There were many and various opinions concerning the fresh engagement of
the musician. His lady friends could at first hardly believe that he
should overlook them all, and choose a wife who was not one of
themselves, and had never attended the receptions in the West End
studio; but when they learnt that it was not only a fact, but that the
date of the marriage was fixed, they at once did their best to meet the
situation gracefully by buying the most appropriate wedding presents
they could find, in the shape of biscuit boxes shaped like drums, and
clocks mounted in lyres. This caused considerable rivalry among his
pupils, which was not lessened by their desire to meet his betrothed,
and their jealousy when this benefit was vouchsafed to one or another
of them; they wondered among themselves whether they would be asked to
call, and they allowed the musician to talk about her with a generosity
which was three parts diplomacy.
Mrs. Reginald Routh presumed upon her intimacy with the musician so far
as to invite Norah to stay with her.
"It has been the wish of my heart to see dear Mr. Digby married," was
what she told every one, with her frank smile; "indeed, I have been
trying to get him a wife for some years now, only it was so impossible
to find one good enough. I have no doubt that Miss Bisley is all that
could be desired, and one must leave _something_ to a higher power
sometimes; but I cannot help taking a little to my own credit as well,
and I am convinced that Mr. Digby would never have thought of looking
out for a wife at all if it had not been for my persuasions; he was far
too fond of Ibsen, and Schopenhauer, and Bernard Shaw, and all those
tiresome people. At all events, I never allowed a week to pass without
asking him to dinner, and the picture of my domestic happiness must have
done something for him. Ah, well, my work is done now; and thank God my
ideal of friendship is too high to stand in the way of his marrying,
though I have felt towards him like a sister, and it is hard at first to
give up my place to another. But at least I know how to be generous, and
she shall come and stay with me at once, so that there may be one friend
in London for her when she is married. She will _have_ to let me call
then! And I shall be able to give her a hint or two about her future
husband; I'm sure no one could know him better than I do. No doubt she
is one of those artful little dolls who will annoy him until every nerve
of his musical soul is on end, and he has to give up composing; and what
will posterity do then?"
Mr. Reginald Routh, who never did anything but sign blank checks when he
was told, was sent about town to buy the most expensive dessert service
he could find; and when he brought back specimens to his invalid wife of
choice plates with floral designs, he was sent out again to hunt for
more suitable patterns, until the search ended, as his wife had intended
it should, in a whole set being ordered from Paris, costing a guinea a
plate, and decorated with a dainty design of pink cupids playing
trumpets and harps in impossible positions.
The Raleighs, as a family, were glad. Owing to Norah's intervention the
subject of Digby's first marriage was allowed to be mentioned, and a new
toy was brought to the old manor in the shape of his four-year old son;
and as the Squire was not asked to support the child, and as he learned
furthermore that Digby's new wife would bring him money, he raised no
objection to his marrying again, and allowed himself meanwhile to be
completely enslaved by the tyrannical Sonny. The musician's sisters
regarded Norah with the feelings of most sisters, excepting the most
callous; that is, they wrote affectionately to her, with smiles on
their lips and murder at their hearts, and they received affectionate
letters in reply, which they declared they could "see through;" they
were angry with every one who did not approve of the match, and they
told one another gloomily that she was sure to be "designing;" they drew
out long descriptions of his intended bride from the musician, and they
only smiled when he told them that they would not like her at first,
because she was so very different from all their friends. Lady Raleigh,
who had always expected her eldest son to marry an opera singer or an
actress, openly showed her relief at his engagement to an ordinary
gentleman's daughter, who did not play or sing and had no particular
talent for anything, who had never wished to be independent and to leave
her home, and who went to church on Sunday morning with as much sense of
duty and enjoyment as she bestowed on her breakfast.
And when Norah came to stay at Murville Manor, the impression she made
was so pleasing that even the suspicious Digby had to acknowledge his
engagement was at last going right. The Squire liked her because she
never complained when he took her over the biggest duckery in the
village, and because she read the whole of his pamphlet called "How to
make £50 a year out of ducks," without disagreeing with it. Lady Raleigh
liked her because she had always said she would; besides, Norah agreed
that England was the only place for Jack. The boys said she "wasn't bad,
but wanted backing up at times," which was a kindly criticism
considering their bitter disappointment at not having Lady Joan for
their sister-in-law. The girls fell in love with her because they could
not help it; and their old nurse grudgingly allowed that she "couldn't
have been nicer brought up, not if she had been your mamma's own child."
There was something exemplary about Norah which always made her do the
thing that was expected of her at the right moment. She never had a
headache when the boys wanted her to romp with them, she did not hurt
the children's feelings by speaking French before them, she always
wanted music when Helen was going to sing, and she did not obtrude her
affection for the family hero in public. Perhaps this last evidence of
good breeding had more weight with the Raleighs than anything else she
did.
Shortly before the marriage there was a monster reception in the studio
in the West End. All the lady pupils lined the walls, and examined
critically the names on the wedding presents, and wondered enviously
where Norah bought her hats, and manoeuvred anxiously for a few words
with the musician. Mrs. Reginald Routh, in consideration of her being an
invalid, sat in the most comfortable chair in the room, while Lady
Raleigh, on the edge of an extremely straight-backed one, had to listen
to her eulogies of Mr. Digby's music and Mr. Digby himself. The
bride-elect as usual played her part excellently; she made her way
through the toast-racks, and the plated spoons in pale-blue cases, and
the pepper-pots, and the clocks with the musical devices, which were
spread out on little tables all over the room; and she said a few
gracious words to each lady pupil, in which she thanked her for her
particular toast-rack or case of spoons, and hoped she would call after
the marriage on the musician and herself in their flat in Victoria
Street. And she ended her circuit of the room, as was, inevitable,
beside the throne of Mrs. Reginald Routh, where she relieved Lady
Raleigh for a time, and whence she was, from a quick survey of the
attitude of every one present, that there was little chance of being
relieved herself at all.
"This is the happiest moment of my life," murmured Mrs. Reginald, with a
tremor in her voice; "you will excuse my foolish tears, will you not? He
has been like a dear brother, an elder brother, to me ever since I have
known him, and it is natural that I should have the jealous feeling of a
sister in seeing him belong to another. It is only at first, of
course--dear me! what a terrible tyrant deep affection is, to be sure!
Don't mind me dear, I shall be better directly;" and she applied a lace
handkerchief to a perfectly dry eye, and followed the passage of the
musician among the wedding presents with the other.
"Why, there is that forward person who used to throw herself at Mr.
Digby's head last season," she continued, recovering with rapidity,
"Lady something or another,--came into the title by a fluke, I believe.
Who is the handsome fellow she is flirting with now, eh? So that's Jack
Raleigh, is it? Oh! I've heard about him. Not at all like his brother,
is he?"
"He's very nice," said Norah, gently.
"Nice, is he? Then he doesn't know what he's got hold of in that young
woman. I suppose she thinks as she can't get one, she'll have the
other. Have you been introduced to her, my dear?"
"Yes--I have. That is, I--I stayed with her--for a night."
"I'm not surprised at that. She wants to know you after your marriage,
my dear. That is where you will feel your inexperience, when these
designing clever women come and play upon your ignorance in order to get
at your husband. You will feel the want of some nice sensible married
woman, not too old, who has been through it all, and can help you to see
through them. I've no patience with these women who won't have husbands
of their own, but must needs go running after other people's. Ah-h, Mr.
Digby, is it _really_ true that we are to hear the last movement of the
trio this afternoon? How quite _too_ lovely!"
The musician cleverly introduced his father to her at this point, and
hastened off to the piano; and Sir Marcus, who had not been enjoying
himself at all in a circle whose interests were not his own, settled
himself down to a denunciation of town life, which necessarily led him
on to the allotment question; and Mrs. Reginald Routh for the first time
in her life found she had met her match.
"You're feeling played out, aren't you?" Jack Raleigh was saying to his
companion while the instruments were being tuned.
"Oh, no, only bored to death. I wonder which is the worst, to be married
or musical? But both at once--poor Mr. Raleigh!"
Jack broke into a laugh, which was hardly warranted by the smallness of
the joke; and as the first chord was struck on the piano simultaneously,
Lady Joan's reputation was not improved among the disturbed audience by
the circumstance. At any other time she would have enjoyed the shocked
glances that were thrown in her direction; but this afternoon she was
feeling too cross to be perverse, and she hardly waited for the end of
the trio to take leave of the smiling host.
"So you're off already? I knew you were played out," said Jack, whose
vocabulary, like his perception, was limited; "shall I let fly for a
hansom?"
"Oh, no; didn't I tell you before that I had the carriage?" answered
Lady Joan, impatiently, though she realized the futility of censuring an
offender who was always blind to his offence. "And I can see myself out,
thank you."
"But--you will let me come with you? It's beastly foggy out, and
something might easily happen, don't you know. You said you hadn't
brought the man along, and I'd sooner see you through, 'pon my honor I
would. I won't bother, I won't really, don't you know, and you can fire
me at the next block if I'm in the way. That's straight, isn't it?"
In spite of the American drawl, there was something familiar in the
pleading tones of his voice that reminded her unpleasantly of an
incident she had been trying to forget, and she would have curtly
refused his offer had she not found the pale eyes of Mrs. Reginald Routh
fixed inquiringly upon her.
"If you like, I shall be delighted," she said, with a sudden show of
graciousness that both pleased and surprised him; "you will see if the
brougham is there? Good-bye, Mrs. Routh; so glad to see you looking so
well. I suppose I can't give you a lift? Auf Wiedersehen, Norah; shall
expect you both to lunch to-morrow; don't forget. What detestable
weather it is; I shall go and vegetate at Relton if this fog goes on. Is
it there, Mr. Jack? Oh, thanks very much."
In the brougham, she leaned back and closed her eyes, and wished the fog
did not make them smart, and that she had managed to evade her companion
after all, in spite of the exquisite annoyance he had enabled her to
inflict on Mrs. Reginald. But Jack guessed nothing of her thoughts, and
plodded on with his own instead, which all related to her and to a
certain desire that filled his mind at that moment; he could only think
about one thing at a time.
"I say, you--you didn't rightly mean what you said just now, did you?"
he began slowly, as they stopped in the Circus in a dead block of
omnibuses and traffic.
"What did I say? I've forgotten long ago. You promised not to bother,"
returned Lady Joan, shortly, which was not encouraging.
But Jack was not easily snubbed.
"You said that marriage was tommy rot, don't you know," he pursued
steadily.
She opened her eyes wide and stared at him.
"I didn't say so. But it is. Why?"
"Oh, well, you know, because I don't think it is exactly. At least I
mean I don't see why it should be, don't you know."
"Then perhaps it isn't. It doesn't matter, does it? Oh, why don't we go
on?"
"I say, how jolly smart you are to-day," he said crossly, and dropped
the drawl.
"Why? Because I don't wish to discuss the marriage question? I am so
sick of it. If that is all you want, go and read Björnson and all the
others. Modern fiction is crammed with it, so is the modern drama. Your
brother can lend you crowds of books about the marriage question--he
won't want them for a year or two." She ended with a little hard laugh.
"You know I don't care a hang for the marriage question," he said
sulkily.
"No more do I," she said cheerfully, "so we'll let it drop. I am so glad
you are not modern. Do you know, the first night I saw you--"
"Yes?" he said eagerly, as she stopped. It is a sure sign of comradeship
when two people begin comparing notes about their first meeting.
"Oh," she continued carelessly, "I only felt relieved that you had no
views and no ideas, and didn't want a revolution like your brother, and
never fell in love with people. It made you so nice to flirt with, that
was all. Thank Heaven, we are going on again at last."
Jack only hated the policeman for letting them pass; the fog was lifting
in Oxford Street, and they were rolling along quickly in the direction
of Pont Street; there was no time to be lost.
"Do listen seriously for once," he suggested; "why shouldn't marriage
between two fellows--"
"I thought we had agreed to let it drop," she interrupted impatiently.
"But it isn't the marriage question. It--it's marriage itself," he cried
desperately, and then held his breath.
They had turned down Park Lane into the yellow darkness again, and the
two in the brougham could not even see each other's features. Outside,
the policemen were shouting directions; within the carriage, Lady Joan
was leaning back far in her corner, and thinking swiftly. Was this to
be the solution of all that had been puzzling her this afternoon? It was
not often that Lady Joan was depressed; but when she was, a yellow fog
was not more gloomy than her mood.
"Don't you see how I've loved you all the time? It's not my form to gas
like Digby, and I suppose I'm a bally idiot, because the guvnor always
says I am, and of course I haven't any oof; so it's all confounded cheek
on my part, it is really, don't you know. But--you said you hated to be
married, so why shouldn't we be engaged, just enough to stop people from
talking, don't you know, so that we could belong, sort of; do you twig?
I'd give you my word of honor to go back to the States, and work like a
nigger till--till you sent for me again. That wouldn't bother you, and
it might be rather jolly, don't you know. And that's all there is to
it."
She was still silent. If he had known that she was comparing his
proposal with the one she had had in the summer, and calculating how
much happiness and comfort she was likely to get out of his romantic
attachment to her, his ideal of her might have received a shock. But for
the sake of ideals some thoughts are allowed to go unread; and he only
noticed that she moved a little out of her corner, and he at once drew
nearer to her.
"I do love you, dear," he said tremulously, and ventured to lay his
broad palm on hers; "don't you think--we might--"
One of the blind impulses came to him which were his making and his
ruin. Lady Joan would have loathed him at that moment if he had done
anything commonplace, or waited for her to take the initiative. But he
put his arm round her waist so softly that she scarcely felt it.
"May I kiss you?" he whispered.