On the Saturday afternoon of the week following the Jubilee, Edwin and
Mrs Hamps were sunning themselves in the garden, when Janet's face and
shoulders appeared suddenly at the other side of the wall. At the sight
of Mrs Hamps she seemed startled and intimidated, and she bowed
somewhat more ceremoniously than usual.
"Good afternoon!"
Then Mrs Hamps returned the bow with superb extravagance, like an
Oriental monarch who is determined to outvie magnificently the gifts of
another. Mrs Hamps became conscious of the whole of her body and of
every article of her summer apparel, and nothing of it all was allowed
to escape from contributing to the completeness of the bow. She
bridled. She tossed proudly as it were against the bit. And the rich
ruins of her handsomeness adopted new and softer lines in the
overpowering sickly blandishment of a smile. Thus she always greeted
any merely formal acquaintance whom she considered to be above herself
in status--provided, of course, that the acquaintance had done nothing
to offend her.
"Good after_noon_, Miss Orgreave!"
Reluctantly she permitted her features to relax from the full effort of
the smile; but they might not abandon it entirely.
"I thought Maggie was there," said Janet.
"She was, a minute ago," Edwin answered. "She's just gone in to father.
She'll be out directly. Do you want her?"
"I only wanted to tell her something," said Janet, and then paused.
She was obviously very excited. She had the little quick movements of a
girl. In her cream-tinted frock she looked like a mere girl. And she
was beautiful in her maturity; a challenge to the world of males. As
she stood there, rising from behind the wall, flushed, quivering,
abandoned to an emotion and yet unconsciously dignified by that peculiar
stateliness that never left her--as she stood there it seemed as if she
really was offering a challenge.
"I'll fetch Mag, if you like," said Edwin.
"Well," said Janet, lifting her chin proudly, "it isn't a secret.
Alicia's engaged." And pride was in every detail of her bearing.
"Well, I never!" Edwin exclaimed.
Mrs Hamps's features resumed the full smile.
"Can you imagine it? I can't! It seems only last week that she left
school!"
And indeed it seemed only last week that Alicia was nothing but legs,
gawkiness, blushes, and screwed-up shoulders. And now she was a
destined bride. She had caught and enchanted a youth by her mysterious
attractiveness. She had been caught and enchanted by the mysterious
attractiveness of the male. She had known the dreadful anxiety that
precedes the triumph, and the ecstasy of surrender. She had kissed as
Janet had never kissed, and gazed as Janet had never gazed. She knew
infinitely more than Janet. She had always been a child to Janet, but
now Janet was the child. No wonder that Janet was excited.
"Might one ask who is the fortunate young gentleman?" Mrs Hamps
dulcetly inquired.
"It's Harry Hesketh, from Oldcastle... You've met him here," she added,
glancing at Edwin.
Mrs Hamps nodded, satisfied, and the approving nod indicated that she
was aware of all the excellences of the Hesketh family.
"The tennis man!" Edwin murmured.
"Yes, of course! You aren't surprised, are you?"
The fact was that Edwin had not given a thought to the possible
relations between Alicia and any particular young man. But Janet's
thrilled air so patently assumed his interest that he felt obliged to
make a certain pretence.
"I'm not what you'd call staggered," he said roguishly. "I'm keeping my
nerve." And he gave her an intimate smile.
"Father-in-law and son-in-law have just been talking it over," said
Janet archly, "in the breakfast-room! Alicia thoughtfully went out for
a walk. I'm dying for her to come back." Janet laughed from simple
joyous expectation. "When Harry came out of the breakfast-room he just
put his arms round me and kissed me. Yes! That was how I was told
about it. He's a dear! Don't you think so? I mean really! I felt I
must come and tell some one."
Edwin had never seen her so moved. Her emotion was touching, it was
beautiful. She need not have said that she had come because she must.
The fact was in her rapt eyes. She was under a spell.
"Well, I must go!" she said, with a curious brusqueness. Perhaps she
had a dim perception that she was behaving in a manner unusual with her.
"You'll tell your sister."
Her departing bow to Mrs Hamps had the formality of courts, and was
equalled by Mrs Hamps's bow. Just as Mrs Hamps, having re-created her
elaborate smile, was allowing it finally to expire, she had to bring it
into existence once more, and very suddenly, for Janet returned to the
wall.
"You won't forget tennis after tea," said Janet shortly.
Edwin said that he should not.
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