BELLA'S DEFEAT
The afternoon was calm and hazy, and Lisle lounged with great content in
a basket-chair on Millicent's lawn. His hostess sat near by, looking
listless, a somewhat unusual thing for her, and Miss Hume, her elderly
companion, genial in spite of her precise formality, was industriously
embroidering something not far away. There was not a breath of wind
astir; a soft gray sky streaked with long bars of stronger color hung
motionless over the wide prospect. Wood and moorland ridge and distant
hill had faded to dimness of contour and quiet neutral tones. Indeed, the
whole scene seemed steeped in a profound tranquillity, intensified only
by the murmur of the river.
Lisle enjoyed it all, though he was conscious that Millicent's presence
added to its charm. He had grown to feel restful and curiously at ease in
her company. She was, he thought, so essentially natural; one felt at
home with her.
"I haven't often seen you with the unoccupied appearance you have just
now," he remarked at length.
"I have sent the book off, and after being at work on it so long, I feel
disinclined to do anything else," she said. "I've just heard from the
publishers; they don't seem enthusiastic. After all, one couldn't expect
that--the style of the thing is rather out of the usual course."
Lisle looked angry and she was pleased with his indignation on her
behalf.
"They show precious little sense!" he declared; "but you're right. It's
one of your English customs to go on from precedent to precedent until
you get an unmodifiable standard, when you slavishly conform to it. Now
your book's neither a classification nor a catalogue--it's something far
bigger. Never mind what the experts and scientists say; wait until the
people who love the wild things and want their story made real get it
into their hands!"
His confidence was gratifying, but she changed the subject.
"You Canadians haven't much respect for precedent?"
"No; we try to meet the varying need by constantly changing means.
They're often crude, but they're successful, as a rule."
"It's a system that must have a wide effect," she responded, to lead him
on. She liked to hear him talk.
"It has. You can see it in the difference between your country and mine.
This land's smooth and well trimmed; everything in it has grown up little
by little; its mellow ripeness is its charm. Ours is grand or rugged or
desolate, but it's never merely pretty. The same applies to our people;
they're bubbling over with raw, optimistic vigor, their corners are not
rubbed off. Some of them would jar on overcivilized people, but not, I
think, on any one with understanding." He spread out his hands. "You have
an example; I'm spouting at large again."
"Go on," she begged; "I'm interested. But have you ever thought that
instead of being younger than we are you're really older. I mean that you
have gone back a long way; begun again at an earlier stage, instead of
going ahead?"
"Now you get at the bottom of things!" he exclaimed. "That's always been
an idea of mine. The people of the newer countries, perhaps more
particularly those to whom I belong, are brought back to the grapple with
elemental conditions. We're on the bed-rock of nature."
"Are you too modest to go any further?"
He showed faint signs of confusion and she laughed. "No doubt, the
situation makes for pristine vigor, and we are drifting into
artificiality," she suggested. "Perhaps you, the toilers, the subduers of
the wilderness, are to serve as an anchor for the supercivilized
generations to hold on by." She paused and quoted softly: "'Pioneers; O
pioneers!'"
"What can I say to that?" he asked with half-amused embarrassment. "We're
pretty egotistical, but one can't go back on Whitman."
"No," she laughed mischievously; "I think you're loyal; and there are
situations from which it's difficult to extricate oneself. Didn't you
find it so, for example, when you declined to come here with Nasmyth,
because Miss Crestwick had pressed you to go to Marple's?"
He could think of no neat reply to this and the obvious fact pleased her,
for she guessed that he would rather have spent the evening with her.
This was true, for now, sitting in the quiet garden in her company, he
looked back on the entertainment with something like disgust. Marple's
male friends were, for the most part, characterized by a certain
grossness and sensuality; in their amusements at games of chance one or
two had displayed an open avarice. These things jarred on the man who had
toiled among the rocks and woods, where he had practised a stringent
self-denial.
"I heard that you figured in a striking little scene," Millicent went on.
"I couldn't help it." Lisle appeared annoyed. "That man Batley irritated
me; though, after all, I don't blame him the most."
This was a slip.
"Whom do you blame?" she asked sharply.
"Oh," he explained, "I wasn't the only person, present, and I hadn't
arrived at the beginning. Somebody should have stopped the fellow; the
shares he tried to work off on Crestwick were no good."
"Then Batley wanted to sell that silly lad some worthless shares--and
there were other people looking on?"
He would not tell her that Gladwyne had watched the proceedings, to some
extent acquiescing.
"I thought from what you said that you knew all about it," he answered.
"No," she replied, suspecting the truth, but seeing that it would be
difficult to extract anything definite from him. "I only heard that you
had an encounter of some kind with Batley. But why did you hint that he
was not the worst?"
"He was merely acting in accordance with his instincts; one wouldn't
expect anything else."
"The implication is that he was tacitly abetted by people of a different
kind who ought to have known better."
He was not to be drawn on this point, and she respected him for it.
"Was it only an animus against Batley that prompted you?" she asked.
"No," he admitted candidly; "I wanted to get young Crestwick out of his
clutches. I'm not sure he's worth troubling about, but I'm sorry for his
sister. As I've said before, there's something fine in the way she sticks
to him."
The chivalrous feeling did him credit, Millicent admitted, but she was
dissatisfied with it and was curious to learn if it were the only one he
cherished toward the girl.
"That's undoubtedly in her favor," she commented indifferently.
He did not respond and they talked about other matters; but Lisle was now
sensible of a slight constraint in Millicent's manner and on the whole
she was glad when he took his leave. Quick-witted, as she was, she
guessed that he disapproved of the part Clarence had played in the affair
at Marple's, and this, chiming with her own suspicions, troubled her. She
had a tenderness for Clarence, and she wondered how far her influence
might restrain and protect him if, as his mother had suggested, she
eventually married him. Another point caused her some uneasiness--Bella
Crestwick had boldly entered the field against her and was making use of
the Canadian to rouse Clarence by showing him that he had a rival. The
thought of it stirred her to indignation; she would not have Lisle
treated in that fashion. After sitting still for half an hour, she rose
with a gesture of impatience and went into the house.
On the same evening Bella Crestwick felt impelled to lecture her brother
after dinner. That was not a favorable time, for the young man's good
opinion of himself was generally strengthened by a glass or two of wine.
"I thought that matter of the shares would have taught you sense, but you
must listen to Batley again this afternoon," she scolded. "You were with
him for half an hour. I've no patience with you, Jim."
"He's not so easy to shake off, particularly as I'm in his debt,"
returned the lad. "Besides, he's an interesting fellow, the kind you
learn a good deal from. It's an education to mix with such men."
"The trouble is that it's expensive. Come away with me before he ruins
you. There's Mrs. Barnard's invitation to their place in Scotland; it
would be a good excuse."
Her brother's rather lofty manner changed.
"You're a dear, Bella. You know you don't want to go."
Having a strong reason for wishing to stay, she colored at this. Among
his other unprepossessing characteristics, Jim had a trick of saying
things he should suppress.
"Never mind me," she answered. "Will you come?"
He had an incomplete recognition of the magnitude of the sacrifice she
was ready to make, though it was not this that decided him not to fall in
with it.
"No," he said with raw self-confidence. "I'm not one to run away; but
I'll promise to keep my eye on the fellow after this and be cautious. All
his schemes aren't in the same class as those mining shares, you know."
Bella lost her temper and told him some plain truths about himself, and
this did not improve matters, for in the end she retired, defeated,
leaving Jim rather sore but on the whole satisfied with the firmness he
had displayed. The girl felt dejected and almost desperate. She could not
continually apply to Lisle for assistance, and she shrank from the only
other course that seemed open to her; but her affection for the misguided
lad impelled her to make another attempt to rescue him, and a few days
later she found her opportunity. It was a bold measure she had decided
on, one that might cost her a good deal, but she was a young woman of
courage and determination.
Mrs. Marple and her daughter drove over with her to call on Mrs.
Gladwyne. They found several other people present, and as usual there was
no ceremony; the day was fine, and the hostess sat outside, while the
guests strolled about the terrace and gardens very much as they liked.
Bella, hearing that Clarence was engaged in the library and would not be
down for a little while, slipped away in search of him. Her heart beat
painfully fast as she went up the wide staircase, but she was outwardly
very collected--a slender, attractive figure--when she entered the room.
In her dress as well as in her manner Bella was usually distinguished by
something unconventional and picturesque. She was not pleased to see
Batley standing beside the table at which Gladwyne sat, but the man
gathered up some papers when he noticed her.
"I've explained the thing, Gladwyne, and I expect Miss Crestwick will
excuse me," he said.
His manner was good-humored as he bowed to her and though she almost
hated the man she was conscious of a faint respect for him. He might have
thwarted her by remaining, for she had often made him a butt for her
bitter wit. Now, however, when she had shown that his presence was not
required, he was gallantly withdrawing. When he went out she sat down and
Gladwyne rose and stood with one hand on the mantel, waiting for her to
begin. Instead, she glanced round the room, which always impressed her.
It was lofty and spacious, the few articles of massive furniture gave it
a severe dignity, and there was no doubt that Gladwyne, with his handsome
person and highbred air, appeared at home in it.
While she looked around, he was thinking about her. She was provocatively
pretty; a fearless, passionate creature, addicted to occasional reckless
outbreaks, but nevertheless endowed with a vein of cold and calculating
sense. What was as much to the point, she was wealthy, and people were
becoming more tolerant toward her; but in the meanwhile he wondered what
she wanted.
"I came about Jim," she said at length.
"Well?"
The man's expression, which suddenly changed, was not encouraging and she
hesitated.
"You know what he's doing. I've come to ask a favor."
He avoided the issue.
"It's nothing alarming; I don't suppose he's very different from most
lads of his age. Perhaps it would be better to let him have his head."
"No," she replied decidedly. "The pace is too hot; I can't hold him.
He'll come to grief badly if he's not pulled up. You know that as well as
I do!"
Her anger became her, bringing a fine glow to her cheeks and a hint of
half-imperious dignity into her pose. It had an effect on him, but he
felt somewhat ashamed of himself.
"Well," he asked in a quiet voice, "what's the favor?"
"Shouldn't a sportsman and a man of your kind grant it unconditionally
beforehand? Must you be sure you won't get hurt when you make a venture?"
"You'd risk it," he answered, bowing. "You're admirable, Bella. Still,
you see, I'm either more cautious or less courageous."
She was badly disappointed. She knew that a good deal depended on his
answer to her request, and shrank from making it, because it would prove
the strength or weakness of her hold on him. The man attracted her, and
she had somewhat openly attempted to capture him. She longed for the
position he could give her; she would have married him for that and his
house, but she was willing to risk her success for her brother's welfare.
"I want you to tell Batley that he must keep his hands off of Jim," she
said.
He started at this.
"He can't do the lad much harm. Aren't you attaching a little too much
importance to the matter?"
"No; not in the least," she answered vehemently. "I've told you so
already. But can't you keep to the point? My brother's being ruined in
several ways besides the debts he's heaping up; and I've humbled myself
to beg your help."
"Was it so very hard?" he asked, and his voice grew soft and caressing.
She was shaken to the verge of yielding. The man was handsome,
cultivated, distinguished, she thought. Whether she actually loved him,
she did not know, but he could gratify her ambitions and she was strongly
drawn to him. He had given her a lead, an opening for a few telling words
that might go far toward the accomplishment of her wishes; but, tempted
as she was, she would not utter them. She was loyal to the headstrong
lad; Jim stood first with her.
"That is beside the point," she said with a becoming air of pride. "I
expected you would be willing to do whatever you could. To be refused
what I plead for is new to me."
He considered for a moment or two, watching her with keen appreciation.
Bella in her present mood, with her affectations cast aside, appealed to
him. She was not altogether the woman he would have chosen, but since he
must secure a rich wife, there were obvious benefits to be derived from a
match with her. He devoutly wished he could accede to her request.
"Well?" she broke out impatiently.
"I'm sorry," he said; "I'm unable to do as you desire. Of course, I wish
I could, if only to please you, though I really don't think the thing's
necessary."
"You needn't tell me that again! It's a waste of time; I'm not going to
discuss it. Face the difficulty, whatever it is. Do you mean that you
can't warn off Batley?"
Gladwyne saw that she would insist on a definite answer and in
desperation he told the truth.
"It's out of the question."
It was a shock to her. In a sudden flash of illumination she saw him as
he was, weak and irresolute, helpless in the grip of a stronger man. It
was significant that she felt no compassion for him, but only disgust and
contempt. She was no coward, and even Jim, who could so easily be
deluded, was ready enough to fight on due occasion.
"You are afraid of the fellow!" she exclaimed.
Gladwyne colored and moved abruptly. He had imagined that she was his for
the asking, but there was no mistaking her cutting scorn.
"Bella," he pleaded, "don't be bitter. You can't understand the
difficulties I'm confronted with."
"I can understand too much!" Her voice trembled, but she rose, rather
white in face, with an air of decision. "When I came I expected--but
after all that doesn't matter--I never expected this!"
He made no answer; the man had some little pride and there was nothing to
be said. He had fallen very low even in this girl's estimation and the
fact was almost intolerably galling, but he could make no effective
defense. She went from him slowly, but with a suggestive deliberation,
without looking back, and there was a hint of finality in the way she
closed the door.
Once outside, she strove to brace herself, for the interview had tried
her hard. She had had to choose between Gladwyne and her brother, but for
that she was now almost thankful. The man she had admired had changed and
become contemptible. It was as if he had suddenly collapsed and shriveled
before her startled eyes. But that was not all the trouble--she was as
far from saving Jim as ever.
It cost her an effort to rejoin the others, but she was equal to it and
during the rest of her stay her conversation was a shade more audacious
than usual.