MARK MAKES A BEGINNING
Colonel Faversham, without being a bigoted Sabbatarian, liked to make a
difference between Sunday and the other six days. He always expected a
rather more elaborate dinner and never failed to go to sleep after
luncheon. He allowed himself an extra cigar or two, and, in short,
deprecated anything which threatened to disturb his peace.
During the last few days his mind, chiefly owing to lapse of time, had
been easier concerning Bridget. Without being demonstratively
affectionate, she appeared as cheerful as ever, so that he reached
Number 5, Golfney Place at half-past three this afternoon with every
hope of spending an agreeable hour or two in her presence.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed, before he had been many minutes in the room,
"wild flowers!"
"I think they must be," said Bridget, with a laugh.
"They look fresh!"
"They ought to be," she answered. "They were growing an hour or two
ago."
"In the country?" suggested the colonel.
"Wouldn't it be lovely if one could pick primroses and marsh marigolds
in London!" said Bridget.
"Bridget," cried Colonel Faversham, "I believe you take a delight in
teasing me. I suppose the people of the house gave them to you!"
"How much I should like to have a motor-car," she said suddenly.
"Why not?" he demanded. "Why shouldn't you have a motor-car? I often
wonder I've never gone in for one before now. Bridget, there are few
things you shan't have when once you're my wife."
She leaned back in her chair, biting her nether lip, and every now and
then glancing reflectively at the colonel, as if in hesitation.
"Such a delightful ride!" she cried a few minutes later.
"Eh--what--when?" he said.
"This morning, of course. Jimmy took me by surprise. He called for me
shortly after eleven. I couldn't resist going. We went through some
of the loveliest Surrey villages."
"What about lunch?" asked Colonel Faversham, with difficulty bottling
up his wrath.
"Oh, we stopped at the sweetest little inn that seemed to be miles away
from everywhere and everybody. Of course, we hadn't much time to
spare."
That was one consolation, and Bridget's candour was another;
nevertheless. Colonel Faversham found his Sunday afternoon quite
spoilt, and finally left Golfney Place in a humour to make things a
little uncomfortable for any one who crossed his path. He was
beginning to notice that Mark Driver came to Grandison Square somewhat
often, and seeing Carrissima wearing her hat and jacket a few
afternoons later the colonel asked where she was going.
"I am expecting Phoebe," she answered. "Mark has taken some rooms in
Weymouth Street and we are invited to inspect them to-day."
Colonel Faversham chuckled as she left the house. Nothing could suit
his purpose better! She would never, he felt certain, be content to
stay at home under the new Mrs. Faversham's regime, and her own
marriage would prove an admirable solution of the difficulty.
Mark Driver was just now in his element. His friend, Doctor Harefield,
had broken down in health, his only hope being to relinquish an
incipient practice and spend a considerable time in a more favourable
climate. Mark had taken over Harefield's three rooms: a dining-room on
the ground floor, intended to serve also as a patients' waiting-room; a
small consulting-room in its rear, and a bedroom at the top of the
house. The furniture, such as it was, had been bought at a valuation,
not that Mark had intended to make such an outlay at the moment, but it
was understood that the goodwill of Harefield's practice was to be
thrown in. It was, in fact, far too small to be sold separately,
although it might form the nucleus of the much larger one which his
successor fully intended to build up.
Mark, having provided an elaborate tea and a profusion of flowers,
looked forward with considerable zest to Carrissima's visit with Phoebe
as her chaperon, and yet as he stood at the window awaiting her arrival
he wondered whether he had not perhaps been a little too precipitate
over his recent investment.
His outlook had been steadily changing since the day after his return
from Paris. Although it appeared as if love had come upon him
suddenly, he knew it had done nothing of the kind. While it seemed to
have blossomed in a day, he understood that it had been developing for
many months, perhaps, even for many years.
He could not feel absolutely confident. Carrissima had builded better
than she knew. So cleverly had she dissembled her emotions that there
were times when Mark feared lest he should take her completely by
surprise; but in any case the declaration must not much longer be
postponed. If his desires were gratified, it appeared obvious that
these three rooms would prove inadequate, while, incongruously enough,
it was the fact that he had made some kind of beginning by taking them,
which justified his increasingly impatient aspirations.
Carrissima, arriving with Phoebe at half-past four, was prepared to
admire everything. She was taken first to the small consulting-room,
and shown various kinds of apparatus for the administration of ether,
chloroform and gas, then to the waiting-room, where Phoebe poured out
tea. Mrs. Lawrence Faversham, for her part, was more critical. She
insisted that Mark had paid more than the furniture was worth. Much of
it was fit only for the dusthole! The curtains, for instance, were
falling to pieces, and in any case he positively was bound to invest in
a new carpet.
"Look at the darns!" she cried. "It must have served for generation
after generation of physicians. It is enough to put any patient off!
Whatever you do without, you really must have a new carpet."
"Don't you think I could rub along with the old one for the present?"
asked Mark, turning to Carrissima, who, however, felt she must agree
with her sister-in-law.
"Such a fuss about seven or eight guineas," said Phoebe. "If you won't
buy one I shall have to make you a present."
"Well, then," exclaimed Mark suddenly, "suppose you and Carrissima help
me choose it. I am a perfect idiot at that sort of thing. Where shall
we go?"
"You would never ask such a question," said Carrissima, looking
wonderfully happy as she sat holding her cup and saucer, "if you had
any real feeling for the Art of Shopping. We will go everywhere. The
first thing is to land yourself in the neighbourhood--then you plunge.
The idea of making up your mind where to buy a thing before you start.
That's not the way. Do it thoroughly and see all that is to be seen."
"When shall we go," asked Mark, "since I mustn't ask where?"
"Any afternoon you like to name next week!"
"It is evidently going to be a long job," said Mark. "Suppose we say
Monday afternoon. I will call for Phoebe at three in a taxi, then we
will make for Grandison Square."
Carrissima left Weymouth Street in the highest spirits, and at last
began to wonder whether her long patience was by way of being rewarded.
When Monday arrived she actually put on her hat--her most becoming
hat--before the appointed time, and as she sat waiting for Mark and
Phoebe Colonel Faversham looked into the dining-room.
"Oh, ah, Carrissima!" he said; "it occurs to me that you haven't seen
much of Bridget lately. I should like you to go to Golfney Place.
You've nothing in the world to do. You look idle enough sitting there!
Suppose you go this afternoon!"
"I am expecting Mark," answered Carrissima.
"Mark again!"
"And Phoebe," said Carrissima.
"Off on the spree--the three of you?"
"Mark," Carrissima explained, "asked us to help him choose a--a
carpet----"
"Devilish thoughtful of him," said the colonel in his most amiable and
significant tone.
"For his patients' waiting-room!"
"Well, if you get one to match your cheeks," was the answer, "it will
be a nice cheerful colour for them. It strikes me you're seeing a good
deal of the fellow."
"I always have done," said Carrissima, devoutly wishing he would arrive
to release her.
"Be candid now!" cried the colonel. "Be honest. I like honesty.
Anyhow, you can't deceive me. Carrissima, I'll tell you one thing.
There's nothing on this earth would give me greater gratification,
nothing!"
She durst not even yet allow her hopes to run away with her, and while
she was wondering whether there would be time to go upstairs and powder
her face or whether, after all, the remedy might not be worse than the
disease, she heard the street door bell ring.
"I will go to Golfney Place to-morrow, if you like," she said, with a
momentary sense of something resembling sympathy for her father.
Because, if what she was constantly hearing from Sybil were true, it
seemed extremely probable that Colonel Faversham was doomed to
disappointment. According to Sybil, Jimmy went to see Bridget day
after day, and granting that she was determined upon escape from her
pecuniary troubles by a marriage of some kind, surely she would choose
Jimmy in preference to the colonel, if only for the fact that he was
much more wealthy. So that Colonel Faversham were spared Carrissima
did not feel disposed to judge Bridget too severely; disapproving of
her manoeuvres, indeed, but having enough to do in the management of
her own affairs.
"Well, well, go to-morrow," said her father. "I'll answer for it she
will be pleased to see you. Take her a few flowers! Ah!" Colonel
Faversham added, as the door opened, "here's Mark!"
"Where is Phoebe?" asked Carrissima, as she offered her hand.
"An awful bore," answered Mark. "Victor has a bit of a cold; anyhow I
couldn't persuade his devoted mother to desert him this afternoon."
"I suppose," said Carrissima, hoping that she was not betraying her
disappointment, "we must wait for another day."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Colonel Faversham. "Why shouldn't you keep to
your arrangement? What is to hinder it, I should like to know."
"Do you mind, Carrissima?" asked Mark, gazing eagerly into her face.
"Not at all," she said, and a few minutes later Colonel Faversham stood
on the doorstep, looking after them with obvious approval, as they were
driven away from the house in a taxi-cab.