CHAPTER XXI
Ernestine was a delightful hostess, she loved situations, and her socialtact was illimitable. In a few minutes Trent was seated in a comfortableand solid chair with a little round table by his side, drinking tea andeating buttered scones, and if not altogether at his ease very nearlyso. Opposite him was Davenant, dying to escape yet constrained to beagreeable, and animated too with a keen, distasteful curiosity towatch Ernestine's methods. And Ernestine herself chatted all the time,diffused good fellowship and tea--she made an atmosphere which had anameless fascination for the man who had come to middle-age withoutknowing what a home meant. Davenant studied him and became thoughtful.He took note of the massive features, the iron jaw, the eyes as brightas steel, and his thoughtfulness became anxiety. Ernestine too wasstrong, but this man was a rock. What would happen if she carried outher purpose, fooled, betrayed him, led him perhaps to ruin? Some day herpassion would leap up, she would tell him, they would be face to face,injured man and taunting woman. Davenant had an ugly vision as he satthere. He saw the man's eyes catch fire, the muscles of his face twitch,he saw Ernestine shrink back, white with terror and the man followedher.
"Cecil! Aren't you well? you're looking positively ghastly!"
He pulled himself together--it had been a very realistic littleinterlude.
"Bad headache!" he said, smiling. "By the by, I must go!"
"If you ever did such a thing as work," she remarked, "I should say thatyou had been doing too much. As it is, I suppose you have been sittingup too late. Goodbye. I am so glad that you were here to meet Mr. Trent.Mr. Davenant is my cousin, you know," she continued, turning to hervisitor, "and he is almost the only one of my family who has not cast meoff utterly."
Davenant made his adieux with a heavy heart. He hated the hypocrisy withwhich he hoped for Scarlett Trent's better acquaintance and the latter'sbluff acceptance of an invitation to look him up at his club. He walkedout into the street cursing his mad offer to her and the whole business.But Ernestine was very well satisfied.
She led Trent to talk about Africa again, and he plunged into thesubject without reserve. He told her stories and experiences with acertain graphic and picturesque force which stamped him as the possessorof an imaginative power and command of words for which she wouldscarcely have given him credit. She had the unusual gift of making thebest of all those with whom she came in contact. Trent felt that he wasinteresting her, and gained confidence in himself.
All the time she was making a social estimate of him. He was not by anymeans impossible. On the contrary there was no reason why he should notbecome a success. That he was interested in her was already obvious, butthat had become her intention. The task began to seem almost easy as shesat and listened to him.
Then he gave her a start. Quietly and without any warning he changed thesubject into one which was fraught with embarrassment for her. At hisfirst words the colour faded from her cheeks.
"I've been pretty lucky since I got back. Things have gone my way abit and the only disappointment I've had worth speaking of has been inconnection with a matter right outside money. I've been trying to findthe daughter of that old partner of mine--I told you about her--and Ican't."
She changed her seat a little. There was no need for her to affect anyinterest in what he was saying. She listened to every word intently.
"Monty," he said reflectingly, "was a good old sort in a way, and I hadan idea, somehow, that his daughter would turn out something like theman himself, and at heart Monty was all right. I didn't know who she wasor her name--Monty was always precious close, but I had the address of afirm of lawyers who knew all about her. I called there the other day andsaw an old chap who questioned and cross-questioned me until I wasn'tsure whether I was on my head or my heels, and, after all, he told meto call again this afternoon for her address. I told him of course thatMonty died a pauper and he'd no share of our concession to will away,but I'd done so well that I thought I'd like to make over a trifle toher--in fact I'd put away 10,000 pounds worth of Bekwando shares forher. I called this afternoon, and do you know, Miss Wendermott, theyoung lady declined to have anything to say to me--wouldn't let me knowwho she was that I might have gone and talked this over in a friendlyway with her. Didn't want money, didn't want to hear about her father!"
"You must have been disappointed."
"I'll admit it," he replied. "I was; I'd come to think pretty well ofMonty although he was a loose fish and I'd a sort of fancy for seeinghis daughter."
She took up a screen as though to shield the fire from her face.Would the man's eyes never cease questioning her--could it be that hesuspected? Surely that was impossible!
"Why have you never tried to find her before?" she asked.
"That's a natural question enough," he admitted. "Well, first, I onlycame across a letter Monty wrote with the address of those lawyers afew days ago, and, secondly, the Bekwando Mine and Land Company has onlyjust boomed, and you see that made me feel that I'd like to give a liftup to any one belonging to poor old Monty I could find. I've a mind togo on with the thing myself and find out somehow who this young ladyis!"
"Who were the lawyers?"
"Cuthbert and Cuthbert."
"They are most respectable people," she said. "I know Mr. Cuthbert andtheir standing is very high. If Mr. Cuthbert told you that the younglady wished to remain unknown to you, I am quite sure that you maybelieve him."
"That's all right," Trent said, "but here's what puzzles me. The girlmay be small enough and mean enough to decline to have anything tosay to me because her father was a bad lot, and she doesn't want to bereminded of him, but for that very reason can you imagine her virtuallyrefusing a large sum of money? I told old Cuthbert all about it. Therewas 10,000 pounds worth of shares waiting for her and no need for anyfuss. Can you understand that?"
"It seems very odd," she said. "Perhaps the girl objects to being givenmoney. It is a large sum to take as a present from a stranger."
"If she is that sort of girl," he said decidedly, "she would at leastwant to meet and talk with the man who saw the last of her father. No,there's something else in it, and I think that I ought to find her.Don't you?"
She hesitated.
"I'm afraid I can't advise you," she said; "only if she has taken somuch pains to remain unknown, I am not sure--I think that if I were youI would assume that she has good reason for it."
"I can see no good reason," he said, "and there is a mystery behind itwhich I fancy would be better cleared up. Some day I will tell you moreabout it."
Evidently Ernestine was weary of the subject, for she suddenly changedit. She led him on to talk of other things. When at last he glanced atthe clock he was horrified to see how long he had stayed.
"You'll remember, I hope, Miss Wendermott," he said, "that this is thefirst afternoon call I've ever paid. I've no idea how long I ought tohave stayed, but certainly not two hours."
"The time has passed quickly," she said, smiling upon him, so that hismomentary discomfort passed away. "I have been very interested in thestories of your past, Mr. Trent, but do you know I am quite as muchinterested, more so even, in your future."
"Tell me what you mean," he asked.
"You have so much before you, so many possibilities. There is so muchthat you may gain, so much that you may miss."
He looked puzzled.
"I have a lot of money," he said. "That's all! I haven't any friendsnor any education worth speaking of. I don't see quite where thepossibilities come in."
She crossed the room and came over close to his side, resting her armupon the mantelpiece. She was still wearing her walking-dress, prim andstraight in its folds about her tall, graceful figure, and her hair,save for the slight waviness about the forehead, was plainly dressed.There were none of the cheap arts about her to which Trent had becomeaccustomed in women who sought to attract. Yet, as she stood lookingdown at him, a faint smile, half humorous, half satirical, playing aboutthe corners of her shapely mouth, he felt his he
art beat faster thanever it had done in any African jungle. It was the nervous andemotional side of the man to which she appealed. He felt unlike himself,undergoing a new phase of development. There was something stirringwithin him which he could not understand.
"You haven't any friends," she said softly, "nor any education, but youare a millionaire! That is quite sufficient. You are a veritable Caesarwith undiscovered worlds before you."
"I wish I knew what you meant," he said, with some hesitation.
She laughed softly.
"Don't you understand," she said, "that you are the fashion? Last yearit was Indian Potentates, the year before it was actors, this year itis millionaires. You have only to announce yourself and you may takeany place you choose in society. You have arrived at the most auspiciousmoment. I can assure you that before many months are past you will knowmore people than ever you have spoken to in your life before--men whosenames have been household words to you and nothing else will be callingyou 'old chap' and wanting to sell you horses, and women, who last weekwould look at you through lorgnettes as though you were a denizen ofsome unknown world, will be lavishing upon you their choicest smiles andwhispering in your ear their 'not at home' afternoon. Oh, it's luckyI'm able to prepare you a little for it, or you would be taken quite bystorm."
He was unmoved. He looked at her with a grim tightening of the lips.
"I want to ask you this," he said. "What should I be the better for itall? What use have I for friends who only gather round me because I amrich? Shouldn't I be better off to have nothing to do with them, to livemy own life, and make my own pleasures?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"These people," she said, "of whom I have been speaking are mastersof the situation. You can't enjoy money alone! You want to race, hunt,entertain, shoot, join in the revels of country houses! You must be oneof them or you can enjoy nothing."
Monty's words were ringing back in his ears. After all, pleasures couldbe bought--but happiness!
"And you," he said, "you too think that these things you have mentionedare the things most to be desired in life?"
A certain restraint crept into her manner.
"Yes," she answered simply.
"I have been told," he said, "that you have given up these things tolive your life differently. That you choose to be a worker. You haverich relations--you could be rich yourself!"
She looked him steadily in the face.
"You are wrong," she said, "I have no money. I have not chosen aprofession willingly--only because I am poor!"
"Ah!"
The monosyllable was mysterious to her. But for the wild improbabilityof the thing she would have wondered whether indeed he knew her secret.She brushed the idea away. It was impossible.
"At least," he said, "you belong to these people."
"Yes," she answered, "I am one of the poor young women of society."
"And you would like," he continued, "to be one of the rich ones--to takeyour place amongst them on equal terms. That is what you are lookingforward to in life!"
She laughed gaily.
"Of course I am! If there was the least little chance of it I should bedelighted. You mustn't think that I'm different from other girls in thatrespect because I'm more independent. In this country there's only oneway of enjoying life thoroughly, and that you will find out for yourselfvery soon."
He rose and held out his hand.
"Thank you very much," he said, "for letting me come. May I--"
"You may come," she said quietly, "as often as you like."