Here he was obviously and painfully ill at ease; and he was also surprised to see the extent of Medora’s enjoyment. He felt absolute astonishment to hear her laugh so heartily at comic songs on the old familiar lines, and still more amazed that sentimental ditties of the most puling description should have power to move her. She, for her part, could not fail to see that the entertainment cast him down. Not an item of the programme appealed to him and the smoke made him cough.
As they came out, he hoped she had enjoyed it.
“How could I with you so glum?” she asked.
“I wasn’t glum. That sort of thing rather misses me—that’s all. I’ve not got the bent of mind for it.”
“You’re so clever, you never see anything to make you wonder, and so wise, you never see anything to make you laugh,” she said.
His eyes grew rather round, but Medora was smiling and had not meant the speech to be acerb.
“I see plenty to make me wonder in London. Who doesn’t? And I like a good joke; but these stage people didn’t seem funny to me. And honestly, the longer I live, the less I see to laugh at in the world, for a thinking man with high resolves to better things. People laugh for two reasons, I believe: to throw their neighbours off the scent of the truth; or else because they are rattle-pated, light-minded fools, with no more in them than an empty pot. The ‘empties’ make the most noise, don’t they? All the same, I like to hear you laugh, because you laugh honest and it means you’re happy. And God knows if there’s one thing I want to make happy before everybody on earth, it’s you, Medora.”
She relented before this speech and took his arm. He was gallant and very jealous for her. He was also very tender and gentle. She acknowledged his consideration as they sat at supper; but he spoiled all by explaining the very special reason for his care and attention.
“The position is a most delicate one,” he said, “and naturally I must do nothing to make it more so. You’re at the mercy of the world now, in a manner of speaking, Medora—a defenceless creature—not maid, wife or widow, as they say. And so it’s up to me to be extra awake and very quick to champion you in every way I can think.”
Medora felt that if this were indeed the case, Jordan and not she might be said to stand in the limelight. She, in fact, must remain as much in the shade as possible. But he proceeded and explained his future course of action. It surprised her exceedingly.