MARK REPORTS PROGRESS
Mark Driver must have been much more obtuse than the most of his
friends believed, to fail to recognize the invitation in Bridget's
demeanour. Although he had not the slightest intention to profit by
it, he could not pretend that for the moment it lacked enticement.
It seemed perfectly clear that she was holding the balance between
himself and Colonel Faversham; and realizing that her income must some
day inevitably be exhausted, shrinking from an appeal to her aunts at
Sandbay, that she was determined to take Time by the forelock and seek
safety in marriage.
Mark could understand now the significance of her behaviour during the
first few weeks of their acquaintance, and while this offer of herself
was in a manner distasteful, she looked so young, so seductive, so
ingenuous while she made it that he must needs blame her environment
rather than her disposition.
Bridget impressed him as a child masquerading in the garments of a
somewhat audacious woman of the world, and he told himself that if she
could be placed amidst more favourable surroundings, her natural
character would shine forth triumphantly. Moreover, he was by no means
free from egoism. He had enough vanity to experience some shadow of
gratification, and even though the other candidate was no one more
estimable than Colonel Faversham, there was, perhaps, a grain of
satisfaction in the knowledge that he might have been first in the
field.
As a matter of fact, Mark had never in his life been more attracted by
Carrissima than on this first day after his return to London. At the
same time he was a young man and Bridget was an extremely captivating
young woman. Notwithstanding a sense of disapproval, it became
judicious to take the precaution of saying "good-bye."
"Well, what am I to do?" asked Bridget, as he sat silent.
"I'm blessed if I know," he answered, and at once rose to his feet.
He saw that she was profoundly disappointed, and although it appeared
plain enough that the transaction would in any case be regarded by her
as mainly mercantile, he fancied that she would have been in other ways
delighted if his answer had been different.
"Neither do I," she said, with a sigh, "unless I make up my mind to
gratify Colonel Faversham. Why shouldn't I? Look upon this picture
and on this. A year or two at the outside, and on the one hand I find
myself without a penny. On the other, I have only to say the word and
I make certain, as soon as I please, of a fair income, a good house and
an excellent position in society; because, you know, I could hold my
own. You see me here living through a kind of interregnum. I am just
nobody! But in Paris and other places it used to be different, and so
I intend it to be again. What else is there? You make an immense
mistake if you imagine me as a governess or anything of that kind.
What could I teach?"
"Anyhow," answered Mark, holding out his hand, "you need not do
anything impetuously. At the worst your money will hold out for some
time to come."
"Oh dear, yes!" she cried more brightly, "and before it has all gone,
why, I shall be provided with somebody else's."
Still she looked up at him rather pitifully, her eyes meeting his own,
her chin invitingly raised with its delectable dimple. Now, Mark
wished devoutly that the idea of that dimple as a sort of _point
d'appui_ had never entered his thoughts, but there was the regrettable
fact. Of course he had hitherto always resisted the temptation, which
was the greater because he knew that he need not fear opposition; but
still, there was Carrissima and he resisted it again.
He went to Grandison Square the following afternoon as if to seek a
corrective; and once in her presence marvelled at his own weakness.
Here was the woman, as somebody says, for him to go picnicking through
the world with. Not that the time had arrived just yet. Mark was not
without a sturdy independence. Besides, there would be Colonel
Faversham to deal with. As soon as he had made a beginning in his
profession, then would be the time to ask Carrissima to share his lot.
"Well, did you see Bridget?" she asked.
"Oh yes," said Mark.
"If you appointed yourself her father-confessor she must have been a
wee bit surprised."
"The surprise was on my side," said Mark.
"What about?" demanded Carrissima.
"The state of her finances. All she has in the world is the remnant of
two or three thousand pounds she inherited from her mother. Rosser
left her nothing, and she is calmly spending her capital."
"But why," suggested Carrissima, "should she go out of her way to
enlighten you about her income?"
"Anyhow," was the answer, "the time is bound to come when she won't
possess one."
"What does she propose to do in that case?" said Carrissima. "At
present her dressmaker's bill must be rather extravagant, and I wish I
could buy such hats! I suppose," Carrissima added, "that marriage is
to be the way out of her difficulty."
"At least," replied Mark, "you may console yourself that nothing is
settled at the moment."
"How do you know?" asked Carrissima hastily.
"You may accept it as a fact," he insisted.
"Undoubtedly," she retorted, "your conversation must have taken an
extraordinary turn last night. Mark, you are rather tantalizing. It
is so evident that you are only favouring me with elegant extracts."
"Oh well, I don't want to give the girl away," he said. "And look
here, Carrissima, I don't want you to drop upon her too heavily."
"Is that a custom of mine?" she exclaimed. "As if I want to drop upon
her at all! Frankly, I like Bridget. You see, we are in agreement so
far. Or rather, I should like her if she would let the foolish colonel
go. Oh dear, I really ought not to talk in this way!"
"Upon my word," said Mark, "I believe she scarcely realizes what she is
doing."
"Then you admit she is doing it!"
"A kind of youthful irresponsibility," he returned. "That accounts for
everything."
"You seem to forget she is older than I am," said Carrissima.
He laughed as he looked down at her small figure, and if he had not by
any means succeeded in relieving her dismal anticipations concerning
Colonel Faversham, he had to a certain degree caused her to feel easier
about his own future. Flattering herself that she had now a firm grip
of the situation, Carrissima began to marvel that a man of her father's
long experience could remain blind to the facts of the case.
"Father," she said, alone with him after dinner the same evening, "I
heard some rather astonishing news this afternoon."
"Ah well," answered the colonel, "it takes a great deal to astonish me.
The more I know of the world the more extraordinary things I expect to
hear."
"It was about Bridget," said Carrissima.
"What about her?" he demanded, turning in his chair to face his
daughter.
"Judging from the way she lives and dresses," Carrissima continued, "I
always assumed she had plenty of money."
"I hate to see a girl of your age mercenary," was the answer. "Good
gracious, when I was two-and-twenty I never gave money a thought. I
should never have dreamed of bothering myself about the amount of my
friends' incomes. I don't now for that matter. Always keep your heart
young, Carrissima! I am as disinterested now as ever I was in my salad
days, thank goodness! Odd where you get this calculating habit!"
"I didn't know I was mercenary and calculating and all the rest of it,"
said Carrissima. "I thought, perhaps, you might feel interested to
hear----"
"To hear what?" cried Colonel Faversham. "If I had wished to learn the
amount of Bridget's income I should simply have paid a shilling and
gone to Somerset House to look at David Rosser's will. But I didn't.
I've a mind above that sort of thing."
"You wouldn't have got much information there," said Carrissima,
"because Mr. Rosser left nothing. Bridget's money came from her
mother."
"How did you discover that?" asked Colonel Faversham.
"Mark told me."
"Has he seen Bridget?" the colonel exclaimed in some surprise, because
he had spent the afternoon at Golfney Place and she had not for a
wonder mentioned Mark's name.
"Yes, he went after dinner last night," said Carrissima. "There's not
the least shadow of doubt that she has been waiting to see whether he
would ask her to marry him."
"Scandal!" shouted Colonel Faversham indignantly. "Abominable scandal!
How the devil is it possible you can know whether she expected Mark
Driver to ask her to marry him or not?"
"It is perfectly certain," said Carrissima, "that unless she marries
somebody or other she will find herself without any money to live upon."
Although Carrissima spoke after prolonged reflection, and considered
that the peculiar circumstances of the case justified the means she was
employing, she could not feel very pleased with herself. She disliked
anything underhanded; but, then, she disliked the prospect of Bridget's
becoming Mrs. Faversham still more. Instead, however, of causing
Colonel Faversham to hold his hand, Carrissima merely succeeded in
egging him on. Rising excitedly from his chair he stood glaring at her
for a few moments, as if he were going to break into a torrent of
abuse; but turning abruptly away he left the room, slamming the door
behind him so that the house shook. Making his way down-stairs he sat
up late in the smoking-room, and when at last he went to bed, found it
impossible to sleep.
During the small hours it seemed almost as though Carrissima's hint
might prove of some avail. For the first time he began to hesitate
concerning the future. In an exceptionally sane interval he came near
to agreement with his daughter. Her remark about Bridget's means had
been, in fact, a revelation. Not that he cared whether she possessed
any money or not, but the absence of it might be a deplorable
temptation.
Could it be possible that she had been deliberately awaiting Mark's
return, postponing her answer to the older man until she convinced
herself there was not a chance of securing the younger? An infuriating
suspicion, but still not capable of causing Colonel Faversham's
withdrawal. On the contrary, as he shaved the following morning,
cutting his chin rather badly, he told himself that if only Bridget
would consent to marry him, every other consideration might go to limbo!
By eleven o'clock he was waiting in the sitting-room at Number 5,
Golfney Place. Until her appearance he walked restlessly from the
fireplace to the farthest window, stopping to look at the uninviting
oleographs on the wall, inspecting the row of David Rosser's novels
which filled the hanging shelf.
Colonel Faversham was in an unstable mood this morning. Why couldn't
Bridget come? She must know by this time that he detested waiting!
Every other minute he glanced at the door, and at last when she entered
breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"What a very early bird!" she cried, coming towards him in her
graceful, unhurried way.
"I want to catch the---- No, no," he said, "that won't do! You didn't
tell me you had seen Mark Driver!" he added, holding her hand.
"Didn't I?" was the casual answer. "But why should I? You surely
don't imagine for a moment I tell you everything! How deeply
astonished you would be! What an amusing disillusionment!"
"Why should it be?" he demanded. "What have you to be ashamed of?"
"Ever so much," said Bridget. "So many men would like to shut us up in
harems, wouldn't they?"
"It depends on the woman," returned the colonel.
"I assure you it would never answer in my case," she exclaimed.
"Neither bolts nor bars would keep me in."
"My dear," he said, "you drive me half out of my mind. You give me no
peace."
"Oh, you poor thing!" she murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Say you will be my wife and have done with it," he urged.
"Now, supposing--only supposing that I were foolish enough----"
"You will," he cried, and doubtless he looked a little ridiculous as he
went down on one knee. The joint, too, was stiffer than usual this
morning.
"What do you imagine," she suggested, "that Carrissima would say--and
your son!"
At this alarming reminder Colonel Faversham made an attempt to rise,
but to his annoyance a cry of pain escaped. Unable for the moment to
straighten his knee, he remained at Bridget's feet, conscious of the
anti-climax.
"Let me help you," she said, sympathetically offering her hand.
"Good heavens!" he cried; "why do you imagine I require help! I am
quite able to help myself. I never depend on other people. Give me
independence," he added, standing upright though the effort made him
wince.
"Yet you ask me to sacrifice mine!" said Bridget. "But what would Mr.
Lawrence Faversham have to say?"
"Upon my soul I can't imagine," was the answer.
"I believe you are thoroughly afraid of him and Carrissima. Well, so
am I," she admitted.
Colonel Faversham had never held Lawrence in greater awe than at this
moment when he believed that happiness lay within his grasp. He
perceived that Carrissima the previous evening must have been
attempting to influence him, and consequently that she already
suspected his intentions. Now Colonel Faversham had often turned the
matter over in his mind, with the result that he conceived a plan
which, if it could only be carried successfully out, might obviate
everything unpleasant.
"Lawrence," he said, "is a good fellow. A little too good, perhaps. I
have never pretended to be an anchorite. I've too much warm blood
still in my veins. Come to that, I'm to all intents and purposes a
younger man than my son. I have the greatest respect for Lawrence, but
he seems to have been born old."
"You can't say that of Carrissima!"
"No, no, a dear girl," he replied. "But a little sarcastic at times.
I detest sarcasm. I won't allow it. But no man can control a woman's
face. I can see Carrissima's smile," he added, taking out his
handkerchief and mopping his forehead.
"How ridiculous," said Bridget, "to make yourself so uncomfortable on
my account."
"Let him laugh who wins!" cried Colonel Faversham. "If they think I'm
a fool--well, I don't want to be wise. Of course, there's one way----"
"What is that?" asked Bridget.
"I don't know whether you would put up with it," said the colonel.
"Why," he suggested with eager eyes on her face, "why in the world
shouldn't we keep it to ourselves?"
"How would it be possible?" she said, with a thoughtful expression.
"Trust me for that," was the answer. "There are few things I can't do
when I make up my mind. Admit the principle, and everything else is
easy! Keep it dark, you know. In the first place you've got to
promise to be my wife. We don't breathe a word to any living being.
Then one fine morning we go out and get the knot tied: at a registry
office, a church, anywhere you like."
"I shouldn't feel that I was properly married," said Bridget, "unless I
went to church."
"Then you will!" urged Colonel Faversham, half beside himself with
satisfaction.
"Please let me hear the whole scheme," she insisted.
"Don't you see," he explained, "you and I--my dear little wife--would
be off somewhere abroad. Anywhere you choose!"
"Italy," said Bridget. "We would travel through to Milan, then on to
Rome, Naples, Capri--Capri would be delightful."
"My darling!"
"But," she continued, "your plan is quite out of the question. I hate
anything resembling secrecy. Surely you don't imagine that if I
married you I shouldn't want every one to know."
"Why, naturally," said the colonel. "We should send Carrissima a
telegram from Paris. The point is that she wouldn't know what had
happened until we were out of reach. By the time we got back to
Grandison Square she would have learnt to take a sensible view of the
accomplished fact. So would Lawrence."
"Oh dear, you sound like a child who is bent on doing something he
ought to be ashamed of!"
"It's true you make me feel like a boy again," he admitted. "Not that
I have ever felt anything you could call old or even middle-aged. It
will be the proudest day of my life if you consent," he added, and then
Bridget broke into a laugh. She threw back her head as if she were
putting away every misgiving, and Colonel Faversham drew near with the
intention to take her in his arms. Her demeanour suddenly stiffened,
however. In a condescending way she graciously permitted him to press
his lips to her cheek; nor was this unexpected reserve the only
drawback to his new happiness.
In his impetuosity he called her attention to the advantage of a quiet
wedding, since there would be no absurd preparations to cause delay.
As they had only to please themselves, they might just as well get
married forthwith . . . say next week or the week after. Bridget,
however, quite good-humouredly refused to entertain any suggestion of
the kind, protesting that she had done enough for one morning. With
these mitigations, Colonel Faversham's glee appeared fatuous. Always
disposed to boast of his capacity to vie with men a quarter of a
century younger than himself, he had never, surely, done so well as
now! He went to Donaldson's for a diamond ring, which was put on
Bridget's finger the same afternoon, although she declared it must be
taken off again the moment he had gone. The secret must be thoroughly
kept!
While Colonel Faversham approved of every endeavour to keep Carrissima
and everybody else in the dark for the present, he was determined to
stand no nonsense. He requested her to go to Golfney Place, and
following the line of least resistance, she went, persuading Bridget to
come to Grandison Square as her father wished. There one afternoon a
few days after the beginning of her engagement she met Jimmy
Clynesworth.