THE DRIVE
Sunday came, and with it the visit to South Kensington, where Aunt Jerningham lived; and Atlee found himself seated beside Lady Maude in a fine roomy barouche, whirling along at a pace that our great moralist himself admits to be amongst the very pleasantest excitements humanity can experience.
‘I hope you will add your persuasions to mine, Mr. Atlee, and induce my uncle to take these horses with him to Turkey. You know Constantinople, and can say that real carriage-horses cannot be had there.’
‘Horses of this size, shape, and action the Sultan himself has not the equals of.’
‘No one is more aware than my lord,’ continued she, ‘that the measure of an ambassador’s influence is, in a great degree, the style and splendour in which he represents his country, and that his household, his equipage, his retinue, and his dinners, should mark distinctly the station he assumes to occupy. Some caprice of Mr. Walpole’s about Arab horses—Arabs of bone and blood he used to talk of—has taken hold of my uncle’s mind, and I half fear that he may not take the English horses with him.’
‘By the way,’ said Atlee, half listlessly, ‘where is Walpole? What has become of him?’
‘He is in Ireland at this moment.’
‘In Ireland! Good heavens! has he not had enough of Ireland?’
‘Apparently not. He went over there on Tuesday last.’
‘And what can he possibly have to do in Ireland?’
‘I should say that you are more likely to furnish the answer to that question than I. If I’m not much mistaken, his letters are forwarded to the same country-house where you first made each other’s acquaintance.’
‘What, Kilgobbin Castle?’
‘Yes, it is something Castle, and I think the name you mentioned.’
‘And this only puzzles me the more,’ added Atlee, pondering. ‘His first visit there, at the time I met him, was a mere accident of travel—a tourist’s curiosity to see an old castle supposed to have some historic associations.’
‘Were there not some other attractions in the spot?’ interrupted she, smiling.
‘Yes, there was a genial old Irish squire, who did the honours very handsomely, if a little rudely, and there were two daughters, or a daughter and a niece, I’m not very clear which, who sang Irish melodies and talked rebellion to match very amusingly.’
‘Were they pretty?’
‘Well, perhaps courtesy would say “pretty,” but a keener criticism would dwell on certain awkwardnesses of manner—Walpole called them Irishries.’
‘Indeed!’
‘Yes, he confessed to have been amused with the eccentric habits and odd ways, but he was not sparing of his strictures afterwards.’
‘So that there were no “tendernesses?”’
‘Oh, I’ll not go that far. I rather suspect there were “tendernesses,” but only such as a fine gentleman permits himself amongst semi-savage peoples—something that seems to say, “Be as fond of me as you like, and it is a great privilege you enjoy; and I, on my side, will accord you such of my affections as I set no particular store by.” Just as one throws small coin to a beggar.’
‘Oh, Mr. Atlee!’
‘I am ashamed to own that I have seen something of this kind myself.’
‘It is not like my cousin Cecil to behave in that fashion.’
‘I might say, Lady Maude, that your home experiences of people would prove a very fallacious guide as to what they might or might not do in a society of whose ways you know nothing.’
‘A man of honour would always be a man of honour.’
‘There are men, and men of honour, as there are persons of excellent principles with delicate moral health, and they—I say it with regret—must be satisfied to be as respectably conducted as they are able.’
‘I don’t think you like Cecil,’ said she, half-puzzled by his subtlety, but hitting what she thought to be a ‘blot.’
‘It is difficult for me to tell his cousin what I should like to say in answer to this remark.’
‘Oh, have no embarrassment on that score. There are very few people less trammelled by the ties of relationship than we are. Speak out, and if you want to say anything particularly severe, have no fears of wounding my susceptibilities.’
‘And do you know, Lady Maude,’ said he, in a voice of almost confidential meaning, ‘this was the very thing I was dreading? I had at one time a good deal of Walpole’s intimacy—I’ll not call it friendship, for somehow there were certain differences of temperament that separated us continually. We could commonly agree upon the same things; we could never be one-minded about the same people. In my experiences, the world is by no means the cold-hearted and selfish thing he deems it; and yet I suppose, Lady Maude, if there were to be a verdict given upon us both, nine out of ten would have fixed on me as the scoffer. Is not this so?’
The artfulness with which he had contrived to make himself and his character a question of discussion achieved only a half-success, for she only gave one of her most meaningless smiles as she said, ‘I do not know; I am not quite sure.’
‘And yet I am more concerned to learn what you would think on this score than for the opinion of the whole world.’
Like a man who has taken a leap and found a deep ‘drop’ on the other side, he came to a dead halt as he saw the cold and impassive look her features had assumed. He would have given worlds to recall his speech and stand as he did before it was uttered; for though she did not say one word, there was that in her calm and composed expression which reproved all that savoured of passionate appeal. A now-or-never sort of courage nerved him, and he went on: ‘I know all the presumption of a man like myself daring to address such words to you, Lady Maude; but do you remember that though all eyes but one saw only fog-bank in the horizon, Columbus maintained there was land in the distance; and so say I, “He who would lay his fortunes at your feet now sees high honours and great rewards awaiting him in the future. It is with you to say whether these honours become the crowning glories of a life, or all pursuit of them be valueless!” May I—dare I hope?’
‘This is Lebanon,’ said she; ‘at least I think so’; and she held her glass to her eye. ‘Strange caprice, wasn’t it, to call her house Lebanon because of those wretched cedars? Aunt Jerningham is so odd!’
‘There is a crowd of carriages here,’ said Atlee, endeavouring to speak with unconcern.
‘It is her day; she likes to receive on Sundays, as she says she escapes the bishops. By the way, did you tell me you were an old friend of hers, or did I dream it?’
‘I’m afraid it was the vision revealed it?’
‘Because, if so, I must not take you in. She has a rule against all presentations on Sundays—they are only her intimates she receives on that day. We shall have to return as we came.’
‘Not for worlds. Pray let me not prove an embarrassment. You can make your visit, and I will go back on foot. Indeed, I should like a walk.’
‘On no account! Take the carriage, and send it back for me. I shall remain here till afternoon tea.’
‘Thanks, but I hold to my walk.’
‘It is a charming day, and I’m sure a walk will be delightful.’
‘Am I to suppose, Lady Maude,’ said he, in a low voice, as he assisted her to alight, ‘that you will deign me a more formal answer at another time to the words I ventured to address you? May I live in the hope that I shall yet regard this day as the most fortunate of my life?’
‘It is wonderful weather for November—an English November, too. Pray let me assure you that you need not make yourself uneasy about what you were speaking of. I shall not mention it to any one, least of all to “my lord”; and as for myself, it shall be as completely forgotten as though it had never been uttered.’
And she held out her hand with a sort of cordial frankness that actually said, ‘There, you are forgiven! Is there any record of generosity like this?’
Atlee bowed low and resignedly over that gloved hand, which he felt he was touching for the last time, and turned away with a rush of thoughts through his brain, in which certainly the pleasantest were not the predominating ones.
He did not dine that day at Bruton Street, and only returned about ten o’clock, when he knew he should find Lord Danesbury in his study.
‘I have determined, my lord,’ said he, with somewhat of decision in his tone that savoured of a challenge, ‘to go over to Ireland by the morning mail.’
Too much engrossed by his own thoughts to notice the other’s manner, Lord Danesbury merely turned from the papers before him to say, ‘Ah, indeed! it would be very well done. We were talking about that, were we not, yesterday? What was it?’
‘The Greek—Kostalergi’s daughter, my lord?’
‘To be sure. You are incredulous about her, ain’t you?’
‘On the contrary, my lord, I opine that the fellow has told us the truth. I believe he has a daughter, and destines this money to be her dowry.’
‘With all my heart; I do not see how it should concern me. If I am to pay the money, it matters very little to me whether he invests it in a Greek husband or the Double Zero—speculations, I take it, pretty much alike. Have you sent a telegram?’
‘I have, my lord. I have engaged your lordship’s word that you are willing to treat.’
‘Just so; it is exactly what I am! Willing to treat, willing to hear argument, and reply with my own, why I should give more for anything than it is worth.’
‘We need not discuss further what we can only regard from one point of view, and that our own.’
Lord Danesbury started. The altered tone and manner struck him now for the first time, and he threw his spectacles on the table and stared at the speaker with astonishment.
‘There is another point, my lord,’ continued Atlee, with unbroken calm, ‘that I should like to ask your lordship’s judgment upon, as I shall in a few hours be in Ireland, where the question will present itself. There was some time ago in Ireland a case brought under your lordship’s notice of a very gallant resistance made by a family against an armed party who attacked a house, and your lordship was graciously pleased to say that some recognition should be offered to one of the sons—something to show how the Government regarded and approved his spirited conduct.’
‘I know, I know; but I am no longer the Viceroy.’
‘I am aware of that, my lord, nor is your successor appointed; but any suggestion or wish of your lordship’s would be accepted by the Lords Justices with great deference, all the more in payment of a debt. If, then, your lordship would recommend this young man for the first vacancy in the constabulary, or some place in the Customs, it would satisfy a most natural expectation, and, at the same time, evidence your lordship’s interest for the country you so late ruled over.’
‘There is nothing more pernicious than forestalling other people’s patronage, Atlee. Not but if this thing was to be done for yourself—’
‘Pardon me, my lord, I do not desire anything for myself.’
‘Well, be it so. Take this to the Chancellor or the Commander-in-Chief’—and he scribbled a few hasty lines as he talked—‘and say what you can in support of it. If they give you something good, I shall be heartily glad of it, and I wish you years to enjoy it.’
Atlee only smiled at the warmth of interest for him which was linked with such a shortness of memory; but was too much wounded in his pride to reply. And now, as he saw that his lordship had replaced his glasses and resumed his work, he walked noiselessly to the door and withdrew.