I AM writing this last chapter in the top berth of a saloon cabin on
board the Cunard s.s. 'Etruria.' which left Liverpool June 25, and is
now three days out. From which it will be seen that I am going home.
Nothing has happened there, you will be glad to hear, perhaps. Poppa
and Momma, and all the dear ones of Mrs. Portheris's Christmas card,
are quite in their usual state of health. The elections are not on at
present, so there is no family depression in connection with poppa's
political future. I am not running away from the English climate either,
which had begun, shortly before I left, to be rather agreeable. I have
been obliged to leave England on account of a Misunderstanding.
In order that you should quite see that nobody was particularly to
blame, I am afraid I shall have to be very explicit, which is in a way
disagreeable. But Lady Torquilin said the day I came away that it would
have been better if I had been explicit sooner, and I shall certainly
never postpone the duty again. So that, although I should much prefer
to let my English experiences close happily and gloriously with going
to Court, I feel compelled to add here, in the contracted space at
my disposal, the true story of how I went to dine with Mr. Charles
Mafferton's father and mother and brother and sisters in Hertford
Street, Mayfair.
It occurred almost as soon as the family returned from the South
of France, where they had been all spring, you remember, from
considerations affecting the health of the eldest Miss Mafferton--with
whom I had kept up, from time to time, a very pleasant correspondence.
One day, about three weeks after the Drawing-Room, when Lady Torquilin
and I could scarcely ever rely upon an afternoon at home, we came in to
find all the Mafferton cards again in. There was a note, too, in which
Mrs. Mafferton begged Lady Torquilin to waive ceremony and bring me
to dine with them the following evening. 'You can guess,' said Mrs.
Mafferton, 'how anxious we must be to see her.' There was a postscript
to the invitation, which said that although Charlie, as we probably
knew, was unfortunately out of town for a day or two, Mrs Mafferton
hoped he would be back in the course of the evening.
'Well, my dear,' said Lady Torquilin, 'it's easily seen that I can't go,
with those Watkins people coming here. But you shall--I'll let you
off the Watkinses. It isn't really fair to the Maffertons to keep them
waiting any longer. I'll write at once and say so. Of course,' Lady
Torquilin went on, 'under ordinary circumstances I shouldn't think of
letting you go out to dinner alone, but in this case--there is sure to
be only the family, you know--I don't think it matters.'
So Lady Torquilin wrote, and when the time came lent me Charlotte to go
with me in a hansom to Hertford Street, Mayfair. 'Be sure you bring me
back a full and particular account of how they all behave, child,'
said she, as she looked me over after my toilette was made; 'I shall be
interested to hear.'
A massive butler let me into the usual narrow, high-ceiled Mayfair hall,
richly lighted and luxurious; the usual convenient maid in a white cap
appeared at the first landing to show the way to the proper room for
my wraps. After Lady Torquilin's expression of interest in how
they behaved, I had been wondering whether the Maffertons had any
idiosyncrasies, and I did not waste any unnecessary time in final
touches before going down to see. I like people with idiosyncrasies, and
lately I had been growing accustomed to those of the English nation;
as a whole they no longer struck me forcibly. I quite anticipated some
fresh ones, and the opportunity of observing them closely.
The drawing-room seemed, as I went in, to be full of Maffertons. There
were more Maffertons than china plates on the wall, than patterns on the
carpet. And yet there were only the four young ladies and their mother
and father. The effect was produced, I think, by the great similarity
between the Misses Mafferton. Not in actual face or figure; there were
quite perceptible differences there. The likeness lay in an indefinable
shade of manner and behaviour, in the subdued and unobtrusive way in
which they all got up and looked at me and at their mamma, waiting until
it should be entirely proper for them to come forward. They were dressed
a good deal alike, in low tones of silk, high necked, rather wrinkling
at the shoulders, and finished with lace frills at the throat and
wrists, and they all wore their hair parted in the middle, brushed
smoothly back over their ears, and braided neatly across and across
behind. I have never been sure about their ages--they might have been
anything from twenty-five to forty; but Isabella, whom they spoke of as
the youngest, seemed to me to be the most serious and elderly of all.
Mrs. Mafferton was a very stout old lady, with what is called a fine
face. She wore a good many old-fashioned rings, and a wide lace collar
over her expansive black silk, and as she came heavily forward to meet
me she held out both her hands, and beamed upon me--not an impulsive
beam, however, rather a beam with an element of caution in it.
'You are very welcome, Miss Wick. Indeed, we have been looking forward
to this. I think you ought to let me give you a kiss!'
Of course I did let Mrs. Mafferton give me a kiss--it was impossible to
refuse. But I thought myself singularly favoured; it did not seem at all
in accordance with the character of the family to fall upon the neck
of a stranger and embrace her by way of welcoming her to dinner. I was
still further of that opinion when each of the Misses Mafferton followed
the example of their mamma, and saluted me tenderly on the same cheek.
But I immediately put it down to be an idiosyncrasy. 'We are so glad to
see you at last,' said the eldest. 'Yes, indeed!' said the second. 'We
began to think we never should,' said the third. 'We really did!' said
the fourth.
'Papa,' said Mrs. Mafferton, 'this is Miss Wick, of whom we have all
heard so much.' She spoke very close to the ear of an old gentleman in
an arm-chair screened from the fire, with one leg stretched out on a
rest; but he did not understand, and she had to say it over again: 'Miss
Wick, of whom we have all heard so much. Poor dear! he does not
hear very well,' Mrs. Mafferton added to me. 'You must use the
speaking-trumpet, I fear, Miss Wick.' 'Well,' said old Mr. Mafferton,
after shaking hands with me and apologising for not rising, 'if this is
Miss Wick, I don't see why I shouldn't have a kiss too.' At which Mrs.
Mafferton and all the young ladies laughed and protested, 'Oh, fie,
papa!' For my part I began to think this idiosyncrasy singularly common
to the family.
Then the eldest Miss Mafferton put one end of a long black
speaking-trumpet into my hand, and Mr. Mafferton, seeing her do this,
applied the other to his ear. I had nothing whatever to say, but,
overcome with the fear of seeming rude, I was raising it to my lips and
thinking hard when I felt two anxious hands upon my arm. 'Do excuse us!'
exclaimed a Miss Mafferton, 'but if you wouldn't mind holding it just a
little farther from your lips, please! We are obliged to tell everybody.
Otherwise the voice makes quite a distressing noise in his poor ears.'
At which every semblance of an idea left me instantly. Yet I must say
something--Mr. Mafferton was waiting at the other end of the tube. This
was the imbecility I gave expression to. 'I came here in a cab!' I said.
It was impossible to think of anything else.
That was not a very propitious beginning; and Mr. Mafferton's further
apology for not being able to take me down to dinner, on the ground that
he had to be taken down by the butler himself, did not help matters in
the very least. At dinner I sat upon Mr. Mafferton's right, with the
coiling length of the speaking-trumpet between us. The brother came
in just before we went down--a thin young man with a ragged beard, a
curate. Of course, a curate being there, we began with a blessing.
Then Mrs. Mafferton said, 'I hope you won't mind our not having asked
any one else, Miss Wick. We were selfish enough to want you, this first
evening, all to ourselves.'
It was certainly the Mafferton idiosyncrasy to be extravagantly kind. I
returned that nothing could have been more delightful for me.
'Except that we think that dear naughty Lady Torquilin should have come
too!' said the youngest Miss Mafferton. It began to seem to me that none
of these young ladies considered themselves entitled to an opinion in
the first person singular.
An idea appeared to be, as it were, a family product. 'She was very
sorry,' I said.
'And so, I am sure, are we,' remarked Mrs. Mafferton, graciously, from
the other end of the table. 'It was through dear Lady Torquilin, I
believe, that you first met our son, Miss Wick?'
I began to feel profoundly uncomfortable--I scarcely knew exactly
why. It became apparent to me that there was something in the domestic
atmosphere with which I was out of sympathy. I thought the four Miss
Maffertons looked at me with too much interest, and I believed that the
curate was purposely distracting himself with his soup. I corroborated
what Mrs. Mafferton had said rather awkwardly, and caught one Miss
Mafferton looking at another in a way that expressed distinct sympathy
for me.
I was quite relieved when Mrs. Mafferton changed the subject by
saying, 'So you are an American, Miss Wick?' and I was able to tell
her something about Chicago and our methods of railway travelling. Mrs.
Mafferton was very pleasant about Americans; she said she always found
them nice, kind-hearted people. The curate said, thoughtfully, crumbling
his bread, that we had a vast country over there.
'Francis!' exclaimed the Miss Mafferton who sat next to him, playfully
abstracting the crumbs, 'you know that's naughty of you! I'm afraid
you've come to a very nervous family, Miss Wick.
I felt myself blushing abominably. The situation all at once defined
itself and became terrible. How could I tell the Maffertons, assembled
there around their dinner-table, that I was not coming to their family!
'Burgundy, miss?'
How could I do anything but sip my claret with immoderate absorption,
and say that nervous disorders did sometimes run in families, or
something equally imbecile!
'But Charlie's nerves are as strong as possible!' said another Miss
Mafferton, reproachfully, to her sister.
We had other general conversation, and I spoke into Mr. Mafferton's
trumpet several times with a certain amount of coherence; but I remember
only the points which struck me as of special interest at the time.
Among them was the proposal that, if I were willing, Mrs. Mafferton
should drive me on Tuesday week--that would be to-day--to see an invalid
married sister living in Hampstead who was most anxious to welcome me.
How could I say I was not willing!
Then, after dinner, in the drawing-room, Mrs. Mafferton took me aside
'for a little chat,' and told me what a good son Charles had always
been, and showed me several photographs of him at earlier stages, from
the time he wore a sash and pinafore. Even then, I remember, he looked a
serious person.
After which I had another little chat with two of the Misses Mafferton
together, who explained what a devoted brother they had always had
in Charlie. 'We are so glad you've been kind to him,' they said,
impulsively. 'Of course we haven't seen him yet since our return, but
his letters have told us that much.' I tried in vain to rack my brain
for occasions on which I had been kind to Mr. Charles Mafferton, and
longed for an attack of faintness or a severe headache.
'Indeed,' I said, 'it was always your brother who was kind--to Lady
Torquilin and to me.' At which the young ladies smiled consciously, and
said something about that being perfectly natural. Then, just as I was
wondering whether I absolutely must wait for Charlotte to arrive in a
cab to take me home as Lady Torquilin had arranged, and as the third
Miss Mafferton was telling me how noble but how uninteresting it was
of Francis to take up extreme Ritualistic views and vow himself to
celibacy, the door-bell rang.
'There's Charlie now!' exclaimed the Misses Mafferton all together.
'I must really go!' I said precipitately. 'I--I promised Lady Torquilin
to be home early '--noting with despair by the gold clock under glass
on the mantel that it was only a quarter to ten--'and the American mail
goes out to-morrow--at least, I think it does--and--and Good-night,
Mrs. Mafferton! Goodnight, Mr. Mafferton!' I said it very rapidly, and
although they were all kind enough to meet my departure with protest, I
think it was evident to them that for some reason or other I really must
go. The young ladies exchanged glances of understanding. I think
their idea was that I dreaded the embarrassment of meeting Mr. Charles
Mafferton before his family. Two of them came upstairs with me to get
my wraps, and assured me in various indirect ways that they quite
understood--it was awkward.
Coming down, we met Mr. Charles Mafferton at the door of the
drawing-room. The Misses Mafferton, who accompanied me, turned quite
pale when they heard me assure their brother that there was not the
slightest necessity that he should accompany me home. I could not
persuade him of this, however, and we drove away together.
I am afraid I cannot possibly report the conversation that took place
between Mr. Mafferton and myself in the cab. Looking back upon it, I
find it difficult to understand clearly, as I dare say he does if he
ever thinks about it. After I had made him see quite plainly that it was
utterly, absolutely impossible, which was not easy, he left me to
infer that I had been inconsistent, though I am sure I could make no
self-accusation which would be more baseless. Privately, I thought the
inconsistency was his, and that it was of the most glaring description.
I am of opinion, with all due respect to your English customs, that
if Mr. Mafferton desired to marry me, he should have taken me, to some
extent, into his confidence about it. He should not have made Lady
Torquilin the sole repository of the idea. A single bunch of roses, or
basket of fruit, or box of candy addressed to me specially, would have
been enough to give my thoughts a proper direction in the matter. Then I
would have known what to do. But I always seemed to make an unavoidable
second in Mr. Mafferton's attentions, and accepted my share of them
generally with an inward compunction. And I may say, without any malice
at all, that to guess of one's own accord at a developing sentiment
within the breast of Mr. Mafferton would be an unlikely thing to occupy
the liveliest imagination.
Perhaps Mr. Mafferton did not know how his family had intended to behave
to me. At all events, he offered no apology for their conduct. I may say
that the only thing of any consequence that resulted from our drive
was the resolution which I am carrying out on board the s.s. 'Etruria'
to-day.
The ladies' steward of the 'Etruria,' a little fellow with large
blue eyes and spectacles and a drooping moustache, is very polite and
attentive. His devotion, after Mr. Mafferton's, seems the embodiment of
romance. I shall hesitate about tipping him. He has just brought me some
inspiring beef-tea, which accounts for those asterisks.
The worst of it was Lady Torquilin's scolding next morning--not that she
said anything unkind, but because it gave me the idea that I had treated
her badly too. I should be so sorry to think that I had treated Lady
Torquilin badly. She seemed to think that I should have told her in the
very beginning that I was engaged to Mr. Arthur Greenleaf Page, of
the Yale University Staff. She seemed to think that I should have told
everybody. I don't see why, especially as we are not to be married until
Christinas, and one never can tell what may happen. Young ladies do not
speak of these things quite so much in America as you do in England, I
think. They are not so openly known and discussed. I must apologise to
myself for bringing Mr. Page in even at this stage, but it seemed to be
unavoidable.
I don't know at all, by the way, what Arthur will say to this last of my
English experiences; he may not consider it as 'formative' as he hoped
the others would be. There is only one thing that makes the thought
endurable for an instant--it would have been nice to be related to the
Stacys.
Just before sailing the purser supplied me with dear consolation in
the shape of a letter from Miss Peter Corke. It was a 'characteristic'
letter, as we say when we want to say a thing easily--bewailing,
advising, sternly questioning, comically reprobating, a little sad and
deprecating by accident, then rallying to herself again with all sorts
of funny reproaches. 'I meant to have done so much, and I've done so
little!' was the burden of it, recurring often--'I meant to have done so
much, and I've done so little!' Dear Peter! She can't possibly know
how much she did do, though I'm taking my unformed mind back to a
comparatively immature civilisation, and shall probably continue to
attend a church where they use spring-edged cushions and incandescent
burners. Peter's England will always be the true England to me. I shall
be able to realise it again easily with some photographs and Hare's
'Walks in London,' though I am afraid I have got all her delightful old
moss-grown facts and figures mixed up so that I couldn't write about
them over again without assistance as intelligently as before. And Peter
says she doesn't mind going on in my second volume, if only I won't
print it; which is very good of her when one thinks that the second
volume will be American, and never written at all, but only lived, very
quietly, under the maples at Yale. I hope she may be found in the last
chapter of that one too. Dear Peter!