“That we devote ourselves to God is seen
In living just as if, no God there were.”
ROBERT BROWNING.
The two girls were in their room dressing for dinner. From their window
the view of wood and hill, with here and there a great red field, and
the new-born freshness of green trees, delighted them both.
“I must tell you about them all,” said Daphne, “David and Reggie are
great friends of mine. I think they both want to marry me, but I’m not
sure. I am quite sure Vera wishes me to marry them both, or _would_, if
it were ‘quite nice,’ to have two husbands, one for his title, and the
other for his money, David’s family is good as well. Mr. Russell I know
also, but I don’t understand him, he says very pretty things. The twins
would be immensely nice, if there was only one of them, as it is, there
is too much ‘repetition,’ even their own mother laughs at them.”
“Daphne, how horrid!” exclaimed Katherine.
Daphne looked surprised. “My dear girl,” she said, “they’re simply
absurd.”
“I hate you when you talk like that!” said Katherine twisting her hair
back fiercely. “You ought to know it’s unkind to laugh at people! you
wouldn’t like it yourself!”
“What a dear, you are!” said Daphne; “but you had better let me do your
hair, you have a way of making it as rigid as your principles, and stiff
hair is horrible you know. Then there’s Lady Cheston,” she went on,
giving finishing touches to her companion’s dress. “You won’t like her,
I know. She smokes and flirts with David. She will marry him if I don’t,
that’s why Vera has her here, she thinks it will put me on my mettle.
Keep still, Katherine, you’re restive! Then there is Arthur Field, the
great surgeon, who became a hypnotist, he’s one of Vera’s passions, but
they are all very innocent, she is only dangerous when she tackles
theories, and he’s not a sham.”
“Do you like him?” asked Katherine.
“Oh, one doesn’t _like_ those sort of people you know,” said Daphne
fastening on a rose. “One justs talks about them. It’s an amusement,
like a pianola, Vera has a pianola. By-the-bye, she has picked up Mr.
Mitchell somewhere, and invited him to dinner; he will be rather out of
it I should imagine, but she always has a parson, she thinks a great
deal of her soul.” Daphne watched her friend—she was blushing. “You are
very silent, Katherine,” she said.
“I have nothing at all to say,” said Katherine, the colour deepening in
her face.
“Is that quite true?” Daphne asked her, drawing her into her arms.
“Well! I’m not going to say it, anyway,” Katherine admitted.
Daphne smiled down at her. “I think Mr. Mitchell is very nice,” she
whispered.
“And I am trying not to think so, Daphne,” said Katherine quietly.
“And he?” asked Daphne.
“We can neither of us marry,” said Katherine; “I could not spoil his
work, nor leave my mother, but you mustn’t think it’s a trouble, Daphne
dear, it did not go far enough for that.”
The dinner-bell rang, and, without a word, they went down into the
drawing-room. Reggie and David were talking to the twins, who were
dressed in pink and blue. They looked as if they were saying the same
things. Lady Cheston was laughing very loudly at something Arthur Field
had said.
Katherine noticed him at once, he had a face like an eagle, and eyes
that, if they were not on you, still gave the impression that they saw
you. Bert Russell took her into dinner. She was glad he was an American,
for it gave her a safe topic, but he took it away from her at once.
“Yes, I have been ever so long in England, I can see you’re going to ask
me, and I do think it’s a perfectly fascinating country, though I’m not
sure I like to ride in a small box, instead of a car, and drawn by a toy
engine as well.”
Katherine laughed. “I was afraid you’d be difficult to talk to,” she
said, “but I don’t believe you will.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” said Bert smiling, “American men are
always easy to talk to; you see they have listened to American women,
and when they meet an English woman with half-a-dozen words, and the
loveliest complexion, they put a value on their chance.”
Katherine couldn’t help smiling, his intonation, which was less than an
accent, but more than a drawl, had something irresistibly funny about
it, yet she felt that he needed snubbing.
“You’re a friend of Miss Daphne’s, aren’t you?” he went on. “I should so
much like to know, is it true, that if I were to say what I really
thought about her, it would make you angry?”
“I can’t possibly tell,” said Katherine; “but if it were what you really
thought, I daresay I shouldn’t mind, though I shall probably disagree
with you.”
“Yes, that’s just what I fancied,” said Bert with evident mischief. “I
think—she’s such a perfectly lovely girl!”
Katherine tried to look put out, and failed. “Well,” she answered, “I am
obliged to confess, I fully agree with that.”
“But you do hate to agree with me,” said Bert, “I can see that. I wonder
why?”
“Because you are so flippant,” said Katherine.
“Good Heavens, Miss Linton, you never made a greater mistake in your
life! I couldn’t be flippant if I tried, it wouldn’t be possible for me!
My faults lie all on the other side. You might as well accuse a County
Council of being generous! I do think that’s such a rich institution,
though for the best joke I ever struck, give me the Church of England!”
“What do you mean by talking of the Church of England as a joke?” asked
Katherine indignantly.
“Well, I confess,” said the American ruefully, “it’s like most English
jokes, they have to be repeated twice before you can catch the
meaning—and you couldn’t, you know, repeat the Church of England twice!
It’s unique.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say such things,” said Katherine, “they are very
irreverent, and so cheap.”
The young man glanced at her approvingly. “I guess you’re right,” he
said, “I will be like Paul!”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Katherine stiffly.
“Obedient to the Heavenly Vision,” Bert answered very softly.
“I wish I hadn’t asked you!” cried Katherine, blushing furiously.
“That’s the beauty of girls,” he replied calmly, “they want to run away,
but they tell you where they’re going to; sometimes they don’t run so
very fast either!”
“Oh! you’re insufferable!” exclaimed Katherine.
“No! you aren’t used to me, that’s all. I am an acquired taste, you must
try to see a great deal of me.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort. I don’t wish to acquire the taste,”
said Katherine frowning.
“Well! that’s not a very good beginning,” said the young man
thoughtfully; “still, if you felt indifferent, I should be more
discouraged.”
“Well, I—I do feel indifferent!” cried Katherine defiantly.
“Oh, you just _say_ that,” said Bert. “If you could see your own eyes
you’d know it wasn’t true. I am awfully sorry for you.”
“I’m sure I don’t know why,” said Katherine.
“Oh, because you can’t see your own eyes,” he explained, “you miss so
much!”
Now Katherine knew it would be impossible to plunge knives or dig forks
into this horrible fountain of personality beside her, but words, which
were never good friends to her, forsook her utterly, and she was more
thankful than she could have thought possible to Lady Middleton, when
she started a general conversation.
“Now, I think, Mr. Field,” she began, “if you could put an end to
drunkenness, it might be a better world!”
“Better stuff, and nonsense!” said the great surgeon, with some
brutality, “you can’t stop human nature. What’s drink, anyway, but an
effect? You’ve got to go to your cause, and causes aren’t easy to stop.
There are poisons all around us, and we use them, and abuse them as we
will, some of them we shut up and call bad names, others we don’t even
mention, but there’s an instinct that is inside of us, which goes for
them as naturally as a dog to a bone; the bone is not to blame if by
some chance there’s rat poison on it, and if you were to take it away,
the dog wouldn’t thank you, it would probably bite.”
“Ah! how true!” said Lady Middleton.
Mr. Field looked at her as if he would have liked the dog to have bitten
her. “To begin with you couldn’t stop drink,” he continued. “If there
were no wine or beer, people would get drunk on eau de cologne, or
paraffin, or methylated spirits, and if you did stop drink, it wouldn’t
make any difference.”
“Ah, and what would?” asked Lady Middleton.
“A new heart,” said the curate suddenly.
Mr. Field shot a contemptuous glance at him which became interested as
he forgot his cloth and looked at his face. “You’re quite right,” he
said curtly. “But the question is, providing it’s a possibility, who
wants it? We, none of us, want to get any better, we prefer a religion
that doesn’t interfere with our lives; what we really wish is, that
nobody else should get any worse, particularly the poor, they might make
it so uncomfortable for the rest of us.”
“Then there is no salvation for the world?” said Daphne very slowly.
Arthur Field looked at her strangely. The unreal party were silent, they
thought such things were uncomfortable and rather shocking.
“The world is going to be burnt up, they say,” Arthur Field said at
last. “That is a great satisfaction to me personally.”
“And there is going to be a new Heaven, and a new earth,” said Mr.
Mitchell, he did not add, “they say.”
David Grey laughed insolently. “I don’t know that I should altogether
like that!” he said.
“You probably wouldn’t _be_ there!” Katherine found herself retorting
very indignantly. There was a general laugh.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” said Bert Russell, “that somebody else is going to
catch it besides me, I felt kind of lost!”
Lady Middleton rose to her feet. “Meantime, there is our earth here,”
she quoted with a smile. “You may amuse yourselves as you like,” she
said to the men. “Reggie, please act as host. It’s such a lovely night,
you will probably find us in the garden.”
“With the other flowers,” said Bert Russell as he opened the door.
“Daphne,” said Katherine as they walked out on to the lawn, “what a
perfectly odious young man!”
“Who?” said Daphne thoughtfully.