Parlous Times: A Novel of Modern Diplomacy. Wells David Dwight

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СКАЧАТЬ your pardon, I was thinking aloud, beastly bad habit, purely reminiscent, I assure you. Go on."

      "Well, of course I saw something of her after that. Aunt invited me to call, also to dine."

      "What about that trip down the Thames?"

      "Why, I'd arranged my party for that before I met Belle – I mean Miss Fitzgerald."

      "Oh, call her Belle, I know you do."

      "And she happened to mention, quite accidentally, that one of her unaccomplished ideals was a trip down the Thames. I fear she's shockingly cramped for money you know, so as I happened to have a vacant place – "

      "You naturally invited her – I wonder how she found out there was a vacant place," mused Kent-Lauriston.

      "My dear fellow," reiterated Stanley. "I tell you she didn't even know I was getting it up. Of course if she had, she'd never have spoken of it. Miss Fitzgerald is far above touting for an invitation."

      "Of course. Well you must have advanced considerably in your acquaintance during the trip. Had her quite to yourself, as it were, since I suppose she knew none of the party."

      "Oh, but she did. She knew Lieutenant Kingsland."

      "To be sure. He was the man who wagered her a dozen dozen pairs of gloves that she wouldn't swim her horse across the Serpentine in Hyde Park."

      "And she won, by Jove! I can tell you she has pluck."

      "And they were both arrested in consequence. I think the Lieutenant owed her some reparation, and I must say a trip down the Thames was most à propos."

      "Look here, Kent-Lauriston, if you're insinuating that Kingsland put her up to – "

      "Far from it, my boy, how could I insinuate anything so unlikely? Well, what other unattainable luxuries did you bestow?"

      "Nothing more to speak of – why, yes. Do you know the poor little thing had never seen Irving, or been inside the Lyceum?"

      "So you gave the 'poor little thing' a box party, and a champagne supper at the Savoy afterwards, I'll be bound, and yet surely it was at the Lyceum that – "

      "What?"

      "Oh, nothing, I was becoming reminiscent once more; it's a bad habit. Let's have the rest of it."

      "There isn't much more to tell. I've ridden with her sometimes in the Park. Given her a dinner at the Wellington, a few teas at the Hyde Park Club. I think that's all – flowers perhaps, nothing in the least compromising."

      "Compromising! Why, it's enough to have married you to three English girls."

      "She's Irish."

      "I beg her pardon," and Kent-Lauriston bowed in mock humility.

      "What do you think of my case, honestly?"

      "Honestly, I think she means to have you, and if I was a betting man, I'd lay the odds on her chances of winning."

      "Confound you!" broke in Stanley. "You've such a beastly way of taking the words out of a man's mouth and twisting them round to mean something else. Here I started in to tell you of my acquaintance with Miss Fitzgerald, and by the time I've finished you've made it appear as if her actions had been those of an adventuress, a keen, unprincipled, up-to-date Becky Sharp. Why, you've hardly left her a shred of character. I swear you wrong her, she's not what you've made me make her out, – not at all like that."

      "What is she like then?"

      "She is a poor girl without resources or near relations, thrown on the world in that most anomalous of positions, shabby gentility; who has to endure no end of petty insults; insults, covert, if not open, from men like you, who ought to know better. I tell you she's good and straight, straight as a die; brave, fearless, plucky – isn't the word for it. A little headstrong, perhaps, and careless of what the world may say, but whom has she had to teach her better? There's no harm in her though. Of that I'm sure. And underneath an exterior of what may seem flippancy, her heart rings true; but you're so prejudiced you'll never admit it."

      "On the contrary," replied his friend, lighting another cigarette, "I'm perfectly willing to agree to nearly all that you have just said in her favour – all that is of vital importance, at least. I know something of this young lady's career, and I'm prepared to say I don't believe there is anything bad in her. She has to live by her wits, and they must be sharp in consequence; and having to carve out her own destiny instead of having a mother to do so for her, she has become self-reliant, and to some extent careless of the impression she makes, which has given her a reputation for indiscretion which she really does not deserve. She's certainly charming, and undeniably dashing, though whether it arises from bravery or foolhardiness, I'm not prepared to say; but one thing I can state most emphatically – you're not the man to marry her."

      "And why not, pray?"

      "Because you're too good for her."

      "That's a matter of opinion."

      "No – matter of fact."

      Stanley flushed angrily – but Kent-Lauriston continued:

      "No need to fly into a passion; what I say is perfectly true. The only way for Belle Fitzgerald to marry, be happy, and develop the best that is in her, is to have a husband whose methods – forceful or otherwise – she can understand and appreciate. You are too good for her. Her struggle with life has been a hard one, she has seen the seamy side of human nature, and it has taught her to estimate all men at their worst. She'd consider your virtue, weakness. You could never take her to South America and the ancestral plantation; it would bore her to extinction. She'd require to live in London or keep open house in the country, and she'd gather about her the set she goes with now. Her companions, her manner of life, you think unworthy of her; already they grate on your finer sensibilities, blinded as you are; believe me, they'd grate much more when she bore your name. No, the only man who could marry her, be happy, make her happy, and keep his good name untarnished in the future, would be one who knows her world better than she does herself; who has a past that even she would shudder at; who has no ideals, no aspirations, just manly vigour and brute force; who could guide her with a hand of steel in a glove of velvet, and pull her up short at the danger line, because he knows what lies beyond, and she knows that he knows. She'd tire of you in six months; she would not dare to tire of the other man."

      "I think you wrong her," said Stanley wearily. "Indeed, your own criticism of her might be applied to yourself. Your knowledge of the world has caused you unconsciously to misjudge a nature you cannot understand. Yet I know that my friends would all voice your sentiments – that they'd all be disappointed in the match."

      "Exactly so – and they'd be in the right – excuse me for being blunt, but with your wealth and social position you would be simply throwing yourself away."

      "I know all that – but – I'm so sorry for her."

      "You could serve her better as her friend than as her husband. She must live your life or you must live hers – in either case, one of you would be unhappy."

      "I half believe you're right. Confound it! I know you're right, and yet – how am I to get out of it with honour?"

      "Don't have any false sentimentality about that, my boy. Believe me, she understands the situation much better than you do. So far you have been chums; if you stop there, she is too much a woman of the world СКАЧАТЬ