Kitabı oku: «The Dust of Conflict», sayfa 14
“Effective, and yet nobody could take exception to it,” she said. “But don’t you come on next, Tony?”
Tony, who had not remembered it, stood up suddenly, knocking down the hat of a man beside him, and trod upon the girl’s dress as he passed. She glanced up at him sharply, for he was seldom awkward in his movements, but he was looking another way. The audience was also getting impatient, and there was a clapping of hands and stamping of feet before he appeared upon the stage. Then he sat down fingering his banjo pegs, and twice asked the accompanist for a note on the piano.
“Any other man would have done that before,” said Mrs. Wayne. “Still, I suppose Tony cannot help it, and he seems contented now.”
There was a tinkle from the banjo followed by a chord on the piano, but Tony did not face the audience until the introduction had dragged through. Then Violet noticed that his voice, which was a sweet tenor, was not so clear as usual, and the silence of the piano emphasized his feebler touch on the strings. Still, Tony sang such songs as usually go with the banjo well, for the mingling of faint pathos and mild burlesque was within his grasp, which was, perhaps, not without its significance, and nobody appeared to find any fault with the performance. There was, in fact, enthusiastic applause, though Violet was glad when Tony persisted in leaving the stage, and her mother glanced at her.
“I have heard Tony put much more spirit into that song,” she said.
Tony in the meanwhile was endeavoring to make his way quietly through the green-room when one of the committee touched his shoulder.
“Can’t you spare us a few minutes?” he said. “Miss Clavier seemed to like your singing, and I think she would be pleased if you noticed her. When she heard it was a charity she came down for half her usual fee.”
Tony was not grateful to the man who had detained him, and could it have been done without exciting comment would have shaken off his grasp. As it was, however, there was no avoiding the introduction, and he suffered himself to be led forward with unpleasant misgivings. Miss Clavier made him a somewhat dignified bow, but she also made room for him beside her, while something in her dark eyes warned Tony that it would be wise of him to accept the unspoken invitation. He sat down, wondering what she wanted, until she smiled at him.
“There are coffee and ices in the other room, Tony,” she said. “Will you take me there?”
The man realized that this mode of address had its significance, for it had been Mr. Palliser in the old days; but he rose gravely and held out his arm, knowing that what he did would not pass without comment. The feeling was also warranted, for one of the men who watched them pass out into the corridor smiled as he turned to his companion.
“Tony seems bent on doing rather more than was expected of him,” he said. “No doubt she knows his standing in the neighborhood, and intends this as a delicate compliment to one or two of our lady amateurs who were not exactly pleasant to her. It’s quite certain she can’t be hungry.”
As it happened, there was nobody but the attendant in the buffet when they reached it, and Lucy Davidson flung herself down with a curious, lithe gracefulness in a big chair in a corner.
“Bring me some coffee for the look of the thing,” she said.
Tony did it, and then stood beside her while she toyed with her cup. Lucy Davidson was distinctly pretty in spite of her get up, but it was unpleasantly evident to her companion that she was not the girl he had flirted with. She seemed to have changed into a capable, determined woman, and there was something that suggested imperiousness in her dark eyes when she looked up at him.
“I want to know why you brought me here,” he said.
The girl laughed. “That wasn’t civil, Tony. You should have let me think you came because you wanted to.”
“I didn’t,” said Tony doggedly. “Nor can I stay here long. Don’t you know that some of these people might recognize you?”
“I don’t see why that should worry me, though I don’t think they will. They are Darsley folk, and I fancy I have changed. You are going to be married I hear!”
Tony set his lips as he saw the mocking smile in his companion’s face.
“Yes,” he said. “We may as well talk plainly. You know of no reason why I shouldn’t.”
Lucy Davidson made a little reproachful gesture. “Tony,” she said, “have I objected?”
“No. The question is, do you mean to?”
“That depends. I really don’t want to cause you trouble. You see, I was fond of you once, Tony – and would you like me to tell you that I am still?”
Tony stood rigidly still with the blood in his forehead until the girl laughed.
“You needn’t meet trouble before it comes,” she said. “I only wanted to see you.”
Again there was silence, until Tony, who felt he must say something, broke it.
“Where have you been since you left Northrop?” he asked.
“In London. Music-hall stage. I took there, and was in Melbourne, too. Just now I’m resting a little, and only came down here out of curiosity.”
“Still,” and Tony’s voice trembled a little, “you will have heard – ”
“Sit down,” said the girl almost sharply. “I want to talk to you. Yes, I heard in Melbourne. I read it all in a Darsley paper, and thought what fools the folks were to blame Mr. Appleby.”
Tony gasped. “It is a painful thing to talk about, and I don’t want to distress you, but – ”
Lucy Davidson looked at him steadily. “What I felt about it doesn’t concern anybody but myself. I told you they were fools, Tony. You and I know who it was that circumstances really pointed to.”
Tony’s cheeks turned a trifle gray, but this time he met her gaze. “Listen to me, Lucy. On my word of honor I had no hand in what happened,” he said. “The solemn truth is that your father had an altercation with Appleby, and afterwards fell over the bridge.”
The girl’s eyes flashed, and she slowly straightened herself. “It is fortunate for you that I can take your word, because I had formed my own conclusions,” she said. “Don’t suppose I should sit here talking to you if I had thought you were guilty. This, however, is quite between ourselves.”
There was a significance in the last words which was not lost upon the man. “Well,” he said slowly, “we come back to the point again. What do you want from me?”
“Just a little kindness. I was, I don’t mind telling you again, fond of you, perhaps because – but we don’t always give reasons, Tony. There is nothing I want to ask you for in the meanwhile.”
“I am to be married soon,” the man said in desperation.
Lucy Davidson rose with a curious mocking smile. “Well,” she said, “I wish her joy of you. You are, you know, very poor stuff, Tony, and haven’t nerve enough to make either a good man or a rascal. The last, at least now and then, gets something for his pains. Now, you may take me back again.”
XVIII – NETTIE ASKS A QUESTION
NETTIE HARDING had spent at least six weeks at Low Wood when she sat one afternoon on the lawn, gazing before her reflectively, with a book turned upside-down upon her knee. She had at one time wondered why she lingered there, though she found the company of Hester Earle congenial, and Hester’s father had pressed her to extend her visit, while other reasons that appeared more or less convincing had not been wanting. The Northrop valley was very pretty, and the quiet, well-ordered life her English friends led pleasant, as a change from the turmoil of commercial enterprise and the fierce activity of the search for pleasure she had been accustomed to in America. The tranquillity of the green, peaceful country appealed to her, and she found interesting the quietly spoken men and women who so decorously directed what was done in it, partly because the type was new to her.
That, however, was at the beginning, for by and by she was willing to admit that Northrop might grow wearisome if she saw too much of it, and she could no longer hide from herself the fact that she had a more cogent reason for dallying there. She felt, though as yet it appeared quite likely that she might be mistaken, she was picking up the threads of a drama, the plot of which had been imperfectly revealed to her. This in itself was interesting, for she had at least as much inquisitiveness as most of her sex, and she was sensible of a little thrill of pleasurable excitement when the scent grew hotter. Still, she never asked an indiscreet question, and waited with a patience that is not usually a characteristic of the women of her nation until she was certain.
Miss Wayne, she decided, was at least very like the woman Appleby had pictured to her; but she was difficult to understand, for Violet seldom displayed her feelings, and her cold serenity baffled the observer. Tony Palliser, of whom she had contrived to see a good deal, was an easier and less interesting study. Nettie was naively witty, and could assume American mannerisms with excellent effect when she chose while Tony was fond of being amused, and Violet Wayne apparently devoid of any small jealousy. Thus he spent a good deal of time hanging about Miss Harding, and would have been painfully astonished had he discovered what she thought of him. Languid good nature and the faculty of idling time away very gracefully did not appeal to her, for even pleasure is pursued with grim strenuousness in her country. He was, she fancied, just such a man as the one Appleby had sacrificed himself for; but she surmised that there were a good many men of that kind in England, and Appleby had told his story in a fashion that made the identification of the scene and the persons concerned in it difficult. Nettie felt also that should conviction be forced upon her she would still have to decide what her course would be.
She felt for Appleby a quiet esteem and a kindliness which just stopped short of tenderness. She was an American, and could hold her own with most men in the art of flirtation, but she was also capable of a camaraderie that was characterized by frank sincerity and untainted by any affectation of love-making for one of the opposite sex. That being so, she felt it was incumbent upon her to discharge the obligation she owed him if opportunity afforded, though she knew that the indiscreet meddler not infrequently involves in disaster those she would benefit. By and by there was a step behind her, and she saw Hester Earle regarding her with a twinkle in her eyes.
“If there had been anybody else to see you – Tony Palliser, for example – one could almost have fancied you had assumed that becomingly pensive pose,” she said. “You would make a picture of ingenuous contemplation.”
Nettie laughed. “Well,” she said, “I feel very like a torpedo. Anyway, I didn’t put it on, though I’m open to admit that there’s quite a trace of the peacock about me.”
“That is evidently American hyperbole,” said Hester. “Talk English, Nettie. I don’t understand.”
She seated herself on the mossy wall close by, and noticed that her companion was meditatively watching two figures approaching by a path through a wheatfield. They were just recognizable as Tony and Violet Wayne, and were evidently unaware of being observed, for the man stooped, and, plucking what appeared to be a poppy from among the corn, offered it to his companion. The pair stopped a moment, and the man seemed to be desirous of fastening it in the girl’s dress.
“The peacock,” said Nettie in the drawl she assumed only when it suited her, “is easy. They’re vain, you know, and I wouldn’t figure it was worth while to spread out my best tail before men like Tony Palliser. I’m quite fond of being looked at, too.”
“One would fancy you could scarcely find fault with him on that account,” said Hester dryly. “But the torpedo?”
“That’s a little harder. I suppose you never felt as if you were full of explosives, and could go off when you wanted and scatter destruction around. A torpedo doesn’t appear a very terrible thing, you know. It’s nice and round and shiny. I’ve seen one. Julian showed it me.”
“Nobody goes off in England – at least not among the people we care to mix with,” said Hester. “We send those who seem inclined to behave in that fashion out to the colonies or America. People appear to rather like explosions there.”
“Still, you must get a little shake up now and then. Did nothing startling and unexpected ever happen at Northrop?”
Hester Earle was English, and proud of the decorous tranquillity of the life she led. “No,” she said. “That is, nothing really worth mentioning. Where did you get charged with explosives, Nettie?”
Nettie felt that one of the stoutest threads she had laid her fingers upon had snapped in a most unexpected manner, but she had observed the British character, and was not quite convinced. It was, she reflected, after all a question of what Hester Earle considered worthy of mention.
“In Cuba,” she said. “Now, I was worrying about something, and because you are one of those quiet persons who think a good deal I’d like your opinion. Suppose you or somebody else had a friend who was in trouble through other people’s fault, and would not say a word to clear himself, and you found how you could make things straight for him? The answer to that seems easy, but it gets complicated by the fact that to do it you would have to stir up no end of mud and startle quite a few nice easy-going people.”
“Speaking generally, I should leave the mud alone, and feel that the friend knew best. After all, he may have been to blame.”
“No,” said Nettie. “The man I was thinking of never did a mean thing in his life.”
“Then you can ask Violet Wayne. She is even quieter than I am, and I believe she thinks a good deal.”
Tony and his companion joined them then, and Violet took her place beside Nettie, while the man sat down on the smooth strip of turf that sloped to the sunken tennis lawn.
“You seem to have been discussing something serious,” he said.
“Yes,” said Hester. “Nettie has been comparing herself with a torpedo, and wished to know whether it would be desirable for her to go off or not. I recommended her to submit the case to Violet. Hadn’t you better begin, Nettie? You rather like an audience.”
Nettie was seldom abashed, and the position appealed to her. She had only vague surmises to go upon, and one of the clues had snapped, but the rest might hold, while such an opportunity of discovering the sentiments of the woman who might prove to be most involved could scarcely occur again. It was accordingly with a little thrill of excitement she put the question a trifle more concisely than she had done to Hester, and though she smiled at the others, watched Tony closely. He was certainly astonished, though the case was so outlined that it could scarcely be identified with his own; but his indolent carelessness stood him in good stead, and he sat still, listening with no great show of interest until Nettie concluded.
“Of course, what I have told you concerns somebody in Cuba and not England,” she said. “Now, the point is, would it be better to leave the people alone who seem quite content with everything as it is? One of them would be hurt considerably if the truth came out!”
There was a little silence, and once more Violet Wayne was sensible of the vague apprehension which had troubled her more frequently of late, but she met Nettie’s inquiring glance with steady eyes.
“Still, I think it would be better for that person to know the truth,” she said.
“I am not quite sure,” said Hester reflectively. “We will surmise that he or she is happy in the deception, and it would last all her life. In that case would it be a kindness to undeceive her?”
“I think so. If, as you seem to assume, the person were a woman she would probably discover the truth herself. Deceptions seldom continue, and if the awakening must come it would come better sooner than later.”
Nettie was watching Tony, who lay now endeavoring to pluck a daisy out of the turf. The task seemed to occupy all his attention. “You haven’t decided yet?” she said.
Tony assumed an attitude of languid reflection, though it was evident to Nettie that his fingers, stained a little with the soil, were not quite steady. He may have realized this, for he rubbed them in the grass with slow deliberation.
“Well,” he said, “it seems to me that if one is dreaming something very nice it would be better to let him sleep as long as possible, and a blunder to waken him to unpleasant realities. There’s another point, too. You seem to have overlooked the person who did the wrong.”
“I don’t think I mentioned that there was one!”
“Still, you led us to believe that wrong had been done. That, of course, implies that somebody must have perpetrated it, and I expect you will think me warranted in assuming it was a man. Well, you see, he mayn’t have meant to do any harm at all, and be sincerely sorry. Wouldn’t he deserve a little consideration? People are forced into doing a thing they don’t want to now and then.”
Nettie watched him thoughtfully. Tony’s face was indifferent, but she fancied that he, at least, desired to convince himself.
“Tony’s question is unnecessary,” said Violet Wayne. “If the man were sincerely sorry there would be an end of the difficulty. He would put it straight by making reparation.”
“He might find it difficult,” said Hester.
Tony seemed to wince, and once more turned his attention to the daisy, but when the rest sat silent he glanced at Violet.
“I rather think we are getting away from the point, but since you seem to expect it I’ll take up that man’s brief,” he said. “Well, we will assume that he is a well-intentioned person who has only slipped up once, and is trying to make up for what he has done. Now, if he were left alone, such a man might go straight all the rest of his life.”
“That’s specious, but distinctly unorthodox,” said Hester. “Who had those beautifully illuminated tables of the law put up in Northrop church, Tony?”
Nettie laughed to conceal her interest. “But John P. Robinson, he says they didn’t know everything down in Judee. That’s latter day American, but it’s what a good many people seem to think. Please go on, Mr. Palliser.”
“I can’t go very far. Still, we’ll try to picture such a man giving liberally where it’s wanted, going straight, and doing what good he can all round. We’ll say the lives of other people who believe in him are bound up in his, and their happiness depends upon his holding their confidence. Now, would it be a kindness to anybody to bring everything down crashing about his head?”
He stopped, and glanced with a curious half-veiled appeal in his eyes at Violet, but she shook her head, and the gravity Nettie had once or twice wondered at crept into her face. It showed perfect in its contour and modelling under the big hat, but its clear pallor was more noticeable just then, and it seemed to Nettie very cold. Then she smiled faintly.
“It is a very old question. Can a man be pardoned and retain the offence? Still, I think it was answered decisively,” she said.
Tony said nothing, and, as none of the others appeared inclined to talk, the stillness of the afternoon made itself felt. The pale yellow sunshine lay hot upon the lawn, and the soft murmur of the river came up across the corn, which, broken by dusky woodlands steeped in slumbrous shadow and meadow no longer green, rolled back in waves of ruddy bronze into the valley. Beyond it the hillsides, narrowing in, faded blurred and dim into the hazy distance. Still, the eyes of Tony and Violet Wayne were fixed upon the raw blotch of brickwork rising against the green woods above a flashing pool of the river. The rushy meadows and barren hillside environing it were now worth the best plough land on the Northrop estate, and, as both of those who looked at them remembered then, they had been intended as Appleby’s inheritance.
It was Hester who broke the silence. “Your question has been answered, Nettie,” she said. “It is decided that the person who did the wrong is the one to right it; and now we’ll change the topic. The entertainment we had at Darsley was, as you know, an immense success, so great, indeed, that as we still want money we have decided to have another.”
“Still, it seems to me you can’t consistently inflict any more tickets on the Darsley tradesmen,” said Tony, who appeared desirous of concealing his relief. “The fact is, I was rather sorry for one or two of them. Rawley told me he had to buy at least two half-crown tickets from each of his leading supporters. I don’t think it would be decent to bleed them any more.”
Hester laughed. “That difficulty has been provided for, and I told everybody that I sent tickets to that it would be conducive to success if when they broached the subject they paid their bills. This time we intend to put the screw on our friends. You see, it is some time since we had any little relaxation among ourselves.”
“A concert isn’t really very amusing,” said Tony. “Anyway, not when you have to sing at it.”
“That depends. This one will be; and since it isn’t exactly a concert it will have the virtue of novelty. We intend to hold it here by moonlight and limelight on the lawn. The tickets will be invitation ones at half-a-guinea.”
“Where will you get your limelights from? I believe that kind of thing costs a good deal,” said Tony.
“I don’t know. The privilege of being allowed to supply them has been allotted to Mr. Anthony Palliser. He is also put down for a song.”
Tony made a gesture of resignation. “It will most likely rain.”
“Still, the tickets will have been sold, and if it does rain the people who can’t get into the big billiard room can sit out in couples in the hall, which will probably please them just as well. We, however, mean to have it outside if we can. We want the limelights for the tableaux and costume dancing.”
“Who have you got to dance?” said Tony with evident concern.
“Miss Clavier – the young woman who pleased everybody that night at Darsley. The vicar doesn’t mind. Have you very strong objections to skirt dancing, Tony?”
“No,” said Tony slowly, and Nettie fancied his voice was a trifle strained. “Of course I haven’t. Still, you must not depend too much on me. I mean I’ll get the limelights, and buy as many tickets as can be reasonably expected of me, but whether I’ll be there or not is another affair. I have to go up to London now and then, you see.”
The last was so evidently an inspiration that Hester laughed as she glanced at him. “We will contrive to fix a night that will suit you,” she said. “I fancy you had better submit quietly, Tony.”
Tony murmured something which was not wholly flattering to the promoters of such entertainments, and when he and Violet Wayne took their leave Hester glanced at Nettie.
“I wonder why Tony is anxious not to meet Miss Clavier again,” she said.
As it happened, Nettie was asking herself the same question, but she decided that there was nothing to be gained by mentioning it.
“The girl who dances! You think he didn’t want to meet her?” she said.
“Of course! He showed it. Everybody can tell what Tony is thinking. He is almost painfully transparent.”
“Well,” said Nettie slowly, “I don’t quite know. I have come across other men like him and found that they take one in. You fancy you can look right through them, and yet you see very little of what is inside them.”
“The trouble is that there is nothing in Tony except good nature,” said Hester.
Nettie appeared reflective, and once more expressed herself in the same fashion. “I don’t quite know. Still, I hope you are right,” she said. “You see, I’m quite fond of Violet Wayne.”
