CHAPTER XVII
After lunch the two in the picture gallery passed a perfectly delightfulhalf-hour. Mr. Strobridge had sagacity enough to know that he must stickloyally to art, and indeed after the first few minutes he found he wascarried away himself, his listener was so interested, and gave suchintelligent response. He almost began to believe that she had reallycome there to learn something; and not to flirt with himself! Her tastealso surprised him, and her want of all pose.
She wrote systematically the reflections he made as to the condition ofthe canvases.
"It is a great thing to learn how to look at pictures," she said whenthey halted before a particularly primitive Madonna. "Of course I couldnot have seen anything to admire in this if I had come by myself, and Ido not suppose that I shall ever be able really to appreciate it--exceptthe colour--because there is something in me which likes the real somuch better than the ideal; I like prose far more than poetry, forinstance."
"Will you let me come up again to the schoolroom and read to you someday?"
"I should like that very much."
"I would try to make you love poetry; you are endeavouring to convinceme that you are a very material young woman, you know!"
"Well, I suppose I am material. I like facts and solid things."
"And yet you spoke of dreamland once not so very long ago--do youremember!"
"Yes--but you do not know that this dreamland of mine may not be a placewhere wished-for facts and solid things appear realities, not fancies."
"You would not tell me if I asked you; I recollect how you eluded mebefore, and said it was a place which only admitted yourself."
"Even materialists must have some corner where they can be alone."
Then he questioned her.--How had she learned all that she knew?--And hisinterest did not diminish when she gave him a brief outline of themanner of her education.
"It was very difficult sometimes, because I never had anyone with whomto talk, and one grows one-sided _if_ one has only oneself to arguewith, and I don't really know how to pronounce numbers of words. Ishould be grateful if you would tell me every time I make a mistake."
"It is quite evident that we must ratify this compact that I shall beyour tutor, though I am to get no wages--even love!"
"Who would be supposed to give the love?"
Her strange eyes glanced at him provokingly for a second, and thenresumed their steady look. He was quite uncertain as to whether in thisthere lay a challenge.--He proceeded to act as if there did.
"When I come up to give my first lesson I will tell you all about thegiving--and taking--of love."
"That would be of no advantage to either of us. Love is a thing whichcan cause only pain."
"You are quite mistaken--it is the only divine joy in thisunsatisfactory world."
Her face changed; she felt this was cruelly true--and she did not wishto be reminded of the fact.
"You shall only come to the schoolroom if you talk sense. I will notlisten to a word of speculation about love; it is pure waste oftime--but in any case I do not see how you can come there at all. Iwould not receive you without Her Ladyship's permission--it was verykind of her to let me have this afternoon."
"What a circumspect darling!"
Miss Bush looked at him with scorn.
"I am not a darlings--I am a lower middle class young woman, trying tolearn how to be a lady, and whatever you think, if you want to be withme, you will have to treat me as if I had arrived at my goal already."
"I think you have, but the greatest ladies are often darlings."
"Yes, but married men do not tell them so, on very short acquaintance,Mr. Strobridge."
In his case he felt this was rather true, since he never spoke to girlsat all if he could help it. He suddenly wondered in what light he reallydid consider her?--As an abstract and quite adorably provoking woman, hesupposed.
"Is there anything else to be written down?" she asked. She had becomethe conventional secretary. "Because if not, I must go back to my work."
"My aunt gave me full permission to keep you for two hours. I told herall we had to do would take quite that time."
"Well, you see it has not--we have come to the end of the gallery."
"Then there is a very comfortable sofa not too far from the fire, wherewe could sit down and discuss what we have learned."
They walked to it. As long as he was being of some use to her KatherineBush desired his company. So they talked uninterruptedly until duskfell, and the footmen would soon be coming to close shutters and drawcurtains.
They flitted from subject to subject, Gerard Strobridge exerting hisbrain to interest and amuse her, in a way that he had seldom donewith Englishwomen, even of his own class. Her receptive power wasexceptional, and she was completely frank. She was honestly and deeplyinterested in all he had to say, and the subtle flattery of this waseminently soothing. He began to take pride in his pupil. They touchedupon the spirit of the Renaissance and its origin--and upon all theglorious flood of light which it brought to art and learning. He wasastonished to find her so advanced in certain branches of literature,and absolutely ignorant of the names even of others--showing that it hadmerely been chance and no helping hand which had guided her.
"I must send you some books upon the Renaissance," he said, "if you willlet me."
"That will be very kind--If I had had some master to give me an ideawhat to read, as a kind of basis to go upon, it would have been muchbetter, but I had no guide--only if I saw one subject that I did notknow about mentioned in what I was reading, I looked it up, but ofcourse with really educated people there must be some plan."
"Well, shall we begin upon the Renaissance; that is rather a favouriteperiod of mine?"
"Yes--do you not wonder if we shall ever have another?--What a lot ofgood it would do us, would it not?"
"Probably--some learned professors think that we must go through asecond series of dark ages first; when we shall get back to primitiveideas--and primitive passions."
"It may be,--nearly everything natural is distorted now; the world seemsso tired to me, just looking on."
He stretched himself and threw out his arms--as it were to break someimaginary bonds.
"Yes--we have been coerced into false morals and manners--and we havesuppressed most things which make life worth having--sometimes I envythe beasts."
"I never do that--it is only weaklings who are coerced; the strong dowhat they please, even in these days--but however strong a beast may be,he always finds, as Jack London shows with his wonderful _Buck_ in 'TheCall of the Wild,' that there is invariably 'the man with the club.'"
"You mean to conquer fate, then?"
"I shall do my very best to obtain my desires, and of course shall haveto pay for all my mistakes."
He looked at her curiously--had she made any mistakes? Not many, hethought, her regard was so serene, and her clever, strong face showed novacillation. He suddenly faced the fact that he was falling in love withher, not as he had tried to do with Laeo--not even as he had oncesucceeded in doing with Alice Southerwood, long ago. There was a qualityin his present feeling which almost frightened him, it was so lawless.
She felt his eyes searching hers burningly, and rose from the sofa.
"Now I am going to have my tea--so good-bye for to-day. I have reallyenjoyed the pictures."
"May not I come and have tea with you? I am all alone."
"Certainly not--Martha would be scandalised. It does seem soextraordinary that I should have to tell you such things--it showseither great disrespect to me, or else--"
"What?" eagerly. He had risen, too, and was following her as she walkeddown the long room.
"--That you cannot help yourself."
"Yes--that is it. You have bewitched me in some way--I cannot helpmyself."
"Do you want all I have taken down typewritten? I can do it after tea,if so?"
"And you will sit up there all by yourself from now until you go tobed?"
"Of
course."
"You must feel awfully solitary."
"Not in the least. I have books which are the most agreeable companions.They have no independent moods--you can be sure of them, and pick upthose which suit yourself. Good-night."
And she turned at the bend of the great staircase from which the galleryopened, and rapidly walked on to the entrance to her passage.
He looked after her with a rapt face, and then he went discontentedlydown into the library, and waited for his aunt's return.
He was extremely disturbed; it was horribly tantalizing to feel thatthis girl whom he was so passionately drawn to, was there in the housewith him, and that he might not talk with her further, or be in herpresence.
He walked up and down the room--and those who knew the casual GerardStrobridge, cultivated, polished and self-contained, would have beengreatly surprised could they have seen his agitated pacings.
Lady Garribardine had a quizzical eye when she finally came in--how hadthe afternoon progressed? Her opinion of the mental balance of hersecretary was exceedingly high. She felt convinced that she would knowexactly how to tackle her nephew, and if Gerard desired to amuse himselfhe would certainly do so whether she smiled upon the affair or not!
It did strike her that he was rather a dangerous creature to be left afree hand with any young woman--and that after to-day she would see thatKatherine ran no more risks from too much of his company.
The pupils of his eyes were rather dilated, she noticed; otherwise heseemed his usual self at tea--and when Colonel Hawthorne left themalone, she got him to read to her, and did not mention her secretary atall.
The afternoon had been most instructive, Katherine thought, as she ateher muffin, and looked at the papers before the old schoolroom fire. Shehad learned a quantity of things. Mr. Strobridge was undoubtedly acharming man, and she wondered what effect he would have had upon her ifshe had never met Algy? As it was he mattered no more than a chair or atable, he was just part of her game. And he was rapidly approaching thestate when she could obtain complete dominion over him.
"He knows quite well that he is married and that I can never honestly beanything to him. He is only coming after me because he is attracted andis not master of his passions or his will. If he is a weakling he mustpay the price--I shall not care! He is not thinking in the least as towhether or no it will hurt me--he is only thinking of himself, just likeBob Hartley, only he is a gentleman and therefore does not make anyhypocritical promises to try to lure me."
And then she laughed softly. "Well, whatever comes is on his own head,I need have no mercy upon him!"
So she calmly finished her tea and wrote to Matilda whose excited letterwith the family news of Gladys' secret marriage she had not yet repliedto. Gladys had written her a little missive also--full of thanks for herpart in the affair. Bob was being rather rude and unkind to her aboutit, she said, but it was not altogether his fault, because on Christmasnight he had had rather too much to drink, and had been quarrelsome fortwo days since. She was going to keep the expected event from beingknown as long as possible, and then she supposed they would go and livesomewhere together. It would be wretched poverty and struggle, and shewas miserable, but at least she felt an "honest woman," and could not begrateful enough to her sister for bringing this state of things about.Katherine stared into the fire while she thought over it all. It seemedto her too astonishing that a woman should prefer a life tied to a manwho was reluctant to keep her--his drudge and the object of hisscorn--to one of her own arranging in America, perhaps--along with thechild, but free. Gladys had sufficient talent in her trade to haveearned good wages anywhere, and must have enough money saved, could shehave got it from Matilda's fond guardian clutches, to have tided overthe time. But weaklings must always suffer and be other people's slavesand tools. Poor Gladys! Then she fell to thinking of Algy--why was hehaunting her? For the first month the complacent satisfaction from theconquest of self had upheld her splendidly, but now the pain felt askeen as on the first day of separation.
_She would crush it._
Except on the path coming out of church she had no words with Mr.Strobridge on the morrow--and then it was only a few sentences ofordinary greeting. Lady Garribardine claimed his entire attention. Shedid see him from the window, smoking a cigar in the rose garden in theafternoon, whither he had come from the smoking-room. She deliberatelylet him catch sight of her, as she stood there, and she marked the lookof eager joy on his face, and then she moved away and did not appearagain.
So the Monday arrived--the last day of the old year.
Lady Garribardine was having no party for it as was her usual custom;her rheumatism was rather troublesome, and she stayed in the house allthe day, up in her boudoir, where Katherine was in constant attendance.
Gerard and Colonel Hawthorne were out rabbiting with the keepers in thepark, and only came in to tea.
Katherine found her mistress rather exacting and difficult to please,and she felt tired and cross--so it gave her some kind of satisfactionto be as provoking as possible when she was ordered to pour out the teafor the shooters in the sitting-room. She remained perfectly silent, butevery now and then allowed her magnetic eyes to meet Mr. Strobridge'swith the sphinxlike smile in them.
On his side Gerard had found the hours hell.--He knew he was now madlyin love with this exasperating girl, and that she was exercising themost powerful attraction upon him.
He gazed at her as she sat there, white and sensuous-looking, her redlips pouting, and her grey-green eyes full of some unconsciouschallenge, and gradually wild excitement grew in his blood.
As soon as her actual duties were over, Katherine said respectfully:
"If Your Ladyship has no more need of me, I must get some lettersfinished before the post goes."
And when a nod of assent was given, she quietly left the room.
So Gerard Strobridge knew he would see her no more that night; and therewould be a boring dinner with the parson, and his wife and daughter, tobe got through, and on the morrow he was returning to town!
For the first time in their lives he felt resentful towards his aunt.That Seraphim should not have been more sympathetic, and have made someopportunity for him to talk again to Katherine, was quite too bad!
She, who usually understood all his moods and wants! Her silence uponthe subject of her secretary, ever since her return from that drive, wasominous, now that he thought about it. Evidently he need hope for nofurther cooeperation from her, and because he was feeling so deeply, hecould not act in the casual and intelligent way to secure his ends whichhe would have used on other occasions. So the incredibly wearisomeevening passed. The guests left early, and Lady Garribardine went gladlyto bed, leaving her nephew and Colonel Hawthorne to drink in the NewYear together--the New Year of 1912.
But the old gentleman was fatigued with his day's shooting and whenhalf-past eleven came he was glad to slink off to his friendly couch.
Thus Gerard was alone.
He lit a cigar and stretched himself in a huge leather armchair, anuntouched drink close at hand.
The house was quite silent. He had told Bronson that he would put outthe lights in the smoking-room when they left. No one was about and nota breath of wind stirred a tree outside.
He sat there for some minutes--and then his heart began to beatviolently.
Whose was that soft footfall directly overhead? With the departure ofthe grandchildren from the old nurseries there was no one left in thewing but Katherine Bush!
All sorts of visions came to him; she had not yet gone to bed--perhapsshe, too, was waiting for the New Year?
He got up and listened, his pulses bounding so that he seemed to hearhis heart thumping against his side.
There was the sound again!
It was not to be endured. Fierce emotion shook him, and at last allrestraint fell from him, and passion became lord.
Then he extinguished the lights and softly crept up the stairs.