“So much for Danger!” she said smiling. “Now, Juliet, what have you to report of Adventure? Your friends will remember how impatiently you were straining at your bonds. Has the adventure really come along?”
More than one of the listeners felt it an effort at that moment to repress a smile, so exceedingly unadventurous was the appearance of the portly dame. Perhaps she felt the covert amusement, for there was a note of defiance in her voice as she took up the challenge.
“Yes, it did,” she said emphatically. “It most certainly did, and I have to thank you, dear Mrs Ingram, for making me—er—receptive—so that when the opportunity arose, I was ready to take it. Before our talk here fifteen years ago, I had drifted into the belief that nothing adventurous or interesting could ever happen to me, and that I must just resign myself to be bored. After that I changed my way of thinking, and expected the chance to come. I am like Mr Lessing—I prefer not to give you any details, but I think I am quite safe in saying that no other woman ever met her husband in the extraordinary circumstances under which I met mine. It was very adventurous indeed, and we were engaged—oh, at once, and married in a month, and after my husband’s service abroad we settled down in the dear old house where we are still living with our six children.” She paused, and looked around with a warning air. “Please don’t murmur sympathetically! Whenever I say ‘six,’ people always murmur sympathetically, and it’s so misplaced. It’s just what we wanted—lots of little heads round the table. Five sturdy boys, and one little girl.”
“Well, at any rate, you can’t have much adventure now!” It was Mrs Francis Manning who spoke, the faint Cockney twang of her voice sounding discordantly in contrast to the cultured tones of her companions. “Children are such a tie. We have four, and I never seem to have a free hour. And to live in the country, too. It’s a good thing you had some adventure when you were young, for there’s no chance of it now.”
“I deny it!” cried Juliet, hotly. “I deny it. Can anything in the world be more adventurous than to start a new home, and a new generation, to have six young lives entrusted to one to train for the world’s service? Think what those six lives may mean, multiplying into fresh lives, spreading influence wherever they go! There are no such adventures in life, as marriage and parent-ship, if one can only see them in the right light, and keep on seeing...” She gave a little laugh, half shy, half apologetic, a trifle ashamed of her own intensity. “Ah, well! it’s adventurous enough to have a pack of boys who ate learning to ride, learning to shoot, trying to copy everything that their father can do to-day, hobbling home almost every day of the week with cuts and bruises, and breaks and sprains. I have all the adventure that I need, and,—what shall I say? Only this, that I enjoy it even more than I expected!”
She stopped, panting, and her husband smiled at her across the room, and silently clapped his hands. “I beg to second the motion!” he said gravely, and there was a general stir of laughter. It was pleasant to meet a couple of the good old-fashioned type which was yearly becoming more rare. Every person in the room felt a sincere respect for Captain and Mrs Antony Maplestone.
“Well, of course—if you put it like that,” said Mrs Manning doubtfully, “I’m sure I’ve always done my best to be a good mother, and the girls go to school now, which makes it easier, but with the boy being blind—well, naturally, it’s a tie! My husband tells me he wished for Comfort, and there’s no doubt but he’s got it. We’re not rich, of course, but comfortable, quite comfortable. He’s only to express a wish, and it’s there for him, and I keep a first-rate cook. But as I said to him only to-day, he doesn’t give himself a chance. Always slaving and worrying for someone else, particularly for the boy, even now when he is getting quite big, and able to do for himself. It’s wonderful how clever blind people become! Of course we all want to be helpful, but, as I say, there is a medium course, and everyone notices how Frank has altered these last years. If you remember he used to be quite stout—”
“Please, Marion! Spare my blushes. I am perfectly well, and my greatest pleasure is looking after the boy.” Francis Manning spoke with quiet self-possession, nevertheless his hearers divined a hidden wound, and unanimously forbore from comment, but those who had known the man fifteen years before, marvelled at the change which had come over his whole personality. It was more than a change; it was a transfiguration. What trumpet-call had sounded in this man’s ears to rouse him from his sleep?
Mrs Ingram looked around and met the glance of John Malham, millionaire, leaning back in his chair with his head supported on his hand. Of all the men in the room he looked the most worn and exhausted, and she wondered if perchance at this very moment his tired brain was evolving another Titan scheme by which fresh coffers could be added to his store. Her smile had more of pity than envy as she addressed him:
“Mr Malham, it is unnecessary to ask your report! All the world knows how you have succeeded. It only remains for your old friends to congratulate you, and wish you a continuance of your success.”