MISS NORAH FEELS ODD
It was more than humiliating to be the cause of dissension between a
hairdresser and his wife, not to speak of that shop-walker’s eccentric
behaviour. And I did feel so strange, so topsy-turveyish. As if
something had got into my veins and set them all of a glow. Ordinarily
I am convinced that I should have slaughtered Mr Morrel, and the
shop-walker, and the baker’s boy. But, somehow, that afternoon,
although I knew that I ought to be shocked, and amazed, and furious, I
could not be either of the three to anything like the extent which I
was well aware I ought to have been. For some extraordinary reason I
seemed almost to feel that it was quite natural that male creatures in
their position of life should behave to me in what, to say the least,
was a peculiar way. It was a dreadful thought, but I appeared to be
possessed by a sort of consciousness that every man I met was drawn
towards me by a sort of magnetic influence which both he and I well
knew was irresistible. It was an extremely novel sensation, and not a
very agreeable one either.
When I reached home I saw mamma watching for me through the
drawing-room window. It was she who opened the door.
“So you have returned at last. And this time I hope you have brought
everything!”
“Except Audrey’s ribbon. She will have to manage with what she has.”
“And why have you not brought that?”
“Because I did not propose to be insulted any further.”
“Insulted! Norah! What do you mean?”
“It’s of no consequence. Audrey will be able to manage very well
without it. I know her. She has probably dozens of yards of ribbon
already of just the kind she wants; only she thinks it’s too much
trouble to look for it.”
Mamma eyed me doubtfully, as if she could not make me out. I should
have been surprised if she could. I was not only beyond her
comprehension, I was beyond my own. After a momentary pause she went
on:
“Lilian has received a telegram from Mr Rumford, to say that he is
calling this afternoon to ask her to come out with him this evening.
Possibly he intends to say something decisive. Jane has returned, but
Lilian is preparing, and you know that she doesn’t like to be hurried,
and I have to change my dress, and as he may come at any moment if we
are not ready you will have to receive him.”
“Mamma! Why can’t one of the others do that? You know I’m not very
fond of Mr Rumford, and I’m sure he doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t talk nonsense! It’s not a question of like or dislike, you will
do as I wish, he doesn’t come to see you. Audrey and Doris rather
expect that Mr Carter and Mr Purchase may drop in to tea, so they are
changing. Eveleen has a slight headache, and is lying down; she thinks
it possible that sometime during the afternoon Mr Hammond may call,
and she wants to be well enough to receive him. So until some of us
are ready you will have to act as hostess.”
“In this attire?”
“You will have no time to change; somebody may come at any second; and
I tell you again that they’re not coming to see you. You know very
well that no one ever looks at you, whatever you have on. But run
upstairs and get your hat off, and some of that unbecoming colour off
your face, and do try to look decent.”
I obeyed her.
As I went upstairs I was conscious of some most singular sensations,
nearly approaching to forebodings. It was absurd, yet at the bottom of
my heart I suspected that if they only could have guessed, none of
them would have asked me to receive those men. If disaster followed,
their feelings would be beyond description, while the fault would
certainly not be mine.
I was just entering my room when mamma called out to me.
“By the way, Norah, if Major Tibbet should come before I am ready keep
him as much amused as possible. You know how impatient he is, and how
easily bored; but I won’t be an instant longer than I can help.”
So Major Tibbet was coming also! There was evidently going to be a
crowd of them as usual; though, as mamma had been careful to observe,
none of them ever came to see me. But, on this occasion, it was
remotely possible that a change might come o’er the spirit of the
scene. Something within me seemed to hint at it.
As for Major Paul Tibbet, he was one of my pet abominations. An
unsoldierly old man, painted, padded, and wigged. I should think that
when he had got all off that he had put on there was nothing left of
him but a mere husk. And so conceited! He talked of nothing else but
women, and his conquests of them. It was nauseous. What mamma could
see in him was beyond my comprehension. Yet it had dawned on me more
and more, and the others had dropped hints, that if he asked her she
might become Mrs Tibbet, and present us with a new papa. What a
prospect! That made-up relic, whom I could have picked up and swung
over my head with one hand, my papa! I remembered my father as a tall,
handsome man, brave to the point of recklessness, who had broken his
neck while hunting. That anyone could dream of substituting that
effigy for him! I gathered that he had a deal of money. I fear that
mamma is not so indifferent to that consideration as she might be.
Once inside my room I gave way to a most odd mixture of despondency
and exultation. What had happened to me? What did this odd something
inside me which seemed as if it would like to start me dancing, mean?
Where did it come from? How? And why? What was the explanation of the
singular behaviour of those men; of all those men? I could have cried,
if I had not felt so disposed to laugh. It was most confusing.
On the dressing-table was the scrap of paper on which those mysterious
words had been so mysteriously written. I had left it there when I
went out. Could they have had anything to do with the eccentricities
of those ridiculous men? My common-sense--I have common-sense, and
plenty of it; it is my strongest point--told me that the mere notion
was nonsense. In some way or other I had been the victim of my own
imagination, though until then I was not aware that I had any to be
the victim of. I am not an imaginative being. I declare I am not.
Quite the other way. Still it stood to reason that I could not have
seen those words coming on the paper in the way I had supposed. They
must have been there before. And I had been a silly. I caught up the
half-sheet, meaning to tear it into pieces for having made me make
such a goose of myself.
But I could not. Something seemed to take me by the wrists and prevent
me. I let the paper drop from between my fingers in a flutter of
amazement. I looked at the glass in front of me. Could this be myself
that I was looking at? Then I certainly was not so ill-looking as I
had supposed. I might be big, but I was striking. My cheeks were aglow
with health. My lips parted in a radiant smile, for which I could have
kissed myself. The whitest of white teeth shone through them. My eyes
laughed back at me in a fashion which set all my pulses beating.
Ill-looking, with eyes like those? What rubbish people would talk!
They were alive with all sorts of things, two of the daintiest, most
mischievous, frankest, tenderest, dancing lures which were ever set in
a woman’s head. Why, the freckles on my nose positively set them off.
Really, as I observed the reflection in that mirror I was not at all
surprised at the conduct of those men. There was some excuse for them,
after all. No woman might see it, but I was sure that other men would
quickly. One woman is slow to see what it is in another woman which
attracts a man. But I knew then. No man, and no boy either who was
even in the neighbourhood of manhood, could meet those eyes
without--well, without feeling some sort of a sensation. I was
perfectly sure that he could not.
I put my hands up to my face, and laughed!--and actually blushed! It
was so very odd. And so amusing! I felt--it is difficult to describe
exactly--but I was twittering from head to foot, as with a
consciousness of suddenly acquired powers which made me--I do not know
precisely what word to use, but I will write it irresponsible. I was
more than half-ashamed. I doubted if it was a proper feeling for a
girl to have. At twenty-three one ought to be discreet.
Suddenly the door opened and Doris put her head in. She was in her
petticoat, and her hair all down.
“Norah! Whatever are you figuring about before the glass for like
that? Mr Purchase and Mr Carter are coming down the street; go to the
drawing-room at once. Audrey and I will race down as fast as ever we
can, but you must go this moment.”
She just said that, and was off again. It was as well she was, the
idea of her catching me like that made me go a peony-red all over. I
am not in the habit of “figuring about” before a looking-glass, and
nobody can say I am.
So Mr Purchase and Mr Carter were coming down the street? I felt,
well, I am afraid that I felt delighted. If Doris had only known I
doubt if she would have been so anxious that I should hurry down. They
were two of the very nicest boys we know, and had behaved quite
decently even to me. They were sometimes apt to treat me in a free and
easy, brotherly sort of fashion which I rather liked. So far as I
could see there was no nonsense about them whatever. They were
inseparable chums, kind of David and Jonathan, and always hunted in
couples.
Jack Purchase was supposed to be a barrister, but so far as I could
see the only thing he really did was to make ardent love to Doris. He
was tolerably well off, but Doris was a desperate flirt and led him a
tremendous dance. I believe that in her heart she more than liked him,
but it seemed as if she was incapable of owning as much to any man. So
many men had been over head and ears in love with her that I suppose
she had come to think that it would be undignified to admit any
feeling of the kind for one of them. Mamma was very anxious to get her
off, and would have liked nothing better than to have had Mr Purchase
as a son-in-law. But Doris did not care a snap of the fingers for what
mamma said, and her partisanship rather damaged him in her eyes, if
anything. She was a contrary little wretch.
Basil Carter was nothing at all, except a young gentleman of means. He
was very keen to be a statesman, or a Member of Parliament, or
whatever it is. He had tried to get in twice and had failed each time,
but declared that the third time he meant to succeed. I hoped he
would; though, for my part, I cannot see why anyone should wish to be
a ridiculous M.P. I have met lots of them. They are most of them
sillies, though some of them think themselves tin gods. I don’t know
why. They only talk, and most of them cannot do that with decency.
Nearly all the few things they do do they do all wrong, and had much
better have left undone.
He has a most lovely yacht. He once took us all a cruise in it. I
enjoyed it immensely, but the others did not. I do not understand how
it is that some people are ill at sea; it seems so unnatural. Mamma
always takes a private cabin, and is down in it before the boat
starts, even when she is only crossing to Calais.
He is passionately in love with Audrey. I know it as a fact, because
once he as good as told me so. But Audrey is a most difficult girl.
She is imaginative if you like. I believe that she spends her time
imagining herself the wife of a clever man, though what is her idea of
cleverness is more than I can say. Several men, who are allowed to be
not only clever in their own estimation, have asked her to marry, but
she has invariably said no. Physically, she is disgracefully lazy, and
loves to languish, but, mentally, she is sharp as a razor. No matter
how clever the man may be who gets her, he will find that she is, at
least, his match, and that he could not have had anyone more certain
to help him in making his mark in the world. And she is so lovely, and
in the very depths of her, deliciously sweet.
All the same, although they knew quite well what those two boys felt
for them, and their own charms had been proved to be nearly
irresistible over and over again, if they could only have guessed what
had happened to me, neither Audrey nor Doris would have been quite
easy in their minds as I descended the stairs with my most stately
air--which was not saying much, for all the while I was longing to
dance right down them--to welcome the approaching callers.
Directly I was in the drawing-room something tickled me again, so that
I burst out laughing, and had to put up my hand to hide my blushes.
What could it be that was about to happen? And at that moment there
came a rat-tat-tat at the hall-door, and, presently, Jane was ushering
in the visitors.