Chapter II

He awoke next morning to find James in the room, drawing back the curtains, and a little tray by his bedside that held a cup of tea in a little pink cup, two slices of bread and butter on a little pink plate, and two letters.

" It's a quarter to nine, sir," said James.

Percy turned over a little more in bed and picked up his letters. He knew the handwriting of Father Hilary, but the other, readdressed from Hanstead, was unknown to him; he turned the second over once or twice, conjecturing about it, as the human way is of one who has not a large correspondence. Then he opened it; and saw that the address was that of His Highness' Theatre.

" Dear Mr. Smith," he read,

" I wonder if you would care to come and see me here on Monday next. I think you said you'd never been behind the curtain of a theatre. Well, we have our last rehearsal on Monday afternoon, and ought to finish about five o'clock. I wonder if you would give me a cup of tea afterwards and see me to my train. You said once that you thought you could help me.

"Yours sincerely,

"Gladys Farham."

He read it again, and a strange excitement began to work in him. Obviously she knew nothing of his change of fortune — (how should she?) — Yet she seemed to want him. • • •

Digitized by Google

He lay so long that his tea grew cold; and it 1 was not until the stable-bell beat the quarter past that he remembered and emptied the cup. Then, as he got out of bed at last, the second forgotten letter fell to the ground. He tore this, too, open. It bore the Franciscan device, stamped in white, and the address of the Kensington Friary.

" Dear Mr. Smith,

" I know you won't mind my saying that I am afraid we shall not be able to get through the instructions as soon as we hoped, unless you can arrange to come a little more frequently. I quite understand that you have a great deal to do just now; but I wanted just to say this for fear you should be disappointed. You told me you were to settle in the country sometime this week. Do you think you could come up regularly for one afternoon each week? Or shall I make inquiries as to whether there is any priest in your neighbourhood to whom you could go? God bless you. Pray for me.

" Yours sincerely in Xt.,

" Hilary, O. S. F."

Percy had a pang of shame. The implied reproach was perfectly just. He had not been to Father Hilary for nearly three weeks. Yet how could he be expected to go, considering all that he had had to do? He must see whether something could not be managed next week — on Monday, perhaps.

The same splendid and leisurely air was as manifest at breakfast, as at lunch and dinner yesterday. There was a vast urn of embossed silver looking to Percy as if straight from Aladdin's cave. There were enormous spaces everywhere — between the four at table, across the

Digitized by Google table, and b e twe e n the table and the sideboard on which no less than three silver dishes simmered over little blue flames. There were also cold pheasants. The doctor was still in his grey tailed suit, with pomps instead of boots and spats; Helen in a blouse and serge skirt, and Mrs. Brandreth-Smith in a morning costume of vague splendour. The great windows gave a distant misty view of rolling woodland and park that was all part of Marston.

As Percy helped himself to marmalade he opened on his subject.

"I think I must go up to town on Monday, mother/' he said. " There are two or three things — I can be down again in time for dinner."

"Haven't you brought everything with you?"

"Well; there are some riding-things I might as well try on. And... and I ought to go and see Father Hilary again."

She compressed her lips slightly. Her husband rustled his paper.

" Father Hilary, eh? " he said, glancing up,

"Yes," said Percy.

His father sniffed, ever so slightly.

"Well," said Mrs. Brandreth-Smith, after a pause. " Helen ought to go up too. You might go up together. Could you catch the four-fifty down again? "

" I... er — I thought of the six-ten. I've got someone I want to see about five."

"That's rather late. Couldn't you make it earlier?"

" I'm afraid not," said Percy with a certain finality in his voice.

"Well " her voice died away, as of one who would decide it later.

Digitized by Google i

Dr. Brandreth-Smith was doing his utmost to adapt himself to his new position; and he found it not very easy. But there was one thing that he understood clearly, and that was that all must be done under the direction of his wife. It astonished him how clear was her vision of all that he must be and do. It was she who had decided on the grey tailed suit; she who had insisted, a month ago, on a small notice in the Times that in future the name of " Brandreth-Smith " should be substituted for that of " Smith "; she who had issued commands as to the redecoration of the house in Wilton Crescent. And she had further schemes too. Inquiries were to be made as to whether there was any military force provided by the Secretary for War which would give him an opportunity of being addressed as "Major"; letters had been written to the Secretary of the Primrose League.

One other point, too, had been discussed at length — the problem of Percy and Catholicism.

Now the doctor had religious convictions; or, perhaps they were better called adherences; and they were of the peaceful undefined sort that have no quarrel with others: they were not, that is to say, sufficiently objective or positive as to exclude others that were, as a matter of fact, incompatible with them. (This quality is called Charity at the present day.) Therefore, in the old life of Hanstead he found no great difficulty in bearing with his son; such difficulty as existed was social rather than religious. It was exactly this social element, then, that had waxed great with his change of fortune. No one had precisely said anything to him on the point (except his wife, and she very vaguely); nor had he to anyone else. But the con-

Digitized by Google sciousness was there that a conversion did not fit properly into the new juncture.

The situation precipitated itself a little after breakfast. His wife came to him in the smoking-room where he was vaguely examining the Times. (He had intimated to the Nation that he would not renew his subscription at the close of the year.)

" About Percy/' she said.

"Well, my dear?"

She wandered to the window.

(" That lawn isn't properly kept," she began.) "Well; can nothing be done? It will make an exceedingly bad impression if Percy doesn't come to church with us here. Do you think it would be best to speak to him again? "

The doctor stood up and parted his coat-tails over the fire.

" I've been thinking that myself," he said. " Do you think perhaps we had better speak at once? Or... or leave him a little. I understand that he can't be received into the Roman Church for three or four months yet."

She swung the tassel of the curtain fretfully.

"Well: do as you think right.... Yes, I think you are right. I'll do what I can with little hints here and there," she said. She broke off. " There's Andrewes from the farm. I sent for him to come up about the milk."

She rustled swiftly across the room again. At the door she stopped.

" Mr. Martin's much worse, I hear. Do you think perhaps, if he dies or resigns, Mr. Bennett would care to accept the living? He's a good sensible man, without any fads, you know."

Digitized by Google

" I think that's a very good idea of yours/' said the doctor briskly.

Ill

To Helen, too, changes had come; and, since she was youthful, she found no great inconsistency in assenting to them.

The first thing she had dropped clean was her ancient view of New Art New (and rather cheap) Art was all very well when there was not much money: whitewashed walls, and rush-seated chairs, and a thin copper hood over the fireplace were all very well when one had only thirty pounds a year for dress and personal expenses: besides, one could make some of the things oneself. But when one fell suddenly into the entire and sole possession of two beautiful rooms, covered as to the walls with expensive peacock-paper, with all the woodwork painted in glossy impenetrable cream-white as hard as enamel, filled with really good furniture upholstered in heavy stuffs; when all the fire-instruments and the fenders were solid brass; when a large number of new dresses and shoes and hats and gloves appeared at her mother's expense, with even a little jewellery; when, there were two green riding-habits, a mare on which to ride, riding-lessons, a maid, an allowance of a hundred and twenty a year, and practically all necessities found, the ethereal ideals of New Art fell like rags about her.

Her new pose was not yet fully arranged. Bright visions and glimpses came and went — glimpses of distinction, and wide-leafed hats, and slowness of speech, and Gainsborough hats. But she was not sure....

Meanwhile it was all excellent fun. She had greatly enjoyed, in spite of her airs, the solemn calls of yesterday.

Digitized by Google

They had been to the Rectory on the way back, to inquire; but the event had been the call at Cleever, and her share in the grave conversation with Mabel Marridon in the drawing-room of that big house. This girl had seemed quite charming, and rather impressive in her extraordinary ease of manner. It was, in fact, Mabel's pleasant simplicity, with what seemed to be a framework of a very firm character beneath, that had tended to mar her own Gainsborough ideals. Mabel was not at all Gainsborough: she was just very fresh and rather pretty.... At the end Lord Marridon had himself come in, a thin dry baldish man whose skin appeared creased and powdery, in a tight light suit with a large black tie; and, in spite of Helen's attempt to appear tranquil, she had been entirely aware that to speak to a real lord for the first time in her life was something of an occasion. But she had behaved quite well, though she had found herself a little tongue-tied; and the whole experience had done a good deal to confirm and establish her, interiorly, in her new position. She bore herself with a certain sprightly dignity all the evening; and rejoiced secretly within.

She was arranging her books this morning when Percy strolled in with an air of such complete detachment that it was at once evident he had come for a purpose. He mooned round a few minutes, made a suggestion or two, and then sat down.

" About Monday," he said. " Do you really want to go?"

"I must/' she said. "Mother "

"Well; can't we be independent? I don't want to keep you hanging about."

"You needn't. The later train will do perfectly for me. What do you want to do? "

Digitized by Google

"I've got to see Father Hilary for one thing; and there are one or two more things." "Well. All right!"

"Well: back me up with mother, will you? If you don't, and if she makes a fuss, I shall just miss the train, that's all."

She nodded.

" I'll back you up all right," she said. " But what a lot of mystery! " Percy frowned.

" I won't be managed," he said. " Mother means to rule everything. Well: I'm going to have my way. That's all.... I say, Helen."

She planted her fresh pile of books safely, and knelt down to sort them.

" Yes."

"Anybody said anything about my becoming a Catholic?"

" Do you mean lately? " " Yes."

She shook her head. " No."

"Well, because I'm going to, you know." She looked at him with lifted brows.

" Why, of course you are! I didn't know "

Percy got up.

"Well; I mean that all this doesn't make any difference at all to me. I thought I might as well say that at once: so that if mother or anyone says anything, you can just tell them straight out. That's all."

He marched to the door.

Digitized by Google

CHAPTER in

It was with extraordinary excitement that Percy, standing in a little obscure lane off the Strand, pulled the bell of the stage-door, and waited.

He had had an hour's instruction from Father Hilary this afternoon, all about the Grounds of Faith, and had found it very difficult to keep his attention fixed. He had also explained to him that for the present he simply could not promise to come up to town regularly every week; but he would do his best at keeping Mondays free. He had said no more for the present about his wish to be a friar. He reminded himself that it was hardly fair to consult just at present one who was himself a friar: he must allow time to settle, and to consider his new responsibilities: these were very important, he thought. Just now, however, the point was Miss Farham.

It must here be confessed that the thought of " helping " Miss Farham was not his principal consideration. (He found it necessary, in fact, to remind himself that it was a consideration at all.) Rather his entire emotions were occupied by the romance of seeing her again, and under these strange and kindling circumstances; for the Stage, as to all young men of his temperament and condition, was to him as mysteriously alluring and suggestive as a fairy-story to a child. He had solemnly discussed it, again and again, with Reggie and others; he had ruminated upon it alone; he had read a few little books upon it and

Digitized by Google their revelations had added to his excitement. And now here he stood at a stage-door, with a right of entry. (He remembered with piteous contempt his previous mild adventures in regard to the matronly chorus-girl.)

"Miss Farham," said Percy, trying to appear natural, as soon as the shabby man in shirt-sleeves opened the door.

"By appointment?"

" Yes." (Percy handed him his card which he had ready.)

" Jim, take this gentleman upstairs to Miss Farham."

A small boy appeared, eyed Percy for a moment, and then led the way up the tiny spiral staircase that went up almost immediately behind the door.

Percy's heart beat, as he followed: he pulled out his cuffs a little and arranged his neck in his collar. He caught a glimpse once of a furnished room and smelt the smoke of a cigarette and heard male voices conversing. Then a girl stood aside in an angle to let him go by as he rose still higher; then again he heard voices — this time female — and heard the clink of tea-cups. Then the boy, glancing at the card he carried, called out: " Mr. Brandreth-Smith," and indicated a half-open door. Percy went in, and saw Miss Farham within a yard of him.

It was a queer comfortable-looking little room in which the three women sat over tea: there was a bright fire in the tiny grate, bright wall papers, bright gas. Photographs hung everywhere; there was a kneehold table near the curtained window, a sofa along one wall, on which sat a very stout lady and a very young-looking girl; the tea-table, set with a curious collection of thick cups and a large plate of buns, stood before the fire.

Digitized by Google

Miss Farham herself was in a Windsor chair. She stood and gave Percy her hand; smiling.

" Why this is kind of you," she said. " And you really found your way here. Let me introduce you " (she announced names which Percy instantly forgot again). " Sit down " (she pulled out another Windsor chair from the wall). "Have some tea. It's just been sent in."

Percy was in a whirl of embarrassment: he put down his hat and gloves and stick, and then trod upon them as he sat down. It was the gaze of the stout lady, he thought, which confused him, and it was the more confusing, since he could not keep himself from wondering whether she really thought that anybody else ever for a moment thought that the bloom on her cheeks and the lustre of her eyes were natural. It appeared to him for a wild instant that she must put on these adornments as she put on her hat, without even dreaming that any could conceive that they were really part of her person. And why was there tea here, when he had made all his beautiful plans to take Miss Farham out to a very particular tea-room that he knew of? And was the extremely young girl a relation of anybody present?

There was a silence. Then Percy said that it was just beginning to drizzle as he came in; and he would take only one lump of sugar, please.

He did not recover himself properly till the two strangers went. This they did just as his mouth was rather full of bun, so that his farewell suffered in articulation. But he was promptly at the door to open it; he closed it behind them; and then his excitement steadied down to a still intensity.

She was looking absolutely charming, and her friendli-

Digitized by Google ness was like the warmth of the fire. And it seemed to him that her slight air of melancholy was the greatest charm of all. She was without hat or jacket — in itself this was a suggestion of pleasant intimacy: her piled hair shadowed her face a little, and her great eyes shone bright and kind and rather sad; her costume conveyed nothing to him except grace and beauty....

" Sit down comfortably/' she said. " Tea came in as usual.... You're a little early, you know. • •. Still now it's here, we needn't pretend it isn't.",

Percy did not speak for a moment. The charm of her was amazing. It was all that he remembered from his very parenthetical interviews with her before, all that his imagination had meditated upon; since, set here in this pleasant little room, under what appeared almost domestic circumstances, it concentrated itself on him as never before.

"It's... it's delightful to see you again," he said. " And how kind of you to ask me here! "

"And what have you been doing since I saw you last? Any more news? "

Percy drew a breath.

It was exactly his news that he had most counted upon Jfor his effectiveness in this interview; and he had wondered how in the world he should introduce it. Here was his opportunity. Yet, for the sheer pleasure of anticipation, he played with it. And the knowledge of his reserve-forces gave him a curious ease and masterfulness.

"Yes; I have a good deal of news," he said. - But "

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She was half turned to him, and looking at him with a kindly tolerant interest that was really very pleasant.

Digitized by Google

" 1 can guess," she said. " You're a Catholic now."

" Not yet. But I want to. know your news first."

Her face changed again to a gentle melancholy.

"Well; we've finished rehearsals. I'm tired to death of it. We open to-morrow night. Don't let's talk about me. I want to know your news."

"In a minute/' he said.... "But, look here; why did you suddenly ask me to come and see you? Is anything wrong? "

She looked at him a moment.

" Nothing more than usual," she said. " I thought I'd like to see you again, that's all. Are you sorry? "

Now it is most necessary to remember that, as has already been observed, there was no harm in Miss Gladys Farham: there was only a dramatic temperament. She had begun, as has been described, to place Percy on her own private stage in the role of ingSnu, and herself (in that particular drama) as the weary woman of the world. She had quite enjoyed this for a while, until she had become more interested in her own objective part at His Highness'; then she had largely forgotten him, and now had happened to remember him once more. There was really no mystery about her at all, though she thought that there was a great deal. She mistook her moods for phases of insight or gusts of genius.

For all her superficiality, however, she distinctly liked Percy; and now that she saw him again in the flesh she liked him even more than she remembered. For Percy really had a charm of his own, just as much as she had: he seemed manly and pleasant, and, now that he had cast off his embarrassment, natural as well: he was quite nice to look at, and he was very suitably dressed. Finally, what was to her a very real attraction, he was very evidently

Digitized by Google attracted by her. • • • Her friendliness to him was very far from being insincere.

Percy did not answer her last question. He put down his cup and crossed his legs.

"Have a cigarette," she said; and pushed him a box.

'• And you've no more news? " he said, taking a cigarette with great diliberation. (He felt he was doing it all very well.)

She looked at him for an even longer moment than before.

"Well, you're a clerk," she said— "No: I'm not going to be brutal: but I know what being a clerk means. It means... well... at the most eighty pounds a year at your age. So you won't be foolish enough to misunderstand me when I say I'm badly in debt.... Don't move, please, and " — (her eyes turned fierce) — " don't dare to think that "

Then her face softened again. She was completely and triumphantly deceiving herself as to her emotions: she really thought herself quite genuine at this moment — and yet prudent too.

" Well," she said, " I owe exactly ninety pounds. Now cheer me up, please, and tell me it doesn't matter at all. That's all I want to hear. Besides, I've got jewellery worth fifty, at least."

Percy was not a fool: he perceived, even in this instant of excitement, that she was perfectly sincere in her frankness; and, further, that to offer her a loan was quite impossible. But his heart beat thick when he realized how all this heightened the drama of his own revelation.... Conjectures and visions — up to now only half allowed as possibilities — flared before his mind.

He paused a moment to be certain of his voice.

Digitized by Google

" I assure you it doesn't matter at all," he said. " Is that reassuring enough? " She smiled at him wearily.

" Thank you very much. And now what's your news? " Percy beat off the ash of his cigarette delicately into his saucer.

"I'm just coming to that," he said. "Well: I'm not a clerk any more."

"What! Have you had a fortune left you?" (She laughed a little.)

He nodded slowly. She sat bolt upright, all alive with interest, and her smile went.

" My people have, at least," he said.

"Do you mean? How much, if it isn't rude?"

"A couple of big houses and about twelve thousand a year.... And... and I'm the only son." (He could not help adding that.)

" Good Lord! " said Gladys Farham.

This girl would not have been human if certain thoughts, hardly glanced at up to the present, had not presented themselves very insistently indeed during the next half-hour. But she was not in the least mercenary, in the ordinary sense; she liked money and she hated debt; but that was all. So she resolutely put these thoughts on one side every time they came; and distracted herself by a very gallant attempt indeed to talk with vivid sympathy. She appeared to bubble over with altruistic excitement; she screwed up her face in delicious appreciations as Percy revealed more and more of his newly acquired glories; she laughed with admirable glee; she gave him brilliant bits of advice: she blankly refused to discuss herself at all.

Digitized by Google

" I'm not interested in myself any more," she said. " Go on about you. What nice big things do happen to you! First Religion and now a Fortune. They aren't supposed usually to go together, you know."

So Percy went on, kindling as he went. He talked gorgeously of the sense of liberty that he felt, of his release from City slavery; of his newly ordered gun; of his three hundred a year. It all burst out tumultuously and triumphantly, under a feminine sunshine such as he had never experienced before: he glowed before himself as a kind of a hero. For he perceived, subconsciously, that her attitude towards him was subtly changed; she called him a " boy " once or twice — (" to think that a boy like you ") — but the faint sting of patronage was gone. He felt himself magnificent and protective. He had come a little bit out, and she had gone a little bit in, like the people in a weather-house.

And then, he forgot himself in his intoxication.

" Look here," he said, " I'm sure you're not a bit conventional. Why not "

Her face fell a little, so sharply that it was as if she spoke.

"Yes?" he said.

" Go on."

"Why not have a loan for a bit, or let me buy the jewellery and give it back to you — my father gave me "

Then her whole aspect changed. She was leaning towards him, her eyes a-sparkle a moment ago, her lips parted: now she was drawn up and rigid.

"Oh! I'm sorry you've said that," she said with dignified disappointment. " It's just spoilt it all."

He burst into dismayed apologies.

" I... I... only meant — I'm fearfully sorry. I thought perhaps that — I'm fearfully sorry, you know."

Digitized by.Google

She was looking down in a grave sorrow. There came a tap on the door. She looked up — " Come in."

The same boy who had shown Percy upstairs came in with a card.

" The gentleman's waiting/' he said; and eyed Percy while she took it, turned it and read a message on the back.

"I'll be down in five minutes/' she said. " I think you told me " she went on, glancing at the little loud ticking clock on the mantelpiece, and then down at the card again.

Percy waited till the door closed behind the boy.

" Miss Farham," he said, " I'm entirely sorry.... I ought to have known. Will you forgive me? "

She turned her head to look at him as she stood up. (Percy too rose: the clock marked ten minutes to six.)

" Of course I forgive you," she said regretfully. " Perhaps you didn't know that that was — well — quite an impossible thing to say. But, you know, it makes all the difference "

Percy was at once bewildered and ashamed. Obviously he had done something terribly wrong; and it seemed to him an additional crime that he really did not even now quite understand its enormity. She had seemed so frank and simple and comradelike. (And how splendid she looked now in her dignified regret! The gaslight shone iridescent in her hair, and her eyes were large and sad in shadow.)

"Oh! but I really didn't understand. Don't say that it makes all the difference. Miss Farham I... I -"

Then she smiled; and it was like the coming of dawn to the poor boy's eyes.

"Well: I really think you didn't."

Digitized by Google

She put out a hand: he took it, and held it while she spoke.

" There — we'll not speak of that again. But you understand, don't you, Mr. •.. Mr. Brandreth-Smith, that that kind of thing mustn't be said. Money spoils everything, you know."

She withdrew her hand.

" There," she said.

Percy still hesitated.

" Can I... can I do anything more? Get a cab, for instance? "

She turned again to him; and said with a kind of brisk frankness:

" Oh! no thank you. A • •. a Mr. A friend of mine has just sent up his card. He'll look after me, thanks. Good-bye, Mr. Brandreth-Smith. Come and see the play, some night, won't you?... And... and I do congratulate you, you know, most tremendously."

Ill

She kept Mr. Marridon waiting, though, even before she finally dismissed him.

When Percy had gone she still stood on where she was on the hearthrug, and stared over the top of the clock at her own reflection in the mirror.

Honestly she did not know which was her real self in all the personalities that seemed to crowd up and claim her through her own mirrored eyes.. •.

Of course she had acted just now: she had assumed the quiet disappointed indignation which she knew was proper, not feeling half of all that she had manifested. Yet did not her deliberate assumption of it render it her own? And she had forgiven Percy, interiorly, long before she had said so.... He was such a boy, anyhow!

Digitized by Google

And of course she was aware that his significance was considerably changed for her since his announcement: his news had invested him with a kind of dignity. After all, she reflected wordlessly, money is power and Power is an attribute: it must surely be taken into account then....

And how like a boy not to have said a word about that of which he had been so full last time — his religion and his desire to " help " her! How like a boy! and how charmingly natural! Oh! she had fenced with boys before; and affected to despise them, and, indeed, actually despised them too for their woodenness and admiration: and she had fenced, too, with comparatively mature persons — such as this Mr. Marridon — and snubbed them and been disdainful — all except with the one whom she had unhappily married three years ago at the very beginning of her stage career. Things had gone swiftly after that: she felt that she knew the world and all its complications inside out.

Yet she stared at herself now in the glass, and all her worldly wisdom seemed useless: she stared at herself and thought still about Percy; and... and wondered.

Ten minutes later she rang the bell sharply. The boy who came perceived that she was unusually severe.

" Tell Mr. Marridon I... I can't see him after all. Tell him I'm dead tired with the rehearsals to-day. Say I'm sorry to have kept him waiting.... No, don't, I'll just see him for a minute up here."

For she was just a trifle afraid of Mr. Marridon, in spite of all her disdain.

Digitized by Google