The Irrational Knot Part 36

"To sacrifice her whole life, you mean. It is the first time she has ever hesitated to sacrifice her own comfort, and therefore the first time you are conscious that any sacrifice is required. Let me tell her that you will allow her to take her own course, Uncle Reginald. He is well enough off; and they are fond of one another. A man of genius is worth fifty men of rank."

"Tell her, if you please, Elinor, that she must choose between Mr.

Conolly and me. If she prefers him, well and good: I have done with her.

That is my last word."

"So now she has n.o.body to turn to in the world except him. That is sensible. Come, cousin George! I am off."

"I do not think I should do any good by going," said the clergyman.

"Then stay where you are," said Elinor. "Good-night." And she abruptly left the room.

"It was a dreadful mistake ever to have allowed that young fury to enter the house," said Mr. Lind. "She must be mad. What did _he_ say?"

"He said a great deal in attempted self-justification. But I could make no impression on him. We have no feelings in common with a man of his type. No. He is evidently bent on raising himself by a good marriage."

"We cannot prevent it."

"Oh, surely we----"

"I tell you we _cannot_ prevent it," repeated Mr. Lind, turning angrily upon his son. "How can we? What can we do? She will marry this--this--this--this beggar. I wish to G.o.d I had never seen her mother."

The clergyman stood by, cowed, and said nothing.

"You had better go to that woman of Marmaduke's," continued Mr. Lind, "and try whether she can persuade her brother to commute his interest in the company, and go back to America, or to the devil. I will take care that he gets good terms, even if I have to make them up out of my own pocket. If the worst comes, _she_ must be persuaded to leave Marmaduke.

Offer her money. Women of that sort drive a hard bargain; but they have their price."

"But, sir, consider my profession. How can I go to drive a bargain with a woman of evil reputation?"

"Well, I must go myself, I suppose."

"Oh, no. I will go. Only I thought I would mention it."

"A clergyman can go anywhere. You are privileged. Come to breakfast in the morning: we can talk over matters then."

CHAPTER XI

One morning the Rev. George Lind received a letter addressed in a handwriting which he did not remember and never thenceforth forgot.

Within the envelope he found a dainty little bag made of blue satin, secured by ribbons of the same material. This contained a note written on scented paper, edged with gold, and decorated with a miniature representation of a _pierrot_, sitting cross-legged, conning a book, on the open pages of which appeared the letters L.V. The clergyman recognized the monogram no more than the writing. But as it was evidently from a lady, he felt a pleasant thrill of expectation as he unfolded the paper.

"Laurel Grove West Kensington "Wednesday "Dear Mr. George

"I have made poor little Lucy believe that Kew is the most heavenly place on earth to spend a May morning so Bob has had to promise to row her down there to-morrow (Thursday) after breakfast and I shall be at home alone from eleven to one this is very short notice I know but opportunities are scarce and another might not present itself for a month.

"Believe me Dear Mr. George

"Yours sincerely Lalage Virtue."

The Rev. George became thoughtful, and absently put the note in a little rack over the mantelpiece. Then, recollecting that a prying servant or landlady might misinterpret it, he transferred it to his pocket. After breakfast, having satisfied himself before the mirror that his dress was faultless, and his expression saintly, he went out and travelled by rail from Sloane Square to West Kensington, whence he walked to Laurel Grove.

An elderly maid opened the gate. It was a rule with the Rev. George not to look at strange women; and this morning the asceticism which he thought proper to his office was unusually prominent in his thoughts. He did not look up once while the maid conducted him through the shrubbery to the house; and he fully believed that he had not seen at the first glance that she was remarkably plain, as Susanna took care that all her servants should be. Pa.s.sing by the drawing-room, where he had been on a previous occasion, they went on to a smaller apartment at the back of the house.

"What room is this?" he asked, uneasily.

"Missus's Purjin bodoor, sir," replied the main.

She opened the door; and the clergyman, entering, found himself in a small room, luxuriously decorated in sham Persian, but containing ornaments of all styles and periods, which had been purchased and introduced just as they had caught Susanna's fancy. She was seated on a ottoman, dressed in wide trousers, Turkish slippers, a voluminous sash, a short Greek jacket, a long silk robe with sleeves, and a turban, all of fine soft materials and rare colors. Her face was skilfully painted, and her dark hair disposed so as not to overweight her small head. The clergyman, foolishly resisting a natural impulse to admire her, felt like St. Anthony struggling with the fascination of a disguised devil.

He responded to her smile of welcome by a stiff bow.

"Sit down," she said. "You mustnt mind this absurd dress: it belongs to a new piece I am studying. I always study in character. It is the only way to identify myself with my part, you see."

"It seems a very magnificent dress, certainly," said the clergyman, nervously.

"Thank you for the compliment----"

"No, no," said he, hastily. "I had no such intention."

"Of course not," said Susanna, with a laugh. "It was merely an unpremeditated remark: all compliments are, of course. I know all about that. But do you think it a proper costume?"

"In what sense, may I ask?"

"Is it a correct Eastern dress? I am supposed to be one of the wives of the Caliph Somebody al Something. You have no idea how difficult it is to get a reliable model for a dress before laying out a heap of money on it. This was designed in Paris; but I should like to hear it criticized--chronologically, or whatever you call it--by a scholar."

"I really do not know, Madam. I am not an Orientalist; and my studies take a widely different direction from yours."

"Yes, of course," said Susanna, with a sigh. "But I a.s.sure you I often wish for your advice, particularly as to my elocution, which is very faulty. You are such a master of the art."

The clergyman bowed in acceptance of the compliment, and began to take heart; for to receive flattery from ladies in exchange for severe reproof was part of his daily experience.

"I have come here," he said, "to have a very serious conversation with you."

"All right, Doctor. Fire away."

This sudden whim of conferring on him a degree in divinity, and her change of manner--implying that she had been laughing at him before--irritated him. "I presume," he said, "that you are acquainted with the movements of your brother."

"Of Ned?" said Susanna, frowning a little. "No. What should I know about him?"

"He is, I believe, about to be married."

"No!" screamed Susanna, throwing herself back, and making her bangles and ornaments clatter. "Get out, Doctor. You dont mean it."

"Certainly I mean it. It is not my profession to jest. I must also tell you that his marriage will make it quite impossible for you to continue here with my cousin."

"Why? Who is he going to marry?"

"Ahem! He has succeeded in engaging the affections of my sister."