The Limit Part 11

"Oh yes. Well, she was just pointing out something to little Laurence--he's an intelligent boy, and I dare say he was enjoying it very much--when, to her great surprise, _who_ should she see but Mrs.

Romer Wyburn, talking away like anything on a seat with--who do you think?"

"Who?"

"That young man Harry de Freyne--her cousin, isn't it?"

"How extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn. "Did they seem uncomfortable when they saw Jane?"

"Oh dear, no, my dear. They seemed most comfortable. Jane bowed to them--of course rather coldly, she says--and they smiled and nodded, and Valentia kissed her hand to Laurence. Of course, Jane was very much pained and shocked about it all. I must say her first thought, dear, was that I should tell you. Jane Totness is a thoroughly good woman--so thoughtful."

"Do you see anything so very peculiar about it?" said Mrs. Wyburn. "You know, the young man--I disapprove of him as strongly as any one can--but he's an artist, and she is his cousin, and perhaps he wanted to show her something in the British Museum?"

"My dear Mrs. Wyburn, far be it from me to look on the dark side of things, but, as Jane said, who on earth would go to the British Museum, unless they were dragged there by force, except to have a private interview?"

"But if he wanted to speak to her alone, I don't see why he shouldn't call on her."

"That's just it. If it were a simple, innocent, harmless conversation, that is what he would have done. But it was quite clear that there was something clandestine about it, and you may be quite sure Romer knew nothing of it. Besides, they are always together."

"It does look odd," said Mrs. Wyburn. "What would you advise me to do?

Shall I speak to my son or my daughter-in-law about it?"

"To neither, my dear. If you speak only to your son, he will tell her, and she will get round him, and prove there's nothing in it. If you speak to her she will get round you, and say that Romer knew all about it. My advice is, if you really want to put a stop to this flirtation--I'm sure it's gossiped about--even Jane, who is the last person in the world to talk, speaks of it to every one. If I were you, I would speak to the young man himself."

"To Harry de Freyne? Yes, it's rather a good idea."

It struck Mrs. Wyburn that to do this would, perhaps, cause more annoyance than anything else. She was now anxious to get rid of Miss Westbury, who evidently had nothing more to impart. But that lady was not so easy to dispose of. She broke into a long monologue on the subject of regime, servants, and little dressmakers, occasionally returning to the subject of the British Museum, and the shocking frivolity there.

Mrs. Wyburn was just thinking of having a violent toothache or some other ill, when Miss Westbury suddenly made up her mind to depart.

As soon as she had gone Mrs. Wyburn flew to the Blue Book, looked up Harry's address, and wrote him the following note:--

"Dear Mr. de Freyne,

"Probably you hardly remember me, but I have met you on two or three occasions at the house of my daughter-in-law, Mrs. Romer Wyburn. There is something I want to say to you which I hardly like to write. I should be glad if you would come and see me to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock. I shall not keep you long.

You may think this a strange request, knowing you so slightly as I do, but when we meet, I am sure you will understand.

"Yours truly, "ISABELLA WYBURN."

Having written this note, Mrs. Wyburn felt too impatient to send it by post; she was simply longing to know that Harry was feeling uncomfortable, as he was very certain to feel when he got the letter.

Although she had a great suspicion and general dislike of the Messenger Boy Service, she relented for once in their favour so far as to make use of them, and the letter was sent by hand.

She was rewarded for thus conquering her prejudice. Harry was at home, and accepted her invitation with most respectful alacrity. His manners--especially on paper--were, with old and young ladies, always equally perfect--unless he was out of temper.

Mrs. Wyburn eagerly hoped Harry would see Valentia, or somehow convey to her about the letter, because it would be sure to make her uneasy also.

The next day the young man was punctual to the moment. The old lady left him alone for a few minutes in the dark, dismal drawing-room. She thought it would have a salutary effect.

She found him, when she came in, stroking the china bird, and looking at himself in the mirror above it.

He received her with such charming grace that she felt almost disconcerted, and as if she ought to apologise.

"You received my letter?" she said, rather abruptly.

"With great pleasure. That is why I am here."

He was still standing, smiling delightfully.

"Sit down," she said, with cold graciousness. "I hope you are not in a great hurry?"

"All my day belongs to you," he replied with a low bow, taking the seat she had indicated. He looked at her with soft deference under his long eyelashes.

She found what she had to say more difficult than she had expected. She spoke quietly, in a low yet rasping voice, with a sharp dignity.

"I will come straight to the point. To put it plainly, a report has reached my ears, Mr. de Freyne, which has caused me very great pain and anxiety--I mean, as a mother. And I wondered whether you----"

"As a mother? Surely, Mrs. Wyburn, nothing against Romer? I'm sure I, as one of his oldest friends...."

"Against Romer!" She drew herself up stiffly. "Most certainly not!

There's never been a word breathed otherwise than in dear Romer's favour since he was a little boy."

Harry appeared much relieved.

"It's a great comfort to hear you say that. It's only what I was going to a.s.sure you."

"Besides, do you suppose for one moment that if I had any fault to find with my son I should send for you?"

She already had an annoying fancy that he was defeating her, laughing at her, and turning the tables.

"It seemed certainly rather strange," Harry said.

"No, indeed! When I say I was troubled as a mother, I meant it in a very different sense. What I'm afraid of is that dear Romer might be worried if he heard the report to which I refer."

"And that is?..."

She looked at him spitefully, yet with a reluctant admiration.

He was irritatingly good-looking, good-humoured, and at his ease, and particularly well-dressed, without appearing in the least conscious of it. She wished immensely that he had been plain, or awkward, or even out at elbows, or absurdly dandified, or looked _nouveau riche_, or something! She felt jealous of him for Romer, and, at the back of her brain, she grudgingly and perversely sympathised a little with her daughter-in-law. Harry radiated a peculiar charm for women of all ages.

He did not study them nor try very much to please them; the fascination was involuntary; he simply used it.

"And that is, that you and my daughter-in-law, Valentia, were seen _alone_----" she paused a moment, showing a latent instinct for dramatic effect.

He smiled a little more, and bent his head forward with every sign of intelligent interest.

She spoke with emphasis.

"_Alone_--the other morning--at the British Museum!"