A CHANGE OF FRONT
Of all the discomfitures in life there was one which Cecil Walpole did not
believe could possibly befall him. Indeed, if it could have been made a
matter of betting, he would have wagered all he had in the world that no
woman should ever be able to say she refused his offer of marriage.
He had canvassed the matter very often with himself, and always arrived
at the same conclusion--that if a man were not a mere coxcomb, blinded
by vanity and self-esteem, he could always know how a woman really felt
towards him; and that where the question admitted of a doubt--where,
indeed, there was even a flaw in the absolute certainty--no man with a
due sense of what was owing to himself would risk his dignity by the
possibility of a refusal. It was a part of his peculiar ethics that a man
thus rejected was damaged, pretty much as a bill that has been denied
acceptance. It was the same wound to credit, the same outrage on character.
Considering, therefore, that nothing obliged a man to make an offer of his
hand till he had assured himself of success, it was to his thinking a mere
gratuitous pursuit of insult to be refused. That no especial delicacy
kept these things secret, that women talked of them freely--ay,
triumphantly--that they made the staple of conversation at afternoon tea
and the club, with all the flippant comments that dear friends know how to
contribute as to your vanity and presumption, he was well aware. Indeed,
he had been long an eloquent contributor to that scandal literature which
amuses the leisure of fashion and helps on the tedium of an ordinary
dinner. How Lady Maude would report the late scene in the garden to
the Countess of Mecherscroft, who would tell it to her company at her
country-house!--How the Lady Georginas would discuss it over luncheon, and
the Lord Georges talk of it out shooting! What a host of pleasant anecdotes
would be told of his inordinate puppyism and self-esteem! How even the
dullest fellows would dare to throw a stone at him! What a target for a
while he would be for every marksman at any range to shoot at! All these
his quick-witted ingenuity pictured at once before him.
‘I see it all,’ cried he, as he paced his room in self-examination. ‘I
have suffered myself to be carried away by a burst of momentary impulse. I
brought up all my reserves, and have failed utterly. Nothing can save
me now, but a “change of front.” It is the last bit of generalship
remaining--a change of front--a change of front!’ And he repeated the words
over and over, as though hoping they might light up his ingenuity. ‘I might
go and tell her that all I had been saying was mere jest--that I could
never have dreamed of asking her to follow me into barbarism: that to go
to Guatemala was equivalent to accepting a yellow fever--it was courting
disease, perhaps death; that my insistence was a mere mockery, in the worst
possible taste; but that I had already agreed with Lord Danesbury,
our engagement should be cancelled; that his lordship’s memory of our
conversation would corroborate me in saying I had no intention to propose
such a sacrifice to her; and indeed I had but provoked her to say the very
things, and use the very arguments, I had already employed to myself as a
sort of aid to my own heartfelt convictions. Here would be a “change of
front” with a vengeance.
‘She will already have written off the whole interview: the despatch is
finished,’ cried he, after a moment. ‘It is a change of front the day after
the battle. The people will read of my manoeuvre with the bulletin of
victory before them.
‘Poor Frank Touchet used to say,’ cried he aloud, ‘“Whenever they refuse
my cheques at the Bank, I always transfer my account”; and fortunately the
world is big enough for these tactics for several years. That’s a change of
front too, if I knew how to adapt it. I must marry another woman--there’s
nothing else for it. It is the only escape; and the question is, who shall
she be?’ The more he meditated over this change of front the more he saw
that his destiny pointed to the Greek. If he could see clearly before him
to a high career in diplomacy, the Greek girl, in everything but fortune,
would suit him well. Her marvellous beauty, her grace of manner, her social
tact and readiness, her skill in languages, were all the very qualities
most in request. Such a woman would make the full complement, by her
fascinations, of all that her husband could accomplish by his abilities.
The little indiscretions of old men--especially old men--with these women,
the lapses of confidence they made them, the dropping admissions of this or
that intention, made up what Walpole knew to be high diplomacy.
‘Nothing worth hearing is ever got by a man,’ was an adage he treasured as
deep wisdom. Why kings resort to that watering-place, and accidentally meet
certain Ministers going somewhere else; why kaisers affect to review troops
here, that they may be able to talk statecraft there; how princely compacts
and contracts of marriage are made at sulphur springs; all these and
such like leaked out as small-talk with a young and pretty woman, whose
frivolity of manner went bail for the safety of the confidence, and
went far to persuade Walpole, that though bank-stock might be a surer
investment, there were paying qualities in certain women that in the end
promised larger returns than mere money and higher rewards than mere
wealth. ‘Yes,’ cried he to himself, ‘this is the real change of front--this
has all in its favour.’
Nor yet all. Strong as Walpole’s self-esteem was, and high his estimate of
his own capacity, he had--he could not conceal it--a certain misgiving as
to whether he really understood that girl or not. ‘I have watched many a
bolt from her bow,’ said he, ‘and think I know their range. But now and
then she has shot an arrow into the clear sky, and far beyond my sight to
follow it.’
That scene in the wood too. Absurd enough that it should obtrude itself at
such a moment, but it was the sort of indication that meant much more to a
man like Walpole than to men of other experiences. Was she flirting with
this young Austrian soldier? No great harm if she were; but still there had
been passages between himself and her which should have bound her over to
more circumspection. Was there not a shadowy sort of engagement between
them? Lawyers deem a mere promise to grant a lease as equivalent to a
contract. It would be a curious question in morals to inquire how far the
licensed perjuries of courtship are statutory offences. Perhaps a sly
consciousness on his own part that he was not playing perfectly fair made
him, as it might do, more than usually tenacious that his adversary should
be honest. What chance the innocent public would have with two people
who were so adroit with each other was his next thought; and he actually
laughed aloud as it occurred to him. ‘I only wish my lord would invite us
here before we sail. If I could but show her to Maude, half an hour of
these women together would be the heaviest vengeance I could ask her! I
wonder how could that be managed?’
‘A despatch, sir, his lordship begs you to read,’ said a servant, entering.
It was an open envelope, and contained these words on a slip of paper:--
‘W. shall have Guatemala. He must go out by the mail of November 15.
Send him here for instructions.’ Some words in cipher followed, and an
under-secretary’s initials.
‘Now, then, for the “change of front.” I’ll write to Nina by this post.
I’ll ask my lord to let me tear off this portion of the telegram, and I
shall inclose it.’
The letter was not so easily written as he thought--at least he made more
than one draft--and was at last in great doubt whether a long statement or
a few and very decided lines might be better. How he ultimately determined,
and what he said, cannot be given here; for, unhappily, the conditions
of my narrative require I should ask my reader to accompany me to a very
distant spot and other interests which were just then occupying the
attention of an almost forgotten acquaintance of ours, the redoubted Joseph
Atlee.