CHAPTER XII
THE STUPID SEX
Give a man his chance, and he has sufficient hardihood for anything.Within a week of the accident Rob was in Dick Abinger's most luxuriouschair, coolly taking a cup and saucer from Nell, while Mary arranged acushion for his poor head. He even made several light-hearted jests, atwhich his nurses laughed heartily--because he was an invalid.
Rob's improvement dated from the moment he opened his eyes and heard thesoft rustle of a lady's skirts in the next room. He lay quietlylistening, and realised by and by that he had known she was Mary Abingerall along.
'Who is that?' he said abruptly to Dick, who was swinging his legs onthe dressing-table. Dick came to him as awkwardly as if he had beenasked to hold a baby, and saw no way of getting out of it. Sick-roomschilled him.
'Are you feeling better now, old fellow?' he asked.
'Who is it?' Rob repeated, sitting up in bed.
'That is my sister,' Dick said.
Rob's head fell back. He could not take it in all at once. Dick thoughthe had fallen asleep, and tried to slip gently from the room,discovering for the first time as he did so that his shoes creaked.
'Don't go,' said Rob, sitting up again. 'What is your sister's name?'
'Abinger, of course, Mary Abinger,' answered Dick, under the convictionthat the invalid was still off his head. He made for the door again, butRob's arm went out suddenly and seized him.
'You are a liar, you know,' Rob said feebly; 'she's not your sister.'
'No, of course not,' said Dick, humouring him.
'I want to see her,' Rob said authoritatively.
'Certainly,' answered Dick, escaping into the other room to tell Marythat the patient was raving again.
'I heard him,' said Mary.
'Well, what's to be done?' asked her brother. 'He's madder than ever.'
'Oh no, I think he's getting on nicely now,' Mary said, moving towardthe bedroom.
'Don't,' exclaimed Dick, getting in front of her; 'why, I tell you hismind is wandering. He says you're not my sister.'
'Of course he can't understand so long as he thinks your name is Simms.'
'But he knows my name is Abinger. Didn't I tell you I heard him groaningit over to himself?'
'Oh, Dick,' said Mary, 'I wish you would go away and write a stupidarticle.'
Dick, however, stood at the door, ready to come to his sister'sassistance if Rob got violent.
'He says you are his sister,' said the patient to Mary.
'So I am,' said Mary softly. 'My brother writes under the name of NobleSimms, but his real name is Abinger. Now you must lie still and thinkabout that; you are not to talk any more.'
'I won't talk any more,' said Rob slowly. 'You are not going away,though?'
'Just for a little while,' Mary answered. 'The doctor will be herepresently.'
'Well, you have quieted him,' Dick admitted.
They were leaving the room, when they heard Rob calling.
'There he goes again,' said Dick, groaning.
'What is it?' Mary asked, returning to the bedroom.
'Why did he say you were not his sister?' Rob said, very suspiciously.
'Oh, his mind was wandering,' Mary answered cruelly.
She was retiring again, but stopped undecidedly. Then she looked fromthe door to see if her brother was within hearing. Dick was at the otherend of the sitting-room, and she came back noiselessly to Rob's bedside.
'Do you remember,' she asked, in a low voice, 'how the accidenthappened? You know you were struck by a cab.'
'Yes,' answered Rob at once, 'I saw him kissing you. I don't rememberanything after that.'
Mary, looking like a culprit, glanced hurriedly at the door. Then shesoftly pushed the invalid's unruly hair off his brow, and glided fromthe room smiling.
'Well?' asked Dick.
'He was telling me how the accident happened,' Mary said.
'And how was it?'
'Oh, just as you said. He got bewildered at a crossing and was knockedover.'
'But he wasn't the man to lose his reason at a crossing,' said Dick.'There must have been something to agitate him.'
'He said nothing about that,' replied Mary, without blushing.
'Did he tell you how he knew my name was Abinger?' Dick asked, as theywent downstairs.
'No,' his sister said, 'I forgot to ask him.'
'There was that Christmas card, too,' Dick said suddenly. 'Nell saysAngus must be in love, poor fellow.'
'Nell is always thinking people are in love,' Mary answered severely.
'By the way,' said Dick, 'what became of the card? He might want totreasure it, you know.'
'I--I rather think I put it somewhere,' Mary said.
'I wonder,' Dick remarked curiously, 'what sort of girl Angus would taketo?'
'I wonder,' said Mary.
They were back in Dick's chambers by this time, and he continued withsome complacency--for all men think they are on safe ground whendiscussing an affair of the heart:--
'We could build the young lady up from the card, which, presumably, washer Christmas offering to him. It was not expensive, so she is a carefulyoung person; and the somewhat florid design represents a blue birdsitting on a pink twig, so that we may hazard the assertion that herartistic taste is not as yet fully developed. She is a fresh countrymaid, or the somewhat rich colouring would not have taken her fancy,and she is short, a trifle stout, or a big man like Angus would not havefallen in love with her. Reserved men like gushing girls, so she gushesand says "Oh my!" and her nicest dress (here Dick shivered) is of ashiny satin with a dash of rich velvet here and there. Do you followme?'
'Yes,' said Mary; 'it is wonderful. I suppose, now, you are never wrongwhen you "build up" so much on so little?'
'Sometimes we go a little astray,' admitted Dick. 'I remember going intoa hotel with Rorrison once, and on a table we saw a sailor-hat lying,something like the one Nell wears--or is it you?'
'The idea of your not knowing!' said his sister indignantly.
'Well, we discussed the probable owner. I concluded, after narrowlyexamining the hat, that she was tall, dark, and handsome, rather thanpretty. Rorrison, on the other hand, maintained that she was a pretty,baby-faced girl, with winning ways.'
'And did you discover if either of you was right?'
'Yes,' said Dick slowly. 'In the middle of the discussion a little boyin a velvet suit toddled into the room, and said to us, "Gim'me myhat."'
In the weeks that followed, Rob had many delicious experiences. He waspresent at several tea-parties in Abinger's chambers, the guests beingstrictly limited to three; and when he could not pretend to be ill anylonger, he gave a tea-party himself in honour of his two nurses--his oneand a half nurses, Dick called them. At this Mary poured out the tea,and Rob's eyes showed so plainly (though not to Dick) that he had neverseen anything like it, that Nell became thoughtful, and made a number ofremarks on the subject to her mother as soon as she returned home.
'It would never do,' Nell said, looking wise.
'Whatever would the colonel say!' exclaimed Mrs. Meredith. 'After all,though,' she added--for she had been to see Rob twice, and liked himbecause of something he had said to her about his mother--'he is justthe same as Richard.'
'Oh no, no,' said Nell, 'Dick is an Oxford man, you must remember, andMr. Angus, as the colonel would say, rose from obscurity.'
'Well, if he did,' persisted Mrs. Meredith, 'he does not seem to begoing back to it, and universities seem to me to be places for makingyoung men stupid.'
'It would never, never do,' said Nell, with doleful decision.
'What does Mary say about him?' asked her mother.
'She never says anything,' said Nell.
'Does she talk much to him?'
'No; very little.'
'That is a good sign,' said Mrs. Meredith.
'I don't know,' said Nell.
'Have you noticed anything else?'
'Nothing except--well, Mary is longer i
n dressing now than I am, and sheused not to be.'
'I wonder,' Mrs. Meredith remarked, 'if Mary saw him at Silchester afterthat time at the castle?'
'She never told me she did,' Nell answered, 'but sometimes Ithink--however, there is no good in thinking.'
'It isn't a thing you often do, Nell. By the way, he saw the first SirClement at Dome Castle, did he not?'
'Yes,' Nell said, 'he saw the impostor, and I don't suppose he knowsthere is another Sir Clement. The Abingers don't like to speak of that.However, they may meet on Friday, for Dick has got Mr. Angus a card forthe Symphonia, and Sir Clement is to be there.'
'What does Richard say about it?' asked Mrs. Meredith, going backapparently upon their conversation.
'We never speak about it, Dick and I,' said Nell.
'What do you speak about, then?'
'Oh, nothing,' said Nell.
Mrs. Meredith sighed.
'And you such an heiress, Nell,' she said; 'you could do so much better.He will never have anything but what he makes by writing; and if allstories be true, half of that goes to the colonel. I'm sure your fathernever will consent.'
'Oh yes, he will,' Nell said.
'If he had really tried to get on at the Bar,' Mrs. Meredith pursued,'it would not have been so bad, but he is evidently to be a newspaperman all his life.'
'I wish you would say journalist, mamma,' Nell said, pouting, 'orliterary man. The profession of letters is a noble one.'
'Perhaps it is,' Mrs. Meredith assented, with another sigh, 'and I daresay he told you so, but I can't think it is very respectable.'
Rob did not altogether enjoy the Symphonia, which is a polite clubattended by the literary fry of both sexes; the ladies who write becausethey cannot help it, the poets who excuse their verses because they wereyoung when they did them, the clergymen who publish their sermons byrequest of their congregations, the tourists who have been to Spain andcannot keep it to themselves. The club meets once a fortnight, for thepurpose of not listening to music and recitations; and the members, ofwhom the ladies outnumber the men, sit in groups round little lions whoroar mildly. The Symphonia is very fashionable and select, and havingheard the little lions a-roaring, you get a cup of coffee and go homeagain.
Dick explained that he was a member of the Symphonia because he ratherliked to put on the lion's skin himself now and again, and he took Mrs.Meredith and the two girls to it to show them of what literature in itshigher branches is capable. The elegant dresses of the literary ladies,and the suave manner of the literary gentlemen, impressed Nell's motherfavourably, and the Symphonia, which she had taken for an out-at-elbowsclub, raised letters in her estimation.
Rob, however, who never felt quite comfortable in evening dress, had abad time of it, for Dick carried him off at once, and got him into agroup round the authoress of _My Baby Boy_, to whom Rob was introducedas a passionate admirer of her delightful works. The lion made room forhim, and he sat sadly beside her, wishing he was not so big.
Both of the rooms of the Symphonia club were crowded, but a number ofgentlemen managed to wander from group to group over the skirts ofladies' gowns. Rob watched them wistfully from his cage, and observedone come to rest at the back of Mary Abinger's chair. He was amedium-sized man, and for five minutes Rob thought he was Sir ClementDowton. Then he realised that he had been deceived by a remarkableresemblance.
The stranger said a great deal to Mary, and she seemed to like him.After a long time the authoress's voice broke in on Rob's cogitations,and when he saw that she was still talking without looking tired, acertain awe filled him. Then Mary rose from her chair, taking the arm ofthe gentleman who was Sir Clement's double, and they went into the otherroom, where the coffee was served.
Rob was tempted to sit there stupidly miserable, for the easiest thingto do comes to us first. Then he thought it was better to be a man, and,drawing up his chest, boldly asked the lion to have a cup of coffee. Inanother moment he was steering her through the crowd, her hand restingon his arm, and, to his amazement, he found he rather liked it.
In the coffee-room Rob could not distinguish the young lady who movedlike a swan, but he was elated with his social triumph, and cast aboutfor any journalist of his acquaintance who, he thought, might like tomeet the authoress of _My Baby Boy_. It struck Rob that he had no rightto keep her all to himself. Quite close to him his eye lighted onMarriott, the author of _Mary Hooney: a Romance of the Irish Question_,but Marriott saw what he was after, and dived into the crowd. A veryyoung gentleman, with large empty eyes, begged Rob's pardon for treadingon his toes, and Rob, who had not felt it, saw that this was his man.He introduced him to the authoress as another admirer, and theround-faced youth seemed such a likely subject for her next work thatRob moved off comfortably.
A shock awaited him when he met Dick, who had been passing the time bytaking male guests aside and asking them in an impressive voice whatthey thought of his great book, _Lives of Eminent Washer-women_, whichthey had no doubt read.
'Who is the man so like Dowton?' he repeated, in answer to Rob'squestion. 'Why, it is Dowton.'
Then Dick looked vexed. He remembered that Rob had been at Dome Castleon the previous Christmas Eve.
'Look here, Angus,' he said bluntly, 'this is a matter I hate to talkabout. The fact is, however, that this is the real Sir Clement. Thefellow you met was an impostor, who came from no one knows where.Unfortunately, he has returned to the same place.'
Dick bit his lip while Rob digested this.
'But if you know the real Dowton,' Rob asked, 'how were you deceived?'
'Well, it was my father who was deceived rather than myself, but we didnot know the real baronet then. The other fellow, if you must know,traded on his likeness to Dowton, who is in the country now for thefirst time for many years. Whoever the impostor is, he is a humorist inhis way, for when he left the castle in January he asked my father tocall on him when he came to town. The fellow must have known that Dowtonwas coming home about that time; at all events, my father, who was inLondon shortly afterwards, looked up his friend the baronet, as hethought, at his club, and found that he had never set eyes on himbefore. It would make a delicious article if it had not happened inone's own family.'
'The real Sir Clement seems great friends with Miss Abinger,' Rob couldnot help saying.
'Yes,' said Dick, 'we struck up an intimacy with him over the affair,and stranger things have happened than that he and Mary----'
He stopped.
'My father, I believe, would like it,' he added carelessly, but Rob hadturned away. Dick went after him.
'I have told you this,' he said, 'because, as you knew the other man, ithad to be done, but we don't like it spoken of.'
'I shall not speak of it,' said miserable Rob.
He would have liked to be tearing through London again, but as that wasnot possible he sought a solitary seat by the door. Before he reached ithis mood changed. What was Sir Clement Dowton, after all, that he shouldbe frightened at him? He was merely a baronet. An impostor who couldnever have passed for a journalist had succeeded in passing for Dowton.Journalism was the noblest of all professions, and Rob was thererepresenting it. The seat of honour at the Symphonia was next to MaryAbinger, and the baronet had held it too long already. Instead ofsulking, Rob approached the throne like one who had a right to be there.Sir Clement had risen for a moment to put down Mary's cup, and when hereturned Rob was in his chair, with no immediate intention of gettingout of it. The baronet frowned, which made Rob say quite a number ofbright things to Miss Abinger. When two men are in love with the sameyoung lady one of them must be worsted. Rob saw that it was better to bethe other one.
The frightfully Bohemian people at the Symphonia remained there evenlater than eleven o'clock, but the rooms thinned before then, and Dick'sparty were ready to go by half-past ten. Rob was now very sharp. It didnot escape his notice that the gentlemen were bringing the ladies'cloaks, and he calmly made up his mind to help Mary Abinger on withhers. To his annoyance,
Sir Clement was too quick for him. The baronetwas in the midst of them, with the three ladies' cloaks, just as Robwondered where he would have to go to find them. Nell's cloak SirClement handed to Dick, but he kept Mary's on his arm while he assistedMrs. Meredith into hers. It was a critical moment. All would be over infive seconds.
'Allow me,' said Rob.
With apparent coolness he took Mary's cloak from the baronet's arm. Hehad not been used to saying 'allow me,' and his face was white, but hewas determined to go on with this thing.
'Take my arm,' he said to Mary, as they joined the crowd that swayedtoward the door. After he said it he saw that he had spoken with an airof proprietorship, but he was not sorry. Mary did it.
It took them some time to reach their cab, and on the way Mary asked Roba question.
'I gave you something once,' she said, 'but I suppose you lost it longago.'
Rob reddened, for he had been sadly puzzled to know what had become ofhis Christmas card.
'I have it still,' he answered at last.
'Oh,' said Mary coldly; and at once Rob felt a chill pass through him.It was true, after all, that Miss Abinger could be an icicle onoccasion.
Rob, having told a lie, deserved no mercy, and got none. The pity of itis that Mary might have thawed a little had she known that it was only alie. She thought that Rob was not aware of his loss. A man takingfickleness as the comparative degree of an untruth is perhaps only whatmay be looked for, but one does not expect it from a woman. Probably thelights had blinded Mary.
Rob had still an opportunity of righting himself, but he did not takeit.
'Then you did mean the card for me,' he said, in foolish exultation;'when I found it on the walk I was not certain that you had not merelydropped it by accident.'
Alas! for the fatuity of man. Mary looked up in icy surprise.
'What card?' she said. 'I don't know what you are talking about.'
'Don't you remember?' asked Rob, very much requiring to be sharpenedagain.
He looked so woebegone, that Mary nearly had pity on him. She knew,however, that if it was not for her sex, men would never learn anything.
'No,' she replied, and turned to talk to Sir Clement.
Rob walked home from the Langham that night with Dick, and, when he wasnot thinking of the two Sir Clements, he was telling himself that he hadclimbed his hill valiantly, only to topple over when he neared the top.Before he went to bed he had an article to finish for the _Wire_, and,while he wrote, he pondered over the ways of women; which, when you cometo think of it, is a droll thing to do.
Mr. Meredith had noticed Rob's dejection at the hotel, and remarked toNell's mother that he thought Mary was very stiff to Angus. Mrs.Meredith looked sadly at her husband in reply.
'You think so,' she said, mournfully shaking her head at him, 'and sodoes Richard Abinger. Mr. Angus is as blind as the rest of you.'
'I don't understand,' said Mr. Meredith, with much curiosity.
'Nor do they,' replied his wife contemptuously; 'there are no men sostupid, I think, as the clever ones.'
She could have preached a sermon that night, with the stupid sex for hertext.