What Maisie Knew. Генри Джеймс

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      Maisie, a trifle mystified, turned quickly to her new friend. "Why it's of course that you're MARRIED to her, isn't it?"

      Her anxious emphasis started them off, as she had learned to call it; this was the echo she infallibly and now quite resignedly produced; moreover Sir Claude's laughter was an indistinguishable part of the sweetness of his being there. "We've been married, my dear child, three months, and my interest in you is a consequence, don't you know? of my great affection for your mother. In coming here it's of course for your mother I'm acting."

      "Oh I know," Maisie said with all the candour of her competence. "She can't come herself–except just to the door." Then as she thought afresh: "Can't she come even to the door now?"

      "There you are!" Mrs. Beale exclaimed to Sir Claude. She spoke as if his dilemma were ludicrous.

      His kind face, in a hesitation, seemed to recognise it; but he answered the child with a frank smile. "No–not very well."

      "Because she has married you?"

      He promptly accepted this reason. "Well, that has a good deal to do with it."

      He was so delightful to talk to that Maisie pursued the subject.

      "But papa–HE has married Miss Overmore."

      "Ah you'll see that he won't come for you at your mother's," that lady interposed.

      "Yes, but that won't be for a long time," Maisie hastened to respond.

      "We won't talk about it now–you've months and months to put in first." And Sir Claude drew her closer.

      "Oh that's what makes it so hard to give her up!" Mrs. Beale made this point with her arms out to her stepdaughter. Maisie, quitting Sir Claude, went over to them and, clasped in a still tenderer embrace, felt entrancingly the extension of the field of happiness. "I'LL come for you," said her stepmother, "if Sir Claude keeps you too long: we must make him quite understand that! Don't talk to me about her ladyship!" she went on to their visitor so familiarly that it was almost as if they must have met before. "I know her ladyship as if I had made her. They're a pretty pair of parents!" cried Mrs. Beale.

      Maisie had so often heard them called so that the remark diverted her but an instant from the agreeable wonder of this grand new form of allusion to her mother; and that, in its turn, presently left her free to catch at the pleasant possibility, in connexion with herself, of a relation much happier as between Mrs. Beale and Sir Claude than as between mamma and papa. Still the next thing that happened was that her interest in such a relation brought to her lips a fresh question.

      "Have you seen papa?" she asked of Sir Claude.

      It was the signal for their going off again, as her small stoicism had perfectly taken for granted that it would be. All that Mrs. Beale had nevertheless to add was the vague apparent sarcasm: "Oh papa!"

      "I'm assured he's not at home," Sir Claude replied to the child; "but if he had been I should have hoped for the pleasure of seeing him."

      "Won't he mind your coming?" Maisie asked as with need of the knowledge.

      "Oh you bad little girl!" Mrs. Beale humorously protested.

      The child could see that at this Sir Claude, though still moved to mirth, coloured a little; but he spoke to her very kindly. "That's just what I came to see, you know–whether your father WOULD mind. But Mrs. Beale appears strongly of the opinion that he won't."

      This lady promptly justified that view to her stepdaughter. "It will be very interesting, my dear, you know, to find out what it is to-day that your father does mind. I'm sure I don't know!" –and she seemed to repeat, though with perceptible resignation, her plaint of a moment before. "Your father, darling, is a very odd person indeed." She turned with this, smiling, to Sir Claude. "But perhaps it's hardly civil for me to say that of his not objecting to have YOU in the house. If you knew some of the people he does have!"

      Maisie knew them all, and none indeed were to be compared to Sir Claude. He laughed back at Mrs. Beale; he looked at such moments quite as Mrs. Wix, in the long stories she told her pupil, always described the lovers of her distressed beauties–"the perfect gentleman and strikingly handsome." He got up, to the child's regret, as if he were going. "Oh I dare say we should be all right!"

      Mrs. Beale once more gathered in her little charge, holding her close and looking thoughtfully over her head at their visitor. "It's so charming–a man of your type–to have wanted her so much!"

      "What do you know about my type?" Sir Claude laughed. "Whatever it may be I dare say it deceives you. The truth about me is simply that I'm the most unappreciated of–what do you call the fellows?–'family-men.' Yes, I'm a family-man; upon my honour I am!"

      "Then why on earth," cried Mrs. Beale, "didn't you marry a family-woman?"

      Sir Claude looked at her hard. "YOU know who one marries, I think. Besides, there ARE no family-women–hanged if there are! None of them want any children–hanged if they do!"

      His account of the matter was most interesting, and Maisie, as if it were of bad omen for her, stared at the picture in some dismay. At the same time she felt, through encircling arms, her protectress hesitate. "You do come out with things! But you mean her ladyship doesn't want any–really?"

      "Won't hear of them–simply. But she can't help the one she HAS got." And with this Sir Claude's eyes rested on the little girl in a way that seemed to her to mask her mother's attitude with the consciousness of his own. "She must make the best of her, don't you see? If only for the look of the thing, don't you know? one wants one's wife to take the proper line about her child."

      "Oh I know what one wants!" Mrs. Beale cried with a competence that evidently impressed her interlocutor.

      "Well, if you keep HIM up–and I dare say you've had worry enough –why shouldn't I keep Ida? What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander–or the other way round, don't you know? I mean to see the thing through."

      Mrs. Beale, for a minute, still with her eyes on him as he leaned upon the chimneypiece, appeared to turn this over. "You're just a wonder of kindness–that's what you are!" she said at last. "A lady's expected to have natural feelings. But YOUR horrible sex–isn't it a horrible sex, little love?" she demanded with her cheek upon her stepdaughter's.

      "Oh I like gentlemen best," Maisie lucidly replied.

      The words were taken up merrily. "That's a good one for YOU!" Sir Claude exclaimed to Mrs. Beale.

      "No," said that lady: "I've only to remember the women she sees at her mother's."

      "Ah they're very nice now," Sir Claude returned.

      "What do you call 'nice'?"

      "Well, they're all right."

      "That doesn't answer me," said Mrs. Beale; "but I dare say you do take care of them. That makes you more of an angel to want this job too." And she playfully whacked her smaller companion.

      "I'm not an angel–I'm an old grandmother," Sir Claude declared. "I like babies–I always did. If we go to smash I shall look for a place as responsible nurse."

      Maisie, in her charmed mood, drank in an imputation on her years which at another moment might have been bitter; but the charm was sensibly interrupted by Mrs. Beale's screwing her round and gazing fondly into her eyes, "You're willing СКАЧАТЬ