Love, the Fiddler Part 8
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"Work," I said.
"What kind of work?" she asked.
"Oh, in an office!" I said. (I didn't tell her I was the Third Vice President of the Amalgamated Copper Company, with a twenty- story building on lower Broadway. Wild horses couldn't have wrung it out of me then.)
"You're too nice for an office," she said, looking at me so sweetly and sadly. "You ought to be a gentleman!"
"Oh, dear!" I exclaimed, "I hope I am that, even if I do grub along in an office." I wish my partners could have heard me say that. Why, I have a private elevator of my own and a squash-court on the roof!
"Of course, I don't mean that," she went on quickly, "but like us, I mean, with a castle and a place in society----"
"I have a sort of little picayune place in New York," I interrupted. "I don't SLEEP in the office, you know. At night I go out and see my friends and sometimes they invite me to dinner."
She looked at me more sadly than ever. I don't believe humour was Verna's strong suit anyway,--not American humour, at least,--for she not only believed what I said, but more too.
"I must speak to Papa about you," she said.
"What will he do?" I asked.
"Oh, help you along, you know," she said; "ffrenches always stand together; it's a family trait, though it's dying out now for lack of ffrenches. You know our family motto?" she went on.
"I'm afraid I don't," I said.
"'Ffrenches first!'" she returned.
I had to laugh.
"We've lived up to it in America," I said.
"Papa is quite a power in the City," she said.
"I thought he was a gentleman," I replied.
"Everybody dabbles in business nowadays," she returned, not perceiving the innuendo. "I am sure Papa ought to know all about it from the amount of money he has lost."
"Perhaps his was a case of ffrenches last!" I said.
"Still, he knows all the influential people," she continued, "and it would be so easy for him to get you a position over here."
"That would be charming," I said.
"And then I might see you occasionally," she said, with such a little ring of kindness in her voice that for a minute I felt a perfect brute for deceiving her. "You could run down here from Sat.u.r.day to Monday, you know, and on Bank Holidays, and in the season you would have the entree to our London house and the chance of meeting nice people!"
"How jolly!" I said.
"I can't bear you to go back to America," she said. "Now that I've found you, I'm going to keep you."
"I hate the thought of going back myself," I said, and so I did-- at the thought of leaving that angel!
"Then, you know," she went on, somewhat shyly and hesitatingly, "you have such good manners and such a good air, and you're so---- "
"Don't mind saying handsome," I remarked.
"You really are very nice-looking," she said, with a seriousness that made me acutely uncomfortable, "and what with our friends.h.i.+p and our house open to you and the people you could invite down here, because I know Papa is going to go out of his mind about you--he and I are always crazy about the same people, you know-- not to speak of the little f, there is no reason, Fyles, why in the end you shouldn't marry an awfully rich girl and set up for yourself!"
"Thank you," I said, "but if it's all the same to you I don't think I'd care to."
"I know awfully rich girls who are pretty too," she said, as though forestalling an objection.
"I do too," I said, looking at her so earnestly that she coloured up to the eyes.
"Oh, I am poor!" she said. "It's all we can do to keep the place up. Besides--besides----" And then she stopped and looked out of the window. I saw I had been a fool to be so personal, and I was soon punished for my presumption, for she rose to her feet and said in an altered voice that she would now show me the castle.
As I said before, it was a tremendous old place. It was a two- hours' job to go through it even as we did, and then Verna said we had skipped a whole raft of things she would let me see some other time. There was a private theatre, a chapel with effigies of cross-legged Crusaders, an armoury with a thousand stand of flint- locks, a library, magnificent state apartments with wonderful tapestries, a suite of rooms where they had confined a mad ffrench in the fifteenth century, with the actual bloodstains on the floor where he had dashed out his poor silly brains against the wall; a magazine with a lot of empty powder-casks Cromwell had left there; a vaulted chamber for the men of the half-moon battery; a well which was said to have no bottom and which had remained unused for a hundred years, because a wicked uncle had thrown the rightful heir into it; and slimy, creepy-crawly dungeons with chains for your hands and feet; and cachettes where they spilled you through a hole in the floor, and let it go at that; and--but what wasn't there, indeed, in that extraordinary old feudal citadel, which had been in continuous human possession since the era of Hardicanute.
There seemed to be only one thing missing in the whole castle, and that was a bath--though I dare say there was one in the private apartments not shown to me. It was a regular dive into the last five hundred years, and the fact that it wasn't a museum nor exploited by a sing-song cicerone, helped to make it for me a memorable and really thrilling experience. I conjured up my forebears and could see them playing as children, growing to manhood, pa.s.sing into old age, and finally dying in the shadow of those same ma.s.sive walls. Verna said I was quite pale when we emerged at last into the open air on the summit of the high square tower; and no wonder that I was, for in a kind of way I had been deeply impressed, and it seemed a solemn thing that I, like her, should be a child of this castle, with roots deep cast in far-off ages.
"Wouldn't it be horrible," I said, "if I found out I wasn't a ffrench at all--but had really sprung from a low-down, capital F family in the next county or somewhere!"
"Oh, but you are a real ffrench," said Verna.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I can FEEL it," she said. "I never felt that kind of sensation before towards anybody except my father!"
I hardly knew whether to be pleased or not. And besides, it didn't seem to me conclusive.
Then she touched a b.u.t.ton (for the castle was thoroughly wired and there was even a miniature telephone system) and servants brought us up afternoon tea, and a couple of chairs to sit on, and a folding table set out with flowers, and the best toast and the best tea and the best strawberry jam and the best chocolate cake and the best b.u.t.ter that I had as yet tasted in the whole island.
The view itself was good enough to eat, for we were high above everything and saw the harbour and the country stretched out on all sides like a map.
"This is where I come for my day-dreams," said Verna. "I usually have it all to myself, for people hate the stairs so much and the ladies twitter about the dust and the cobwebs and the shakiness of the last ladder, and the silly things get dizzy and have to be held."
"You don't seem to be afraid," I said.
"This has been my favourite spot all my life," she returned. "I can remember Papa holding me up when I wasn't five years old and telling me about the Lady Grizzle that threw herself off the parapet rather than marry somebody she had to and wouldn't!"
"Tell me about your day-dreams, Verna," I said.
"Just a girl's fancies," she returned, smiling. "I dare say men have them too. Fairy princes, you know, and what he'd say and what I'd say, and how much I'd love him, and how much he'd love me!"
"I can understand the last part of it," I observed.
"You are really very nice," she returned, "and when Papa has got you that place in the City, I am going to allow you to come up here and dream too. And you'll tell me about the Sleeping Beauty and I'll unbosom myself about the Beast, and we'll exchange heart- aches and be, oh, so happy together."
"I am that now," I said.
"You're awfully easily pleased, Fyles," she said. "Most of the men I know I have to rack my head to entertain; talk exploring, you know, to explorers, and horses to Derby winners, and what it feels like to be shot--to soldiers--but you entertain ME, and that is so much pleasanter."
"I wish I dared ask you some questions," I said.
Love, the Fiddler Part 8
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Love, the Fiddler Part 8 summary
You're reading Love, the Fiddler Part 8. This novel has been translated by Updating. Author: Lloyd Osbourne already has 517 views.
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