"It was to tell you that—that I particularly wanted you to come down here. Listen."
Lady Oxted felt herself suddenly nervous, even when her only audience was the very ordinary person. She had thought the matter over in her own mind so constantly that she hoped she was familiarized with it, but when it came to speaking of it, she found she was not. Thus it was that she began very haltingly, and with frequent pauses.
"I feel sure that he is essentially opposed to the marriage," she said, "for reasons which I will soon tell you; and when he professes to be so much delighted with it I conclude he is acting a part. Now one has always to be cautious in dealing with a man who is acting, until you know both what his part is and what he himself is. As regards Mr. Francis I know neither. I feel sure, however, that he is a very clever old man. Well?"
"But is it not pure assumption that he is acting a part?" asked Geoffrey.
"No; it is reasoned truth. I will tell you how I know it. The Sunday that Evie and I were down at Vail, Mr. Francis and Evie (Evie told me this, and Harry, as you heard yesterday, corroborated a part of it) walked in the afternoon in the wood just above the house, and suddenly came on one of the grooms—Jim, yes, his name was Jim—walking out with his young woman, who is dairymaid. Now, Jim, in appearance—you have seen him many times probably—is the very spit and image of Harry. Evie (they only had the most momentary glance of him) thought it actually was Harry, till she saw him half an hour later sleeping under a tree on the lawn. But it appears that Mr. Francis also thought it was Harry, for he said to himself half aloud, 'Ah, the foolish boy!' Now you, Geoffrey, have known Harry some time, and, well—have you ever known him behave as many young men do behave: talk to barmaids, flirt with waitresses, all that kind of thing?"
"Never; he never did such a thing. At Oxford we used to call him the womanthrope."
"Then explain to me what follows. Mr. Francis begged Evie not to be too hard on him. He said that Harry was honest, that his 'previous foolishnesses'—the exact expression, Evie tells me—had never been anything serious. Now you say there never were any."
"No, never," said Geoffrey, "not to my knowledge at least. Oh, I can go much further than that: I know there can not have been. Harry simply is not that kind of fellow."
"Then it appears to me that Mr. Francis only alluded to the harmless nature of Harry's previous foolishnesses in order to set Evie against him. A nice girl, you know, does not like that sort of thing. And how was it that it never occurred to Mr. Francis that the two figures they saw were Jim and his young woman? It is impossible that it should not, it seems to me. The two are engaged, Harry tells me; they often walk out together. Mr. Francis must have known that; he must also have known of Jim's extraordinary likeness to Harry."