Читать книгу Cressage - A. C. Benson - Страница 9

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When the party broke up, the Squire asked Mr. Worsley to step into his study for a few minutes. The ceremoniousness of the party consisted in the fact that the business which followed was an adjunct of the party, instead of the other way. Then Mrs. Garnet was needed at the conclave; and presently Mr. Norton was summoned as a witness to some document. Walter thereupon asked Helen if she would care to look round the place. Helen joyfully assented, and they went out together.

"I am afraid you were very much amused by our proceedings to-day," said Walter.

"Amused? What makes you say that? I was much too terrified to be amused."

"Too terrified to laugh," said Walter; "I admit it was all rather absurd."

"It wasn't anyone in particular," said Helen, "but it was the mixture--the idea that you and I were to be sheltered from any suspicion of the wickedness of the world. How you could have dared to say what you did simply beats me. It was really that which finished me off."

"Grown-up people," said Walter, "--you and I, remember, are not grown up--never have any idea that they have quitted the stage, and that the play is really ours. Kings and Queens are always in the background in plays. What amused me was that all sorts of arrangements were made beforehand to prevent your feeling awkward."

"But I did feel awkward," said Helen, "until I suddenly saw that you were all right, and your friend--what is his name?"

"Harry Norton--yes, he is all right--he is rather on the border-line. He is my tutor, you know!"

"Your tutor! I wonder you don't say he is your father's tutor."

"He looks older than he is."

"That is enough to make anyone unhappy," said Helen; "he looks unhappy--perhaps he looks unhappier than he is."

"I don't think he is at all unhappy--why should he be unhappy?"

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"Yes, he is the greatest friend I have got."

"And you have never thought of asking him whether he is unhappy! That is so like men. The first thing a girl tells you, when two girls make friends, is why she is unhappy."

"Are all girls unhappy?"

"Yes, dreadfully."

"What an awful idea! Why are they?"

"We are so down-trodden, you know. We are expected to be always smiling and unselfish."

"I thought you were so by nature," said Walter. "My mother is, at all events, and so is my father."

"I am afraid of your father," said Helen. "His smile makes me tremble--now I think your mother a perfect dear."

They were standing on the terrace overlooking the Church. Helen looked round and drew a long breath. "Well, I call this place simply lovely," she said, "and anyhow I have seen it and been to lunch here--it will make my friends wild with jealousy."

"Another cause of unhappiness?"

"Oh, no, jealousy doesn't make you unhappy, it excites you. But Cressage Garnet is such a mystery to everyone. People who pass the gate-house wonder what on earth is going on here."

"I don't understand," said Walter. "We live a very quiet life, like scores of people."

"Oh, but it is the way you live it which is the mystery," said Helen; "but I ought not to talk like this. My father would go out of his wits if he heard me."

"No, do tell me," said Walter; "You mustn't excite my curiosity like this. What is the mystery? I must know!"

"I don't mind telling you," said Helen, "but you mustn't give me away. It's just the fact that there isn't anything to tell. Everybody knows about everybody else in Bridgenorth. But here you live, nobody sees you, nobody hears about you. Your father with the manners of . . ." She stopped and looked at Walter.

"Go on," said Walter. "The manners of what?"

"Someone said 'of a deposed prince'--and your mother who agrees with everyone and puts everyone at their ease--and yet both so seldom seen!"

"This is very exciting," said Walter; "and what about me?"

"No, I really can't," said Helen. "I seem to have taken leave of all my manners."

"The least you can do to make up is to tell me," said Walter. "People see me, at all events."

"Yes, but then you are so grave and quiet and learned," said Helen with a faint blush. "You are rather princely too."

"Condescending and painfully kind?" said Walter.

"No--but people say you are the only person who doesn't seem to care whether anyone knows who you are or not."

"What could be more royal?" said Walter.

"But I don't say so," said Helen. "I knew the moment I saw you that you were all right."

At this moment the butler appeared on the terrace. "Mrs. Garnet would wish you to step in, Mr. Walter," he said.

"I must go too," said Helen; "and it's awful to think of what I have said. I shall be in agonies about it when I wake up to-morrow."

"What nonsense!" said Walter. "You must just go on thinking I am all right."

"Oh, I can do that!"

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While this was taking place, Mr. and Mrs. Goring were making their way slowly home.

"My goodness!" said Mrs. Goring; "that sort of thing does take it out of me!"

"I don't think you ought to allow yourself to talk as you do to the Squire," said Mr. Goring; "it seems to me on the verge of being hypocritical. He ought not to be encouraged."

"So that is all the thanks I get," said Mrs. Goring, smiling at her husband. "Really, William, you are rather aggravating. If it were not for me, you would not be on speaking terms with the Squire. I only say what he expects me to say; and I look up and see you glowering in a corner, as if we were an unruly Sunday School Class."

Mr. Goring smiled grimly. "I know you save me from disgrace, dear," he said; "but I don't want you to do it at the price of your own self-respect."

"My self-respect!" said Mrs. Goring. "Why, I only try to be what St. Paul expressly commands all Christians to be--all things to all men. If you would read your Bible a little more thoroughly, instead of preaching on a few texts which you happen to like, you would be twice as good a Christian. I am asked there to swell the chorus of praise. Very well! I swell the chorus. I might just as well refuse to say, 'and with thy spirit,' if I didn't like the clergyman who was reading the service. Would that be on the verge of being hypocritical?"

"I can't argue with you, dear," said Mr. Goring admiringly. "You are far too quick for me. I only know what I like and what I dislike."

"That's not a very good outfit for a professing Christian."

"Spare me, dear," said Mr. Goring. "If you can talk as you did to-day without violence to your conscience, I have not another word to say. No doubt you keep the Squire in a good humour."

"You leave it to me," said Mrs. Goring, patting her husband's arm. "Now I have something else to say. I liked that Worsley girl to-day; she seemed to me to have some spirit. Did you see how much we all amused her?"

"She seemed to me a well-set-up girl," said Mr. Goring, "but rather painfully shy."

"William, you are simply the worst judge of character I ever saw--it is all part of your guileless nature. That girl is no more shy than the Squire. I must see more of her. It is a pity she has such a dreadful father."

"Dreadful? Worsley a dreadful father?" said Mr. Goring. "He seems to me a very honest man, if a little too obsequious."

"I daresay he is a good man of business," said Mrs. Goring, "but I don't trust him an inch. I should never trust a man with a chin like that. That sort of chin means no conscience."

"What has his chin to do with his conscience?"

"More than you think, William! But it is worse than that. Plenty of people get on quite well without a conscience; but Worsley is a snob, and he would like his daughter to be one."

"I can't follow these excursions of fancy."

"No, and I don't want you to. Let me go on. I liked that Norton man very much. That's my idea of a good fellow."

"I thought him rather too anxious to please."

"You are in a very censorious mood to-day; what about Mrs. Garnet and Walter?"

"Mrs. Garnet is a very good woman who does her best under great difficulties. I have often told you this. She is much too good for the Squire."

"She isn't a wise woman, William; but she is a very kindly one--and now let us finish it off. What about Walter?"

"I had a talk to Mr. Norton about him the other day. I am very fond of Walter, as you know. But I am a little anxious about him."

"You seem to be anxious about everyone to-day; it is really rather dismal. What is wrong with Walter?"

"He seems to me restless. I should have thought his success would have steadied him; but I gathered from Mr. Norton that he was a little cynical about it."

"William, your goodness is really quite impenetrable. I know what is the matter with Walter. He has been developing his mind at the expense of everything else. He has no friends to speak of, and now his heart is going to take a great jump forward. The wonder is that mewed up in that stuffy old house, tied up like a house-dog, always dancing attendance on that terrible old man, he hasn't broken out before."

"He's a very good son," said Mr. Goring.

"Yes, far too good to be wholesome," said Mrs. Goring. "But the end of all this--and you probably won't see the connection--is that I am going to ask that girl to lunch, and I am going to ask Walter to meet her. I think she is just the sort of girl to take him a little out of himself."

"I think that is rather a dangerous pastime, my dear," said Mr. Goring; "she is not at all the sort of girl whom the Squire would approve of as a daughter-in-law."

"How literal you are, William," said Mrs. Goring, prodding him gently in the side. "Who said anything about marriage? I should just like them to fall a little in love with each other, that is all; it will do them all the good in the world. No, it's no use your saying that marriage is a sacrament, because I am quite aware of it; but it is a good thing for young people to be violently interested in other young people, even if nothing comes of it. Why before you met me, I daresay there were . . ."

"Agnes dear, please say no more on this head," said Mr. Goring rather gravely. "In these worldly matters I am entirely in your hands. I know that you would not connive at anything which would be painful to Mrs. Garnet, or which would be prejudicial to the young persons concerned. Have anyone you like to luncheon. I quite agree that our dear Walter would be the better for a little more youthful society."

"You dear old coward!" said Mrs. Goring. "Leave it all to me, there's a darling! Your faithful wife won't disgrace you, even though she doesn't believe that the relations between a patron and an incumbent quite amount to a sacrament."

Mr. Goring shook his head regretfully with an indulgent smile.