“Is matchmaking at all in your line?”
Hugo Peterby asked the question with a certain amount of personal interest.
“I don’t specialise in it,” said Clovis; “it’s all right while you’re doing it, but the after-effects are sometimes so disconcerting — the mute reproachful looks of the people you’ve aided and abetted1 in matrimonial experiments. It’s as bad as selling a man a horse with half a dozen latent vices2 and watching him discover them piecemeal3 in the course of the hunting season. I suppose you’re thinking of the Coulterneb girl. She’s certainly jolly, and quite all right as far as looks go, and I believe a certain amount of money adheres to her. What I don’t see is how you will ever manage to propose to her. In all the time I’ve known her I don’t remember her to have stopped talking for three consecutive4 minutes. You’ll have to race her six times round the grass paddock for a bet, and then blurt5 your proposal out before she’s got her wind back. The paddock is laid up for hay, but if you’re really in love with her you won’t let a consideration of that sort stop you, especially as it’s not your hay.”
“I think I could manage the proposing part right enough,” said Hugo, “if I could count on being left alone with her for four or five hours. The trouble is that I’m not likely to get anything like that amount of grace. That fellow Lanner is showing signs of interesting himself in the same quarter. He’s quite heartbreakingly rich and is rather a swell6 in his way; in fact, our hostess is obviously a bit flattered at having him here. If she gets wind of the fact that he’s inclined to be attracted by Betty Coulterneb she’ll think it a splendid match and throw them into each other’s arms all day long, and then where will my opportunities come in? My one anxiety is to keep him out of the girl’s way as much as possible, and if you could help me —”
“If you want me to trot7 Lanner round the countryside, inspecting alleged8 Roman remains9 and studying local methods of bee culture and crop raising, I’m afraid I can’t oblige you,” said Clovis. “You see, he’s taken something like an aversion to me since the other night in the smoking-room.”
“What happened in the smoking-room?”
“He trotted10 out some well-worn chestnut11 as the latest thing in good stories, and I remarked, quite innocently, that I never could remember whether it was George II. or James II. who was so fond of that particular story, and now he regards me with politely-draped dislike. I’ll do my best for you, if the opportunity arises, but it will have to be in a roundabout, impersonal12 manner.”
* * * *
“It’s so nice having Mr. Lanner here,” confided13 Mrs. Olston to Clovis the next afternoon; “he’s always been engaged when I’ve asked him before. Such a nice man; he really ought to be married to some nice girl. Between you and me, I have an idea that he came down here for a certain reason.”
“I’ve had much the same idea,” said Clovis, lowering his voice; “in fact, I’m almost certain of it.”
“You mean he’s attracted by —” began Mrs. Olston eagerly.
“I mean he’s here for what he can get,” said Clovis.
“For what he can get ?” said the hostess with a touch of indignation in her voice; “what do you mean? He’s a very rich man. What should he want to get here?”
“He has one ruling passion,” said Clovis, “and there’s something he can get here that is not to be had for love nor for money anywhere else in the country, as far as I know.”
“But what? Whatever do you mean? What is his ruling passion?”
“Egg-collecting,” said Clovis. “He has agents all over the world getting rare eggs for him, and his collection is one of the finest in Europe; but his great ambition is to collect his treasures personally. He stops at no expense nor trouble to achieve that end.”
“Good heavens! The buzzards, the rough-legged buzzards!” exclaimed Mrs. Olston; “you don’t think he’s going to raid their nest?”
“What do you think yourself?” asked Clovis; “the only pair of rough-legged buzzards known to breed in this country are nesting in your woods. Very few people know about them, but as a member of the league for protecting rare birds that information would be at his disposal. I came down in the train with him, and I noticed that a bulky volume of Dresser’s ‘Birds of Europe’ was one of the requisites14 that he had packed in his travelling-kit. It was the volume dealing15 with short-winged hawks16 and buzzards.”
Clovis believed that if a lie was worth telling it was worth telling well.
“This is appalling,” said Mrs. Olston; “my husband would never forgive me if anything happened to those birds. They’ve been seen about the woods for the last year or two, but this is the first time they’ve nested. As you say, they are almost the only pair known to be breeding in the whole of Great Britain; and now their nest is going to be harried17 by a guest staying under my roof. I must do something to stop it. Do you think if I appealed to him —”
Clovis laughed.
“There is a story going about, which I fancy is true in most of its details, of something that happened not long ago somewhere on the coast of the Sea of Marmora, in which our friend had a hand. A Syrian nightjar, or some such bird, was known to be breeding in the olive gardens of a rich Armenian, who for some reason or other wouldn’t allow Lanner to go in and take the eggs, though he offered cash down for the permission. The Armenian was found beaten nearly to death a day or two later, and his fences levelled. It was assumed to be a case of Mussulman aggression18, and noted19 as such in all the Consular20 reports, but the eggs are in the Lanner collection. No, I don’t think I should appeal to his better feelings if I were you.”
“I must do something,” said Mrs. Olston tearfully; “my husband’s parting words when he went off to Norway were an injunction to see that those birds were not disturbed, and he’s asked about them every time he’s written. Do suggest something.”
“I was going to suggest picketing,” said Clovis.
“Picketing! You mean setting guards round the birds?”
“No; round Lanner. He can’t find his way through those woods by night, and you could arrange that you or Evelyn or Jack22 or the German governess should be by his side in relays all day long. A fellow guest he could get rid of, but he couldn’t very well shake off members of the household, and even the most determined23 collector would hardly go climbing after forbidden buzzards’ eggs with a German governess hanging round his neck, so to speak.”
Lanner, who had been lazily watching for an opportunity for prosecuting24 his courtship of the Coulterneb girl, found presently that his chances of getting her to himself for ten minutes even were non-existent. If the girl was ever alone he never was. His hostess had changed suddenly, as far as he was concerned, from the desirable type that lets her guests do nothing in the way that best pleases them, to the sort that drags them over the ground like so many harrows. She showed him the herb garden and the greenhouses, the village church, some water-colour sketches25 that her sister had done in Corsica, and the place where it was hoped that celery would grow later in the year.
He was shown all the Aylesbury ducklings and the row of wooden hives where there would have been bees if there had not been bee disease. He was also taken to the end of a long lane and shown a distant mound26 whereon local tradition reported that the Danes had once pitched a camp. And when his hostess had to desert him temporarily for other duties he would find Evelyn walking solemnly by his side. Evelyn was fourteen and talked chiefly about good and evil, and of how much one might accomplish in the way of regenerating27 the world if one was thoroughly28 determined to do one’s utmost. It was generally rather a relief when she was displaced by Jack, who was nine years old, and talked exclusively about the Balkan War without throwing any fresh light on its political or military history. The German governess told Lanner more about Schiller than he had ever heard in his life about any one person; it was perhaps his own fault for having told her that he was not interested in Goethe. When the governess went off picket21 duty the hostess was again on hand with a not-to-be-gainsaid invitation to visit the cottage of an old woman who remembered Charles James Fox; the woman had been dead for two or three years, but the cottage was still there. Lanner was called back to town earlier than he had originally intended.
Hugo did not bring off his affair with Betty Coulterneb. Whether she refused him or whether, as was more generally supposed, he did not get a chance of saying three consecutive words, has never been exactly ascertained29. Anyhow, she is still the jolly Coulterneb girl.
The buzzards successfully reared two young ones, which were shot by a local hairdresser.
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1
abetted
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| v.教唆（犯罪）( abet的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；怂恿；支持 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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blurt
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| vt.突然说出，脱口说出 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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7
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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14
requisites
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| n.必要的事物( requisite的名词复数 ) | |
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15
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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17
harried
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| v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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18
aggression
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| n.进攻，侵略，侵犯，侵害 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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consular
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| a.领事的 | |
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picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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22
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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23
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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25
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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26
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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27
regenerating
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| v.新生，再生( regenerate的现在分词 )；正反馈 | |
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28
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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29
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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