The Limit Part 12

Somehow she felt the shot had missed fire. It had fallen flat. It was less effective than she had hoped. It did not sound so very shocking after all.

He continued to smile with the air of waiting for the climax. She gathered herself together and went on--

"I heard it from Miss Westbury, so it is a fact!"

Harry thought of saying that he preferred an old wives' tale any day to an old maid's fact, but he only smiled on.

"Of course, if this is untrue, Mr. de Freyne--if it is a mistake, or a false report, you have merely to deny it. a.s.sure me it is incorrect--on your word of honour--and I will then contradict it in the proper quarter."

He decided on his line. "My dear lady, pray don't contradict it. As a report it is a gem--it is unique. Not merely because it's absolutely true--for, as a matter of fact, I think most reports are--but because of its utter unimportance! It seems to me so trivial--so dull--so wanting in interest to the general public."

"You think reports are usually true, Mr. de Freyne?"

"I am convinced they are. I believe firmly in the no-smoke-without-fire theory. Oh, do you know, I think it is _so_ true!... This certainly is true--it's a solemn fact."

"You admit it?"

"I do indeed! Surely I could hardly refuse to go when I was asked?"

"Oh, you were asked?"

"Certainly. And Romer is really such a very old friend of mine, I could hardly refuse his request. I may be wrong, but I think one should always be ready to take a little trouble for an old friend."

"No doubt you have very strict ideas on the duties and obligations of friends.h.i.+p! At _his_ request--my son's?"

"Yes; your son asked me to go and escort Valentia."

"It is very peculiar; you must see that your explanation sounds extremely odd."

"Not at all odd," he answered softly, "if you will allow me to contradict you." He thought a moment. Then he went on: "You may have heard, perhaps, about the dance that little American, Mrs. Newhaven, is getting up at the Grafton Galleries for _Deaf and Dumb Dogs and Cats_.

No? Well, every one is going, and they're arranging to have, by way of novelty, Quadrilles of different nationalities. Romer and his wife are to dance in the Egyptian Quadrille, and he asked me to take her to the British Museum to look round and see if we could find some inspiration for Egyptian costumes that wouldn't be too impossible. But when we got there, we suddenly remembered the awful story about one of the mummies being unlucky, so we went into the Print Room and remained there."

De Freyne paused.

"Of course, if that is all--if my son knows of your going, and even asked you to go, there's nothing more to be said ... though I think it very foolish, and I don't approve of any of that sort of thing at all."

"What, not of Egyptian quadrilles, Mrs. Wyburn?" asked Harry, with surprised innocence and in a coaxing voice. "Why, I'm sure it will be frightfully harmless--in fact, very invigorating to the mind. It's not as though the dresses were becoming! We saw the most hideous things at the Museum. We met Lady Totness, who was dragging a wretched little boy about--I suppose as a punishment for something."

Mrs. Wyburn smiled slightly. She began to feel rather inclined to relent at the implication that Lady Totness was hideous.

"There you really are wrong, Mr. de Freyne. The boy was taken there as a treat."

"A _treat_! For whom? For him? What a strange idea--I mean, to think it could be a treat to go anywhere with her, Mrs. Wyburn."

"It is, rather," she acknowledged.

"Well, then, if that is really all that was troubling you, I do hope you're happy now?"

He said this with one of his subtle, insinuating changes of tone that were always so effective. Musicians will understand when I say it was like a change from the common chord in the minor to the dominant in the major. It was partly from force of habit, partly because he really wished to win Mrs. Wyburn over.

"Of course, now you've given the explanation it's, _so far_, all right.

You'll have a cup of tea with me, won't you?"

"I should enjoy it particularly. Let me ring." After a minute or two she said--

"But perhaps I might venture to suggest it might be better--more prudent--if you were to go about a little less with Valentia?... Of course, I quite see now that you're so devoted to Romer, and like a brother and so forth, but I can't help considering what people say."

"Don't call Lady Totness people, Mrs. Wyburn! Think what a disagreeable, insincere woman she is--not a bit _femme du monde_, and so exceptionally stupid and spiteful!"

Harry stayed with her for an hour, having tea, chatting, telling her stories against every one she didn't like, and speaking with a kind of tender and admiring familiarity of both Valentia and Romer, in a way that at once rea.s.sured and flattered her.

Finally, she actually found herself begging Harry to use his influence with the young couple to be less frivolous and mondains, and not to be always going out, which he promised to do. She even confided to him her great wish that they had two or three children, which would steady them down, and he warmly agreed with her, but said that he felt that on that subject it was, perhaps, hardly for him to interfere.

Of course he confided in her, in his turn, how frightfully hard up one was, with no one buying pictures, and outsiders winning all the big races after having no earthly chance on any form they had shown that season. Mrs. Wyburn positively tried to talk racing with him for a minute or two--rather pathetically--but soon got out of her depth and fell back on Art. She said she thought, candidly, that Harry's portrait of his cousin was a pity.

They parted excellent friends, she even asking him as a favour not to tell Romer the reason of his visit. To Valentia he might mention it, as Mrs. Wyburn thought it might be a lesson to her.

Harry professed, at first, some little scruple on the point. He scarcely liked, he said, the idea of concealing it from Romer. They always told each other everything. But Mrs. Wyburn was afraid of her son's anger--which she could not endure, unless _she_ was in the right--and of appearing ridiculously meddling. Harry owned that her conduct _might_ seem rather malicious and absurd. At last he consented, and it was agreed that neither of them should ever say anything about it to Romer at all.

It is scarcely necessary to say that Harry kept his promise of silence to the letter. Had he not done so the story would at least have had the interest of novelty, for Romer had never yet heard anything about the expedition to the British Museum, and he never did.

A week or two later, when Mrs. Newhaven's ball at the Grafton Galleries was described in the paper, Mrs. Wyburn, who read the account, observed that there was no reference whatever to quadrilles of various nationalities--Egyptian or otherwise; and she rather wondered at the omission. But it did not occur to her to suppose that this portion of the entertainment had been entirely imaginary--a lurid figment of Harry's vivid fancy and fertile invention.

He left, it must be said, on the old lady a lasting impression--by no means an unfavourable one. Even when she had reason to grow seriously anxious again on the same subject, she never could bring herself in her own mind to blame Harry--she could not at heart think ill of him. She was only extremely angry with Romer and Valentia.

CHAPTER XI

THE FRIENDS

Harry had baffled Mrs. Wyburn for the time. He always dealt with his difficulties one by one as they cropped up, not _en ma.s.se_, and invariably in a manner that relieved the tension for a short time only--he rarely did anything radical.

His financial position was, however, growing rather serious, and occasionally the thought of Miss Walmer flitted through his mind.

To marry Miss Walmer would be far the quickest and simplest way out of his difficulties, and she would really be very little trouble, as little trouble, perhaps, as any wife could be. Besides, Harry had, with reason, great confidence in his own powers of dealing with women--getting whatever it was that he wanted from them, and afterwards preventing their being a nuisance. But he did not much like the idea of this mercenary marriage, because he was not in the least tired of his romance with Valentia, and saw great difficulties in the way of keeping it up later on. He had worrying doubts as to her consenting to revive it afterwards if he married.

Her grey eyes and soft fair hair with its dense waves held a lasting fascination for him. It has been well said that for each individual there exists in some other being some detail which he or she could find only in this particular person. It might be the merest trifle. Harry knew what it was in Val that had a specially compelling charm to him--it was the way her hair grew on her forehead. And there was something childlike in her expression that made a peculiar appeal to him. The power her face had over him was undiminished--it had begun seriously when he painted her portrait, and had grown gradually since then. And she was the only woman he had ever met whose affection for him did not cool his own enthusiasm. On the contrary, it was one of the things which held him to her most.

In a sense he was even loyal to her. Harry was not one of those extravagant Don Juans who made conquests solely for the gratification of their vanity by adding to their collection. Essentially cool and calculating, he used his attractiveness only when he thought it would be of some genuine value to him, or some real satisfaction. As a Lovelace he was economical.

Though a great connoisseur of feminine charm and beauty, and superficially susceptible and excitable, with all this, as many women knew, Harry was as hard as nails.

Valentia was the only woman for whom he had ever felt, besides the physical attraction, a kind of indulgent tenderness. This was partly, no doubt, because they had been fond of each other as children, and because of a racial sympathy, a _sentiment de famille_ due to their relations.h.i.+p. But it was not really to be depended on.

No one could be a more charmingly devoted lover than Harry. There was no one like him for little attentions and inattentions, charming little thoughts, caressing words, and the little jealous scenes that women value. It was not the mere mechanically experienced love-making that women see through and to which they often prefer a clumsy sincerity. It was natural, spontaneous. He had, in fact, a genius for love-making, but he had not, like Romer, a genius for love. Harry had all the gift of expression--poor Romer had only the gift of feeling.