricity as soon as possible; I wrote about
it to-day," Mr. Carruthers announced, sententiously. "But I will show you
the pictures myself, to-morrow, Bob."
This at once decided me to take Lord Robert round to-night, and I told him
so in a velvet voice while Mr. Barton was engaging Christopher's
attention.
They stayed such a long time in the dining-room after I left that I was on
my way to bed when they came out into the hall, and could with difficulty
be persuaded to remain--for a few moments.
"I am too awfully sorry," Lord Robert said. "I could not get away. I do
not know what possessed Christopher; he would sample ports, and talked the
hind-leg off a donkey, till at last I said to him straight out I wanted to
come to you. So here I am. Now you won't go to bed, will you?--please,
please."
He has such pleading blue eyes, imploring pathetically, like a baby in
distress, it is quite impossible to resist him--and we started down the
gallery.
Of course, he did not know the difference between a Canaletto and a
Turner, and hardly made a pretence of being interested; in fact, when we
got to the end where the early Italians hang, and I was explaining the
wonderful texture of a Madonna, he said:
"They all look sea-sick and out of shape. Don't you think we might sit in
that comfy window-seat and talk of something else?" Then he told me he
loved pictures, but not this sort.
"I like people to look human, you know, even on canvas," he said. "All
these ladies appear as if they were getting enteric, like people used in
Africa; and I don't like their halos and things; and all the men are old
and bald. But you must not think me a Goth. You will teach me their
points, won't you?--and then I shall love them."