Page 34 of Michael

your poormother," he said. "It was in consequence of what he recommended when hetalked over the future with me that I came to see you."

  Michael guessed very well what this recommendation was, but with acertain stubbornness and sense of what was due to himself, he let hisfather proceed with the not very welcome task of telling him.

  "In fact, Michael," he said, "I have a favour to ask of you."

  The fact of his being Lord Ashbridge, and the fact of Michael being hisunsatisfactory son, stiffened him, and he had to qualify the favour.

  "Perhaps I should not say I am about to ask you a favour," he correctedhimself, "but rather to point out to you what is your obvious duty."

  Suddenly it struck Michael that his father was not thinking about LadyAshbridge at all, nor about him, but in the main about himself. Allhad to be done from the dominant standpoint; he owed it to himself toalleviate the conditions under which his wife must live; he owed it tohimself that his son should do his part as a Comber. There was no longerany possible doubt as to what this favour, or this direction of duty,must be, but still Michael chose that his father should state it. Hepushed a chair forward for him.

  "Won't you sit down?" he said.

  "Thank you, I would rather stand. Yes; it is not so much a favour as theindication of your duty. I do not know if you will see it in the samelight as I; you have shown me before now that we do not take the sameview."

  Michael felt himself bristling. His father certainly had the effect ofdrawing out in him all the feelings that were better suppressed.

  "I think we need not talk of that now, sir," he remarked.

  "Certainly it is not the subject of my interview with you now. The factis this. In some way your presence gives a certain serenity and contentto your mother. I noticed that at Ashbridge, and, indeed, there has beensome trouble with her this morning because I could not take her to cometo see you with me. I ask you, therefore, for her sake, to be with us asmuch as you can, in short, to come and live with us."

  Michael nodded, saluting, so to speak, the signpost into the future ashe passed it.

  "I had already determined to do that," he said. "I had determined, atany rate, to ask your permission to do so. It is clear that my motherwants me, and no other consideration can weigh with that."

  Lord Ashbridge still remained completely self-sufficient.

  "I am glad you take that view of it," he said. "I think that is all Ihave to say."

  Now Michael was an adept at giving; as indicated before, when hegave, he gave nobly, and he could not only outwardly disregard, buthe inwardly cancelled the wonderful ungenerosity with which his fatherreceived. That did not concern him.

  "I will make arrangements to come at once," he said, "if you can receiveme to-day."

  "That will hardly be worth while, will it? I am taking your mother backto Ashbridge tomorrow."

  Michael got up in silence. After all, this gift of himself, of his time,of his liberty, of all that constituted life to him, was made not tohis father, but to his mother. It was made, as his heart knew, notungrudgingly only, but eagerly, and if it had been recommended bythe doctor that she should go to Ashbridge, he would have entirelydisregarded the large additional sacrifice on himself which it entailed.Thus it was not owing to any retraction of his gift, or reconsiderationof it, that he demurred.

  "I hope you will--will meet me half-way about this, sir," he said. "Youmust remember that all my work lies in London. I want, naturally, tocontinue that as far as I can. If you go to Ashbridge it is completelyinterrupted. My friends are here too; everything I have is here."

  His father seemed to swell a little; he appeared to fill the room.

  "And all my duties lie at Ashbridge," he said. "As you know, I am notof the type of absentee landlords. It is quite impossible that I shouldspend these months in idleness in town. I have never done such a thingyet, nor, I may say, would our class hold the position they do if wedid. We shall come up to town after Easter, should your mother's healthpermit it, but till then I could not dream of neglecting my duties inthe country."

  Now Michael knew perfectly well what his father's duties on thatexcellently managed estate were. They consisted of a bi-weekly interviewin the "business-room" (an abode of files and stags' heads, in whichLord Ashbridge received various reports of building schemes andrepairs), of a round of golf every afternoon, and of reading thelessons and handing the offertory-box on Sunday. That, at least, wasthe sum-total as it presented itself to him, and on which he framedhis conclusions. But he left out altogether the moral effect of thebig landlord living on his own land, and being surrounded by hisown dependents, which his father, on the other hand, so vastlyover-estimated. It was clear that there was not likely to be much accordbetween them on this subject.

  "But could you not go down there perhaps once or twice a week, and getBailey to come and consult you here?" he asked.

  Lord Ashbridge held his head very high.

  "That would be completely out of the question," he said.

  All this, Michael felt, had nothing to do with the problem of hismother and himself. It was outside it altogether, and concerned onlyhis father's convenience. He was willing to press this point as far aspossible.

  "I had imagined you would stop in London," he said. "Supposing underthese circumstances I refuse to live with you?"

  "I should draw my own conclusion as to the sincerity of your professionof duty towards your mother."

  "And practically what would you do?" asked Michael.

  "Your mother and I would go to Ashbridge tomorrow all the same."

  Another alternative suddenly suggested itself to Michael which he wasalmost ashamed of proposing, for it implied that his father put his ownconvenience as outweighing any other consideration. But he saw that ifonly Lord Ashbridge was selfish enough to consent to it, it had manifestmerits. His mother would be alone with him, free of the presence that sodisconcerted her.

  "I propose, then," he said, "that she and I should remain in town, asyou want to be at Ashbridge."

  He had been almost ashamed of suggesting it, but no such shame wasreflected in his father's mind. This would relieve him of the perpetualembarrassment of his wife's presence, and the perpetual irritation ofMichael's. He had persuaded himself that he was making a tremendouspersonal sacrifice in proposing that Michael should live with them, andthis relieved him of the necessity.

  "Upon my word, Michael," he said, with the first hint of cordiality thathe had displayed, "that is very well thought of. Let us consider; it iscertainly the case that this derangement in your poor mother's mind hascaused her to take what I might almost call a dislike to me. I mentionedthat to Sir James, though it was very painful for me to do so, and hesaid that it was a common and most distressing symptom of brain disease,that the sufferer often turned against those he loved best. Your planwould have the effect of removing that."

  He paused a moment, and became even more sublimely fatuous.

  "You, too," he said, "it would obviate the interruption of your work,about which you feel so keenly. You would be able to go on with it. Ofmyself, I don't think at all. I shall be lonely, no doubt, at Ashbridge,but my own personal feelings must not be taken into account. Yes; itseems to me a very sensible notion. We shall have to see what yourmother says to it. She might not like me to be away from her, in spiteof her apparent--er--dislike of me. It must all depend on her attitude.But for my part I think very well of your scheme. Thank you, Michael,for suggesting it."

  He left immediately after this to ascertain Lady Ashbridge's feelingsabout it, and walked home with a complete resumption of his usualexuberance. It indeed seemed an admirable plan. It relieved him fromthe nightmare of his wife's continual presence, and this he expressedto himself by thinking that it relieved her from his. It was not thathe was deficient in sympathy for her, for in his self-centred way he wasfond of her, but he could sympathise with her just as well at Ashbridge.He could do no good to her, and he had not for her that instinct of lovewhich would make it impossible for
him to leave her. He would also bespared the constant irritation of having Michael in the house, and thishe expressed to himself by saying that Michael disliked him, and wouldbe far more at his ease without him. Furthermore, Michael would be ableto continue his studies . . . of this too, in spite of the fact that hehad always done his best to discourage them, he made a self-laudatorytranslation, by telling himself that he was very glad not to haveto cause Michael to discontinue them. In fine, he persuaded himself,without any difficulty, that he was a very fine fellow in consenting toa plan that suited him so admirably, and only wondered that he had notthought of it himself. There was nothing, after his wife had expressedher joyful acceptance of it, to detain him in town, and he left forAshbridge that