20. THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF THE HALL--THE ROAD HOME
London was illuminated by the broad full moon. The pavements lookedwhite as if mantled with snow; ordinary houses were sublimated to therank of public buildings, public buildings to palaces, and the faces ofwomen walking the streets to those of calendared saints andguardian-angels, by the pure bleaching light from the sky.
In the quiet little street where opened the private door of the Hallchosen by Ethelberta for her story-telling, a brougham was waiting. Thetime was about eleven o'clock; and presently a lady came out from thebuilding, the moonbeams forthwith flooding her face, which they showed tobe that of the Story-teller herself. She hastened across to thecarriage, when a second thought arrested her motion: telling theman-servant and a woman inside the brougham to wait for her, she wrappedup her features and glided round to the front of the house, where shepaused to observe the carriages and cabs driving up to receive thefashionable crowd stepping down from the doors. Standing here in thethrong which her own talent and ingenuity had drawn together, sheappeared to enjoy herself by listening for a minute or two to the namesof several persons of more or less distinction as they were called out,and then regarded attentively the faces of others of lesser degree: toscrutinize the latter was, as the event proved, the real object of thejourney from round the corner. When nearly every one had left the doors,she turned back disappointed. Ethelberta had been fancying that heralienated lover Christopher was in the back rows to-night, but, as far ascould now be observed, the hopeful supposition was a false one.
When she got round to the back again, a man came forward. It wasLadywell, whom she had spoken to already that evening. 'Allow me tobring you your note-book, Mrs. Petherwin: I think you had forgotten it,'he said. 'I assure you that nobody has handled it but myself.'
Ethelberta thanked him, and took the book. 'I use it to look intobetween the parts, in case my memory should fail me,' she explained. 'Iremember that I did lay it down, now you remind me.'
Ladywell had apparently more to say, and moved by her side towards thecarriage; but she declined the arm he offered, and said not another wordtill he went on, haltingly:
'Your triumph to-night was very great, and it was as much a triumph to meas to you; I cannot express my feeling--I cannot say half that I would.If I might only--'
'Thank you much,' said Ethelberta, with dignity. 'Thank you for bringingmy book, but I must go home now. I know that you will see that it is notnecessary for us to be talking here.'
'Yes--you are quite right,' said the repressed young painter, struck byher seriousness. 'Blame me; I ought to have known better. But perhaps aman--well, I will say it--a lover without indiscretion is no lover atall. Circumspection and devotion are a contradiction in terms. I sawthat, and hoped that I might speak without real harm.'
'You calculated how to be uncalculating, and are natural by art!' shesaid, with the slightest accent of sarcasm. 'But pray do not attend mefurther--it is not at all necessary or desirable. My maid is in thecarriage.' She bowed, turned, and entered the vehicle, seating herselfbeside Picotee.
'It was harsh!' said Ladywell to himself, as he looked after theretreating carriage. 'I was a fool; but it was harsh. Yet what man onearth likes a woman to show too great a readiness at first? She isright: she would be nothing without repulse!' And he moved away in anopposite direction.
'What man was that?' said Picotee, as they drove along.
'O--a mere Mr. Ladywell: a painter of good family, to whom I have beensitting for what he calls an Idealization. He is a dreadful simpleton.'
'Why did you choose him?'
'I did not: he chose me. But his silliness of behaviour is a hopefulsign for the picture. I have seldom known a man cunning with his brushwho was not simple with his tongue; or, indeed, any skill in particularthat was not allied to general stupidity.'
'Your own skill is not like that, is it, Berta?'
'In men--in men. I don't mean in women. How childish you are!'
The slight depression at finding that Christopher was not present, whichhad followed Ethelberta's public triumph that evening, was covered over,if not removed, by Ladywell's declaration, and she reached home serene inspirit. That she had not the slightest notion of accepting the impulsivepainter made little difference; a lover's arguments being apt to affect alady's mood as much by measure as by weight. A useless declaration likea rare china teacup with a hole in it, has its ornamental value inenlarging a collection.
No sooner had they entered the house than Mr. Julian's card wasdiscovered; and Joey informed them that he had come particularly to speakwith Ethelberta, quite forgetting that it was her evening fortale-telling.
This was real delight, for between her excitements Ethelberta had beenseriously sick-hearted at the horrible possibility of his never callingagain. But alas! for Christopher. There being nothing like a deadsilence for getting one's off-hand sweetheart into a corner, there isnothing like prematurely ending it for getting into that corner one'sself.
'Now won't I punish him for daring to stay away so long!' she exclaimedas soon as she got upstairs. 'It is as bad to show constancy in yourmanners as fickleness in your heart at such a time as this.'
'But I thought honesty was the best policy?' said Picotee.
'So it is, for the man's purpose. But don't you go believing in sayings,Picotee: they are all made by men, for their own advantages. Women whouse public proverbs as a guide through events are those who have notingenuity enough to make private ones as each event occurs.'
She sat down, and rapidly wrote a line to Mr. Julian:--
'EXONBURY CRESCENT.
'I return from Mayfair Hall to find you have called. You will, I know, be good enough to forgive my saying what seems an unfriendly thing, when I assure you that the circumstances of my peculiar situation make it desirable, if not necessary. It is that I beg you not to give me the pleasure of a visit from you for some little time, for unhappily the frequency of your kind calls has been noticed; and I am now in fear that we may be talked about--invidiously--to the injury of us both. The town, or a section of it, has turned its bull's-eye upon me with a brightness which I did not in the least anticipate; and you will, I am sure, perceive how indispensable it is that I should be circumspect.--Yours sincerely,
E. PETHERWIN.'