dinner was over, and of lady oxted's party there only remained by eleven o'clock but a couple of her guests. there was a ball at one house, an evening party at another, a concert at a third, and each claimed its grilling quota, leaving even at this hour only harry vail and geoffrey langham. lord oxted, as was his wont, had retired to his study, as soon as his duties as host would permit, without positively violating decency, but the two young men still lingered, making an intimate party.
during the last few months harry had continued to so expand that it would have been difficult to recognise in him the hero of that recluse coming-of-age party but half a year ago. but this change was the result of no violent revolution; his nature had in no way been wrested from its normal development, merely that development had been long retarded, and was now proportionately rapid. for years his solitary home had ringed him with frost, the want of kindly fireside interests had led him on the path that leads to the great, unexplored deserts of the recluse; but the impulse given, the plunge into the world taken,[pg 64] he had thriven and grown with marvellous alacrity. indeed, the stunted habit of his teens remained in him now only as shown in a certain impression he produced of holding himself still somewhat in reserve; in a disposition, notable in an age which loves to expose its internal organism to the gaze of sympathizing friends, to be his own master; to retain, if he wished, a privacy of his own, and to guard, as a sacred trust, his right to his own opinion in matters which concerned himself.
lady oxted, however, on this as on many other occasions, felt herself obliged to find fault with him, and the presence of her niece, it would appear, did not impose bounds on her candour.
"you are getting lazy and self-contented, harry," she remarked on this particular evening. "you are here in london professing to lead the life of the people with whom you associate, and you are shirking it."
harry looked up with mild wonder at this assault, and drew his chair a little closer up to the half circle they made round the open window, for the night was stifling, and the candles had drooped during fish.
"i never professed anything of the kind," he said; "and i don't yet understand in the slightest degree what you mean. but, no doubt, i soon shall."
"i will try to make it plain to you," said lady oxted. "you have chosen to come to london and lead the silly, frivolous life we all lead. that,[pg 65] to begin with, is ridiculous of you. there is no need for you to be in london, and why any fairly intelligent young man ever is, unless he has business which takes him there, passes my understanding. you might be down at vail, looking after your property, or you might be travelling."
"i still don't understand about my professing to lead the life of the people among whom i move," said harry.
"i am coming to that. you have chosen to spend these three months in london without any better reason for it than that everybody else does so. that being so, you ought to behave like everybody else. for instance, when mrs. morris wanted to take you to her sister's dance to-night, you ought to have gone; also lady wraysbury asked you to go to the concert at the hamiltons'. again you refused."
"she wanted you to come too," said harry, "at least, she asked you," he added, getting in a back-hander.
"i'm an old woman, and i choose to sit by my own fire."
"won't you have it lit?" asked harry. "and i chose to sit there too. but i will go away, if you like."
"and will you go to the dance?"
"not in the least; if you send me away, i shall go to bed."
"you speak as if you were all the six great powers, sending an ultimatum to heligoland," said lady oxted.
[pg 66]
"not in the least; if you send me away, i shall go."
lady oxted laughed.
"heligoland replies that the six great powers may wait ten minutes," she said.
harry turned to evie aylwin.
"yes, i feel just as you do," he said eagerly, reverting at once to the conversation which had been interrupted by lady oxted's strictures. "i love the sense of being in the middle of millions of people, each of whom, just like you and me, have their own private paradise and joy of life, which the world probably never guesses."
evie looked at him quickly.
"have you a private joy, lord vail?" she asked. "do tell me what it is. a thing that is private is always interesting."
harry laughed.
"it is called the luck," he said; "the luck of the vails."
"are you really beginning to believe in that nonsense, harry?" asked lady oxted.
"i have begun," said he.
"o aunt violet, how horrid you are!" cried evie. "do let lord vail tell me about it. it is private: i am dying to know."
"shall i? i will make it short, then," said harry, "for lady oxted's sake."
"i would rather that you made it long for mine," said the girl; "but that is as you please."
lady oxted gave a loud and quite voluntary sigh.
[pg 67]
"poor, dear harry!" she said. "geoffrey, let us talk about something extremely tangible the while. you are on the stock exchange. speak to me of backwardation and contango. that may counteract the weakening effect of harry's nonsense. are you a bear?"
harry smiled, and drew his chair closer to the girl's. "i will talk low," he said, "so that we shall not offend lady oxted, and you must promise to stop me if you get bored. anyhow, you brought it on yourself, for you asked me about my private joy. this is it."
blue eyes, deepened by the shaded light to violet, looked into his as he began his tale; into hers looked brown eyes, which seemed black. he told her of the ancient history of the cup, and she listened with interest to a story that might have claimed attention even from a stranger. then he came to his own finding of it in an attic upon a winter's day; to the three accidents to himself, each trivial, which had followed the finding; and her eyes—which up till now had been at one time on his, at another had strayed with a certain consciousness and purpose (for he never looked elsewhere than at hers) now this way, now that, had superintended the disentangling of a piece of lace which had caught in her bracelet, or had guided her finger as it traced the intricate ivory of her fan handle—became absorbed. they saw only harry's big, dark eyes, or, at their widest circuit, his parted lips, from which the words came. her own mouth, thin, finely lipped, drooped a little at[pg 68] the centre with interest and expectation, and the even line of teeth showed in the red a band of ivory set in pomegranate. once she impatiently swept back a tress of hair which drooped over her ear, but the playing of her fingers with her fan had become unconscious, and her eyes no longer followed them. and it would seem that harry had forgotten his promise to make the story short for lady oxted's sake, and had rather acceded silently to the girl's request to make it long for hers, for the startling revelations about backwardations and bears had long languished before the tale was done.
at last harry's voice stopped, and there was silence a moment, though both still looked at the other. then evie gave a little sharp, involuntary sigh, and her eyebrows met in a frown.
"throw it away, lord vail," she said sharply. "throw it away at once, where it will be lost, lost. it is a terrible thing! and yet, and yet, how can one believe it? the thing is gold and gems, that is all. ah! how i should like to see it! it must be magnificent, this luck of yours. all the same, it is terrible. how can it be your private joy?"
harry rose. if he was not in earnest, it was an admirable counterfeit.
"do you not see?" he said. "'fear both fire and frost and rain,' runs the rhyme. but think what the cup is called: it is the luck of the vails, and the vails are—well, they are i and my uncle at least. ah! i forget one more thing. only two days ago my uncle found the key of its[pg 69] case. it was locked when i found it; it had to be broken open. well, i fell into the fire; i caught a chill in the rain; i sprained my ankle, owing to the frost. i have paid the penalties of the luck. now, don't you see i am waiting for the luck itself? indeed, perhaps it has begun," he added.
"how so?" asked the girl with security, for she knew he was not the kind of man to pay inane compliments.
"since i found it, i have begun to become human," he said gravely. "indeed, six months ago i had no friend in the world except geoffrey."
"what's that about me?" asked geoffrey, who was playing piquet with lady oxted.
"i was only saying you weren't such a brute as you appeared," said harry, without looking round; "i'm a true friend, geoff." then, dropping his voice again, "then, on the finding of the luck, i became—oh, i don't know what i became—what i am, anyhow!"
he leaned back again in his chair, blushing a little at his own unpremeditated burst of egotism.
"of course, soberly, and in the light of 9 a.m., i don't believe in it," he continued. "but my having those three little accidents was a very curious coincidence, following as they did on the heels of my finding the luck. anyhow, it pleases me to think that there may be one coincidence more—that those three little bits of bad luck will be followed by a piece of very good luck. that is my private joy—the thought of[pg 70] some great, good thing happening to me. and then, oh, then, won't i just take the luck, and stamp on it, and throw the rent pieces to the four winds of heaven!"
there was a moment's silence as his voice, slightly raised, gave out the blindly spoken words, which had yet a certain ring of truth about them. but as soon as they were spoken evie's mood changed.
"oh, you mustn't!" she cried; "you could not bring yourself to destroy such a lovely thing. those stars of emeralds, those clear-set diamond handles, oh! it makes my mouth water to think of them. i love jewels!"
lady oxted at this point was deep in the heavily swollen waters of rubicon, and her tone was of ill-suppressed acidity.
"is the nursery rhyme nearly finished?" she asked.
harry advanced to her and held out his hand.
"make it up, lady oxted," he said. "my fault entirely!"
evie followed him.
"dear aunt violet," she said, "shake hands with lord vail this moment. he has given me the most exciting half hour; and you may die in the night, and then you'll be sorry you spoke unkindly to him. and now we'll talk about liquidation as much as you please. oh! you are playing bezique.—really, lord vail, your story was one of the most interesting i have ever heard; you[pg 71] see it isn't over yet; you still have the luck. that makes all the difference; one is never told a ghost story till the house is pulled down, or all the people who have seen the ghost are in lunatic asylums. but your story is now only at the beginning. upon my word, i can't make up my mind what you ought to do with the luck. but i'll tell you some day, when i feel certain. oh! i shall never feel certain," she cried. "you must act as you please!"
"i have your leave?" he said, quite gravely and naturally.
"yes."
at that again their eyes met, but though they had looked at each other so long and so steadily on this first evening of their acquaintance, on this occasion neither of them prolonged the glance.
presently after, the two young men left and strolled back to geoffrey's rooms in orchard street, on the way to cavendish square. both were of the leisurely turn of mind that delights in observation and makes no use whatever of that which it has observed; and scorning the paltry saving of time and shoe leather to be secured by a cab, they went on foot through the night bright with lamps of carriages and jingling with bells of hansoms.
"well, i've had an awfully nice evening," said harry. "extra nice, i mean, though it is always jolly at the oxteds."
"i thought you were enjoying yourself," said the other, "when you refused to go to the concert,[pg 72] for which, as you remember, only this afternoon you were wishing for an invitation. afterward, also, i thought you were enjoying yourself."
"oh, for god's sake don't try to be sly!" exclaimed harry. "i wish i was a better hand at telling a story. but all the same i think it didn't bore miss aylwin. after all, the luck is a very curious thing," he added.
"you are going to oxted for the sunday, are you not?" asked geoffrey.
"yes; the grimstones have the flue in the house, bless them! and you go home, don't you? oh, i never saw such wonderful eyes in my life!" he cried.
"you are alluding to mine, apparently?" said geoffrey.
"yes, of course i am. deep violet by candlelight, and soft somehow like velvet."
"very handsome of you. i'll look to-night when i go to bed. my hair, too, soft and fluffy, and the colour of the sun shining through a mist."
harry laughed.
"the habit of being funny is growing on you, geoff," he said. "take it in time, old chap, and see some good man about it. oh! it's rot going to bed now; let's come to the club; it's only just down park lane. i'm not feeling like bed just yet."
meantime, at the house they had just left, evie had gone up to bed, leaving lady oxted to do what she called "write two notes," a simple[pg 73] diplomatic method of stating that she did not herself mean to come upstairs immediately. these written, she announced, she would come to talk for five minutes, and they would take, perhaps, a quarter of an hour to write. in other words, as soon as evie had gone, she went downstairs to seek her husband in his room, where she would be sure to find him sitting by a green reading lamp in mild exasperation at anything which the government might happen to have done with regard either to a kindly old president of a south african republic or the second standard for board schools.
"violet, it is really too bad," said he, as she entered. "have you read the home secretary's speech at manchester? he says—let me see, where is it?"
"dear bob," said his wife, "whatever he said, you would quite certainly disagree with it. but never mind showing it me this minute. i want your advice about another matter."
a faint smile came over lord oxted's thin, sharp face; he usually smiled when his wife came to him for advice. he put down his paper and crossed one leg over the other.
"what sort of advice?" he asked. "be far more explicit before you consult me. do you want to tell me of some decision you have made, and wish me to agree with you, or is it possible that you have not yet made your decision? it is as well to know, violet, and it may save me from misunderstanding you."
[pg 74]
lady oxted laughed.
"i am not yet sure which it is," she said. "let me tell you my story, and by that time, you see, i may have made up my mind, in which case i shall want the first sort of advice; but if i have not, the second."
"that sounds fair," he assented.
in a few words she told him all that had passed between her and evie.
"and now," she concluded, "am i to promise or not?"
lord oxted was a cynic in a certain mild and kindly fashion.
"certainly promise," he said. "and, being a woman, you will probably at the very back of your mind—the very back, i say—reserve to yourself the right to break it if it becomes inconvenient to keep it."
"don't be rude, bob. i think i shall promise, but at the same time write to mrs. aylwin."
her husband chuckled quietly.
"that is precisely what i meant," he said, "only i did not put the reservation quite so far forward in your mind. did the two young people get on well together?"
"too well. harry has developed an amazing knack of getting on well with people. and he is coming to us for the sunday."
"then most likely you are already too late. you should have thought of these things before, violet. your after-thoughts, it is true, are often admirable, but, so to speak, they never catch the[pg 75] train. bear this also in mind: if anything happens, if the two get engaged, we shall be liable at any moment to a crushing descent from mrs. aylwin. if she comes, i go. that is all."
"but she is charming."
"and completely overpowering. i will not be made to feel like a child in my own house. dear me, you have probably got into a mess, violet. good-night, dear."
"you agree with me, then?" she asked.
"completely, entirely, fervently, for it is clear to me that you want the first sort of advice."
lady oxted went slowly upstairs and to evie's room. her maid had already left her, and the two settled themselves down for a talk. the night was hot, and evie, in a white dressing gown with a touch of blue ribbon, lounged coolly by the open window. the hum of ambient london came up to them like the sound of drowsy, innumerable bees, and the girl listened in a sort of ecstasy.
"hark! hark!" she cried; "hundreds and thousands and millions of people are there! lord vail felt just as i do about it. oh, what a host of pleasant things there are in the world!" she cried, stretching out her arms as if to take the whole swarming town to her breast. then she turned quickly away into the room again.
"now, dear aunt," she said, "before we settle down to talk, and i have lots to say, let me know that one thing. do you promise never to tell me the name of that man?"
lady oxted did not pause.
[pg 76]
"yes, i promise," she said.
"thank you. so that is all right. it would be dreadful, would it not, if i had been obliged to be afraid that every particularly delightful person that i met was the son, or the nephew, or the cousin of that man, or even the man himself? but now that is all right; mother would not tell me, and you (knowing her wish, is it not so?) also will not. o aunt violet, i intend to enjoy myself so! what a jolly world it is, to be sure! i am so glad god thought of it! is that profane? no, i think not."
lady oxted, it has been said, had anticipated one unpleasant moment. this, she considered, made two. and though it was not her habit to question the decrees of providence, she wondered what she had done to deserve a position where the converse of candour was so sorely in demand. but she had not much time for thought, for evie continued:
"only one evening gone," she said, "and that not yet gone, and what pleasure i have already had! aunt violet, how could you want lord vail not to tell me the story of the luck? it was the most exciting thing i have ever heard, and, as i told him, he is only at the beginning of it. italy, the south, is supposed to be the home of romance, but i do not find it there. then i come to england, and in london, in grosvenor square, i hear within an hour or two of my arrival that story. i think——" she stopped suddenly, got up, and sat down on the sofa by lady oxted.
[pg 77]
"lord vail—who is he?" she asked. "what pleasant people you have at your house, aunt violet! he is so nice. so is his friend—mr. langton, is it not? so was the man who took me in to dinner. what was his name? i did not catch it."
there was not much comfort here. the girl had forgotten, or not heard, the name of the man who took her in to dinner; she had got geoffrey langham's name wrong, and out of all these "nice people" there was only one name right.
"langham, dear—not langton," said lady oxted, "and the man who took you in to dinner was mr. tresham. surely you must have heard his name. he is in the cabinet. really, evie, you do not appreciate the fine people i provide for your entertainment."
the girl laughed lazily, but with intense enjoyment.
"not appreciate?" she said. "words fail me to tell you how i appreciate them all. mr. tresham was simply delightful. we talked about dachshunds, which i love, and what else—oh! diamonds. i love them also. aunt violet, i should like to see the luck: it must be a wonderful thing. so mr. tresham is a conservative?"
"it is supposed so," said lady oxted, with slight asperity. "when the conservatives are in power, dear, the cabinet is rarely composed of liberals."
the girl laughed again.
"dear aunt violet, you are a little hard on us[pg 78] poor innocents this evening. you blew up lord vail in the most savage manner, and now you are blowing me up. what have we done? well, now, tell me about mr. langham."
"geoffrey is a younger son of lord langham," said the other. "he is on the stock exchange, and is supposed to know nothing whatever about stock-broking."
"how very good-looking he is!" said evie. "if i wanted to exchange stock, i should certainly ask him to do it for me. somehow, people with nice faces inspire me with much more confidence than those whom i am assured have beautiful minds. one can see their faces: that makes so much difference!"
lady oxted assented, and waited with absolute certainty for the next question. this tribute to geoffrey's good looks did not deceive her for a moment: it was a typical transparency. and when the next question came, she only just checked herself from saying, "i thought so."
"and now tell me about lord vail," said evie, after a pause.
"well, he seemed to be telling you a good deal himself," said lady oxted. "what can i add? he is not yet twenty-two; he is considered pleasant; he is poor; he is the head of what was once a great family."
"but his people?" asked evie.
"he has no father, no mother, no brothers or sisters."
"poor fellow!" said evie, thoughtfully. "but[pg 79] he doesn't look like a person who need be lonely, or who was lonely, for that matter. has he no relations?"
"of his name only one," said lady oxted, feeling that providence was really treating her with coarse brutality; "that is his uncle, his great-uncle, rather, francis vail," and, as she spoke, she thought to herself in how widely different a connection she might have had to use those two words.
"do you know him?"
"i used to, but never intimately. he has not lived in the world lately. for the last six months he has been down at harry's place in wiltshire. the boy has been exceedingly good to him."
"is he fond of him?"
"very, i believe," said lady oxted. "he often speaks of him, and always with affection and a tenderness that is rather touching."
"that is nice of him," said the girl with decision, "for i suppose he can not be expected to have much in common with him. and so the old man lives with him. he is old, i suppose, as he is lord vail's great-uncle."
"he is over seventy," said lady oxted, turning her back to the storm.
"and harry vail is poor, you say?"
"considering what the vails have been, very poor," said lady oxted. "but you probably know as much about that as i, since harry took so very long telling you the story of the luck. it was lost once in the reign of queen anne, and during the south-sea bubble——"
[pg 80]
"yes, he told me about that," said evie. "it is strange, is it not?"
suddenly she sat up as if with an effort.
"oh! to-morrow, and to-morrow, and lots more of them!" she cried. "tell me what we shall do to-morrow, aunt violet. i am sure it will all be delightful, and for that very reason i want to think about it beforehand. i am a glutton about pleasure. will you take me somewhere in the morning, and will delightful people come to lunch? then in the afternoon we go to oxted, do we not? i love the english country. who will be coming? is it a beautiful place? what is the house like? tell me all about everything."
"including about going to bed and going to sleep, evie?" asked the other. "it is long after twelve, do you know?"
the girl got up.
"and you want to go to bed," she said. "i am so sorry, aunt violet! i ought to have seen you were tired. you look tired."
"and you—don't you want to go to sleep? you were travelling all last night."
the girl looked at the smooth pillow and sheet folded back. "ah! it does look nice," she said. "but, indeed, i don't feel either sleepy or tired. anyhow, aunt violet, i am not going to keep you up. oh, i am so glad you got mother to let me come and stay with you! i shall have a good time. good-night."
"good-night, dear. you have everything?"
"everything—more than everything."
