"You look for signs that only children shew. When an oak dies, it does not wither and fall at once as a sapling does. Perhaps you will one day know what it is to love."
"Perhaps so."
"In any case, you will be able to boast of having inspired the pa.s.sion."
"I hope so--at least, I mean that it is all nonsense. Do look at that vegetable lobster of a thing, that cactus."
"In order to set off its ugliness properly, you should see yourself against the background of palms, with that great fan-like leaf for a halo, and----"
"Thank you. I see it all in my mind"s eye by your eloquent description.
You are quite right in supposing that I like compliments; but I am particular about their quality; and I dont need to be told I am pretty in comparison with a hideous cactus. You would not have condescended to make such a speech long ago. You are changed."
"Not toward you, on my honor."
"I did not mean that: I meant toward yourself."
"I am glad you have taken even that slender note of me. I find you somewhat changed, too."
"I did not know that I shewed it; but it is true. I feel as if Marian Lind was a person whom I knew once, but whom I should hardly know again."
"The change in me has not produced that effect. I feel as though Marian Lind were the history of my life."
"You have become quite a master of the art of saying pretty things. You are nearly as glib at it as Ned."
"We have the same incentive to admiration."
"The same! You do not suppose that Ned pays _me_ compliments. He never did such a thing in his life. No: I first discovered his talent in that direction at Palermo, where I surprised him in an animated discourse with the dark-eyed daughter of an innkeeper there. That was the first conversation in Italian I succeeded in following. A week later I could understand the language almost as well as he. However, dont let us waste the whole afternoon talking stuff. I want to ask you about your mother.
I should greatly like to call upon her; but she has never made me any sign since my marriage; and Mrs. Leith Fairfax tells me that she never allows my name to be mentioned to her. I thought she was fond of me."
"So she was. But she has never forgiven you for making me suffer as you did. You see she has more spirit than I. She would be angered if she saw me now tamely following the triumphal chariot of my fair tyrant."
"Seriously, do you think, if I made a raid on Manchester Square some morning, I could coax back her old feeling for me?"
"I think you will be quite safe in calling, at all events. Tell me what day you intend to venture. I know my mother will not oppose me if I shew that I wish you to be kindly received."
"Most disinterested of you. Thank you: I will fail or succeed on my own merits, not on your recommendation. You must not say a word to her about me or my project."
"If you command me not to----"
"I do command you."
"I must obey. But I fear that the more submissive I am, the more imperious you will become."
"Very likely. And now look along that avenue to the left. Do you see a man in a brown suit, with straw hat to match, walking towards us at a regular pace, and keeping in a perfectly straight course? He looks at everybody he pa.s.ses as if he were counting them."
"He is looking back at somebody now, as if he had missed the number."
"Just so; but that somebody is a woman; doubtless a pretty one, probably dark. You recognize him, I see. There is a frost come over you which convinces me that you are preparing to receive him in your old ungracious way. I warn you that I am accustomed to see Ned made much of.
He has caught sight of us."
"And has just remarked that there is a man talking to his wife."
"Quite right. See his speculative air! Now he no longer attends to us.
He is looking at the pa.s.sers-by as before. That means that he has recognized you, and has stowed the observation compactly away in his brain, to be referred to when he comes up to us."
"So much method must economize his intellect very profitably. How do you do, Mr. Conolly? It is some time since we have had the pleasure of meeting."
"Glad to see you, Mr. Douglas. We have been away all the winter. Are you staying in London?"
"Yes."
"I hope you will spend an occasional hour with us at Holland Park."
"You are very kind. Thank you: yes, if Mrs. Conolly will permit me."
"I should make you come home with us now," said Marian, "but for this Sunday being a special occasion. Nelly McQuinch is to spend the evening with us; and as I have not seen her since we came back, I must have her all to myself. Come next Sunday, if you care to."
"Do," said Conolly. "Half past three is our Sunday hour. If you cannot face that, we are usually at home afterwards the entire evening. Marian: we have exactly fifteen minutes to catch our train."
"Oh! let us fly. If we miss it, Nelly will be kept waiting half an hour."
Then they parted, Douglas promising to come to them on that day week.
"Dont you think he is growing very fat?" said she, as they walked away.
"Yes. He is beginning to take the world easily. He does not seem to be making much of his life."
"What matter, so long as he enjoys it?"
"Pooh! He doesnt know what enjoyment means."
They said nothing further until they were in the train, where Marian sat looking listlessly through the window, whilst Conolly, opposite, reclining against the cushions, looked thoughtfully at her.
"Ned," said she, suddenly.
"My dear."
"Do you know that Sholto is more infatuated about me than ever?"
"Naturally. You are lovelier than when he last saw you."
"You are nearly as complimentary as he," said Marian, blushing with a gratification which she was very unwilling to betray. "He noticed it sooner than you. I discovered it myself in the gla.s.s before either of you."
"No doubt you did. What station is this?"
"I dont know." Then, raising her voice so as to be overheard, she exclaimed "Here is a stupid man coming into our carriage."
A young man entered the compartment, and, after one glance at Marian, who turned her back on him impatiently, spent the remainder of the journey making furtive attempts to catch a second glimpse of her face.