The Outcry Part 8

"A young man who was just with her--and whom she appears to have invited."

"Where is he then?" Lord Theign demanded.

"Off there among the pictures--which he seems partly to have come for."

"Oh!"--it made his lords.h.i.+p easier. "Then he's all right--on such a day."

His companion could none the less just wonder. "Hadn't Lady Grace told you?"

"That he was coming? Not that I remember." But Lord Theign, perceptibly preoccupied, made nothing of this. "We've had other fish to fry, and you know the freedom I allow her."

His friend had a vivid gesture. "My dear man, I only ask to profit by it!" With which there might well have been in Lord John's face a light of comment on the pretension in such a quarter to allow freedom.

Yet it was a pretension that Lord Theign sustained--as to show himself far from all bourgeois narrowness. "She has her friends by the score--at this time of day." There was clearly a claim here also--to _know_ the time of day. "But in the matter of friends where, by the way, is your own--of whom I've but just heard?"

"Oh, off there among the pictures too; so they'll have met and taken care of each other." Accounting for this inquirer would be clearly the least of Lord John's difficulties. "I mustn't appear to Bender to have failed him; but I must at once let you know, before I join him, that, seizing my opportunity, I have just very definitely, in fact very pressingly, spoken to Lady Grace. It hasn't been perhaps," he continued, "quite the pick of a chance; but that seemed never to come, and if I'm not too fondly mistaken, at any rate, she listened to me without abhorrence. Only I've led her to expect--for our case--that you'll be so good, without loss of time, as to say the clinching word to her yourself."

"Without loss, you mean, of--a--my daughter's time?" Lord Theign, confessedly and amiably interested, had accepted these intimations--yet with the very blandness that was not accessible to hustling and was never forgetful of its standing privilege of criticism. He had come in from his public duty, a few minutes before, somewhat flushed and blown; but that had presently dropped--to the effect, we should have guessed, of his appearing to Lord John at least as cool as the occasion required.

His appearance, we ourselves certainly should have felt, was in all respects charming--with the great note of it the beautiful restless, almost suspicious, challenge to you, on the part of deep and mixed things in him, his pride and his shyness, his conscience, his taste and his temper, to deny that he was admirably simple. Obviously, at this rate, he had a pa.s.sion for simplicity--simplicity, above all, of relation with you, and would show you, with the last subtlety of displeasure, his impatience of your attempting anything more with himself. With such an ideal of decent ease he would, confound you, "sink" a hundred other attributes--or the recognition at least and the formulation of them--that you might abjectly have taken for granted in him: just to show you that in a beastly vulgar age you had, and small wonder, a beastly vulgar imagination. He sank thus, surely, in defiance of insistent vulgarity, half his consciousness of his advantages, flattering himself that mere facility and amiability, a true effective, a positively ideal suppression of reference in any one to anything that might complicate, alone floated above. This would be quite his religion, you might infer--to cause his hands to ignore in whatever contact any opportunity, however convenient, for an unfair pull. Which habit it was that must have produced in him a sort of ripe and radiant fairness; if it be allowed us, that is, to figure in so s.h.i.+ning an air a n.o.bleman of fifty-three, of an undecided rather than a certified frame or outline, of a head thinly though neatly covered and not measureably ma.s.sive, of an almost trivial freshness, of a face marked but by a fine inwrought line or two and lighted by a merely charming expression. You might somehow have traced back the whole character so presented to an ideal privately invoked--that of his establis.h.i.+ng in the formal garden of his suffered greatness such easy seats and short perspectives, such winding paths and natural-looking waters, as would mercifully break up the scale. You would perhaps indeed have reflected at the same time that the thought of so much mercy was almost more than anything else the thought of a great option and a great margin--in fine of fifty alternatives.

Which remarks of ours, however, leave his lords.h.i.+p with his last immediate question on his hands.

"Well, yes--_that_, of course, in all propriety," his companion has meanwhile replied to it. "But I was thinking a little, you understand, of the importance of our own time."

Divinably Lord Theign put himself out less, as we may say, for the comparatively matter-of-course haunters of his garden than for interlopers even but slightly accredited. He seemed thus not at all to strain to "understand" in this particular connection--it would be his familiarly amusing friend Lord John, clearly, who must do most of the work for him. "'Our own' in the sense of yours and mine?"

"Of yours and mine and Lady Imber's, yes--and a good bit, last not least, in that of my watching and waiting mother's." This struck no prompt spark of apprehension from his listener, so that Lord John went on: "The last thing she did this morning was to remind me, with her fine old frankness, that she would like to learn without more delay where, on the whole question, she _is_, don't you know? What she put to me"--the younger man felt his ground a little, but proceeded further--"what she put to me, with her rather grand way of looking _all_ questions straight in the face, you see, was: Do we or don't we, decidedly, take up practically her very handsome offer--'very handsome' being, I mean, what _she_ calls it; though it strikes even me too, you know, as rather decent."

Lord Theign at this point resigned himself to know. "Kitty has of course rubbed into me how decent she herself finds it. She hurls herself again on me--successfully!--for everything, and it suits her down to the ground. She pays her beastly debt--that is, I mean to say," and he took himself up, though it was scarce more than perfunctory, "discharges her obligations--by her sister's fair hand; not to mention a few other trifles for which I naturally provide."

Lord John, a little unexpectedly to himself on the defensive, was yet but briefly at a loss. "Of course we take into account, don't we? not only the fact of my mother's desire (intended, I a.s.sure you, to be most flattering) that Lady Grace shall enter our family with all honours, but her expressed readiness to facilitate the thing by an understanding over and above----"

"Over and above Kitty's release from her d.a.m.nable payment?"--Lord Theign reached out to what his guest had left rather in the air. "Of course we take _everything_ into account--or I shouldn't, my dear fellow, be discussing with you at all a business one or two of whose aspects so little appeal to me: especially as there's nothing, you easily conceive, that a daughter of mine can come in for by entering even your family, or any other (as a family) that she wouldn't be quite as sure of by just staying in her own. The d.u.c.h.ess's idea, at any rate, if I've followed you, is that if Grace does accept you she settles on you twelve thousand; with the condition--"

Lord John was already all there. "Definitely, yes, of your settling the equivalent on Lady Grace."

"And what do you call the equivalent of twelve thousand?"

"Why, tacked on to a value so great and so charming as Lady Grace herself, I dare say such a sum as nine or ten would serve."

"And where the mischief, if you please, at this highly inconvenient time, am I to pick up nine or ten thousand?"

Lord John declined, with a smiling, a fairly irritating eye for his friend's general resources, to consider that question seriously. "Surely you can have no difficulty whatever--!"

"Why not?--when you can see for yourself that I've had this year to let poor dear old Hill Street! Do you call it the moment for me to have _liked_ to see myself all but cajoled into planking down even such a matter as the very much lower figure of Kitty's horrid incubus?"

"Ah, but the inducement and the _quid pro quo_," Lord John brightly indicated, "are here much greater! In the case you speak of you will only have removed the incubus--which, I grant you, she must and you must feel as horrid. In this other you pacify Lady Imber _and_ marry Lady Grace: marry her to a man who has set his heart on her and of whom she has just expressed--to himself--a very kind and very high opinion."

"She has expressed a very high opinion of you?"--Lord Theign scarce glowed with credulity.

But the younger man held his ground. "She has told me she thoroughly likes me and that--though a fellow feels an a.s.s repeating such things--she thinks me perfectly charming."

"A tremendous creature, eh, all round? Then," said Lord Theign, "what does she want more?"

"She very possibly wants nothing--but I'm to that beastly degree, you see," his visitor patiently explained, "in the cleft stick of my fearfully positive mother's wants. Those are her 'terms,' and I don't mind saying that they're most disagreeable to me--I quite hate 'em: there! Only I think it makes a jolly difference that I wouldn't touch 'em with a long pole if my personal feeling--in respect to Lady Grace--wasn't so immensely enlisted."

"I a.s.sure you I'd chuck 'em out of window, my boy, if I didn't believe you'd be really good to her," Lord Theign returned with the properest spirit.

It only encouraged his companion. "You _will_ just tell her then, now and here, how good you honestly believe I shall be?"

This appeal required a moment--a longer look at him. "You truly hold that that friendly guarantee, backed by my parental weight, will do your job?"

"That's the conviction I entertain."

Lord Theign thought again. "Well, even if your conviction's just, that still doesn't tell me into which of my very empty pockets it will be of the least use for me to fumble."

"Oh," Lord John laughed, "when a man has such a tremendous a.s.sortment of breeches--!" He pulled up, however, as, in his motion, his eye caught the great vista of the open rooms. "If it's a question of pockets--and what's _in_ 'em--here precisely is my man!" This personage had come back from his tour of observation and was now, on the threshold of the hall, exhibited to Lord Theign as well. Lord John's welcome was warm. "I've had awfully to fail you, Mr. Bender, but I was on the point of joining you. Let me, however, still better, introduce you to our host."

VII

Mr. Bender indeed, formidably advancing, scarce had use for this a.s.sistance. "Happy to meet you--especially in your beautiful home, Lord Theign." To which he added while the master of Dedborough stood good-humouredly pa.s.sive to his approach: "I've been round, by your kind permission and the light of nature, and haven't required support; though if I had there's a gentleman there who seemed prepared to allow me any amount." Mr. Bender, out of his abundance, evoked as by a suggestive hand this contributory figure. "A young, spare, nervous gentleman with eye-gla.s.ses--I guess he's an author. A friend of yours too?" he asked of Lord John.

The answer was prompt and emphatic. "No, the gentleman is no friend at all of mine, Mr. Bender."

"A friend of my daughter's," Lord Theign easily explained. "I hope they're looking after him."

"Oh, they took care he had tea and bread and b.u.t.ter to any extent; and were so good as to move something," Mr. Bender conscientiously added, "so that he could get up on a chair and see straight into the Moretto."

This was a touch, however, that appeared to affect Lord John unfavourably. "Up on a chair? I say!"

Mr. Bender took another view. "Why, I got right up myself--a little more and I'd almost have begun to paw it! He got me quite interested"--the proprietor of the picture would perhaps care to know--"in that Moretto."

And it was on these lines that Mr. Bender continued to advance. "I take it that your biggest value, however, Lord Theign, is your splendid Sir Joshua. Our friend there has a great deal to say about that too--but it didn't lead to our moving any more furniture." On which he paused as to enjoy, with a show of his fine teeth, his host's rea.s.surance. "It _has_ yet, my impression of that picture, sir, led to something else. Are you prepared, Lord Theign, to entertain a proposition?"

Lord Theign met Mr. Bender's eyes while this inquirer left these few portentous words to speak for themselves. "To the effect that I part to you with 'The Beautiful d.u.c.h.ess of Waterbridge'? No, Mr. Bender, such a proposition would leave me intensely cold."

Lord John had meanwhile had a more headlong cry. "My dear Bender, I _envy_ you!"

"I guess you don't envy me," his friend serenely replied, "as much as I envy Lord Theign." And then while Mr. Bender and the latter continued to face each other searchingly and firmly: "What I allude to is an overture of a strong and simple stamp--such as perhaps would shed a softer light on the difficulties raised by a.s.sociation and attachment. I've had some experience of first shocks, and I'd be glad to meet you as man to man."

Mr. Bender was, quite clearly, all genial and all sincere; he intended no irony and used, consciously, no great freedom. Lord Theign, not less evidently, saw this, and it permitted him amus.e.m.e.nt. "As rich man to poor man is how I'm to understand it? For me to meet _you_," he added, "I should have to be tempted--and I'm not even temptable. So there we are," he blandly smiled.

His blandness appeared even for a moment to set an example to Lord John.

"'The Beautiful d.u.c.h.ess of Waterbridge,' Mr. Bender, is a golden apple of one of those great family trees of which respectable people don't lop off the branches whose venerable shade, in this garish and denuded age, they so much enjoy."

Mr. Bender looked at him as if he had cut some irrelevant caper. "Then if they don't sell their ancestors where in the world are all the ancestors bought?"