Ancestors: A Novel

  XI

  Flora Thangue, after luncheon, took Isabel out in a pony cart, andalthough too loyal to gossip intimately about her patrons, incidentallydirected a search-light into certain of their recesses; a light that wasto prove useful to Isabel in her future intercourse with them, althoughit did not in the least prepare her for an experience that awaited herlater in the day. Miss Thangue's mind was occupied at first with theobvious engagement of Gwynne and Mrs. Kaye.

  "That woman was born to upset calculations!" she exclaimed. "Yonder isthe castle of the dukes of Arcot. We are going over to a party to-morrownight. It really looks like a castle with all those gray battlements andtowers, doesn't it? We don't call every tuppeny-hapenny villa inhabitedby a nobleman a 'castle' as they do in Germany and Austria. Well--thatclever little panther! I'd like to pack her into one of her own epigramsand bury her alive. I _know_ she was as good as engaged to Brathland.Now, having decided that, all things considered, Jack is the best matchgoing--for everybody believes Lord Zeal to be worse than he is--well!there is something appalling in a woman who can adjust herself asquickly as that; whose caprices, sentiments, passions, all naturalimpulses, are completely controlled by her reason. I wish Vicky sawthrough her; she has so much influence over Jack, and such deadlypowers of ridicule. But Vicky, like all spoiled women of the world, isas much the victim of the subtle flatterer as any man, and Julia Kayehas managed her beautifully. She considered Jack for a bit before shewas sure of Brathland. Vicky's real reason for indorsing JuliaKaye--between us--is because she believes her to be one of that smalland select band that can hold a man on all his various sides, and shewants to avoid the probability of an absorbing and possibly tragicliaison--like Parnell's, for instance--which might interfere with,perhaps ruin, Jack's career. That is all very well, as far as it goes,but I believe Julia Kaye to be so entirely selfish that when Jack findsher out he will sicken of life. I have had the best of opportunities tostudy women, and I have brought Jack up--I had the honor to be thehighly idealized heroine of his calf-love, and have been more or less inhis confidence ever since. In certain ways I understand him better thanhis mother does, for she has seen too much of the worst side of men, andis at heart too _blasee_ to have much respect for or knowledge of theirspiritual side; and if I have ever had any maternal spasms in myvirtuous spinsterhood they have been over Jack. Can't you help us out?"she asked, turning suddenly to the stranger, to whom she was powerfullyattracted. "Are you as indifferent as you look?"

  "I have no idea! But although I should not in the least object to becast for a part in this domestic drama, I don't care for it at the priceof too much 'Jack.' To attempt to cut out Mrs. Kaye I should need alittle genuine enthusiasm; and frankly, your beloved prodigy does notinspire it. I like Lord Hexam far better."

  "Oh, Jimmy! He's a fine fellow, but only a type."

  "He hasn't a rampant ego, if that is what you mean. And for every-daypurposes--" She shrugged her shoulders. "I could endure and even bedeeply interested in Elton Gwynne if he happened to be my brother and Icould hook my finger in his destiny; but in any other capacity--no,thank you!"

  "Are you going to marry Jimmy?"

  "I did not even know he was not already married. Do you see nothing in aman but a husband over here? If I ever do marry it will not be before Iam forty."

  "That is rather long--if you see much of the world meanwhile! And Jimmy,although there is not much money in the family--about twenty thousand ayear--would be a very good match. He will be Earl of Hembolt--a fine oldtitle."

  "You assume that such a plum may be pulled by the first comer."

  "Rather not! But you Americans have such a way with you! What is more tothe point, I never saw him so bowled over."

  "Well," said Isabel, imperturbably, "I will think of it. This Englishcountry and these wonderful old houses, with their inimitableatmosphere, appeal to me very strongly. I have more the feeling of beingat home here than I had even in Spain, where I have roots. And sociallyand picturesquely, there is nothing to compare with the position of anEnglish noblewoman."

  Flora turned her eyes frankly to the classic profile beside her. Isabelhad removed her hat, and, framed in the heavy coils of her hair, herfeatures impressed the anxious observer as even more Roman than earlyAmerican; although had she but reflected she would have remembered thatthe type of the Caesars had its last stronghold in the United States ofthe eighteenth century. Isabel looked like a very young Roman matron,but her resemblance to the stately effigies in the galleries of Florenceand Rome, strong in virtue or vice, was so striking that once more Floralonged for her support. A woman with such capabilities would be wastedin the role of a mere countess--but as the wife of an aspiring Liberalstatesman! She devoutly wished that the American had arrived six monthsearlier, or that Brathland still lived.

  But she was a very tactful person and was about to drop the subject,when Isabel slowly turned her eyes. They looked so much like steel thatfor the moment they seemed to have lost their blue.

  "I have made up my mind to do something to prevent this marriage," sheannounced. "I do not know what, as yet. I shall be guided by events."

  And Flora devoutly kissed her, then gossipped pleasantly about the otherguests and the people in the neighborhood. Isabel was curious to knowsomething of the duchess she was to meet on the morrow.

  "Does she really look like a duchess?" she asked, so innocently thatFlora laughed and forgot the Roman-American profile, and the fatefuleyes that had given her an uncomfortable sensation a moment before.

  "Well--yes--she does--rather. It is the fashion in these days not to--tobe smart above all things, excessively democratic, animated, unaffected,clever. But our duchess here is rather old-fashioned, very lofty of headand expression. She has a look of floating from peak to peak, andalthough passee is still a beauty. To be honest, she is hideously dull,but as good a creature as ever lived, and all that the ideal duchessshould be--so high-minded that she has never suspected the larkiest ofher friends."

  "Well, I am glad she looks the role. I have artistic cravings."

  They drove for an hour through the beautiful quiet green country, pastmany old stone villages that might have been the direct sequence of thecave era. An automobile skimmed past and the pony sat down on itshaunches. Isabel had a glimpse of a delicate high-bred face set like apanel in a parted curtain.

  "That is the duchess," said Miss Thangue. "She wouldn't wear goggles forthe world, and only gets into an automobile occasionally to please theduke. There is nothing old-fashioned about him."

  "She looks as if her name ought to be Lucy," said Isabel, to whom thepure empty face had appeared like a vision from some former dullexistence, and left behind it an echo of insupportable ennui.