You must think whether you have compensation, said the lady, and he received it in a cousinly squeeze of his hand.
He was about to raise the lank white hand to his lips.
Ah! she said, there would be no compensation to me, if that were seen; and her dainty hand was withdrawn. Now, tell me, she changed her tone. How do the loves prosper?
Algernon begged her not to call them loves. She nodded and smiled.
Your artistic admirations, she observed. I am to see her in church, am I not? Only, my dear Algy, dont go too far. Rustic beauties are as dangerous as Court Princesses. Where was it you saw her first?
At the Bank, said Algernon.
Really! at the Bank! So your time there is not absolutely wasted. What brought her to London, I wonder?
Well, she has an old uncle, a queer old fellow, and hes a sort of portermoney porterin the Bank, awfully honest, or he might half break it some fine day, if he chose to cut and run. Shes got a sister, prettier than this girl, the fellows say; Ive never seen her. I expect Ive seen a portrait of her, though.
Ah! Mrs. Lovell musically drew him on. Was she dark, too?
No, shes fair. At least, she is in her portrait.
Brown hair; hazel eyes?
Ohoh! You guess, do you?
I guess nothing, though it seems profitable. That Yankee betting man guesses, and what heaps of money he makes by it!
I wish I did, Algernon sighed. All my guessing and reckoning goes wrong. Im safe for next Spring, thats one comfort. I shall make twenty thousand next Spring.
On Templemore?
Thats the horse. Ive got a little on Tenpenny Nail as well. But Im quite safe on Templemore; unless the Evil Principle comes into the field.
Is he so sure to be against you, if he does appear? said Mrs. Lovell.
Certain! ejaculated Algernon, in honest indignation.
Well, Algy, I dont like to have him on my side. Perhaps I will take a share in your luck, to make it? to make it?She played prettily as a mistress teasing her lap-dog to jump for a morsel; adding: Oh! Algy, you are not a Frenchman. To make it divine, sir! you have missed your chance.
Theres one chance I shouldnt like to miss, said the youth.
Then, do not mention it, she counselled him. And, seriously, I will take a part of your risk. I fear I am lucky, which is ruinous. We will settle that, by-and-by. Do you know, Algy, the most expensive position in the world is a widows.
You neednt be one very long, growled he.
Im so wretchedly fastidious, dont you see? And its best not to sigh when were talking of business, if youll take me for a guide. So, the old man brought this pretty rustic Miss Rhoda to the Bank?
Once, said Algernon. Just as he did with her sister. Hes proud of his nieces; shows them and then hides them. The fellows at the Bank never saw her again.
Her name is?
Dahlia.
Ah, yes!Dahlia. Extremely pretty. There are brown dahliasdahlias of all colours. And the portrait of this fair creature hangs up in your chambers in town?
Dont call them my chambers, Algernon protested.
Your cousins, if you like. Probably Edward happened to be at the Bank when fair Dahlia paid her visit. Once seems to have been enough for both of you.
Algernon was unread in the hearts of women, and imagined that Edwards defection from Mrs. Lovells sway had deprived him of the ladys sympathy and interest in his fortunes.
Poor old Neds in some scrape, I think, he said.
Where is he? the lady asked, languidly.
Paris.
Paris? How very odd! And out of the season, in this hot weather. Its enough to lead me to dream that he has gone overone cannot realize why.
Upon my honour! Algernon thumped on his knee; by jingo! he adopted a less compromising interjection; Neds fool enough. My idea is, hes gone and got married.
Mrs. Lovell was lying back with the neglectful grace of incontestable beauty; not a line to wrinkle her smooth soft features. For one sharp instant her face was all edged and puckered, like the face of a fair witch. She sat upright.
Married! But how can that be when we none of us have heard a word of it?
I daresay you havent, said Algernon; and not likely to. Neds the closest fellow of my acquaintance. He hasnt taken me into his confidence, you maybe sure; he knows Im too leaky. Theres no bore like a secret! Ive come to my conclusion in this affair by putting together a lot of little incidents and adding them up. First, I believe he was at the Bank when that fair girl was seen there. Secondly, from the description the fellows give of her, I should take her to be the original of the portrait. Next, I know that Rhoda has a fair sister who has run for it. And last, Rhoda has had a letter from her sister, to say shes away to the Continent and is married. Neds in Paris. Those are my facts, and I give you my reckoning of them.
Mrs. Lovell gazed at Algernon for one long meditative moment.
Impossible, she exclaimed. Edward has more brains than heart. And now the ladys face was scarlet. How did this Rhoda, with her absurd name, think of meeting you to tell you such stuff? Indeed, theres a simplicity in some of these young women She said the remainder to herself.
Shes really very innocent and good, Algernon defended Rhoda, she is. There isnt a particle of nonsense in her. I first met her in town, as I stated, at the Bank; just on the steps, and we remembered I had called a cab for her a little before; and I met her again by accident yesterday.
You are only a boy in their hands, my cousin Algy! said Mrs. Lovell.
Algernon nodded with a self-defensive knowingness. I fancy theres no doubt her sister has written to her that shes married. Its certain she has. Shes a blunt sort of girl; not one to lie, not even for a sister or a lover, unless she had previously made up her mind to it. In that case, she wouldnt stick at much.
But, do you know, said Mrs. Lovelldo you know that Edwards father would be worse than yours over such an act of folly? He would call it an offence against common sense, and have no mercy for it. He would be vindictive on principle. This story of yours cannot be true. Nothing reconciles it.
Oh, Sir Billy will be rusty; that stands to reason, Algernon assented. It maynt be true. I hope it isnt. But Ned has a madness for fair women. Hed do anything on earth for them. He loses his head entirely.
That he may have been imprudent Mrs. Lovell thus blushingly hinted at the lesser sin of his deceiving and ruining the girl.
Oh, it neednt be true, said Algernon; and with meaning, Whos to blame if it is?
Mrs. Lovell again reddened. She touched Algernons fingers.
His friends mustnt forsake him, in any case.
By Jove! you are the right sort of woman, cried Algernon.
It was beyond his faculties to divine that her not forsaking of Edward might haply come to mean something disastrous to him. The touch of Mrs. Lovells hand made him forget Rhoda in a twinkling. He detained it, audaciously, even until she frowned with petulance and stamped her foot.
There was over her bosom a large cameo-brooch, representing a tomb under a palm-tree, and the figure of a veiled woman with her head bowed upon the tomb. This brooch was falling, when Algernon caught it. The pin tore his finger, and in the energy of pain he dashed the brooch to her feet, with immediate outcries of violent disgust at himself and exclamations for pardon. He picked up the brooch. It was open. A strange, discoloured, folded substance lay on the floor of the carriage. Mrs. Lovell gazed down at it, and then at him, ghastly pale. He lifted it by one corner, and the diminutive folded squares came out, revealing a strip of red-stained handkerchief.
Mrs. Lovell grasped it, and thrust it out of sight.
She spoke as they approached the church-door: Mention nothing of this to a soul, or you forfeit my friendship for ever.
When they alighted, she was smiling in her old affable manner.
CHAPTER IX
Some consideration for Robert, after all, as being the man who loved her, sufficed to give him rank as a more elevated kind of criminal in Rhodas sight, and exquisite torture of the highest form was administered to him. Her faith in her sister was so sure that she could half pardon him for the momentary harm he had done to Dahlia with her father; but, judging him by the lofty standard of one who craved to be her husband, she could not pardon his unmanly hesitation and manner of speech. The old and deep grievance in her heart as to what men thought of women, and as to the harshness of men, was stirred constantly by the remembrance of his irresolute looks, and his not having dared to speak nobly for Dahlia, even though he might have had, the knavery to think evil. As the case stood, there was still mischief to counteract. Her father had willingly swallowed a drug, but his suspicions only slumbered, and she could not instil her own vivid hopefulness and trust into him. Letters from Dahlia came regularly. The first, from Lausanne, favoured Rhodas conception of her as of a happy spirit resting at celestial stages of her ascent upward through spheres of ecstacy. Dahlia could see the snow-mountains in a flying glimpse; and again, peacefully seated, she could see the snow-mountains reflected in clear blue waters from her window, which, Rhoda thought, must be like heaven. On these inspired occasions, Robert presented the form of a malignant serpent in her ideas. Then Dahlia made excursions upon glaciers with her beloved, her helpmate, and had slippings and tumblingslittle earthly casualties which gave a charming sense of reality to her otherwise miraculous flight. The Alps were crossed: Italy was beheld. A profusion of Ohs! described Dahlias impressions of Italy; and Oh! the heat! showed her to be mortal, notwithstanding the sublime exclamations. Como received the blissful couple. Dahlia wrote from Como:
Tell father that gentlemen in my Edwards position cannot always immediately proclaim their marriage to the world. There are reasons. I hope he has been very angry with me: then it will be soon over, and we shall bebut I cannot look back. I shall not look back till we reach Venice. At Venice, I know I shall see you all as clear as day; but I cannot even remember the features of my darling here.
Her Christian name was still her only signature.
The thin blue-and-pink paper, and the foreign postmarkstestifications to Dahlias journey not being a fictitious event, had a singular deliciousness for the solitary girl at the Farm. At times, as she turned them over, she was startled by the intoxication of her sentiments, for the wild thought would come, that many, many whose passionate hearts she could feel as her own, were ready to abandon principle and the bondage to the hereafter, for such a long delicious gulp of divine life. Rhoda found herself more than once brooding on the possible case that Dahlia had done this thing.
The fit of languor came on her unawares, probing at her weakness, and blinding her to the laws and duties of earth, until her conscious womanhood checked it, and she sprang from the vision in a spasm of terror, not knowing how far she had fallen.
After such personal experiences, she suffered great longings to be with her sister, that the touch of her hand, the gaze of her eyes, the tone of Dahlias voice, might make her sure of her sisters safety.
Rhodas devotions in church were frequently distracted by the occupants of the Blancove pew. Mrs. Lovell had the habit of looking at her with an extraordinary directness, an expressionless dissecting scrutiny, that was bewildering and confusing to the country damsel. Algernon likewise bestowed marked attention on her. Some curious hints had been thrown out to her by this young gentleman on the day when he ventured to speak to her in the lane, which led her to fancy distantly that he had some acquaintance with Dahlias husband, or that he had heard of Dahlia.
It was clear to Rhoda that Algernon sought another interview. He appeared in the neighbourhood of the farm on Saturdays, and on Sundays he was present in the church, sometimes with Mrs. Lovell, and sometimes without a companion. His appearance sent her quick wits travelling through many scales of possible conduct: and they struck one ringing note:she thought that by the aid of this gentleman a lesson might be given to Roberts mean nature. It was part of Roberts punishment to see that she was not unconscious of Algernons admiration.
The first letter from Venice consisted of a series of interjections in praise of the poetry of gondolas, varied by allusions to the sad smell of the low tide water, and the amazing quality of the heat; and then Dahlia wrote more composedly:
Titian the painter lived here, and painted ladies, who sat to him without a bit of garment on, and indeed, my darling, I often think it was more comfortable for the model than for the artist. Even modesty seems too hot a covering for human creatures here. The sun strikes me down. I am ceasing to have a complexion. It is pleasant to know that my Edward is still proud of me. He has made acquaintance with some of the officers here, and seems pleased at the compliments they pay me.
They have nice manners, and white uniforms that fit them like a kid glove. I am Edwards resplendent wife. A colonel of one of the regiments invited him to dinner (speaking English), with your resplendent wife. Edward has no mercy for errors of language, and he would not take me. Ah! who knows how strange men are! Never think of being happy unless you can always be blind. I see you all at homeMother Dumpling and allas I thought I should when I was to come to Venice.
Persuadedo persuade father that everything will be well. Some persons are to be trusted. Make him feel it. I know that I am life itself to Edward. He has lived as men do, and he can judge, and he knows that there never was a wife who brought a heart to her husband like mine to him. He wants to think, or he wants to smoke, and he leaves me; but, oh! when he returns, he can scarcely believe that he has me, his joy is so great. He looks like a glad thankful child, and he has the manliest of faces. It is generally thoughtful; you might think it hard, at first sight.
But you must be beautiful to please some men. You will laughI have really got the habit of talking to my face and all myself in the glass. Rhoda would think me cracked. And it is really true that I was never so humble about my good looks. You used to spoil me at homeyou and that wicked old Mother Dumpling, and our own dear mother, Rhodaoh! mother, mother! I wish I had always thought of you looking down on me! You made me so vainmuch more vain than I let you see I was. There were times when it is quite true I thought myself a princess. I am not worse-looking now, but I suppose I desire to be so beautiful that nothing satisfies me.
A spot on my neck gives me a dreadful fright. If my hair comes out much when I comb it, it sets my heart beating; and it is a daily misery to me that my hands are larger than they should be, belonging to Edwards resplendent wife. I thank heaven that you and I always saw the necessity of being careful of our fingernails. My feet are of moderate size, though they are not French feet, as Edward says. No: I shall never dance. He sent me to the dancing-master in London, but it was too late. But I have been complimented on my walking, and that seems to please Edward. He does not dance (or mind dancing) himself, only he does not like me to miss one perfection. It is his love. Oh! if I have seemed to let you suppose he does not love me as ever, do not think it. He is most tender and true to me. Addio! I am signora, you are signorina.