You are fond of the country, Miss Warren, Asquith said at length, addressing the latter directly.
Yes, Im fond of the country, was the reply, given in a mechanical way, and with a cold, steady look, whilst she ruffled the edges of her review. Asquith had found it at first difficult to determine whether the peculiarity of the girls behaviour were due to excessive shyness or to some more specific cause; but shyness it certainly was not, her manner of speaking and of regarding him put that out of the question. Did she, then, behave in this way to every stranger, or was he for some reason personally distasteful to her; or, again, had something just happened to disturb her temper?
Your liking for it, though, would scarcely go to the extent of leading you to take up a solitary abode in a labourers cottage?
I cant say, Ada replied slowly. One is often ready to do anything for the sake of being left alone.
Ada would stipulate, however, to be supplied with the Fortnightly or the Nineteenth Century, put in Mrs. Clarendon laughingly.
If anything could drive me into the desert, was Roberts remark, it would be the hope of never again being called upon to look at them. I shouldnt wonder if Mr.Mr. Kingcote, isnt it?has fled from civilisation for the very same reason. Probably he has cast away books, and aims at returning to the natural state of man.
By no means, said Isabel. He has brought down quite a library.
Alas! exclaimed Robert, with a humorous shaking of the head, then he is, I fear, engaged in adding to the burden which oppresses us. No wonder he hides his head; he is writing a book.
Perhaps he is a poet, Mrs. Clarendon, puts in Rhoda.
Perhaps so, Rhoda; and some day we may have pilgrims from all corners of the earth visiting the cottage he has glorified.
With special omnibuses from Winstoke station, added Robert, and a colony of licensed victuallers thriving about the sacred spot.
Let us be thankful, exclaimed Isabel, that a poets fame is usually deferred for a generation or two. Ha, theres the first luncheon bell! It brings a smile to your face, Robert.
Did I betray myself? I confess I breakfasted early.
The two girls walked towards the house together, their elders following more slowly.
Isnt Rhoda Meres a nice girl? said Isabel, when the object of her remark was out of hearing.
Very, her cousin assented, though without enthusiasm. He seemed to be thinking of something else.
The poor child has got a foolish idea into her head; she wants to go on to the stage.
Does sheha? Most young people have that idea at one time or another, I believe. In default of a special audience of one, you see
And she is such a good, dear girl! pursued Isabel, when Asquith showed no sign of continuing. Her father is a literary man, the editor of a magazine called Ropers Miscellanydo you know it? He and I are the best of old friends. Its only with the thought of helping her father, Im sure, that Rhoda has taken up this fancy; we must drive it out of her head somehow.
Yes, I suppose so, remarked Robert, more absently than before.
Isabel glanced at him, and kept silence till they reached the house.
There was nothing remarkable about the structure itself of Knightswell; the front was long and low, built of brick faced with stone, and the level entrance was anything but imposing. The main portion of the building was early eighteenth century, but in the rear there still existed a remnant of the sixteenth century manor-house which had once stood here; the ancient hall now served as kitchen, its fine stone fireplace being filled up with an incongruous modern range. The present hall was surrounded with oak panelling, which Mr. Clarendon had obtained at the dismantling of an old house in the neighbourhood; all else of the interior had become, by successive changes, completely modernised, with the exception of an elaborate chimney-piece in the drawingroommassive marble-work resting on caryatidesalways said, though without corroborative evidence, to be a production of Grinling Gibbons. The faces of the two supporters were curiously unlike each other: on the one side it was that of a youthful maiden, who smiled, and seemed to be upraising her arms in sport; the other was an aged but not unbeautiful face, wearing an expression of long-suffering sadness, worn under the burden which the striving arms sustained. In the dining-room were a few good pictures, taken with the house from the preceding occupants. For Knightswell was not the ancestral abode of Mr. Clarendons family; it had passed, by frequent changes, from tenant to tenant, all inglorious. Notwithstanding his historic name, Mr. Clarendon was a novus homo; his father had begun life as an obscure stockbroker, had made a great fortune, and ended his life in a comfortable dwelling in Bayswater; his daughters, there were two, married reputably, and were no more heard of.
During luncheon Asquith was still much occupied in observing Ada Warren whenever he could unobtrusively do so. The young ladies were rather silent, and even Isabel showed now and then a trace of effort in the bright flow of talk which she kept up. Between herself and her cousin, however, there was no lack of ease; a graceful intimacy had established itself on the basis of their kinship, though not exactly that kind of intimacy which bespeaks life-long association. Their talk was of the present, or of the immediate past; neither spoke of things or people whose mention would have revived the memory of years ago.
And what are you doing with yourself? Mrs. Clarendon inquired, when Robert had abandoned another futile attempt to draw Ada Warren into converse.
Upon my word, was his reply, I hardly know. The town; I see a good deal of it, indoors and out; it still has the charm of novelty. I cant say that time has begun to hang heavy on my hands; in truth, it seldom does.
Fortunate being!
Yes, I suppose so. I find that people have a singular capacity for being bored; I notice it more than I used to. For my own part, I generally find a good deal of enjoyment to be got out of the present moment; the enjoyment of sound health, at lowest. You know how pleasant it is to look back on past days, even though at the time they may have seemed anything but delightful. I account for that by believing that the past always had a preponderant element of pleasure, though disturbing circumstances wouldnt allow us to perceive it. Its always a joy to be alive, and we recognise this in looking back, when accidents arrange themselves in their true proportion.
He glanced at Ada; the girl was smiling scornfully, her face averted to the window.
The present being so delightful, said Mrs. Clarendon, what joyous pleasures have you for the immediate future?
Grouse on Wednesday next, Robert replied, after helping himself to salt in a manner which suggested that he was observant of the number of grains he took. An acquaintance who has a moor, or a portion of one, in Yorkshire, has given me an invitation. As I have never shot grouse, I shall avail myself of the opportunity to extend my experience.
Promise me the pick of your first bag. There was a project for a long drive in the afternoon; the weather was bright but sufficiently cool, and Robert professed himself delighted. He had a few minutes by himself in the drawing-room when the ladies went up to make their preparations. He gave a careful scrutiny to the caryatides, smiling, as was generally the case when he regarded anything, then glanced about at the pictures and the chance volumes lying here and there; the latter were novels and light literature from Mudies. Then he took up a number of the Queen, and began to peruse it, sitting in the window-seat.
What a singular choice of literature! exclaimed Isabel, as she came in drawing on her gloves.
The Queen? It interests me. Theres something so very concrete about such writing. I like the concrete.
The first time I ever heard so learned a term applied to so frivolous a publication. After all, Rhoda, there may be more in us poor creatures than we gave ourselves credit for.
Do tell me, said Robert, as he laid down the paper, what is aI hope I may askwhat is a graduated plastron?
Oh, this is dreadful! laughed Isabel. Come along, the carriage is waiting; well discuss graduated plastrons on our way.
Are we not to have the pleasure of Miss Warrens company? Robert asked, as they entered the phaeton.
Ada never goes out with us, was Mrs. Clarendons answer as she took the reins and prepared to drive.
There was no additional guest at dinner; the evening was helped along by Rhodas playing and singing. Her voice was good, and she had enjoyed good teaching; this at Mrs. Clarendons expense. It was one of many instances in which Isabel had helped her friends the Meres, her aid being given in a manner of which she alone had the secretirresistible, warm-hearted, delicate beyond risk of offence. Ada sat in the room, but, as usual, had a book in her hands.
You read much, said Robert, seating himself beside her and perforce obtaining her attention.
It is a way of getting through life, the girl replied, rather less abruptly than she had hitherto spoken.
That means that life is not quite so attractive to you as it might be? he returned, under the cover of the music which had just begun.
I doubt whether life is attractive to any onewho thinks about it.
She had folded her hands on the pages and was leaning back in her chair. Robert examined her and came to the conclusion that she was not quite so disagreeable in countenance as the irregularity of her features at first led one to think. She had large eyes, and, to meet them, was to be strangely impressed, almost as with the attraction of beauty. Her evening dress was of black satin, a richer and more tasteful garment than he had expected she would wear, judging from her appearance earlier in the day. Her hair, too, was very carefully arranged. The foot, which just showed itself, was not small, but beautifully shaped. Ornaments she had none.
That is censure clearly directed against myself, Robert said, with good humour. And yet I fancy I have thought a good deal of life. Ada did not seem disposed to pursue the argument.
What are you reading? Asquith inquired. It was a volume of Comte. She showed the title without speaking.
You are a Positivist?
No; merely an atheist.
The confession was uttered in such a matter-of-fact tone that Robert was disposed to think she used the word just for the pleasure of startling him. There was, in fact, a barely perceptible glimmer in her eyes as she sat looking straight before her.
Thats rather dogmatic, isnt it? he remarked, smiling. The word Agnostic is better, I fancy.
I believe it comes to very much the same thing, said Ada. The new word has been coined principally to save respectability.
A motive with which you have small sympathy?
None whatever.
There was a silence between them.
You play? Robert asked, Rhoda Meres having risen from the piano.
Only for my own amusement.
Then certainly you play things which I should like to hear. Will you play me something that has a tune in it? I dont mean to reflect upon Miss Meres playing; but my ear is in a rudimentary state. I should be very grateful if you would play something.
Ada seemed to harden her face against an intruding smile. She rose, however, and walked over to the piano. Mrs. Clarendon and Rhoda looked at her with undisguised surprise. Asquith noticed that her walk might have been graceful, had she not affected a sort of indifference in gait.
She seated herself at the instrument and played an operatic air; it lasted about three minutes, then she ceased. Robert looked in expectation of her resuming her former seat, but she walked straight to the door and disappeared.
Mrs. Clarendon and Rhoda Meres exchanged glances, and for an instant there was a rather awkward silence. Isabel found a subject, and talked with her wonted vivacity.
Ada did not return. About half-past ten Rhoda began to make preparations for departure; she went to one of the windows, and held the blind aside a little to look out at the night.
Oh! what a moon! she exclaimed. Mrs. Clarendon, do let us just go out for a minute on to the lawn; the country is so wonderful at night.
Wrappers were at hand for the ladies, and the three went out together. The whole scope of visible heavens was pale with light; the blacker rose the circle of trees about Knights-well. The leaves made their weird whispering, each kind with its separate voice; no other sounds came from the sleeping earth.
We often hear the nightingale, Isabel said, lowering her voice. Perhaps its too early yet.
Then she added:
This is the hour of our poets inspiration.
What poet? asked Robert.
Our poet in the cottage; dont you remember?
Ah, the morbid young man. Poor fellow!
Isabel suppressed a low laugh.
Come, Rhoda dear, its cold, she said to the girl, who had drawn a little apart.
Rhoda followed in silence, her head bent. In the hall she took her candle, and bade the two a hasty good-night.
Why is she crying? asked Robert, under his voice, as he entered the drawing-room again with Isabel.
The latter shook her head, but did not speak. She moved about the room for a moment; the shawl had half slipped from her shoulders, and made a graceful draping. Asquith stood watching her.
She approached him.
I half hinted, she began, that I had a selfish object in asking you to come here. We are good friends, are we not?old and good friends?
There was a beautiful appeal upon her face, anxiety blending with a slight embarrassment. She had put aside the mask of light-heartedness, and that which it had all day been in her countenance to utter freely exposed itself. It was not so much as distress; rather, impatience of some besieging annoyance. She was more beautiful now than when Robert had read her face seventeen years ago. Still, he regarded her with his wonted smile. There was much kindness in his look; nothing more than kindness.
The best of friends, Isabel, I hope, he replied to her.
I am going to ask you to do something for me, she continued. Will you sit down and listen to me? I am not sure that I do right in asking this favour of you, but you are the only one of my relatives whom I feel able to talk freely with, and I think I had rather you than any one else did this thing that I am going to ask. Perhaps you will find it too disagreeable; if so, tell meyou will promise to speak freely?
Certainly, I promise.
They had taken their seats. Asquith rested one of his arms on a small table, and waited, the smile lingering. Isabel gathered the shawl about her, as if she felt cold. She was a trifle pale.
You understand perfectly, she resumed, with a certain abruptness, which came of the effort it cost her to broach the subject, the meaning of Ada Warrens presence in this house?
Perfectly, I think, her cousin replied, with a slight motion of his eyebrows.
That is to say, pursued Isabel, looking at the fringe of her shawl, you know the details of Mr. Clarendons will?