II
He might have gone out and paid the fare for her, but he stayed where hewas, in the doorway, thinking with beatific relief that after allnothing had "happened" in the family.
"Ah!" he said, in the most ordinary, complacent, quite undisturbedtone, "I was just beginning to wonder where you'd got to. We've beenback about five minutes, Sissie and I, and Sissie's gone to bed. Ireally don't believe she knows you were out."
Mrs. Prohack came urgently towards him, pushing the door to behind herwith a careless loud bang. The bang might waken the entire household,but Mrs. Prohack did not care. Mrs. Prohack kissed him without a word.He possessed in his heart a barometric scale of her kisses, and this wasa set-fair kiss, a kiss with a somewhat violent beginning and areluctant close. Then she held her cheek for him to kiss. Both cheek andlips were freshly cold from the night air. Mr. Prohack was aware of animmense, romantic felicity. And he immediately became flippant, notaloud, but secretly, to hide himself from himself.
He thought:
"It's a positive fact that I've been kissing this girl of a woman for aquarter of a century, and she's fat."
But beneath his flippancy and beneath his felicity there was alancinating qualm, which, if he had expressed it he would have expressedthus:
"If anything _did_ happen to her, it would be the absolute ruin of me."
The truth was that his felicity frightened him. Never before had he beenseriously concerned for her well-being. The reaction from grave alarmlighted up the interior of his mysterious soul with a revealing flash ofunique intensity.
"What are all these lights burning for?" she murmured. Lights wereindeed burning everywhere. He had been in a mood to turn on but not toturn off.
"Oh!" he said, "I was just wandering about."
"I'll go straight upstairs," she said, trying to be as matter-of-fact asher Arthur appeared to be.
When he had leisurely set the whole of the ground-floor to rights, hefollowed her. She was waiting for him in the boudoir. She had removedher hat and mantle, and lighted one of the new radiators, and wassitting on the sofa.
"There came a telegram from Charlie," she began. "I was crossing thehall just as the boy reached the door. So I opened the door myself. Itwas from Charlie to say that he would be at the Grand Babylon Hotelto-night."
"Charlie! The Grand Babylon!... Not Buckingham Palace." Eve ignored hiscrude jocularity.
"It seems I ought to have received it early in the afternoon. I was sopuzzled I didn't know what to do--I just put my things on and went offto the hotel at once. It wasn't till after I was in the taxi that Iremembered I ought to have told the servants where I was going. That'swhy I hurried back. I wanted to get back before you did. Charliesuggested telephoning from the hotel, but I wouldn't let him on anyaccount."
"Why not?"
"Well, I thought you might be upset and wonder what on earth was goingon."
"What was going on?" Mr. Prohack repeated, gazing at her childlikematernal serious face, whose wistfulness affected him in anextraordinary way. "What on earth are you insinuating?"
No! It was inconceivable that this pulsating girl perched on the sofashould be the mother of the mature and independent Charles.
"Charlie's _staying_ at the Grand Babylon Hotel," said Eve, as thoughshe were saying that Charlie had forged a cheque or blown up theCenotaph.
Even the imperturbable man of the world in front of her momentarilyblenched at the news.
"More fool him!" observed Mr. Prohack.
"Yes, and he's got a bedroom and a private sitting-room and a bathroom,and a room for a secretary--"
"Hence a secretary," Mr. Prohack put in.
"Yes, and a secretary. And he dictates things to the secretary all thetime, and the telephone's always going,--yes, even at this time ofnight. He must be spending enormous sums. So of course I hurried back totell you."
"You did quite right, my pet," said Mr. Prohack. "A good wife shouldshare these tit-bits with her husband at the earliest possible moment."
He was really very like what in his more conventional moments he wouldhave said a woman was like. If Eve had taken the affair lightly he wouldwithout doubt have remonstrated, explaining that such an affair ought byno means to be taken lightly. But seeing that she took it veryseriously, his instinct was to laugh at it, though in fact he washimself extremely perturbed by this piece of news, which confirmed, ahundredfold and in the most startling manner, certain sinisterimpressions of his own concerning Charlie's deeds in Glasgow. And heassumed the gay attitude, not from a desire to reassure his wife, butfrom mere contrariness. Positively the strangest husband that everlived, and entirely different from normal husbands!
Then he saw tears hanging in Eve's eyes,--tears not of resentmentagainst his lack of sympathy, tears of bewilderment and perplexity. Shesimply did not understand his attitude. And he sat down close by her onthe sofa and solaced her with three kisses. She was singularlyattractive in her alternations of sagacity and helplessness.
"But it's awful," she whimpered. "The boy must be throwing money away atthe rate of twenty or twenty-five pounds a day."
"Very probably," Mr. Prohack agreed.
"Where's he getting it from?" she demanded. "He must be getting it fromsomewhere."
"I expect he's made it. He's rather clever, you know."
"But he can't have made money like that."
"People do, sometimes."
"Not honestly,--you know what I mean, Arthur!" This was an earthquakingphrase to come from a mother's lips.
"And yet," said Mr. Prohack, "everything Charlie did used to be rightfor you."
"But he's carrying on just like an adventurer! I've read in reports oftrials about people carrying on just like that. A fortnight ago hehadn't got fifty pounds cash in the world, and now he's living like amillionaire at the Grand Babylon Hotel! Arthur, what are you going to doabout it? Couldn't you go and see him to-night?"
"Now listen to me," Mr. Prohack began in a new tone, taking her hands."Supposing I did go and see him to-night, what could I say to him?"
"Well, you're his father."
"And you're his mother. What did _you_ say to him?"
"Oh! I didn't say anything. I only said I should have been very glad ifhe could have arranged to sleep at home as usual, and he said he wassorry he couldn't because he was so busy."
"You didn't tell him he was carrying on like an adventurer?"
"Arthur! How could I?"
"But you'd like _me_ to tell him something of the sort. All that I cansay, you could say--and that is, enquire in a friendly way what he hasdone, is doing, and hopes to do."
"But--"
"Yes, my innocent creature. You may well pause." He caressed her, andshe tried to continue in unhappiness, but could not. "You pause becausethere is nothing to say."
"You're his father at any rate," she burst out triumphantly.
"That's not his fault. You ought to have thought of all this over twentyyears ago, before Charlie was born, before we were married, before youmet me. To become a parent is to accept terrible risks. I'm Charlie'sfather. What then? Am I to give him orders as to what he must do andwhat he mustn't? This isn't China and it isn't the eighteenth century.He owes nothing whatever to me, or to you. If we were starving and hehad plenty, he would probably consider it his duty to look after us; butthat's the limit of what he owes us. Whereas nothing can put an end toour responsibility towards him. You see, we brought him here. We thoughtit would be so nice to have children, and so Charlie arrived. He didn'tchoose his time, and he didn't choose his character, nor his education,nor his chance. If he had his choice you may depend he'd have chosendifferently. Do you want me, on the top of all that, to tell him that hemust obediently accept something else from us--our code of conduct? Itwould be mere cheek, and with all my shortcomings I'm incapable ofimpudence, especially to the young. He was our slave for nearly twentyyears. We did what we liked with him; and if Charlie fails now it simplymeans that we've failed. Besides, how can you be sure t
hat he's carryingon like an adventurer? He may be carrying on like a financial genius.Perhaps we have brought a giant to earth. We can't believe it of course,because we haven't got enough faith in ourselves, but later on we may becompelled to believe it. Naturally if Charlie crashes after a showyflight, then he won't be a financial genius,--he'll only be anadventurer, and there may he some slight trouble in the lawcourts,--there usually is. That is where we shall have to come forwardand pay for the nice feeling of having children. And, remember, weshan't be in a position to upbraid Charlie. He could silence us with onequestion, to which we could find no answer: 'Why did you get married,you two?' However, my pet, let us hope for the best. It's not yet acrime to live at great price at the Grand Babylon Hotel. Quite possiblyyour son has not yet committed any crime, whatever. If he succeeds inmaking a huge fortune and in keeping it, he will not commit any crime.Rich men never do. They can't. They never even commit murder. There isno reason why they should. Whatever they do, it is no worse than anidiosyncrasy. Now tell me what our son talked about."
"Well, he didn't talk much. He--he wasn't expecting me."
"Did he ask after me?"
"I told him about you. He asked about the car."
"He didn't ask after me, but he asked after the car. Nothing veryoriginal there, is there? Any son would behave like that. He must dobetter than that if he doesn't mean to end as an adventurer. I must goand see him, and offer him, very respectfully, some advice."
"Arthur, I insist that he shall come here. It is not proper that youshould go running after _him_."
"Pooh, my dear! I'm rich enough myself to run after him without beingaccused of snobbishness or lion-hunting or anything of that kind."
"Oh! Arthur!" sobbed Eve. "Don't you think you're been funny quite longenough?" She then openly wept.
The singular Mr. Prohack was apparently not in the least moved by hiswife's tears. He and she alone in the house were out of bed; there wasno chance of their being disturbed. He did not worry about hisadventurous son. He did not worry about the possibility of Oswald Morfeyhaving a design to convert his daughter into Mrs. Oswald Morfey. He didnot worry about the fate of the speculation in which he had joined SirPaul Spinner. Nor did he worry about the malady called traumaticneurasthenia. As for himself he fancied that he had not for years feltbetter than he felt at that moment. He was aware of the most delicioussensation of sharing a perfect nocturnal solitude with his wife. He drewher towards him until her acquiescent head lay against his waistcoat. Heheld her body in his arms, and came deliberately to the conclusion thatto be alive was excellent.
Eve's body was as yielding as that of a young girl. To Mr. Prohack, whoof course was the dupe of an illusion, it had an absolutely enchantinggirlishness. She sobbed and she sobbed, and Mr. Prohack let her sob. Heloosed the grip of his arms a little, so that her face, free of hiswaistcoat, was turned upwards in the direction of the ceiling; and thenhe very caressingly wiped her eyes with his own handkerchief. He gave anelaborate care to the wiping of her eyes. For some minutes it was aSisyphean labour, for what he did she immediately undid; but after atime the sobs grew less frequent, and at length they ceased; only herlips trembled at intervals.
Mr. Prohack said ingratiatingly:
"And whose fault is it if I'm funny? Answer, you witch."
"I don't know," Eve murmured tremblingly and not quite articulately.
"It's your fault. Do you know that you gave me the fright of my lifeto-night, going out without saying where you were going to? Do you knowthat you put me into such a state that I've been telephoning topolice-stations to find out whether there'd been any street accidentshappening to a woman of your description? I was so upset that I daren'teven go upstairs and call Sissie."
"You said you'd only been back five minutes when I came," Eve observedin a somewhat firmer voice.
"I did," said Mr. Prohack. "But that was neither more nor less than adownright lie. You see I was in such a state that I had to pretend, toboth you and myself, that things aren't what they are.... And then,without the slightest warning, you suddenly arrive without a scratch onyou. You aren't hurt. You aren't even dead. It's a scandalous shame thata woman should be able, by merely arriving in a taxi, to put a sensibleman into such a paroxysm of satisfaction as you put me into a while ago.It's not right. It's not fair. Then you try to depress me with bluggystories of your son's horrible opulence, and when you discover you can'tdepress me you burst into tears and accuse me of being funny. What didyou expect me to be? Did you expect me to groan because you aren't lyingdead in a mortuary? If I'm funny, you are at liberty to attribute it tohysteria, the hysteria of joy. But I wish you to understand that theseextreme revulsions of feeling which you impose on me are very dangerousfor a plain man who is undergoing a rest-cure."
Eve raised her arms about Mr. Prohack's neck, lifted herself up by them,and silently kissed him. Then she sank back to her former position.
"I've been a great trial to you lately, haven't I?" she breathed.
"Not more so than usual," he answered. "You know you always abuse yourpower."
"But I _have_ been queer?"
"Well," judicially, "perhaps you have. Perhaps five per cent or so aboveyour average of queerness."
"Didn't the doctor say what I'd got was traumatic neurasthenia?"
"That or something equally absurd."
"Well, I haven't got it any more. I'm cured. You'll see."
Just then the dining-room clock entered upon its lengthy business ofchiming the hour of midnight. And as it faintly chimed Mr. Prohack,supporting his wife, had a surpassing conviction of the beauty ofexistence and in particular of his own good fortune--though the matterof his inheritance never once entered his mind. He gazed down at Eve'singenuous features, and saw in them the fastidious fineness which hadcaused her to recoil so sensitively from her son's display at the GrandBabylon. Yes, women had a spiritual beauty to which men could notpretend.
"Arthur," said she, "I never told you that you'd forgotten to wind upthat clock on Sunday night. It stopped this evening while you were out,and I had to wind it and I only guessed what the time was."