The Woman with One Hand (and) Mr. Ely's Engagement Part 36

"I don't know if all the world has lost its mental equilibrium, or if it's only I! What she is she owes to you? I don't know that I should like to be owed a debt like that, by George! You have taught her what you yourself learnt at your mother's knee? You must have learnt some funny things! And as for your congratulations--as for your congratulations, madam"--Mr. Ely settled his waistcoat in its place--"I don't know if a deliberate insult is intended, but in any case you may postpone your congratulations to a future date."

Mr. Ash looked surprised, Mrs. Clive bewildered. But Miss Truscott laughed--the most musical of little laughs.

"You see, my good people, although you are all of you older than I, there is not one of you who understands."

"That's one consolation," said Mr. Ely, "at any rate."

Miss Truscott, without heeding him, went on, to Mr. Ash's and Mrs.

Clive's increasing bewilderment--

"One would really think that love was quite a new creation--you seem never to have heard of it before! You see, guardian"--she turned with an air of the most bewitching frankness to Mr. Ash--"when your letter came I was more than twelve months gone in love. I think that love must be a sort of disease which has to run its course through different stages. I was in the stage of dark despair. At that moment I would have married Pompey had he asked me--I looked on Mr. Ely just as I would have looked on Pompey, you understand."

"Flattering, upon my word!" Mr. Ely was just able to articulate.

But Miss Truscott only looked at him and laughed.

"But the morning after, that stage had pa.s.sed away, and with it all the things which appertained to it had gone--whether you call it Pompey or Mr. Ely, it is just the same, those things had gone--I was sane again, in my right mind. Love claimed me on that day, and, of course when love claimed me I was his. For to think"--she bore herself quite straight, with her head a little back, so that, in some strange way, she seemed to have grown in stature before their very eyes--"for to think that this to me means love"--she motioned to Mr. Ely with her hand--"this little gentleman of stocks and shares--it is the most foolish thing that ever yet I heard. None knows better than this gentleman himself that love is just the thing he does not even care to understand; and to me, love, with the eternity of meaning the little word conveys, is all the world."

She favoured Mr. Ely with her most sweeping curtsey, the sweetest mockery of laughter in her eyes.

"Mr. Ely, I wish you, sir, good day. For the engagement-ring which cost you twenty pounds I hope that you will find a wearer soon."

She went to the window, and stood just outside, with her finger on her lips.

"One word in confidence. Next time you ask a girl to be your wife, do not insist upon it as your chiefest qualification for the married state that you are indeed a business man!"

She pa.s.sed down the steps, and across the lawn, and went away; and directly she was out of sight they heard her voice upraised in a burst of joyous song.

CHAPTER XVI

THUNDER IN THE AIR

There was silence in the room--an awkward silence. For some moments n.o.body seemed to think that there was anything left to say. It was noticeable that neither of the trio seemed to care to look the other in the face. Mr. Ely stood with his hands thrust to the extremest depths of his trouser pockets, staring moodily, not to say savagely, at the window through which Miss Truscott had disappeared. Mr. Ash stroked his chin with something of an embarra.s.sed air--he did not seem to know where to rest his eyes. From the expression of her countenance, and from her bearing altogether, Mrs. Clive seemed to have had the faculty of speech knocked out of her.

As perhaps was natural, Mr. Ely was the first who found his tongue. He pointed his words by looking at Mrs. Clive out of the corners of his eyes.

"That's a nice way in which to bring up a girl!"

His tone was distinctly venomous. Mr. Ash continued to stroke his chin.

"It does seem," he hazarded, in a sort of deprecatory undertone, "it does seem as though she had imbibed some curious ideas."

"That's the sort of girl to do anybody credit."

"I confess," said Mr. Ash with a little cough, as though he wished to apologise for his confession, "I confess that I am surprised."

Mrs. Clive, blissfully unconscious that it could enter into anybody's philosophy to think of attacking her, remained sublimely statuesque.

"I say, without the slightest hesitation, that the person who is responsible for the education of that young woman has committed a crime against society."

Mr. Ely turned on Mrs. Clive with something that was very like a snarl. The old lady started. For the first time it seemed to occur to her that the words were spoken with intention. Mr. Ash, who was still engaged upon his chin, did not appear to be able to go quite as far as his friend.

"That--eh--is perhaps a strongish thing to say--hardly crime--but it really does appear that blame rests somewhere--it really does."

But Mr. Ely was not to be gainsayed. No toning down of truths for him!

"I said, and I say again, that the person who is responsible for the bringing up of that young woman has committed a crime against society." He turned so that he looked Mrs. Clive straight in the face.

"A girl is entrusted to her aunt to receive her education. If that aunt betrays her trust--miseducates the child!--then I challenge contradiction when I say that that aunt pulls away one of the props, the absence of whose support threatens to undermine the very fabric of society."

"Eh--there is--eh--of course one must admit that there is a certain substratum of truth in that."

"Is it possible"--smoothing the front of her dress with her two hands, it was evident that Mrs. Clive was awaking to the nature of the outrageous attack of which she was being made the victim--"is it possible that these remarks are directed against me?"

Thrusting his thumbs into his waistcoat armholes, Mr. Ely began to stride about the room.

"Oh, it's easy to throw about oneself the cloak of womanhood, and to claim that the privilege of s.e.x exonerates from blame, but I should like to know, if this is to be the fate of the coming generation of young women, what will our future mothers be?"

Imitating Mr. Ely, Mr. Ash also thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat armholes.

"Just so! What will our future mothers be?"

"Our future mothers! Am I not a mother, then?"

But neither of the gentlemen paid the slightest attention to Mrs.

Clive.

"It is not a question of our mothers only, it is a question of our fathers, too!"

"That is so. There can be no doubt that the maternal and paternal questions are closely intertwined."

"I never thought"--Mrs. Clive produced her handkerchief--"I never thought that I should have lived to see this day!"

Mrs. Clive began to cry; but neither of the gentlemen seemed at all abashed. They had a duty to perform, and evidently meant to carry it through.

"'Our acts our judges are, for good or ill.

Fatal shadows--which march by us still!'"

It was such an unusual thing for Mr. Ely to essay quotation that it was not surprising if the poet's words got slightly mangled in production. "The thing you do is like the seed you sow, it grows and grows until it a.s.sumes gigantic proportions, and blights your life and the lives of all whose paths you cross. You cannot get away from that!"

"You certainly cannot get away from that! That is well put--very well put, indeed!"

But Mrs. Clive was not to be trampled upon in silence. She turned on Mr. Ely with undaunted mien.