CHAPTER IX
MR. AND MRS. ASHFORTH (2)
Miss Bussey was much relieved when the doctor pronounced herconvalescent and allowed her to come downstairs. To fall ill on anouting is always exasperating, but beyond that she felt that herenforced seclusion was particularly unfortunate at the moment. Herewere two young people, not engaged nor going to be engaged to oneanother; and for three days or more circumstances had abandoned them toan inevitable and unchaperoned tete-a-tete! Mary made light of it; sherelied on the fraternal relationship, but that was, after all, afiction, quite incapable, in Miss Bussey's opinion, of supporting thestrain to which It had been subjected. Besides Mary's sincerityappeared doubtful; the kind girl, anxious to spare her aunt worry, madelight of the difficulties of her position, but Miss Bussey detected arestlessness in her manner which clearly betrayed uneasiness. Here, ofcourse, Miss Bussey was wrong; neither Mary nor John were the leastself-conscious; they felt no embarrassment, but, poor creatures, woreout their spirits in a useless vigil over the letter-rack.
Miss Bussey was restored to active life on the morning after the partyfrom Cannes arrived in Paris, and she hastened to emphasize the fact ofher return to complete health by the unusual effort of coming down tobreakfast. She was in high feather, and her cheery conversation lifted,to some extent, the gloom which had settled on her young friends. Whileexhorting to patience she was full of hope, and dismissed as chimericalall the darker explanations which the disconsolate lovers invented toaccount for the silence their communications had met with. Under herinfluence the breakfast-table became positively cheerful, and at lastall the three burst into a hearty laugh at one of the old lady's littlejokes.
At this moment Arthur Laing entered the room. His brow was clouded. Hehad searched his purse, his cigar-case, the lining of his hat--in factevery depository where a careful man would be likely to bestowdocuments whose existence he wished to remember; as no careful manwould put such things in the pocket of his 'blazer', he had notsearched there; thus the telegrams had not appeared, and the culpritwas looking forward, with some alarm, to the reception which wouldawait him when he 'turned up' to lunch with his friends, as he hadpromised to do. Hardly, however, had he sat down to his coffee when hissombre thoughts were cleared away by the extraordinary spectacle ofyoung Mr. and Mrs. Ashforth hobnobbing with their maid, the latter ladyappearing quite at home and leading the gayety and the conversation.Laing laid down his roll and his knife and looked at them inundisguised amazement.
For a moment doubt of his cherished theory began to assail his mind.He heard the old lady call Ashforth "John;" that was a little strange,and it was rather strange that John answered by saying: "That must beas you wish; I am entirely at your disposal." And yet, reflected Laing,was it very strange, after all? In his own family they had an oldretainer who called all the children, whatever their age, by theirChristian names, and was admitted to a degree of intimacy hardlydistinguishable from that accorded to a relative.
Laing, weighing the evidence pro and contra, decided that there was anoverwhelming balance in favor of his old view, and dismissed the matterwith the comment that, if it ever befell him to go on a wedding-tour,he would ask his wife to take a maid with rather less claims on herkindness and his toleration.
That same morning the second pair of telegrams, forwarded by post fromCannes, duly arrived. Dora and Charlie, reading them in the light oftheir recent happy information, found them most kind and comforting,although in reality they, apart from their missing forerunners, toldthe recipients nothing at all. John's ran: "Am in Paris at European.Please write. Anxious to hear. Everything decided for the best.--John."Mary's to Charlie was even briefer; it said, "Am here at European. Whyno answer to last?"
"It's really very kind of Mr. Ashforth," said Dora to Charlie, as theystrolled in the garden of the Tuileries, "to make such a point of whatI think. I expect the wire that stupid Mr. Laing lost was just to tellme the date of the marriage."
"Not a doubt of it. Miss Tr--Mrs. Ashforth's wire to me makes thatclear. They want to hear that we're not desperately unhappy. Well, wearen't, are we, Dolly?"
"Well, perhaps not."
"Isn't it extraordinary how we mistook our feelings? Of course, though,it's natural in you. You had never been through anything of the sortbefore. How could you tell whether it was the real thing or not?"
Dora shot a glance out of the corner of her eye at her lover, but didnot disclaim the innocence he imputed to her; she knew men liked tothink that, and why shouldn't they, poor things? She seized on hisimplied admission and carried the war into his country.
"But you,--you who are so experienced--how did you come to make such amistake?"
Charlie was not at a loss.
"It wasn't a mistake _then_," he said. "I was quite right then. MaryTravers was about the nicest girl I had ever seen. I thought her ascharming as a girl could be."
"Oh, you did! Then why----"
"My eyes have been opened since then."
"What did that?"
"Why don't you ever pronounce my name?"
"Never mind your name. What opened your eyes?"
"Why, yours, of course."
"What nonsense! They're very nice about it, aren't they? Do you thinkwe ought to call?"
"Shall you feel it awkward?"
"Yes, a little. Shan't you? Still we must let them know we're here.Will you write to Mrs. Ashforth?"
"I suppose I'd better. After lunch 'll do, won't it?"
"Oh, yes. And I'll write a note to him. I expect they won't be stayinghere long."
"I hope not. Hullo, it's a quarter past twelve. We must be gettingback. Laing's coming to lunch."
"Where arc the Deanes?"
"Lady Deane's gone to Belleville with your father to see slums, andRoger's playing tennis with Laing. He said we weren't to wait lunch.Are you hungry, Dolly?"
"Not very. It seems only an hour since breakfast."
"How charming of you! We've been walking here since ten o'clock."
"Mr. Ellerton, will you be serious for a minute? I want to saysomething important. When we meet the Ashforths there mustn't be a wordsaid about--about--you know."
"Why not?"
"Oh, I couldn't! So soon! Surely you see that. Why, it would be hardlycivil to them, would it, apart from anything else?"
"Well, it might look rather casual."
"And I positively couldn't face John Ashforth. You promise, don't you?"
"It's a nuisance, because, you see, Dolly----
"You're not to get into the habit of saying 'Dolly'. At least not yet."
"Presently?"
"If you're good. Now promise!"
"All right."
"We're not engaged."
"All right."
"Nor thinking of it,"
"Rather not."
"That's very nice of you, and when the Ashforths are gone----"
"I shall be duly rewarded?"
"Oh, we'll see. Do come along. Papa hates being kept waiting for hismeals, and they must have finished their slums long ago."
They found Lady Deane and the General waiting for them, and the latterproposed an adjournment to a famous restaurant near the Opera. Thitherthey repaired, and ordered their lunch.
"Deane and Laing will find out where we've gone and follow," said theGeneral. "We won't wait," and he resumed his conversation with LadyDeane on the events of the morning.
A moment later the absentees came in; Sir Roger in his usual leisurelyfashion, Laing; hurriedly. The latter held in his hand two telegrams,or the crumpled debris thereof. He rushed up to the table and pantedout, "Found 'em in the pocket of my blazer--must have put 'emthere--stupid ass--never thought of it--put it on for tennis--awfullysorry."
Wasting no time in reproaches, Dora and Charlie grasped their recoveredproperty.
"Excuse me!" they cried simultaneously, and opened the envelopes. Amoment later both leant back in their chairs, the pictures of helplessbewilderment.
Dora had read: "Marriag
e broken off. Coming to you 28th. Writedirections--European, Paris."
Charlie had read: "Engagement at end. Aunt and I coming toParis--European, on 28th. Can you meet?"
Lady Deane was writing in her notebook. The General, Sir Roger, andLaing were busy with the waiter, the menu, and the wine-list. Quick asthought the lovers exchanged telegrams. They read, and looked at oneanother.
"What does it mean?" whispered Dora.
"You never saw anything like the lives those ragpickers lead, Dora,"observed Lady Deane, looking up from her task. "I was talking to onethis morning and he said----"
"Maitre d'hotel for me," broke in Sir Roger.
"I haven't a notion," murmured Charlie.
"Look here, what's your liquor, Laing?"
"Anything; with this thirst on me----"
"There are ample materials for a revolution more astonishing andsanguinary----"
"Nonsense, General, yon must have something to drink."
"Can they have changed their minds again, Dolly?"
"They must have, if Mr. Laing is----"
"Dry? I should think I was. So would you be, if you'd been playingtennis."
Laing cut across the currents of conversation:
"Hope no harm done, Miss Bellairs, about that wire?"
"I--I--I don't think so."
"Or yours, Charlie?"
Charlie took a hopeful view.
"Upon my honor, Laing, I'm glad you hid it."
"Oh, I see!" cried Laing. "Tip for the wrong 'un, eh, and too late toput it on now?"
"You're not far off," answered Charlie Ellerton.
"Roger, is it to-night that the General is going to take me to the----"
"Hush! Not before Miss Bellairs, my dear! Consider her filial feelings.You and the General must make a quiet bolt of it. We're only going tothe Palais-Royal."
The arrival of fish brought a momentary pause, but the first mouthfulwas hardly swallowed when Arthur Laing started, hunted hastily for hiseyeglass, and stuck it in his eye.
"Yes, it is them," said he. "See, Charlie, that table over there.They've got their backs to us, but lean see 'em in the mirror."
"See who?" asked Charlie in an irritable tone.
"Why, those honeymooners. I say, Lady Deane, it's a queer thing to havea lady's-maid to breakf--Why, by Jove, she's with them now! Look!"
His excited interest aroused the attention of the whole party, and theylooked across the long room.
"Ashforth's their name," concluded Laing. "I heard the Abigail call himAshforth; and the lady is----"
He was interrupted by the clatter of a knife and fork falling on aplate. He turned in the direction whence the sound came.
Dora Bellairs leant back in her chair, her hands in her lap; CharlieEllerton had hidden himself behind the wine-list. Lady Deane, herhusband, and the General gazed inquiringly at Dora.
At the same instant there came a shrill little cry from the other endof the room. The mirror had served Mary Travers as well as it hadLaing. For a moment she spoke hastily to her companion; then she andJohn rose, and, with radiant smiles on their faces, advanced towardtheir friends. The long-expected meeting had come; at last.
Dora sat still, in consternation. Charlie, peeping out from behind hismenu, saw the approach.
"Now, in Heaven's name," he groaned, "are they married or aren't they?"and having said this he awaited the worst.