"It is, my lady, it is. It is a bijou."
"Ah!" Lady Camper sighed dejectedly.
"It is a perfect bijou!"
"Oblige me, General, by not p.r.o.nouncing the French word as if you were swearing by something in English, like a trooper."
General Ople started, admitted that the word was French, and apologized for his p.r.o.nunciation. Her variability was now visible over a corner of the battlefield like a thunder-cloud.
"The business we have to discuss concerns the young people, General."
"Yes," brightened by this, he a.s.sented: "Yes, dear Lady Camper; it is a part of the business; it is a secondary part; it has to be discussed; I say I subscribe beforehand. I may say, that honouring, esteeming you as I do, and hoping ardently for your consent . . . .
"They must have a home and an income, General."
"I presume, dearest lady, that Elizabeth will be welcome in your home.
I certainly shall never chase Reginald out of mine."
Lady Camper threw back her head. "Then you are not yet awake, or you practice the art of sleeping with open eyes! Now listen to me. I rouge, I have told you. I like colour, and I do not like to see wrinkles or have them seen. Therefore I rouge. I do not expect to deceive the world so flagrantly as to my age, and you I would not deceive for a moment. I am seventy."
The effect of this n.o.ble frankness on the General, was to raise him from his chair in a sitting posture as if he had been blown up.
Her countenance was inexorably imperturbable under his alternate blinking and gazing that drew her close and shot her distant, like a mysterious toy.
"But," said she, "I am an artist; I dislike the look of extreme age, so I conceal it as well as I can. You are very kind to fall in with the deception: an innocent and, I think, a proper one, before the world, though not to the gentleman who does me the honour to propose to me for my hand. You desire to settle our business first. You esteem me; I suppose you mean as much as young people mean when they say they love.
Do you? Let us come to an understanding."
"I can," the melancholy General gasped, "I say I can--I cannot--I cannot credit your ladyship"s . . ."
"You are at liberty to call me Angela."
"Ange . . ." he tried it, and in shame relapsed. "Madam, yes.
Thanks."
"Ah," cried Lady Camper, "do not use these vulgar contractions of decent speech in my presence. I abhor the word "thanks." It is fit for fribbles."
"Dear me, I have used it all my life," groaned the General.
"Then, for the remainder, be it understood that you renounce it. To continue, my age is . . ."
"Oh, impossible, impossible," the General almost wailed; there was really a crack in his voice.
"Advancing to seventy. But, like you, I am happy to say I have not a malady. I bring no invalid frame to a union that necessitates the leaving of the front door open day and night to the doctor. My belief is, I could follow my husband still on a campaign, if he were a warrior instead of a pensioner."
General Ople winced.
He was about to say humbly, "As General of Brigade . . ."
"Yes, yes, you want a commanding officer, and that I have seen, and that has caused me to meditate on your proposal," she interrupted him; while he, studying her countenance hard, with the painful aspect of a youth who lashes a donkey memory in an examination by word of mouth, attempted to marshal her signs of younger years against her awful confession of the extremely ancient, the witheringly ancient. But for the manifest rouge, manifest in spite of her declaration that she had not yet that morning proceeded to her paintbrush, he would have thrown down his glove to challenge her on the subject of her age. She had actually charms. Her mouth had a charm; her eyes were lively; her figure, mature if you like, was at least full and good; she stood upright, she had a queenly seat.
His mental e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n was, "What a wonderful const.i.tution!"
By a lapse of politeness, he repeated it to himself half aloud; he was shockingly nervous.
"Yes, I have finer health than many a younger woman," she said. "An ordinary calculation would give me twenty good years to come. I am a widow, as you know. And, by the way, you have a leaning for widows.
Have you not? I thought I had heard of a widow Barcop in this parish.
Do not protest. I a.s.sure you I am a stranger to jealousy. My income . . ."
The General raised his hands.
"Well, then," said the cool and self-contained lady, "before I go farther, I may ask you, knowing what you have forced me to confess, are you still of the same mind as to marriage? And one moment, General. I promise you most sincerely that your withdrawing a step shall not, as far as it touches me, affect my neighbourly and friendly sentiments; not in any degree. Shall we be as we were?"
Lady Camper extended her delicate hand to him.
He took it respectfully, inspected the aristocratic and unshrunken fingers, and kissing them, said, "I never withdraw from a position, unless I am beaten back. Lady Camper, I . . ."
"My name is Angela."
The General tried again: he could not utter the name.
To call a lady of seventy Angela is difficult in itself. It is, it seems, thrice difficult in the way of courtship.
"Angela!" said she.
"Yes. I say, there is not a more beautiful female name, dear Lady Camper."
"Spare me that word "female" as long as you live. Address me by that name, if you please."
The General smiled. The smile was meant for propitiation and sweetness.
It became a brazen smile.
"Unless you wish to step back," said she.
"Indeed, no. I am happy, Lady Camper. My life is yours. I say, my life is devoted to you, dear madam."
"Angela!"
General Ople was blushingly delivered of the name.
"That will do," said she. "And as I think it possible one may be admired too much as an artist, I must request you to keep my number of years a secret."
"To the death, madam," said the General.
"And now we will take a turn in the garden, Wilson Ople. And beware of one thing, for a commencement, for you are full of weeds, and I mean to pluck out a few: never call any place a gentlemanly residence in my hearing, nor let it come to my ears that you have been using the phrase elsewhere. Don"t express astonishment. At present it is enough that I dislike it. But this only," Lady Camper added, "this only if it is not your intention to withdraw from your position."
"Madam, my lady, I was saying--hem!--Angela, I could not wish to withdraw."
Lady Camper leaned with some pressure on his arm, observing, "You have a curious attachment to antiquities."