you."
"That is a charming answer," Mrs Chadwick replied. "But I am not surethat their love would not prove equally embarrassing. I would prefer towin their regard."
"It is merely another term for the same emotion," Mrs Sommers insisted.
They were seated before the fire in Mrs Chadwick's bedroom, having alast chat before retiring. Though women live together in the samehouse, and part, possibly for the first time for the day, outside theirbedroom doors, a last chat is a privileged necessity--that is, whenwomen are companions; when the last chat ceases to be a necessity it isa proof of mutual boredom. Mrs Chadwick and Belle Sommers were a longway off the point of boredom.
Belle had begun going to Mrs Chadwick's bedroom in her capacity ofpseudo hostess, thinking that possibly Mrs Chadwick, who had comewithout a maid in deference to a hint from her friend that strangeservants would be unwelcome in Mr Musgrave's household, might findherself at a loss. But Mrs Chadwick was seldom at a loss in the matterof helping herself; a maid was a luxury, not an essential, in her trainof accessories. The pekinese alone was indispensable. She had concededthe point about the maid, but she had refused to be separated from thepekinese. It is conjectural whether Mr Musgrave did not object more tothe pekinese than he would have to the maid; but Belle, like MrsChadwick, did not consider it wise to humour all his little prejudices.
"I think," observed Mrs Chadwick, after a pause, during which they hadboth been gazing reflectively into the fire, "that I have settledeverything that was immediately pressing, and can now relieve yourbrother of the strain of my presence. I cannot begin anything until weare established at the Hall."
Mrs Sommers looked amused.
"I believe," she said, "that John is frightening you away."
"He is," Mrs Chadwick admitted. "I am afraid of John. Hisinextinguishable courtesy chills me. How come you and John to be thechildren of the same parents? I don't believe you are. I believe thatJohn is a changeling."
Belle laughed.
"He is our father reproduced," she said.
"That disposes of my theory. Then you must be the changeling. Plainly,Miss Simpson ought to have been his sister."
"She would prefer to stand in a closer relationship," Mrs Sommers said.
"Yes; that's obvious. But she hasn't the ghost of a chance. She is anold maid."
"She would scarcely be eligible for the position if she were not an oldmaid," Mrs Sommers pointed out.
"She would be eligible as an unmarried woman," Mrs Chadwick argued."There is a distinction. An unmarried woman is not of necessity an oldmaid."
Belle allowed this. It was, indeed, irrefutable.
"I see," she said. "Yes... just as my brother is a confirmed bachelor."
Mrs Chadwick smiled into the flames.
"I wouldn't be so positive on that head," she replied. "You shouldvisit the schools with him, as I did to-day. I think it might shakeyour opinion. A man who is a confirmed bachelor has not the paternalinstinct. He ought to have married ten years ago, in which event hewould not now make the tea, and fuss about draughts. I think, you havebeen neglectful of your duty to him. Before you married you should havefound him a wife."
"He doesn't like the women I like," said Belle slowly. "He considersthem too--"
"Modern," suggested Mrs Chadwick. She stirred the fire thoughtfully."The very modernest of modern wives would be the saving of him. If hedoesn't find her soon he will be doomed to eternal bachelorhood, anddevelop hypochondria, and take up homeopathy."
Belle laughed outright.
"Poor old John?" she said, and relapsed once more into contemplativesilence.
John Musgrave, meanwhile, was going his usual nightly round of thehouse; which, perforce, was later than he was in the habit of making it,because the ladies did not retire, as he did when alone, at ten o'clock.He carefully examined all the gas-jets to satisfy himself that thesewere safely turned off. He inspected the bars and locks of doors andwindows, not because he feared burglars, who were a class unknown inMoresby, but because he had always seen to the securing of his house, ashis father had done before him. He placed a guard before thedrawing-room fire, and examined the kitchen range to assure himself thatMartha had not left too large a fire for safety--which Martha never byany chance did. John Musgrave did not expect to find any of thesematters overlooked; but he enjoyed presumably satisfying himself thathis instructions were faithfully observed. Then he turned off the lightin the hall, and quietly mounted the stairs.
Belle, stepping forth from Mrs Chadwick's room at the moment, with herbeautiful hair falling over her shoulders, met him on the landing. Heappeared slightly taken aback; and she felt instinctively that he was onthe verge of apologising for surprising her in this becoming deshabille.She forestalled the apology by catching him by the lapels of his coatand kissing him in her impulsive, affectionate way.
"You old dear!" she said softly.
"I thought you were in bed," Mr Musgrave said, feeling, withoutunderstanding why, that the touch of Belle's soft cheek was veryagreeable, that the sight of a woman standing in the dim light of thelanding was pleasing, particularly with her hair streaming over her blue_peignoir_. It was, of course, because the woman was Belle, and thattherefore it was natural that she should be standing there, that hefound the picture attractive. He experienced a twinge of regret at thethought that she would go away and leave him to his solitude shortly.When he came upstairs after she had left him, he would recall the sightof her standing there, smiling at him; and the big landing would seemdoubly solitary.
"I've been gossiping," she explained.
He looked surprised. It baffled him to understand what she found totalk about, considering she had done nothing else all day.
"More schemes?" he said.
"Yes," she answered, and laughed unexpectedly.
If only John guessed what the latest scheme was! Had she allowed him ahundred guesses she believed he would never have arrived at the rightone.
"I hope you won't take up schemes, Belle," he said, with a faintuneasiness in his voice. He looked at her wistfully. "You are too niceto be caught with fads, my dear."
She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him on the lips.
"I'm too lazy," she said, "and have my hands too full to trouble myselfabout anything beyond my boys. But a childless woman, John, dear, hasto mother something."
"I suppose that's it," he answered, a little relieved, it occurred toher, by this explanation of what had appeared to him inexplicable."Yes; that's the reason, undoubtedly. I am glad you have your boys,Belle."
"So am I," she returned gently, and kissed him good-night, and left himstanding alone on the dim landing with his lighted candle in his hand.
He sighed as he listened to the closing of her bedroom door. Then heentered his own room, his mind still intent upon her, so that for a longtime he remained Inactive, gazing abstractedly at a picture of hismother hanging on his wall, comparing the sweet, lined face with theyounger face of the daughter, who came and went in the old home,bringing the sunshine with her, and taking it with her again when sheleft. He envied Charlie Sommers more than he envied any man on earth.
And yet John Musgrave would have been surprised had anyone told him thathe was lonely. He enjoyed, he believed, all the companionship that aman requires. But no one, unless he be a misanthropist, is entirelyhappy in the possession of a solitary hearth.
On the following morning Mrs Chadwick introduced the subject of herdeparture. She did not expect Mr Musgrave to be overwhelmed withdistress at the announcement of her intention; nor was he; nevertheless,with the memory of his overnight reflections flooding his brain, he didnot feel the relief he imagined he would feel at the prospect of havinghis house to himself once more. He was, oddly enough, growingaccustomed to Mrs Chadwick. When she was not personal she wasdecidedly interesting, and not infrequently amusing. And when she lefthe knew Belle purposed leaving also. It was not convenient for her tobe away from home just then. She
had come solely to oblige MrsChadwick, whose recognition of this service influenced her more than herpretended alarm of her host in hastening her arrangements.
"I am sorry you are thinking of returning already," Mr Musgrave said,expressing only his sincere sentiments, and not obeying, as his visitorbelieved, the prompting of his habitual courtesy. "It appears to methat you have given yourself a very limited time, considering themagnitude of your undertakings. I would not have believed it possiblethat anyone could do so much in a week."
"I came with all my plans cut and dried, you see; and my appointmentswith people were prearranged. The work at the Hall will be finished inless than two months, and we shall be