AT MISS WESTBURY'S
Mrs. Wyburn found Miss Westbury being sensible and decided and holding
forth about things in general to one or two friends over the tea-cups.
Something in the way the old lady sat down and unfastened her mantle, so
as to be sure to feel the benefit of it when she went out again, made
the other women present feel that they were not wanted, and Miss
Westbury did not attempt to detain them. For (though she would not have
put it like that) she knew that she would get more fun out of her
friend's _méchanceté_ if they were alone. Scandal, gossip made tedious
by morality, is only really enjoyable _en tête-à-tête_.
"I do so hope, Isabella, that you haven't had any more annoyance about
the silly things that are being said about your pretty daughter-in-law,"
remarked Miss Westbury, leaning back with the comfortable amiability of
a fat woman who expects to be amused.
Mrs. Wyburn looked round the room.
"Curious you never have your ceiling painted," she said. "I've often
wondered why it is. It looks--you'll forgive me for saying so, Millie,
won't you?--as if you left it in its present state from motives of, may
I say, economy? But, of course, I know it isn't that--I always say, it's
simply that you haven't noticed it. Thanks, no--no tea."
Miss Westbury's serenity was slightly disturbed, as her friend intended.
"I certainly don't spend my whole time lying on my back looking at the
ceiling," she answered rather brusquely. "I have far too much to do."
"I never suggested that you should," quickly replied Mrs. Wyburn. "Such
a thing never occurred to me for a single moment. And please don't think
I wish to interfere, or to make remarks about anything that doesn't
concern me. It merely struck me that if, at any time, you thought by
some curious chance of having the house done up, it might be a pity to
leave out the ceiling. But that was all. I do assure you, Millie, I
never dreamt of hurting your feelings."
Miss Westbury laughed with a rather cackling sound--a sound Mrs. Wyburn
recognised with satisfaction. It showed just the degree of slight
annoyance she loved to cause in any one to whom she was speaking. Miss
Westbury, however, waived the question and became hospitable.
"Do let me persuade you to have a toasted bun. Our baker makes them in a
special way on purpose for me. There's nothing in the world more
sensible with one's tea than a small toasted currant bun. I was speaking
to Dr. Gribling about it only the other day, oddly enough, and he quite
agreed with me."
"Why _only the other day_? and why _oddly enough_, Millie?--I dare say
you speak to him constantly about it and about other equally urgent
matters." She spoke with what she meant to be a slight sneer, in reply
to which Miss Westbury behaved in a manner that is sometimes described
as bridling up. She gave a movement meant to be a toss of the head and
placed her lips firmly together.
"I like Dr. Gribling, Isabella, because he's a thoroughly sensible
man--a man you can say anything to."
Mrs. Wyburn thought that Miss Westbury would say anything to any one,
and she shrewdly suspected that Millie was probably the one gleam of
amusement in poor old Dr. Gribling's dreary round. However, she waved
the eminent physician aside and said--
"About Valentia. She and Romer have gone down to the country, you know."
"Oh, indeed! Quite early to go. Very nice. Have they a large party
there, do you know? The Green Gate is such a charming place--so
picturesque."
"Have you ever seen it?" Mrs. Wyburn asked.
"Only in the _Daily Mail_--I mean accounts of week-ends there, and that
sort of thing. But I believe it's quite charming. It seems almost a pity
though, doesn't it, at the end of the season to begin the same
frivolities and gaieties all over again. I wonder they don't take a
little rest."
"I believe they are resting. Valentia wrote to me that no one was
staying there at all, except, of course, Daphne."
"And Harry de Freyne?"
"Yes, and Mr. de Freyne."
"Strange," said Miss Westbury comfortably. "Curious that extraordinary
infatuation of your--son for this young man. But he's a very charming
man, isn't he? Most agreeable?"
"He's not absolutely unpleasant."
"I suppose he brightens them up--amuses them? Probably he has very high
spirits. Perhaps he has the _jar de veev_." Miss Westbury had a private
pronunciation of foreign expressions all her own. "It is unfortunate,
but do you know one often sees that in unprincipled people, Isabella."
"He knows that he's not quite a gentleman, and is trying to laugh it
off," said Mrs. Wyburn.
"Does he really? Dear, dear--what a sad thing!--and yet he certainly
_ought_ to be a gentleman, you know. On his mother's side he is
connected with the----"
"That's not the point," snapped Mrs. Wyburn. "And of course I don't mean
to say that--outwardly--he's not. His manner and appearance are
distinguished. It's the soul that's vulgar."
"Ah, I see! You mean you're afraid he isn't one of _nature's_
gentlemen?"
"Nature? How do you mean? He has nothing to do with nature. He's a man
about town."
"Oh, I beg your pardon--I understood he was an artist. And sometimes,
you know, artists are extremely fond of nature; in fact, far _too_
fond."
"I believe all that painting is only done to throw dust in people's
eyes--an excuse for idleness. Candidly, I don't like studios; I don't
think they're respectable."
"I know what you mean; but still, after all"--Miss Westbury made a
feeble attempt at a good-natured defence--"after all, if they all like
it--I mean to say, if they're all so happy, why should we----"
"I doubt if my son is happy."
"Oh, really, really? Do you think he's _ever noticed anything?_ Isn't he
devoted to Harry de Freyne?"
"Of course he hates him like poison," replied the mother.
Miss Westbury started in delighted horror, and replied sharply, "How do
you know that? Did he tell you?"
"Tell me! He would never tell me. Besides, he couldn't tell me--he
doesn't know it."
"And how do you know it?"
"Mothers know everything," she replied.
After a minute's pause, Miss Westbury said--
"But if you feel sure that Romer isn't happy, and that he, almost
unconsciously perhaps, doesn't really like this young man being always
about, mightn't it some day end in some trouble--some explosion?"
"It's quite possible."
"Then I wonder what Romer would do?"
"I know what he would do."
"Good heavens, Isabella, you don't mean to say that he would ever bring
a----"
"It's really strange," said Mrs. Wyburn, "that at your age you should
still be so silly. Will you never learn to understand anything at all?
Of course not. He would protect her."
"Can't something be done? Why don't you speak to Valentia?"
"The advice of a relative-in-law in a case of this kind has never yet
been known to be of any real use, Millie. I can only hope the whole
thing may gradually wear itself out."
"May it be so, my dear!" echoed Miss Westbury, unctuously.
Mrs. Wyburn got up to go.
Miss Westbury helped her to fasten her mantle.
"I'm so glad you loosened it, or else you might not feel the benefit of
it when you go out, Isabella," she observed, for she was not one to miss
an opportunity of making a remark of this kind. "And _do_ look on the
bright side. I always say that things of this sort may not be true, and
even if they are, everything may be for the best in the end."
Mrs. Wyburn liked to excite Millie's interest, and yet somehow loathed
her sympathy.
"Yes; do you know, I really _should_ have the ceiling painted, if I were
you," she said, as if it were a new idea. "Otherwise your house is
looking so nice--quite charming. I think it such an excellent plan not
to have flowers in the windows, only ever-greens."
"So glad you think so. It _is_ rather a good arrangement, because, you
see, they always look exactly the same all the year round."
"That they certainly do--and nevergreens would be a better name for
them," spitefully said Mrs. Wyburn to herself as she drove off.
"What a tiresome mood Isabella was in to-day," said Miss Westbury to
herself. "I must go and see Jane Totness and tell her what she said....
Ceiling, indeed! She _was_ nasty!"