Lord Henry had made many friends at Brineweald, but neither was Denis
Malster quite alone. Miss Mallowcoid had not taken kindly to the
patronage Lord Henry had thought fit to extend to Mr. and Mrs. Tribe,
and the latter's assurance and good spirits in Lord Henry's presence had
succeeded in making the spinster take a very strong dislike to him.
Before he had come on the scene Mrs. Tribe had been as becomingly meek
and humble as she always was in London, but for some reason, which the
spinster could hardly explain, Lord Henry's friendship had quite
transformed her.
Miss Mallowcoid knew nothing of the deep gratitude that the unfortunate
little woman felt towards him for having put a stop to the nightly
baitings her husband had theretofore received from Denis Malster, nor
did she know of the intense devotion that the Incandescent Gerald felt
for the new guest. She could only recognise one fact,--a fact that
considerably disturbed her feeling of well-being,--and that was, that
since Lord Henry's arrival, Mrs. Tribe had behaved like an ordinary,
cheerful, and independent human being.
With her, against Lord Henry, Miss Mallowcoid knew that she could always
count upon Sir Joseph, because his jealousy of the young nobleman made
him scarcely rational. So that if we reckon Denis Malster as well, in
the Mallowcoid camp, it is plain that there was no inconsiderable
nucleus of hostility against Lord Henry at this time at Brineweald Park.
Alone with her sister and Sir Joseph, Miss Mallowcoid had already seized
more than one opportunity of disparaging the nerve specialist of
Ashbury, and on the evening of the two proposals just described, when
the Incandescent Gerald had retired to bed, the three had an animated
discussion about Leonetta, Denis, and Lord Henry.
Mrs. Delarayne had given her reasons for being irreconcilably opposed to
Leonetta's match with Denis, and had declared that Lord Henry was in
entire agreement with her. She had laid the blame of Cleopatra's sudden
breakdown on Denis's shoulders, and had confessed to feeling a very
strong instinctive dislike for him. She even reminded Sir Joseph of his
promise to her earlier in the day, that he would dismiss Denis from his
service.
"Oh, I think that would be most cruelly unfair!" exclaimed Miss
Mallowcoid, when she heard the announcement.
"Why unfair?" snapped Mrs. Delarayne.
Miss Mallowcoid shook her head. "Well, Edith," she began, "of course you
know best what to do with your girls, but personally I think it very
honest and noble of Denis to have shown that he has changed his mind, if
he really has done so. Besides, if you think he is prepared to marry
Leonetta, why should you spoil her chances? Not that I think she
deserves him, of course, but that's neither here nor there."
"No, it certainly isn't," interjected Mrs. Delarayne.
"But, after all, what has it got to do with Lord Henry, I should like to
know?" pursued the spinster, trying to catch Sir Joseph's eye. "He is
here to cure Cleo, and not to meddle in all your affairs."
"He is here primarily as my friend," croaked the widow.
"I must say, my dear lady," said Sir Joseph, "I think there is something
in what your sister says. You are always complaining about having two
unmarried daughters on your hands. Denis is a good secretary to me. He
has good prospects. So what does it matter if he does marry Leonetta?"
"Oh, Joseph," cried the harassed lady, "how little you can understand of
the whole affair! And as for you, Bella, it seems to me you've got the
whole thing topsy-turvy as usual."
"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Miss Mallowcoid, tetchily. "But I know one
thing. Denis is an honourable and well set-up young man, and an
excellent match, and it is madness to oppose him as you are doing. Lord
Henry won't find a husband for Leonetta, I suppose!"
"Bella, dear, if only you would for once speak of things you thoroughly
grasp and understand, it would be so refreshing!" snapped Mrs. Delarayne
angrily.
"I certainly think," said Sir Joseph, "that before we do anything we
might ask Denis his intentions towards Leonetta."
"But I don't like Denis, I tell you!" declared the widow. "You can see
what his intentions are without asking. Leonetta has driven him
thoroughly mad."
Sir Joseph shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course, Edith, that is simply blind prejudice," Miss Mallowcoid
averred, herself growing every minute more irate. "You don't see it, my
dear, I know, but it is grossly unfair. A most cultivated, charming
young man! Why, the way he spoke about poetry this morning,--nothing
could have been more edifying. As for your Lord Henry,--he doesn't know
what the word poetry means."
"I doubt that very much," said Mrs. Delarayne fidgeting unhappily with
the cards.
"There can surely be no harm, dear lady," said Sir Joseph, "in asking
Denis what his intentions are."
Mrs. Delarayne was still adamant. "I hate the insult to Cleo," she said,
"and I don't like him. But if you both insist."
Sir Joseph repudiated the suggestion that he insisted.
"Neither do I, of course," Miss Mallowcoid exclaimed with an ironic
smile. "A lot of good I should do by insisting."
"Do you propose to speak to him?" Mrs. Delarayne enquired of the
baronet.
"I will if you like."
"I think you might both do it," suggested Miss Mallowcoid. "At all
events, there's no immediate hurry," said Sir Joseph.
At this moment Denis and Leonetta came up the steps and were greeted by
the party at the card-table.
"Oh, my dear, how hot you look!" cried Mrs. Delarayne to her daughter.
"Yes, we've been stepping it out a bit, because I wanted to get home."
Mrs. Delarayne noticed that her child was badly dishevelled, and that
there was an unusually fiery glint in her eyes.
"What have you young people been doing all this time?" Miss Mallowcoid
enquired in her most roguish manner.
"As a matter of fact we tried to reach Headlinge, and failed," said
Denis, looking a trifle pale in spite of his tanned skin.
"I should have thought you could have gone there and back again twice
over in the time," said Mrs. Delarayne, scrutinising her daughter with
care.
"Well, we didn't," said Leonetta decisively.
"Had too much to say to each other on the way," Miss Mallowcoid
interjected with a coy smile.
"Where's Agatha?" Denis demanded.
"She and Stephen have walked home; they were feeling tired."
"And Lord Henry?" Leonetta asked.
"He's gone off with my girl," said Sir Joseph with mock bitterness.
* * * * *
The following day broke colder and more overcast than any that the
Brineweald party had had since they left London. The programme had
therefore to be modified accordingly, and picnics and excursions
declared out of the question.
In the morning the beach was visited as usual, and Lord Henry showed
himself to be, among other things, an excellent swimmer. Cleopatra had
joined the beach party though she had not bathed, but while everyone
noticed that she was looking very much better, it was also observed that
she had not her customary spirits. She no longer vied with Leonetta in
leading the entertainment of the party, and was particularly and
conspicuously subdued and laconic whenever Lord Henry addressed her.
At lunch, which was taken at "The Fastness," Lord Henry thoroughly
exasperated Miss Mallowcoid by inviting the Tribes to join him on his
journey to China, and roused considerable interest by describing the
plan of his mission to that country. It was evident that he would
require a party of helpers, and Mrs. Tribe was most eager to be of their
number. The Incandescent Gerald, however, gravely shook his head.
"Of course not,--how can you be so silly, Agnes!" Miss Mallowcoid
exclaimed. "Gerald has his religious duties here."
Lord Henry saw that Mrs. Tribe did not dare to reply herself, so he
replied for her.
"It only remains for me to convince Mr. Tribe, then," he said, "that in
following me to China he would be performing a very lofty religious
duty."
"I'd go like a shot!" cried Stephen.
"So would I!" echoed Guy Tyrrell.
In the afternoon Sir Joseph asked Denis to spend a moment with him over
his correspondence, and seizing the opportunity as the others were
playing tennis, Lord Henry invited Leonetta and her sister to go with
him to Headstone to look at Sir Joseph's prize cattle there.
Lord Henry's invitation to Leonetta constituted the first real attention
he had paid her since he had been down at Brineweald, and she stammered
her acceptance with ill-concealed excitement. Even with Cleo as one of
the party, her curiosity regarding him was too great for her to forego
this opportunity. She therefore begged to be allowed a moment to put on
her hat, and when she returned at the end of five minutes, it was
obvious that she had taken unusual pains with her appearance.
The three turned at a leisurely pace up the road towards Headstone, and
as Miss Mallowcoid saw their hats vanish on the other side of the hedge,
she announced the fact of their departure to her sister.
Mrs. Delarayne was well aware of what was happening, and was not too
happy about it. Lord Henry seemed lost to her.
"Oh, leave me alone, can't you!" she snarled. "Can't you see I'm
reading?" and the offensiveness of her manner seemed so unaccountable to
Miss Mallowcoid, that this lady got up in a state of high perturbation,
and deliberately stalked over to the marquee, where for a while she sat
alone brooding over the indignity she had suffered.
The trio on their way to Headstone were finding it uphill work to
discover some lasting and common subject of interest with which to
entertain each other; many topics were started, but the conversation was
always desultory, and Lord Henry, try how he might, failed to make it
general. He felt as a mariner might feel who was trying to harmonise two
compasses, one of which had an error to the west, and the other an error
to the east. At last, when they were on their way home, having given up
all hope of success, he decided that the only way was to talk himself,
and this he proceeded to do with his customary enthusiasm. The subject
was suggested by Leonetta, who asked how it was that though they had
heard of him so frequently during the last five or six years, neither
Cleopatra nor she herself had ever seen him. This introduced them to
the subject of Mrs. Delarayne, which Lord Henry seized with alacrity.
"You have no idea," he said, "how I admire the perfectly splendid way
you girls deal with your mother."
Leonetta looked up and scrutinised his face. She thought he must be
joking.
"You are so immensely sensible and sympathetic, when it would be so easy
for you to be heartless."
"Heartless--what do you mean?" Cleopatra asked.
"Well, you see, the whole thing is so simple,--Heavens, it is almost too
simple to explain!" He had that fiery way of speaking which gave to
everything he said the magic impress of vital significance.
"You see," he pursued, "your mother is a really great-hearted woman, and
you girls seem to have realised it and tried to live up to her. It is
magnificent of you."
Both girls were deeply interested; but Cleopatra kept her eyes on the
ground.
"She is clear-sighted and honest enough to see the truth about youth and
age, and makes no bones about it. She doesn't pretend that there's any
particular beauty in old age. God!--she's one in a thousand!"
"What truth about youth and age?" Leonetta asked, as she mentally
commented on the singular coincidence that both Denis the night before,
and Lord Henry now, should choose to speak about this particular aspect
of her mother.
"Why, it must have occurred to you," Lord Henry continued, "that youth
makes a universal appeal; it is of interest to everybody. Its peculiar
fascination makes it a possession to which none can be indifferent. Do
you see that? Do you see how youth has the world's eye upon it,--how,
not only in its own, but also in all older generations, it meets with
the smile of welcome, of interest, of ready affection? All the world
over this is so."
"Yes, yes,--I see," cried Leonetta.
"And now look on age! It has an interest indeed, but that interest is
localised. It is limited to a circle, frequently to a domestic circle,
sometimes only to one member in that circle. People say: Who is this
poor old man? Who is this poor old woman? Have they any one who cares
for them? And if it is known they have good relatives, then the interest
ceases, and the rest of the world is only too glad that their
responsibility ends in having made the enquiry. But no one asks: Who is
this poor young man? or who is this poor flapper, has she any one that
cares for her?"
Leonetta laughed.
"You feel," pursued Lord Henry, "that old people must have someone of
their own to love them, because the rest of the world does not do so
spontaneously. The old people and sentimentalists who speak of every age
having its beauty, are humbugs. Now your mother is the very reverse of
one of these humbugs. She knows well enough that old age has only a
local, a limited interest, and rather than abandon the universal
interest that youth can claim, she fights like a Trojan to retain her
youthful beauty. The bravery with which she is now holding old age at
arm's length, and defying it to embrace her is perfectly amazing. It
shows her infinite good taste; it shows how deeply she has understood
the difference between youth and age. It is one of the most thrilling
things I have ever witnessed."
Leonetta laughed ecstatically. "Yes, yes, I see!" she exclaimed. "You
put it in a new light. Bravo, old Peachy!--you make me feel I want to
run home and kiss her." And then she added, as if it were an
afterthought: "Except that she hates being kissed."
Cleopatra was thoughtful. "Yes, I understand all that," she said after a
while; "I have understood that for some time,--at least dimly. But then,
this local interest which you say old age excites, this local or
domestic appeal which it makes,--will not Edith ever feel that?"
"Ah, don't you see, Miss Delarayne," Lord Henry replied, "this local
interest, this domestic interest on which old age depends, has to be
very strong, very intense, very highly concentrated, to make any one as
tasteful as your mother gladly relinquish the other interest."
"Very, very intense," Cleopatra repeated. "Do you mean that in Baby--I
mean Leo--and myself it is not sufficiently intense?"
Leonetta looked solemnly up into Lord Henry's face to catch every word
of his reply, and in doing so even forgot to notice that there were
young men on the road observing her.
"Don't misunderstand me," Lord Henry pleaded. "I do not wish to imply
that you two girls do not love and cherish your mother. In fact, as I
have just been saying, the zeal with which you help her in every way to
achieve the end she wishes to achieve is most highly creditable. But,
have you ever known, have you ever witnessed at close quarters, the
worship of a devoted son for his mother? Have you ever been anywhere
near two people, mother and son, who have been bound by that most unique
and most passionate of affections, which has made the local interest of
old age seem sufficiently vast and full to reconcile the mother to a
happy relinquishment of that other interest,--the interest the world
feels in youth?"
Still Leonetta gazed into Lord Henry's face, and still Cleopatra kept
her eyes thoughtfully on the ground.
"Because, I remind you," Lord Henry concluded, "that this domestic
interest, since it is so circumscribed and restricted, has to be
proportionately more intense than the interest the whole world feels in
youth. And that intensity a son is capable, I think, of giving his
mother."
"Have you ever witnessed that?" Leonetta enquired.
Lord Henry laughed in his irresistible and ironical way. But it was
obvious that genuine mirth was not his mood.
"I happen to be one of those who have actually lived it," he said.
"Is your mother still living?" Cleopatra enquired.
Lord Henry bowed his head. "No," he replied, with that supreme calmness
which only those feel who have discharged more than their appointed duty
to a deceased relative, "she died three years ago."
For some moments the three walked on in silence; then at last Leonetta
spoke.
"That does explain an awful lot about dear old Peachy, doesn't it,
Cleo?" she exclaimed.
"It explains everything," Cleopatra replied serenely.
"Of course," Leonetta added, addressing Lord Henry, "we always knew you
were Peachy's star turn,--you know what I mean! But we hadn't any idea
you knew her so well. How lovely it must be to be understood so well, so
deeply, by even one creature on earth!"
Lord Henry laughed.
"You girls could not be expected to understand your mother as clearly as
I do," he said. "You were too close to her for that. I think you have
both done wonders."
They had now reached the terrace of Brineweald Park, and it wanted three
quarters of an hour to tea. The two sisters were still under the
peculiar spell of the conversation they had just had with the young
nobleman, and they did not wish to leave him. At last Cleopatra said she
would like to go in search of her mother, and Lord Henry and Leonetta
were left alone.
"Do you read everybody as clearly as you've read brave old Peachy?"
Leonetta asked him.
"I cannot say that," Lord Henry replied, perching himself on the stone
balustrade of the terrace.
"Do you think you can read me?" she enquired.
He chuckled enigmatically.
"I cannot say that I'd get top marks with you," he said.
She laughed. "Do tell me," she cried, "what you read!"
At this moment Denis Malster, Guy Tyrrell, Agatha, and Vanessa appeared
round the corner of the drive, and ran quickly up the steps. Each of the
men bore a gun, and they strode eagerly towards Lord Henry and his
companion.
"Come on, Leo!" Denis exclaimed as he drew near. "Excuse me interrupting
you, but Guy and I are just going into the woods to try and get a couple
of rabbits. Sir Joseph wants them to send to his head messenger at the
office. You'll see some sport."
Lord Henry was silent, and covertly observed the girl at his side.
"Oh, not now!" Leonetta replied, frowning ever so slightly. "Must you go
now?"
"Yes, we must go now," Denis replied, "Sir Joseph wants them to be sent
off to-night. You don't mind, do you, Lord Henry? Perhaps you'd like to
come too?"
Leonetta turned to Lord Henry to see what he would say.
He swung round indolently from the view he had been contemplating, and
faced Malster.
"No thanks, old chap," he said, "I'd rather not, thank you."
"Well, you don't mind Leonetta coming, do you?" Denis persisted, growing
a trifle overanxious and heated.
"Not in the least, of course," the young nobleman replied and turned his
head again in the direction of the landscape.
"Come on, Leo!" Denis repeated, with just a shade of command in his
voice, while Vanessa, Agatha, and Guy looked on spellbound.
"No, I'd rather not, really Denis, thanks!" she said. "We were just on
such an interesting subject. Can't you go after tea?"
"No, I'm afraid not," said Denis, his face flushing slightly with
vexation.
"Well, then, leave me out of it, for once, will you?" Leonetta pleaded.
"You know I should have loved to come. But I've got something I must
finish with Lord Henry."
Denis Malster turned round, hot-eared and savage. "All right," he
muttered. "I only thought you'd like it, that's all." And the four moved
off in the direction of the woods, Denis walking with his head thrown
more than usually back in the style that men commonly adopt when they
are withdrawing from a humiliating interview. It is as if they were
trying, like a drinking hen, to straighten their throats, in order the
better to swallow the insult they have just received.
"I'm afraid that young man will not forgive me," said Lord Henry, when
the party were out of earshot.
"Oh, that's ridiculous," said Leonetta; "as if I'd never seen a bunny
shot in my life before. But let me think, what were we saying? Oh, yes,
I know. You were going to read me."
He laughed.
She looked coyly up at him. "You know, Lord Henry, you really are a
little disconcerting. You are one of those people who make one feel one
ought to have done better at school."
"I devoutly trust I don't," he protested.
She examined his fine intelligent hands, and perceived as so many had
perceived before her, the baffling mixture of deep thoughtfulness and
youth in his eyes and brow.
"You do a little," she said, picking up a leaf and bending it about as
she spoke. "And I do hate feeling stupid."
"You--stupid!" he ejaculated, and laughed.
"You must know what I mean," she added.
"You are beautiful, Leonetta," he said, "and that in itself is the
greatest accomplishment, because it cannot be acquired."
"I thought you hadn't noticed me at all," she observed, trying to
conceal the rapture she felt.
"I don't know about that,--one can't help looking at people who are
constantly about one."
He made an effort to give this remark the ring of indifference, and he
succeeded.
"But that's exactly it!" she cried. "They say that beautiful people are
always stupid. That's why I say----"
"Nobody who knows anything about it says that," he observed, as if he
were stating an interesting axiomatic principle and without a trace of
the leer of the adulator.
"Really?"
"Of course not," he pursued. "For a face to be beautiful, it must have
certain proportions. It must have a certain length of nose, a certain
length of chin, and above all a certain height of brow. Do you
understand?"
"I think so," she replied.
"Well, then,--what is the obvious conclusion?"
"I'm afraid I don't see it," she said.
"I say a certain height of brow is essential to a well-proportioned
face," he remarked with cool persuasiveness. "But what lies beneath the
brow? Come, Leonetta, you know!"
"The brain?" she suggested.
"Of course," he exclaimed. "And what is more, beneath the brow lies the
thinking part of the brain. So that in order really to have a fair face
we must have a fair proportion of brain."
She smiled and bowed her head.
"Peachy's clever, isn't she?" she demanded. "So I suppose we girls ought
not to be so very dull."
"Don't believe those who tell you beautiful people are stupid. It is the
ugly who say that to console themselves. Just as the fools of the world
write books about geniuses being mad."
She laughed. "You do say funny things!" she cried.
"Funny?" he repeated.
"Well, true things then. I wish everybody talked as you do. One feels so
much safer to know the truth about everything."
At this point, however, Cleopatra came towards them from the house.
"I've found Edith at last," she exclaimed. "She's with the others in the
marquee near the rose garden. We're just going to have tea. Are you
coming?"
Lord Henry jumped down from his perch, and Leonetta ran indoors.
"I'll follow you in a moment," she cried gleefully.
Lord Henry and Cleopatra sauntered towards the rose garden. "Have people
been telling you how very much you've improved?" he demanded.
She bowed her head and flushed slightly.
"I don't say it because I wish to hear compliments," he pursued.
"You've done wonders; you know it," she said, not daring to look at him
in her agitation.
"It is you who have done wonders," he replied.
She smiled and looked away.
These two people could not talk to each other. It was impossible. All
attempts hitherto had failed, except just that first attempt when Lord
Henry had received the girl's stirring confession. It was as if both
were trying their mightiest to abide strictly by conventionalities in
order to keep within bounds. It was as if neither of them dared to give
their tongues a free rein. Never had Lord Henry felt so utterly
tongue-tied in a woman's presence; never had Cleopatra looked so serene
while completely incapable of noisy cheerfulness.
"How splendid those two look side by side!" Sir Joseph exclaimed as they
approached the marquee.
Mrs. Delarayne felt a twinge in her heart, and as she proceeded to pour
out tea, her loathing for Denis Malster received such a sudden access of
strength that she found it hard to be civil.
"I don't quite see," she snapped, "why they look more splendid side by
side, as you put it, than one by one."
Miss Mallowcoid cast a glance full of reproach at her sister, and
wondered what it was that induced Sir Joseph to submit as kindly as he
did, day after day, to such monstrous treatment.