Part 2 Chapter 18

    'No manners!' said Mrs Drassilis. 'None whatever. I always saidso.'

　　She spoke bitterly. She was following the automobile with anoffended eye as it moved down the drive.

　　The car rounded the corner. Sam turned and waved a farewell. Mrand Mrs Ford, seated close together in the tonneau, did not evenlook round.

　　Mrs Drassilis sniffed disgustedly.

　　'She's a friend of Cynthia's. Cynthia asked me to come down herewith her to see you. I came, to oblige her. And now, without aword of apology, she leaves me stranded. She has no mannerswhatever.'

　　I offered no defence of the absent one. The verdict more or lesssquared with my own opinion.

　　'Is Cynthia back in England?' I asked, to change the subject.

　　'The yacht got back yesterday. Peter, I have something of theutmost importance to speak to you about.' She glanced at Jarvisthe chauffeur, leaning back in his seat with the air, peculiar tochauffeurs in repose, of being stuffed. 'Walk down the drive withme.'

　　I helped her out of the car, and we set off in silence. There wasa suppressed excitement in my companion's manner which interestedme, and something furtive which brought back all my old dislike ofher. I could not imagine what she could have to say to me that hadbrought her all these miles.

　　'How _do_ you come to be down here?' she said. 'When Cynthiatold me you were here, I could hardly believe her. Why are you amaster at this school? I cannot understand it!'

　　'What did you want to see me about?' I asked.

　　She hesitated. It was always an effort for her to be direct. Now,apparently, the effort was too great. The next moment she hadrambled off on some tortuous bypath of her own, which, though itpresumably led in the end to her destination, was evidently a longway round.

　　'I have known you for so many years now, Peter, and I don't know ofanybody whose character I admire more. You are so generous--quixoticin fact. You are one of the few really unselfish men I have evermet. You are always thinking of other people. Whatever it cost you,I know you would not hesitate to give up anything if you felt thatit was for someone else's happiness. I do admire you so for it.

　　One meets so few young men nowadays who consider anybody exceptthemselves.'

　　She paused, either for breath or for fresh ideas, and I tookadvantage of the lull in the rain of bouquets to repeat myquestion.

　　'What _did_ you want to see me about?' I asked patiently.

　　'About Cynthia. She asked me to see you.'

　　'Oh!'

　　'You got a letter from her.'

　　'Yes.'

　　'Last night, when she came home, she told me about it, and showedme your answer. It was a beautiful letter, Peter. I'm sure I criedwhen I read it. And Cynthia did, I feel certain. Of course, to agirl of her character that letter was final. She is so loyal, dearchild.'

　　'I don't understand.'

　　As Sam would have said, she seemed to be speaking; words appearedto be fluttering from her; but her meaning was beyond me.

　　'Once she has given her promise, I am sure nothing would induceher to break it, whatever her private feelings. She is so loyal.

　　She has such character.'

　　'Would you mind being a little clearer?' I said sharply. 'I reallydon't understand what it is you are trying to tell me. What do youmean about loyalty and character? I don't understand.'

　　She was not to be hustled from her bypath. She had chosen herroute, and she meant to travel by it, ignoring short-cuts.

　　'To Cynthia, as I say, it was final. She simply could not see thatthe matter was not irrevocably settled. I thought it so fine ofher. But I am her mother, and it was my duty not to give in andaccept the situation as inevitable while there was anything Icould do for her happiness. I knew your chivalrous, unselfishnature, Peter. I could speak to you as Cynthia could not. I couldappeal to your generosity in a way impossible, of course, for her.

　　I could put the whole facts of the case clearly before you.'

　　I snatched at the words.

　　'I wish you would. What are they?'

　　She rambled off again.

　　'She has such a rigid sense of duty. There is no arguing with her.

　　I told her that, if you knew, you would not dream of standing inher way. You are so generous, such a true friend, that your onlythought would be for her. If her happiness depended on yourreleasing her from her promise, you would not think of yourself.

　　So in the end I took matters into my own hands and came to seeyou. I am truly sorry for you, dear Peter, but to me Cynthia'shappiness, of course, must come before everything. You dounderstand, don't you?'

　　Gradually, as she was speaking, I had begun to grasp hesitatinglyat her meaning, hesitatingly, because the first hint of it hadstirred me to such a whirl of hope that I feared to risk the shockof finding that, after all, I had been mistaken. If I wereright--and surely she could mean nothing else--I was free, freewith honour. But I could not live on hints. I must hear this thingin words.

　　'Has--has Cynthia--' I stopped, to steady my voice. 'Has Cynthiafound--' I stopped again. I was finding it absurdly difficult toframe my sentence. 'Is there someone else?' I concluded with arush.

　　Mrs Drassilis patted my arm sympathetically.

　　'Be brave, Peter!'

　　'There is?'

　　'Yes.'

　　The trees, the drive, the turf, the sky, the birds, the house, theautomobile, and Jarvis, the stuffed chauffeur, leaped together foran instant in one whirling, dancing mass of which I was thecentre. And then, out of the chaos, as it separated itself oncemore into its component parts, I heard my voice saying, 'Tell me.'

　　The world was itself again, and I was listening quietly and with amild interest which, try as I would, I could not make anystronger. I had exhausted my emotion on the essential fact: thedetails were an anticlimax.

　　'I liked him directly I saw him,' said Mrs Drassilis. 'And, ofcourse, as he was such a friend of yours, we naturally--'

　　'A friend of mine?'

　　'I am speaking of Lord Mountry.'

　　'Mountry? What about him?' Light flooded in on my numbed brain.

　　'You don't mean--Is it Lord Mountry?'

　　My manner must have misled her. She stammered in her eagerness todispel what she took to be my misapprehension.

　　'Don't think that he acted in anything but the most honourablemanner. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He knew nothingof Cynthia's engagement to you. She told him when he asked her tomarry him, and he--as a matter of fact, it was he who insisted ondear Cynthia writing that letter to you.'

　　She stopped, apparently staggered by this excursion into honesty.

　　'Well?'

　　'In fact, he dictated it.'

　　'Oh!'

　　'Unfortunately, it was quite the wrong sort of letter. It was thevery opposite of clear. It can have given you no inkling of thereal state of affairs.'

　　'It certainly did not.'

　　'He would not allow her to alter it in any way. He is veryobstinate at times, like so many shy men. And when your answercame, you see, things were worse than before.'

　　'I suppose so.'

　　'I could see last night how unhappy they both were. And whenCynthia suggested it, I agreed at once to come to you and tell youeverything.'

　　She looked at me anxiously. From her point of view, this was theclimax, the supreme moment. She hesitated. I seemed to see hermarshalling her forces, the telling sentences, the persuasiveadjectives; rallying them together for the grand assault.

　　But through the trees I caught a glimpse of Audrey, walking on thelawn; and the assault was never made.

　　'I will write to Cynthia tonight,' I said, 'wishing herhappiness.'

　　'Oh, Peter!' said Mrs Drassilis.

　　'Don't mention it,' said I.

　　Doubts appeared to mar her perfect contentment.

　　'You are sure you can convince her?'

　　'Convince her?'

　　'And--er--Lord Mountry. He is so determined not to do anything--er--what he would call unsportsmanlike.'

　　'Perhaps I had better tell her I am going to marry some one else,'

　　I suggested.

　　'I think that would be an excellent idea,' she said, brighteningvisibly. 'How clever of you to have thought of it.'

　　She permitted herself a truism.

　　'After all, dear Peter, there are plenty of nice girls in theworld. You have only to look for them.'

　　'You're perfectly right,' I said. 'I'll start at once.'

　　A gleam of white caught my eye through the trees by the lawn. Imoved towards it.