The Angel of Pain. Benson Edward Frederic

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СКАЧАТЬ had come opposite the drawing-room window, and as they passed Lady Ellington stepped out on to the terrace.

      “Is that you, Madge?” she asked.

      Even in the darkness Evelyn knew what had happened to Madge’s face. The fall of it was reflected in her voice.

      “Yes; have you finished your bridge?” she asked.

      “We are waiting for Mr. – Mr. Dundas to cut in,” she said. “Mr. Home thought he was in the smoking-room, and has gone there.”

      “Oh, I am not in the smoking-room,” said Evelyn.

      If one judged by definitions given in dictionaries it would probably be a misuse of language to say that Lady Ellington “played” bridge. Cards were dealt her, and she dealt with them, embarking on commercial transactions. She assessed the value of her hand with far more accuracy than she had ever brought to play on the assessment of her income-tax, and proceeded to deal with her assets with even more acuteness than she was accustomed to dispose on the expenditure of her income. Mrs. Home had silently entreated Philip to allow her to cut out, and Lady Ellington was left to play with three men. This she always enjoyed, because she took full advantage of the slight concessions which were allowed to her sex if no other woman was of the table. But before embarking on the second rubber she turned to Madge.

      “I want to speak to you, dearest,” she said, “before you go to bed. We shall only play a couple more rubbers. Mr. Home, you really ought to have pneumatic cards; they are a little more expensive, but last so much longer – yes, two more rubbers – I go no trumps – and I will come to your room on my way up. No doubling? Thank you, partner; that is the suit I wanted.”

      Philip, who was her partner, had exposed two excellent suits, so the imagination of the others might run riot over which particular suit was the desire of Lady Ellington. At any rate she scored a little slam, but was not satisfied, and turned on Evelyn, who, it is idle to remark, had talked during the play.

      “I missed a nine,” she said. “Mr. Dundas was saying something very amusing.”

      But as her face had been like flint, Mr. Dundas had to draw the inference that, however amusing, she had not been amused.

      Lady Ellington always kept the score herself, and never showed any signs of moving, if she had won, until accounts had been adjusted and paid. To-night affairs had gone prosperously for her; she was gracious in her “good-nights,” and even commended the admirable temperature of the hot water, a glass of which she always sipped before going to bed. Madge had gone upstairs, but not long before; and her mother, having locked her winnings into her dressing-case, came to her room and found her sitting by the open window, still not yet preparing to go to bed.

      “Do I understand that you walked on the terrace alone with Mr. Dundas?” she asked in a peculiarly chilly voice.

      Madge showed no surprise; she had known what was coming.

      “Yes, we took a turn or two,” she said.

      Her mother sat down; Madge had not turned from the window and was still looking out.

      “Kindly attend, Madge,” she said. “It was very indiscreet, and you know it. I don’t think Mr. Home liked it.”

      Of the girl who had talked so eagerly and naturally to Evelyn on the terrace there was hardly a trace; Madge’s face had grown nearly as hard as her mother’s.

      “I am not bound just yet to do all Mr. Home likes,” she said.

      “You are bound, if you are a sensible creature, at all events not to run any risks, especially now.”

      Madge turned away from the window.

      “You mean until the bargain is completed. Supposing I refuse?” she said, and there was a little tremor in her voice, partly of contempt, partly of fear.

      Lady Ellington, as has been remarked, never let her emotions, however justifiable, run away with her; she never, above all, got hot or angry. Causes which in others would produce anger, produced in her only an additional coldness and dryness, which Madge was, somehow, afraid of with unreasoning nightmare kind of fear.

      “I will not suppose anything so absurd!” said her mother. “You are twenty-five years old, and you have never yet fallen in love at all. But as I have pointed out to you before, you will be far happier married than living on into the loneliness and insignificance of being an old maid. Lots of girls never fall in love in the silly, sentimental manner which produces lyrics. You are quite certainly one of them. And as certainly Mr. Home is in love with you.”

      “We have been into this before,” said the girl.

      “It is necessary, apparently, to go into it again. Mr. Home, I feel certain, is going to propose to you, and you should not do indiscreet things. With regard to your refusing him, it is out of the question. He is extremely suitable in every way. And you told me yourself you had made up your mind to accept him.”

      “You made up my mind,” said Madge; “but it comes to the same thing.”

      “Precisely. So please promise me not to do anything which a girl in your position should not do. There is no earthly harm in your walking with any penniless artist in the moonlight, if you were not situated as you are. But at the moment it is indiscreet.”

      “You are wrong if you suppose that Mr. Dundas said anything to me which could possibly be interpreted into a tender interest,” said Madge. “He called attention to the moon merely in order to remark that it was out of drawing.”

      “That never occurred to me,” said her mother, “though it would be a matter of total indifference whether he took a tender interest in you or not. I merely want your promise that you will not repeat the indiscretion.”

      “Oh, certainly,” said Madge.

      Lady Ellington had put her bedroom candle on Madge’s dressing-table. As soon as she had received the assurance she required, she at once rose from her chair and took it up. But with it in her hand she stood silent a moment, then she put it down again.

      “You have spoken again of things I thought were settled, Madge,” she said, “and I should like your assurance on one point further. We agreed, did we not, that it would be far better for you to marry than remain single. We agreed also that you were not of the sort of nature that falls passionately in love, and we agreed that you had better marry a man whom you thoroughly like and esteem. Mr. Home is such a man. Is that correctly stated?”

      “Quite,” said Madge. “In fact, I don’t know why I suggested that I should refuse him.”

      “You agree to it all still?”

      Madge considered a moment.

      “Yes; things being as they are, I agree.”

      “What do you mean by that exactly?”

      Madge got up, and swept across the room to where her mother stood.

      “I have long meant to say this to you, mother,” she said, “but I never have yet. I mean that at my age one’s character to some extent certainly is formed. One has to deal with oneself as that self exists. But my character was formed by education partly and by my upbringing, for which you are responsible. I think you have taught me not to feel – to be hard.”

      Lady Ellington did not СКАЧАТЬ