CHAPTER XIV
Miss Stackpole would have prepared to start immediately; but Isabel, aswe have seen, had been notified that Lord Warburton would come again toGardencourt, and she believed it her duty to remain there and see him.For four or five days he had made no response to her letter; then he hadwritten, very briefly, to say he would come to luncheon two days later.There was something in these delays and postponements that touched thegirl and renewed her sense of his desire to be considerate and patient,not to appear to urge her too grossly; a consideration the more studiedthat she was so sure he ”really liked” her. Isabel told her uncle shehad written to him, mentioning also his intention of coming; and theold man, in consequence, left his room earlier than usual and made hisappearance at the two o'clock repast. This was by no means an act ofvigilance on his part, but the fruit of a benevolent belief that hisbeing of the company might help to cover any conjoined straying awayin case Isabel should give their noble visitor another hearing. Thatpersonage drove over from Lockleigh and brought the elder of his sisterswith him, a measure presumably dictated by reflexions of the same orderas Mr. Touchett's. The two visitors were introduced to Miss Stackpole,who, at luncheon, occupied a seat adjoining Lord Warburton's. Isabel,who was nervous and had no relish for the prospect of again arguingthe question he had so prematurely opened, could not help admiring hisgood-humoured self-possession, which quite disguised the symptoms ofthat preoccupation with her presence it was natural she should supposehim to feel. He neither looked at her nor spoke to her, and the onlysign of his emotion was that he avoided meeting her eyes. He had plentyof talk for the others, however, and he appeared to eat his luncheonwith discrimination and appetite. Miss Molyneux, who had a smooth,nun-like forehead and wore a large silver cross suspended from her neck,was evidently preoccupied with Henrietta Stackpole, upon whom hereyes constantly rested in a manner suggesting a conflict between deepalienation and yearning wonder. Of the two ladies from Lockleigh shewas the one Isabel had liked best; there was such a world of hereditaryquiet in her. Isabel was sure moreover that her mild forehead andsilver cross referred to some weird Anglican mystery--some delightfulreinstitution perhaps of the quaint office of the canoness. She wonderedwhat Miss Molyneux would think of her if she knew Miss Archer hadrefused her brother; and then she felt sure that Miss Molyneux wouldnever know--that Lord Warburton never told her such things. He was fondof her and kind to her, but on the whole he told her little. Such, atleast, was Isabel's theory; when, at table, she was not occupied inconversation she was usually occupied in forming theories about herneighbours. According to Isabel, if Miss Molyneux should ever learn whathad passed between Miss Archer and Lord Warburton she would probably beshocked at such a girl's failure to rise; or no, rather (this was ourheroine's last position) she would impute to the young American but adue consciousness of inequality.
Whatever Isabel might have made of her opportunities, at all events,Henrietta Stackpole was by no means disposed to neglect those in whichshe now found herself immersed. ”Do you know you're the first lord I'veever seen?” she said very promptly to her neighbour. ”I suppose youthink I'm awfully benighted.”
”You've escaped seeing some very ugly men,” Lord Warburton answered,looking a trifle absently about the table.
”Are they very ugly? They try to make us believe in America that they'reall handsome and magnificent and that they wear wonderful robes andcrowns.”
”Ah, the robes and crowns are gone out of fashion,” said Lord Warburton,”like your tomahawks and revolvers.”
”I'm sorry for that; I think an aristocracy ought to be splendid,”Henrietta declared. ”If it's not that, what is it?”
”Oh, you know, it isn't much, at the best,” her neighbour allowed.”Won't you have a potato?”
”I don't care much for these European potatoes. I shouldn't know youfrom an ordinary American gentleman.”
”Do talk to me as if I were one,” said Lord Warburton. ”I don't see howyou manage to get on without potatoes; you must find so few things toeat over here.”
Henrietta was silent a little; there was a chance he was not sincere.”I've had hardly any appetite since I've been here,” she went on atlast; ”so it doesn't much matter. I don't approve of you, you know; Ifeel as if I ought to tell you that.”
”Don't approve of me?”
”Yes; I don't suppose any one ever said such a thing to you before, didthey? I don't approve of lords as an institution. I think the world hasgot beyond them--far beyond.”
”Oh, so do I. I don't approve of myself in the least. Sometimes it comesover me--how I should object to myself if I were not myself, don't youknow? But that's rather good, by the way--not to be vainglorious.”
”Why don't you give it up then?” Miss Stackpole enquired.
”Give up--a--?” asked Lord Warburton, meeting her harsh inflexion with avery mellow one.
”Give up being a lord.”
”Oh, I'm so little of one! One would really forget all about it if youwretched Americans were not constantly reminding one. However, I dothink of giving it up, the little there is left of it, one of thesedays.”
”I should like to see you do it!” Henrietta exclaimed rather grimly.
”I'll invite you to the ceremony; we'll have a supper and a dance.”
”Well,” said Miss Stackpole, ”I like to see all sides. I don't approveof a privileged class, but I like to hear what they have to say forthemselves.”
”Mighty little, as you see!”
”I should like to draw you out a little more,” Henrietta continued. ”Butyou're always looking away. You're afraid of meeting my eye. I see youwant to escape me.”
”No, I'm only looking for those despised potatoes.”
”Please explain about that young lady--your sister--then. I don'tunderstand about her. Is she a Lady?”
”She's a capital good girl.”
”I don't like the way you say that--as if you wanted to change thesubject. Is her position inferior to yours?”
”We neither of us have any position to speak of; but she's better offthan I, because she has none of the bother.”
”Yes, she doesn't look as if she had much bother. I wish I had as littlebother as that. You do produce quiet people over here, whatever else youmay do.”
”Ah, you see one takes life easily, on the whole,” said Lord Warburton.”And then you know we're very dull. Ah, we can be dull when we try!”
”I should advise you to try something else. I shouldn't know what totalk to your sister about; she looks so different. Is that silver crossa badge?”
”A badge?”
”A sign of rank.”
Lord Warburton's glance had wandered a good deal, but at this it met thegaze of his neighbour. ”Oh yes,” he answered in a moment; ”the women goin for those things. The silver cross is worn by the eldest daughters ofViscounts.” Which was his harmless revenge for having occasionally hadhis credulity too easily engaged in America. After luncheon he proposedto Isabel to come into the gallery and look at the pictures; and thoughshe knew he had seen the pictures twenty times she complied withoutcriticising this pretext. Her conscience now was very easy; ever sinceshe sent him her letter she had felt particularly light of spirit. Hewalked slowly to the end of the gallery, staring at its contents andsaying nothing; and then he suddenly broke out: ”I hoped you wouldn'twrite to me that way.”
”It was the only way, Lord Warburton,” said the girl. ”Do try andbelieve that.”
”If I could believe it of course I should let you alone. But we can'tbelieve by willing it; and I confess I don't understand. I couldunderstand your disliking me; that I could understand well. But that youshould admit you do--”
”What have I admitted?” Isabel interrupted, turning slightly pale.
”That you think me a good fellow; isn't that it?” She said nothing,and he went on: ”You don't seem to have any reason, and that gives me asense of injustice.”
”I have a reason, Lord Warburton.” She said it in a tone that made hisheart contract.
”I should like very much to know it.”
”I'll tell you some day when there's more to show for it.”
”Excuse my saying that in the mean time I must doubt of it.”
”You make me very unhappy,” said Isabel.
”I'm not sorry for that; it may help you to know how I feel. Will youkindly answer me a question?” Isabel made no audible assent, but heapparently saw in her eyes something that gave him courage to go on. ”Doyou prefer some one else?”
”That's a question I'd rather not answer.”
”Ah, you do then!” her suitor murmured with bitterness.
The bitterness touched her, and she cried out: ”You're mistaken! Idon't.”
He sat down on a bench, unceremoniously, doggedly, like a man introuble; leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor. ”Ican't even be glad of that,” he said at last, throwing himself backagainst the wall; ”for that would be an excuse.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. ”An excuse? Must I excuse myself?”
He paid, however, no answer to the question. Another idea had come intohis head. ”Is it my political opinions? Do you think I go too far?”
”I can't object to your political opinions, because I don't understandthem.”
”You don't care what I think!” he cried, getting up. ”It's all the sameto you.”
Isabel walked to the other side of the gallery and stood there showinghim her charming back, her light slim figure, the length of her whiteneck as she bent her head, and the density of her dark braids. Shestopped in front of a small picture as if for the purpose of examiningit; and there was something so young and free in her movement that hervery pliancy seemed to mock at him. Her eyes, however, saw nothing; theyhad suddenly been suffused with tears. In a moment he followed her, andby this time she had brushed her tears away; but when she turned roundher face was pale and the expression of her eyes strange. ”That reasonthat I wouldn't tell you--I'll tell it you after all. It's that I can'tescape my fate.”
”Your fate?”
”I should try to escape it if I were to marry you.”
”I don't understand. Why should not that be your fate as well asanything else?”
”Because it's not,” said Isabel femininely. ”I know it's not. It's notmy fate to give up--I know it can't be.”
Poor Lord Warburton stared, an interrogative point in either eye. ”Doyou call marrying me giving up?”
”Not in the usual sense. It's getting--getting--getting a great deal.But it's giving up other chances.”
”Other chances for what?”
”I don't mean chances to marry,” said Isabel, her colour quickly comingback to her. And then she stopped, looking down with a deep frown, as ifit were hopeless to attempt to make her meaning clear.
”I don't think it presumptuous in me to suggest that you'll gain morethan you'll lose,” her companion observed.
”I can't escape unhappiness,” said Isabel. ”In marrying you I shall betrying to.”
”I don't know whether you'd try to, but you certainly would: that I mustin candour admit!” he exclaimed with an anxious laugh.
”I mustn't--I can't!” cried the girl.
”Well, if you're bent on being miserable I don't see why you should makeme so. Whatever charms a life of misery may have for you, it has nonefor me.”
”I'm not bent on a life of misery,” said Isabel. ”I've always beenintensely determined to be happy, and I've often believed I should be.I've told people that; you can ask them. But it comes over me everynow and then that I can never be happy in any extraordinary way; not byturning away, by separating myself.”
”By separating yourself from what?”
”From life. From the usual chances and dangers, from what most peopleknow and suffer.”
Lord Warburton broke into a smile that almost denoted hope. ”Why,my dear Miss Archer,” he began to explain with the most considerateeagerness, ”I don't offer you any exoneration from life or from anychances or dangers whatever. I wish I could; depend upon it I would! Forwhat do you take me, pray? Heaven help me, I'm not the Emperor of China!All I offer you is the chance of taking the common lot in a comfortablesort of way. The common lot? Why, I'm devoted to the common lot! Strikean alliance with me, and I promise you that you shall have plenty of it.You shall separate from nothing whatever--not even from your friend MissStackpole.”
”She'd never approve of it,” said Isabel, trying to smile and takeadvantage of this side-issue; despising herself too, not a little, fordoing so.
”Are we speaking of Miss Stackpole?” his lordship asked impatiently. ”Inever saw a person judge things on such theoretic grounds.”
”Now I suppose you're speaking of me,” said Isabel with humility; andshe turned away again, for she saw Miss Molyneux enter the gallery,accompanied by Henrietta and by Ralph.
Lord Warburton's sister addressed him with a certain timidity andreminded him she ought to return home in time for tea, as she wasexpecting company to partake of it. He made no answer--apparentlynot having heard her; he was preoccupied, and with good reason. MissMolyneux--as if he had been Royalty--stood like a lady-in-waiting.
”Well, I never, Miss Molyneux!” said Henrietta Stackpole. ”If I wantedto go he'd have to go. If I wanted my brother to do a thing he'd have todo it.”
”Oh, Warburton does everything one wants,” Miss Molyneux answered witha quick, shy laugh. ”How very many pictures you have!” she went on,turning to Ralph.
”They look a good many, because they're all put together,” said Ralph.”But it's really a bad way.”
”Oh, I think it's so nice. I wish we had a gallery at Lockleigh. I'm sovery fond of pictures,” Miss Molyneux went on, persistently, to Ralph,as if she were afraid Miss Stackpole would address her again. Henriettaappeared at once to fascinate and to frighten her.
”Ah yes, pictures are very convenient,” said Ralph, who appeared to knowbetter what style of reflexion was acceptable to her.
”They're so very pleasant when it rains,” the young lady continued. ”Ithas rained of late so very often.”
”I'm sorry you're going away, Lord Warburton,” said Henrietta. ”I wantedto get a great deal more out of you.”
”I'm not going away,” Lord Warburton answered.
”Your sister says you must. In America the gentlemen obey the ladies.”
”I'm afraid we have some people to tea,” said Miss Molyneux, looking ather brother.
”Very good, my dear. We'll go.”
”I hoped you would resist!” Henrietta exclaimed. ”I wanted to see whatMiss Molyneux would do.”
”I never do anything,” said this young lady.
”I suppose in your position it's sufficient for you to exist!” MissStackpole returned. ”I should like very much to see you at home.”
”You must come to Lockleigh again,” said Miss Molyneux, very sweetly, toIsabel, ignoring this remark of Isabel's friend. Isabel looked into herquiet eyes a moment, and for that moment seemed to see in their greydepths the reflexion of everything she had rejected in rejecting LordWarburton--the peace, the kindness, the honour, the possessions, a deepsecurity and a great exclusion. She kissed Miss Molyneux and then shesaid: ”I'm afraid I can never come again.”
”Never again?”
”I'm afraid I'm going away.”
”Oh, I'm so very sorry,” said Miss Molyneux. ”I think that's so verywrong of you.”
Lord Warburton watched this little passage; then he turned away andstared at a picture. Ralph, leaning against the rail before the picturewith his hands in his pockets, had for the moment been watching him.
”I should like to see you at home,” said Henrietta, whom Lord Warburtonfound beside him. ”I should like an hour's talk with you; there are agreat many questions I wish to ask you.”
”I shall be delighted to see you,” the proprietor of Lockleigh answered;”but I'm certain not to be able to answer many of your questions. Whenwill you come?”
”Whenever Miss Archer will take me. We're thinking of going to London,but we'll go and see you first. I'm determined to get some satisfactionout of you.”
”If it depends upon Miss Archer I'm afraid you won't get much. She won'tcome to Lockleigh; she doesn't like the place.”
”She told me it was lovely!” said Henrietta.
Lord Warburton hesitated. ”She won't come, all the same. You had bettercome alone,” he added.
Henrietta straightened herself, and her large eyes expanded. ”Would youmake that remark to an English lady?” she enquired with soft asperity.
Lord Warburton stared. ”Yes, if I liked her enough.”
”You'd be careful not to like her enough. If Miss Archer won't visityour place again it's because she doesn't want to take me. I know whatshe thinks of me, and I suppose you think the same--that I oughtn't tobring in individuals.” Lord Warburton was at a loss; he had not beenmade acquainted with Miss Stackpole's professional character and failedto catch her allusion. ”Miss Archer has been warning you!” she thereforewent on.
”Warning me?”
”Isn't that why she came off alone with you here--to put you on yourguard?”
”Oh dear, no,” said Lord Warburton brazenly; ”our talk had no suchsolemn character as that.”
”Well, you've been on your guard--intensely. I suppose it's naturalto you; that's just what I wanted to observe. And so, too, MissMolyneux--she wouldn't commit herself. You have been warned, anyway,”Henrietta continued, addressing this young lady; ”but for you it wasn'tnecessary.”
”I hope not,” said Miss Molyneux vaguely.
”Miss Stackpole takes notes,” Ralph soothingly explained. ”She's a greatsatirist; she sees through us all and she works us up.”
”Well, I must say I never have had such a collection of bad material!”Henrietta declared, looking from Isabel to Lord Warburton and from thisnobleman to his sister and to Ralph. ”There's something the matter withyou all; you're as dismal as if you had got a bad cable.”
”You do see through us, Miss Stackpole,” said Ralph in a low tone,giving her a little intelligent nod as he led the party out of thegallery. ”There's something the matter with us all.”
Isabel came behind these two; Miss Molyneux, who decidedly liked herimmensely, had taken her arm, to walk beside her over the polishedfloor. Lord Warburton strolled on the other side with his hands behindhim and his eyes lowered. For some moments he said nothing; and then,”Is it true you're going to London?” he asked.
”I believe it has been arranged.”
”And when shall you come back?”
”In a few days; but probably for a very short time. I'm going to Pariswith my aunt.”
”When, then, shall I see you again?”
”Not for a good while,” said Isabel. ”But some day or other, I hope.”
”Do you really hope it?”
”Very much.”
He went a few steps in silence; then he stopped and put out his hand.”Good-bye.”
”Good-bye,” said Isabel.
Miss Molyneux kissed her again, and she let the two depart. After it,without rejoining Henrietta and Ralph, she retreated to her own room; inwhich apartment, before dinner, she was found by Mrs. Touchett, who hadstopped on her way to the salon. ”I may as well tell you,” said thatlady, ”that your uncle has informed me of your relations with LordWarburton.”
Isabel considered. ”Relations? They're hardly relations. That's thestrange part of it: he has seen me but three or four times.”
”Why did you tell your uncle rather than me?” Mrs. Touchettdispassionately asked.
Again the girl hesitated. ”Because he knows Lord Warburton better.”
”Yes, but I know you better.”
”I'm not sure of that,” said Isabel, smiling.
”Neither am I, after all; especially when you give me that ratherconceited look. One would think you were awfully pleased with yourselfand had carried off a prize! I suppose that when you refuse an offerlike Lord Warburton's it's because you expect to do something better.”
”Ah, my uncle didn't say that!” cried Isabel, smiling still.