The Testing of Diana Mallory by Mrs. Humphry Ward (best 7 inch ereader txt) 📖

and miserable.

Meanwhile, Sir James lingered with Diana. "A charming old place!" he said, looking about him. "But Marsham tells me the Vavasours have been odious."

"We have got the better of them! Mr. Marsham helped me."

"He has an excellent head, has Oliver. This year he will have special need of it. It will be a critical time for him."

Diana gave a vague assent. She had, in truth, two recent letters from Marsham in her pocket at that moment, giving a brilliant and minute account of the Parliamentary situation. But she hid the fact, warm and close, like a brooding bird; only drawing on her companion to talk politics, that she might hear Marsham's name sometimes, and realize the situation Marsham had described to her, from another point of view.--And all the time her ear listened for the sound of hoofs, and for the front door bell.

At last! The peal echoed through the old house. Sir James rose, and, instinctively, Diana rose too. Was there a smile--humorous and tender--in the lawyer's blue eyes?

"I'll go and finish my cigarette out-of-doors. Such a tempting afternoon!"

And out he hurried, before Diana could stop him. She remained standing, with soft hurrying breath, looking out into the garden. On a lower terrace she saw Fanny and Alicia Drake walking together, and could not help a little laugh of amusement that seemed to come out of a heart of content. Then the door opened, and Marsham was there.


CHAPTER IX

Marsham's first feeling, as he advanced into the room, and, looking round him, saw that Diana was alone, was one of acute physical pleasure. The old room with its mingling of color, at once dim and rich; the sunlit garden through the casement windows; the scent of the logs burning on the hearth, and of the hyacinths and narcissus with which the warm air was perfumed; the signs everywhere of a woman's life and charm; all these first impressions leaped upon him, aiding the remembered spell which had recalled him--hot-foot and eager--from London, to this place, on the very first opportunity.

And if her surroundings were poetic, how much more so was the girl-figure itself!--the slender form, the dark head, and that shrinking joy which spoke in her gesture, in the movement she made toward him across the room. She checked it at once, but not before a certain wildness in it had let loose upon him a rush of delight.

"Sir James explained?" he said, as he took her hand.

"Yes. I had no notion you would be here--this week-end."

"Nor had I--till last night. Then an appointment broken down--and--_me voici_!"

"You stay over to-morrow?"

"Of course! But it is absurd that the Feltons should be five miles away!"

She stammered:

"It is a charming ride."

"But too long!--One does not want to lose time."

She was now sitting; and he beside her. Mechanically she had taken up some embroidery--to shield her eyes. He examined the reds and blues of the pattern, the white fingers, the bending cheek. Suddenly, like Sir James Chide or Hugh Roughsedge, he was struck with a sense of change. The Dian look which matched her name, the proud gayety and frankness of it, were somehow muffled and softened. And altogether her aspect was a little frail and weary. The perception brought with it an appeal to the protective strength of the man. What were her cares? Trifling, womanish things! He would make her confess them; and then conjure them away! "You have your cousin with you?"

"Yes."

"She will make you a long visit?"

"Another week or two, I think."

"You are a believer in family traditions?--But of course you are!"

"Why 'of course'?" Her color had sparkled again, but the laugh was not spontaneous.

"I see that you are in love with even your furthest kinsmen--you must be--being an Imperialist! Now I am frankly bored by my kinsmen--near and far."

"All the same--you ask their help!"

"Oh yes, in war; pure self-interest on both sides."

"You have been preaching this in the House of Commons?"

The teasing had answered. No more veiling of the eyes!

"No--I have made no speeches. Next week, in the Vote of Censure debate, I shall get my chance."

"To talk Little Englandism? Alack!"

The tone was soft--it ended in a sigh.

"Does it really trouble you?"

She was looking down at her work. Her fingers drew the silk out and in--a little at random. She shook her head slightly, without reply.

"I believe it does," he said, gently, still smiling. "Well, when I make my speech, I shall remember that."

She looked up suddenly. Their eyes met full. On her just parted lips the words she had meant to say remained unspoken. Then a murmur of voices from the garden reached them, as though some one approached. Marsham rose.

"Shall we go into the garden? I ought to speak to Robins. How is he getting on?"

Robins was the new head gardener, appointed on Marsham's recommendation.

"Excellently." Diana had also risen. "I will get my hat."

He opened the door for her. Hang those people outside! But for them she would have been already in his arms.

Left to himself, he walked to and fro, restless and smiling. No more self-repression--no more politic delay! The great moment of life--grasped--captured at last! He in his turn understood the Faust-cry--"Linger awhile!--thou art so fair!" Only let him pierce to the heart of it--realize it, covetously, to the full! All the ordinary worldly motives were placated and at rest; due sacrifice had been done to them; they teased no more. Upgathered and rolled away, like storm-winds from the sea, they had left a shining and a festal wave for love to venture on. Let him only yield himself--feel the full swell of the divine force!

He moved to the window, and looked out.

_Birch_!--What on earth brought that creature to Beechcote. His astonishment was great, and perhaps in the depths of his mind there emerged the half-amused perception of a feminine softness and tolerance which masculine judgment must correct. She did not know how precious she was; and that it must not be made too easy for the common world to approach her. All that was picturesque and important, of course, in the lower classes; labor men, Socialists, and the like. But not vulgar half-baked fellows, who meant nothing politically, and must yet be treated like gentlemen. Ah! There were the Roughsedges--the Captain not gone yet?--Sir James and Mrs. Colwood--nice little creature, that companion--they would find some use for her in the future. And on the lower terrace, Alicia Drake, and--that girl? He laughed, amusing himself with the thought of Alicia's plight. Alicia, the arrogant, the fastidious! The odd thing was that she seemed to be absorbed in the conversation that was going on. He saw her pause at the end of the terrace, look round her, and deliberately lead the way down a long grass path, away from the rest of the party. Was the cousin good company, after all?

Diana returned. A broad black hat, and sables which had been her father's last gift to her, provided the slight change in surroundings which pleases the eye and sense of a lover. And as a man brought up in wealth, and himself potentially rich, he found it secretly agreeable that costly things became her. There should be no lack of them in the future.

They stepped out upon the terrace. At sight of them the Roughsedges approached, while Mr. Fred Birch lagged behind to inspect the sundial. After a few words' conversation, Marsham turned resolutely away.

"Miss Mallory wants to show me a new gardener."

The old doctor smiled at his wife. Hugh Roughsedge watched the departing figures. Excellently matched, he must needs admit, in aspect and in height. Was it about to happen?--or had it already happened? He braced himself, soldierlike, to the inevitable.

"You know Mr. Birch," said Diana to her companion, as they descended to the lower terrace, and passed not very far from that gentleman.

"I just know him," said Marsham, carelessly, and bestowed a nod in the direction of the solicitor.

"Had he not something to do with your election?" said Diana, astonished.

"My election?" cried Marsham. Then he laughed. "I suppose he has been drawing the long bow, as usual. Am I impertinent?--or may I ask, how you came to know him?"

He looked at her smiling. Diana colored.

"My cousin Fanny made acquaintance with him--in the train."

"I see. Here are our two cousins--coming to meet us. Will you introduce me?"

For Fanny and Miss Drake were now returning slowly along the gravel path which led to the kitchen garden. The eyes of both girls were fixed on the pair advancing toward them. Alicia was no longer impassive or haughty. Like her companion, she appeared to have been engaged in an intimate and absorbing conversation. Diana could not help looking at her in a vague surprise as she paused in front of them. But she addressed herself to her cousin.

"Fanny, I want to introduce Mr. Marsham to you."

Fanny Merton held out her hand, staring a little oddly at the gentleman presented to her. Alicia meanwhile was looking at Diana, while she spoke--with emphasis--to Marsham.

"Could you order my horse, Oliver? I think we ought to be going back."

"Would you mind asking Sir James?" Marsham pointed to the upper terrace. "I have something to see to in the garden."

Diana said hurriedly that Mrs. Colwood would send the order to the stables, and that she herself would not be long. Alicia took no notice of this remark. She still looked at Oliver.

"You'll come back with us, won't you?"

Marsham flushed. "I have only just arrived," he said, rather sharply. "Please don't wait for me.--Shall we go on?" he said, turning to Diana.

They walked on. As Diana paused at the iron gate which closed the long walk, she looked round her involuntarily, and saw that Alicia and Fanny were now standing on the lower terrace, gazing after them. It struck her as strange and rude, and she felt the slight shock she had felt several times already, both in her intercourse with Fanny and in her acquaintance with Miss Drake--as of one unceremoniously jostled or repulsed.

Marsham meanwhile was full of annoyance. That Alicia should still treat him in that domestic, possessive way--and in Diana's presence--was really intolerable. It must be stopped.

He paused on the other side of the gate.

"After all, I am not in a mood to see Robins to-day. Look!--the light is going. Will you show me the path on to the hill? You spoke to me once of a path you were fond of."

She tried to laugh.

"You take Robins for granted?"

"I am quite indifferent to his virtues--even his vices! This chance--is too precious. I have so much to say to you."

She led the way in silence. The hand which held up her dress from the mire trembled a little unseen. But her sense of the impending crisis had given her more rather than less dignity. She bore her dark head finely, with that unconscious long-descended instinct of the woman, waiting to be sued.

They found a path beyond the garden, winding up through a leafless wood. Marsham talked of indifferent things, and she answered him with spirit, feeling it all, so far, a queer piece of acting. Then they emerged on the side of the hill beside a