XXX
The next day there was a general exodus from Selwoode, and Margaret'ssatellites dispersed upon their divers ways. Selwoode, as theyunderstood it, was no longer hers; and they knew Billy Woods wellenough to recognise that from Selwoode's new master there were nodesirable pickings to be had such as the philanthropic crew hadfattened on these four years past. So there came to them, one and all,urgent telegrams or insistent letters or some equally unanswerabledemand for their presence elsewhere, such as are usually prevalentamong our guests in very dull or very troublous times.
Miss Hugonin smiled a little bitterly. She considered that the scaleshad fallen from her eyes, and flattered herself that she was by way ofbecoming a bit of a misanthrope; also, I believe, there was a noteconcerning the hollowness of life and the worthlessness of society ingeneral. In a word, Margaret fell back upon the extreme cynicism andworld-weariness of twenty-three, and assured herself that she despisedeverybody, whereas, as a matter of fact, she never in her lifesucceeded in disliking anything except mice and piano-practice, and,for a very little while, Billy Woods; and this for the very excellentreason that the gods had fashioned her solely to the end that shemight love all mankind, and in return be loved by humanity in generaland adored by that portion of it which inhabits trousers.
But, "The rats always desert a sinking ship," said Miss Hugonin, withthe air of one delivering a particularly original sentiment. "Theymake me awfully tired, and I don't care for them in the least. ButPetheridge Jukesbury is a _dear_, and I may be poor now, but I _did_try to do good with the money when I had it, and _anyhow_, Billy isgoing to get well."
And, after all, that was the one thing that really mattered, though ofcourse Billy would always despise her. He would be quite right, too,the girl thought humbly.
But the conventionalities of life are more powerful than even youthfulcynicism and youthful heart-break. Prior to devoting herself to aloveless life and the commonplaces of the stoic's tub, Miss Hugoninwas compelled by the barest decency to bid her guests Godspeed.
And Adele Haggage kissed her for the first time in her life. She hadbeen a little awed by Miss Hugonin, the famous heiress--a littlejealous of her, I dare say, on account of Hugh Van Orden--but now shekissed her very heartily in farewell, and said, "Don't forget you areto come to us as soon as _possible_," and was beyond any questionperfectly sincere in saying it.
And Hugh Van Orden almost dragged Margaret under the main stairway,and, far from showing any marked abhorrence to her in her presentstate of destitution, implored her with tears in his eyes to marry himat once, and to bring the Colonel to live with them for the rest ofhis natural existence.
For, "It's damned impertinent of me, of course," Mr. Van Orden readilyconceded, "and I suppose I ought to beg your pardon for mentioning it,but I _do_ love you to a perfectly unlimited extent. It's playing thevery deuce with my polo, Miss Hugonin, and as for my appetite--why,if you won't have me," cried Hugh, in desperation, "I--I really, youknow, I don't believe I'll _ever_ be able to eat anything!"
When Margaret refused him--for the sixth time, I think--I won't swearthat she didn't kiss him under the dark stairway. And if she did, hewas a nice boy, and he deserved it.
And as for Sarah Ellen Haggage, that unreverend old parasite broughther a blank cheque signed with her name, and mentioned quite a goodlysum as the extent to which Margaret might go for necessary expenses.
"For you'll need it," she said, and rubbed her nose reflectively."Moving is the very deuce for wasting money, because so many littlethings keep cropping up. Now, remember, a quarter is quite enough togive _any_ man for moving a trunk. And there's no earthly sense inyour taking a cab, Margaret--the street-car will bring you within ablock of our door. These little trifles count, dear. And don't letCelestine pack your things, because she's abominably careless. LetMarie do it--and don't tip her. Give her an old hat. And if I wereyou, I would certainly consult a lawyer about the legality of thatidiotic will. I remember distinctly hearing that Mr. Woods was veryeccentric in his last days, and I haven't a doubt he was raving madwhen, he left all his money to a great, strapping, long-legged youngfellow, who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Gettingbetter, is he? Well, I suppose I'm glad to hear it, but he'd muchbetter have stayed in Paris--where, I remember distinctly hearing, heled the most dissipated and immoral life, my dear--instead of comingover here and upsetting everything." And again Mrs. Haggage rubbed hernose--indignantly.
"He _didn't_!" said Margaret. "And I _can't_ take your money,beautiful! And I don't see how we can possibly come to stay with you."
"Don't you argue with me!" Mrs. Haggage exhorted her. "I'm not in anytemper to be argued with. I've spent the morning sewing biasstripes in a bias skirt--something which from a moral-ruining andresolution-overthrowing standpoint simply knocks the spots off Job.You'll take that money, and you'll come to me as soon as you can,and--God bless you, my dear!"
And again Margaret was kissed. Altogether, it was a very osculatorymorning for Miss Hugonin.
Mr. Jukesbury's adieus, however, were more formal; and--I am sorry tosay it--the old fellow went away wondering if the rich Mr. Woods mightnot conceivably be very grateful to the man who had saved his life andevince his gratitude in some agreeable and substantial form.
Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston, also, were somewhat unenthusiastic intheir parting. Kennaston could not feel quite at ease with Margaret,brazen it as he might with devil-may-carish flippancy; and Kathleenhad by this an inkling as to how matters stood between Margaret andBilly, and was somewhat puzzled thereat, and loved the former inconsequence no more than any Christian female is compelled to love thewoman who, either unconsciously or with deliberation, purloins herancient lover. A woman rarely forgives the man who has ceased to carefor her; and rarelier still can she pardon the woman who has daredsucceed her in his affections.
And besides, they were utterly engrossed with one another, and utterlyhappy, and utterly selfish with the immemorial selfishness of lovers,who cannot for a moment conceive that the whole world is not somehowbenefited by their happiness and does not await with breathlessinterest the outcome of their bickerings with the blind bow-god, andfrom this providential delusion derive a meritorious and comfortableglow. So Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston parted from Margaret withkindness, it is true, but not without awkwardness.
And that was the man that almost she had loved! thought Margaret, asshe gazed on the whirl of dust left by their carriage-wheels. Gonewith a few perfunctory words of sympathy!
And for my part, I think that the base Indian who threw a pearl awayworth more than all his tribe was, in comparison with Felix Kennaston,a shrewd and long-headed man. If you had given _me_ his chances,Margaret ... but this, however, is highly digressive.
The Colonel, standing beside her, used language that was unrefined.His aspirations as to the future of Mr. Kennaston and Mr. Jukesbury,it appeared, were both lurid and unfriendly.
"But why, attractive?" queried his daughter.
"May they be qualified with such and such adjectives!" desired theColonel, fervently. "They tried to lend me money--wouldn't hear ofmy not taking it! In case of necessity.' Bah!" said the Colonel, andshook his fist after the retreating carriages. "May they be qualifiedwith such and such adjectives!"
How happily she laughed! "And you're swearing at them!" she pouted."Oh, my dear, my dear, how hard you are on all my little friends!"
"Of course I am," said the Colonel, stoutly. "They've deprived me ofthe pleasure of despising 'em. It was worth double the money, I tellyou! I never objected to any men quite so much. And now they've goneand behaved decently with the deliberate purpose of annoying me! Oh!"cried the Colonel, and shook an immaculate, withered old hand towardthe spring sky, "may they be qualified with such and such adjectives!"
And that, so far as we are concerned, was the end of Margaret'ssatellites.
My dear Mrs. Grundy, may one point the somewhat obvious moral? I thankyou, madam, for your long-suffering kindness. Permit
me, then, tovault toward my moral over the shoulders of a greater man.
Among the papers left by one Charles Dickens--a novelist who isobsolete now because he "wallows naked in the pathetic" and wasfrequently guilty of a very vulgar sort of humour that actually madepeople laugh, which, as we now know, is not the purpose of humour--anovelist who incessantly "caricatured Nature" and by these inartisticand underhand methods created characters that are more real to us thanthe folk we jostle in the street and (God knows!) far more vital andworthy of attention than the folk who "cannot read Dickens"--you willfind, I say, a note of an idea which he never afterward developed,running to this effect: "Full length portrait of his lordship,surrounded by worshippers. Sensible men enough, agreeable men enough,independent men enough in a certain way; but the moment they beginto circle round my lord, and to shine with a borrowed light fromhis lordship, heaven and earth, how mean and subservient! What acompetition and outbidding of each other in servility!"
And this, with "my lord" and "his lordship" erased to make way for theword "money," is my moral. The folk who have just left Selwoode werehonest enough as honesty goes nowadays; kindly as any of us darebe who have our own way to make among very stalwart and determinedrivals; generous as any man may venture to be in a world wherethe first of every month finds the butcher and the baker and thecandlestick-maker rapping at the door with their little bills: butthey cringed to money. It was very wrong of them, my dear lady, and inextenuation I can only plead that they could no more help cringing tomoney than you or I can help it.
This is very crude and very cynical, but unfortunately it is true.
We always cringe to money; which is humiliating. And the sun alwaysrises at an hour when sensible people are abed and have not the leastneed for its services; which is foolish. And what you and I, my dearmadam, are to do about rectifying either one of these vexatiouscircumstances, I am sure I don't know.
We can, at least, be honest. Let us, then, console ourselves at willwith moral observations concerning the number of pockets in a shroudand the difficulty of a rich man's entering into the kingdom ofHeaven; but with an humble and reverent heart, let us admit that, inthe world we know, money rules. Its presence awes us. And if we arequite candid we must concede that we very unfeignedly envy and admirethe rich; we must grant that money confers a certain distinction on aman, be he the veriest ass that ever heehawed a platitude, and that wecannot but treat him accordingly, you and I.
You are friendly, of course, with your poor cousins; you are delightedto have them drop in to dinner, and liberal enough with the claretwhen they do; but when the magnate comes, there is a magnum ofchampagne, and an extra lamp in the drawing-room, and--I blush towrite it--a far more agreeable hostess at the head of the table. Divesis such good company, you see. And speaking for my own sex, I defy anyhonest fellow to lay his hand upon his waistcoat and swear that itdoesn't give him a distinct thrill of pleasure to be seen in publicwith a millionaire. Daily we truckle in the Eagle's shadow--the shadowthat lay so heavily across Selwoode. With the Eagle himself and withthe Eagle's work in the world--the grim, implacable, ruthless workthat hourly he goes about--our little comedy has naught to do;Schlemihl-like, we deal but in shadows. Even the shadow of the Eagleis a terrible thing--a shadow that, as Felix Kennaston has told you,chills faith, and charity, and independence, and kindliness, andtruth, and--alas--even common honesty.
But this is both cynical and digressive.