reason is fatal to romance, and miss royston was coming to it. she had, indeed, a very practical side to her character, which side was all of the world and eminently fancy-free. “kiss-in-the-ring” in a fairy circle is a delightful pastime for the heyday of youth, but the time must come when the gravity of the problem as to to whom one shall throw the final handkerchief, must intrude itself through the merriest helter-skelter of the game. then, as a matter of necessity, must follow the inevitable formulæ of the pretty cold-shoulder to ineligible partis; of little sisterly regrets on behalf of swains who take their dismissal rebelliously; of wee sops to passionate cerberuses in the shape of christmas cards depicting hands clasped above the motto “for auld lang syne”; of the citing of job-comforter maxims felt by the recipient to be totally inapt to the tragedy of the situation. and so the jade plumes herself on her acquirement of the reasonable view, and makes an easy virtue of spoiling faith—which is but a synonym for romance—for the sake of five hundred a year.
no doubt this is as it should be; for that very faith, or romance, would be a sorry sole equipment for the nether side of youth. but it is also a matter for regret that reason, when come to, should so commonly refuse credit to any evidence but that of its senses, and should contemn in others that same spirit of ideality which coloured all the early processes of its own evolution.
now miss angela would not condescend to this abrupt change of front; for, for one thing, she was a zealous student of moral sensation, and, for another, she was conscious of maturing past her first bloom. she desired to keep her rose-coloured spectacles, only the rims must be of gold. in short, she was feeling that, were the picturesqueness of life her object, she must seek to change her outlook while her charms remained sufficiently inviting to procure her a new prosperous coign of vantage. she had played with romance. now, for the time being, it must be subordinated to questions of business.
foremost in this connection presented itself the figure of her inscrutable neighbour of “delsrop.” he, for a period, had slept without a rival in the pupils of her pale eyes. he had satisfied her most delicate sensibilities—for a period.
gradually, however, was effected that change in her point of view. she came to question in herself, not the personality of the interesting stranger so much as his eligibility. and here she had to acknowledge herself at sea, and to own that melancholy and mystery were best applied to matrimony when justified by substantial dividends.
moreover, there was the matter of position. the case of her almost-namesake, mrs. kauffmann, was not so ancient to men’s memories as that she could afford to discount its significance as legendary. indeed, she had a mental picture of herself as a little prim-set maid of five or so, walking, her hand in her father’s, through a suite of magnificent rooms, the walls of which, all gorgeously upholstered, were hung with canvases in such quantity as to spoil, she thought, the pretty effect of the hangings; and she remembered how her father—a lord of plympton manor in devonshire, where was once a school-master with a famous son—had stopped and presented his hand to a little dapper gentleman—who wore a plum-coloured coat, and who had a scar on his lip and very squeezed-up eyes—and a courteous bow to a pale and melancholy lady who stood by the little gentleman’s side. and the lady had smiled upon the baby-girl and had asked her name; and when told it the smile had vanished, and she had said in a queer un-english voice, “gott bewahre. rechristen the mädchen if you wish her happiness.” and at that the two men had looked flushed and awkward, as men are wont to look over some suppressed meaning that invites impossible sympathy.
well, miss angela—or angelica, as you will—was to learn afterwards that she had had the youthful honour to be present at the inaugural exhibition of the royal academy, whose then acquirement of its fine new rooms in somerset house was an earnest of his majesty the king’s paternal support and munificence. and she was to learn that the little spruce gentleman had been no other than that notable president of an august body whose chief claim to her interest lay in the fact that he was plympton-born; but who came to be known to her later experience as an artist who was said to ask as much as forty pounds for a head, and a hundred guineas for a full-length portrait—as if the more valuable virtues of a man were exhibited in his legs. and the lady, she was informed, had been mrs. kauffmann, since become signora zucchi, whom some people thought a greater artist even than the president; for she gave no preference to either head or legs, but painted both in such a way that any one or other of them might have done duty for either sex—which was a very noble and impartial view to take of the unities of art.
now, it was not this poor angelica’s management of pigments that was the present subject of miss royston’s thoughts. it was that melancholy story of how sir joshua’s protégée had, at the outset of her hopeful career, been drawn into matrimony with a picturesque rogue of a valet, who had it in him to play the part of uther to a noble lady.
assuredly, the mistress of “chatters” had no desire to repeat history in such a respect, for all the veneer of romance that overlay it; or to risk, without astute inquiry, a union with one whose personality was wrapt in so impenetrable a fog of mystery.
what was it not possible the man might be; or what limits were to put on the ingenuity of resourceful vagabonds? count horn’s fellow had hoodwinked society no less than the trustful girl it had made a pet of. and whence had mr. tuke issued, and what was his claim to that haunted estate that had come to be considered in the neighbourhood a sort of no-man’s-land? on these points he had never condescended to throw light. still, if his right-ownership of “delsrop” must be taken on trust, no such condition applied to the question of his origin. here conjecture must needs incline to suspicion, seeing that his immediate predecessor had been, by his own showing, a common thief and coach-robber.
therefore was she resolved to temper fascination with prudence; to whip her captive to the end of his tether, and, pending discoveries, to no more than lightly hold him in hand.
in furtherance of this policy it was that she drove her unproclaimed suitor to the nether side of reason, and, by some over-accent of coquetry, almost lost herself the indulgence of a very pretty pastime.
she was pondering, one morning, with some rueful apprehensiveness, this possibility of her having gone too far, when her heart was reassured by the sound of a footstep that was familiar to her, coming up the gravel outside.
then she smiled to herself, with a little composed preening of neck-ribbons; for, after all, the incense of courtship was grateful to her nostrils—and her brother was not at home.
he—that same suitor—came in like a man set on a serious purpose; and secretly her heart moved with admiration of, but no submission to, his masterfulness.
he walked straight up to her, to where she had risen from her seat by the fire, and answered her graceful greeting with little more than a bow.
“madam,” he said, “i must crave your permission to speak, though i may imperil my prospects through precipitancy.”
she smiled, her pulses drumming thickly.
“a formidable overture,” she said—and for the life of her could get no further.
“i do not wish it to be,” said the gentleman. “if any misconception of my position makes me appear to assume a manner of truculency, i do myself an injustice, believe me.”
her lips moved, but no word came from them.
“i am aware,” he went on, “that the apparent invidiousness of my position amongst you here may stand, and rightly, as an insuperable barrier to any addresses i may presume to submit to your consideration.”
her lips opened again; but she only inclined her head.
“it is so, then?” he answered to the gesture; “and it only remains for me to express my most earnest regret at having failed hitherto to realize the true conditions of a suit, which i now need not hesitate to affirm i once dared to hope a prosperous termination to; and to gratefully thank you for permitting me to justify my dismissal in your eyes, without putting you to the awkwardness of an explanation. madam, i am your humble, obedient servant.”
he bowed low. positively, the man seemed on the point of withdrawing—and with a doubtful air of relief, too. miss royston found her voice suddenly.
“stay, mr. tuke!—oh, sir! your hurried assumption seems to put me in the worst light of churlishness.”
“surely, surely,” said he, reluctantly, “i never suggested such a thing?”
“indirectly, indeed, you do. you hastily cancel an—an invitation, while i am yet making up my mind as to the form of answer.”
“ah, madam! i see. you would claim the privilege of rejection.”
“that is unkind.”
“no, no. you are entitled to it. i was wrong to overlook the fact that the point of view of the world must be considered.”
she flushed up angrily.
“i thank you, sir. you mean, of course, that i wish to secure myself from the imputation that i angled for what was cunning to elude me? i stand high in your opinion, indeed. but you force me to the avowal that i am under no necessity to deprecate the criticisms of my neighbours.”
“you could choose of the noblest in the land, and bring to any more honour than you received. if you have elected to misconstrue me of late, and to indirectly enlighten me as to your sense of my presumption, it was quite within your province, as a lady of high position, to do so.”
“ah! i feel the sting behind your words of honey. mr. tuke”—her voice fell caressing as that of a remonstrant sister—“i will not pretend to misinterpret your attitude towards me. may i be simply frank with you? there is a proverb about flogging a willing horse. i own i have done that of late—that i have certified myself a consistent member of my sex. is not that candour itself? well, would you know what hath inspired me? ’twas recalling the fate of that unhappy mrs. kauffmann.”
he laughed slightly.
“it understand the inference. my tongue is tied; but i can assure you i have never engaged in any service but my own.”
she did not answer; but her expression had gathered some coldness of reserve. his was enigmatical, as he continued:
“am i justified in assuming that, satisfied on this point, you would at least offer no obstacle to my most respectful suit?”
“that is taking me at a disadvantage,” she said, with a winning smile. “no woman lends herself to a bargain where she hath to give credit.”
he bowed again. he could not but be conscious that this atmosphere of rigid politeness seemed ludicrously out of place in an avowal of so particular a kind; and that his declaration and its reception sounded rather in the nature of a passage of arms. he knew he had come, of set purpose, to seek in legitimate attachment a foil to passion. he was not so sure his heart joined in the quest, or that he had not privately courted the dismissal he professed to deprecate.
perhaps miss royston entertained a like doubt. though it would not have affected her attitude, she would have preferred, and had indeed looked to, more ardent means to a similar end. for what, otherwise, had she practised those late arts of coquetry? she had pictured her suitor, according to her judgment of him, storming the bastions of her pride; warm, palpitating, entreating—a demi-god revealing himself in a cloud of passion. and here he was addressing her with no more emotion than he might have shown in asking her interest to get an old woman into a hospital.
she was disappointed in him, and immediately inclined to suspicions. had she—perish the humiliating thought!—a rival? and then supposing, after she had successfully weaned his regard for her, he should turn out to be a lord of burleigh?
well, she must fight to be consistent—though her breast was hot with indignation. but she could have boxed his ears, as he said, in the tone of a man condemned by his doctor to arrowroot and barley-water—“i must live on hope.”
