The Primadonna

  CHAPTER XII

  Opinion was strongly against Mr. Van Torp. A millionaire is almostas good a mark at which to throw mud as a woman of the world whosereputation has never before been attacked, and when the two can bepilloried together it is hardly to be expected that ordinary peopleshould abstain from pelting them and calling them bad names.

  Lady Maud, indeed, was protected to some extent by her father andbrothers, and by many loyal friends. It is happily still doubtful howfar one may go in printing lies about an honest woman without gettinginto trouble with the law, and when the lady's father is not only apeer, but has previously been a barrister of reputation and a popularand hard-working member of the House of Commons during a long time,it is generally safer to use guarded language; the advisability ofmoderation also increases directly as the number and size of thelady's brothers, and inversely as their patience. Therefore, on thewhole, Lady Maud was much better treated by the society columns thanMargaret at first expected.

  On the other hand, they vented their spleen and sharpened theirEnglish on the American financier, who had no relations and scarcelyany friends to stand by him, and was, moreover, in a foreign country,which always seems to be regarded as an aggravating circumstance whena man gets into any sort of trouble. Isidore Bamberger and Mr. Feisthad roused and let loose upon him a whole pack of hungry reporters andparagraph writers on both sides of the Atlantic.

  The papers did not at first print his name except in connection withthe divorce of Lady Maud. But this was a landmark, the smallestreference to which made all other allusions to him quite clear. Itwas easy to speak of Mr. Van Torp as the central figure in a _causecelebre_: newspapers love the French language the more as theyunderstand it the less; just as the gentle amateur in literature triesto hide his cloven hoof under the thin elegance of italics.

  Particular stress was laid upon the millionaire's dreadful hypocrisy.He taught in the Sunday Schools at Nickelville, the big village whichhad sprung up at his will and which was the headquarters of hissanctimonious wickedness. He was compared to Solomon, not for hiswisdom, but on account of his domestic arrangements. He was indeed afather to his flock. It was a touching sight to see the little onesgathered round the knees of this great and good man, and to notehow an unconscious and affectionate imitation reflected his facein theirs. It was true that there was another side to this trulypatriarchal picture. In a city of the Far West, wrote an eloquentparagraph writer, a pale face, once divinely beautiful, was often seenat the barred window of a madhouse, and eyes that had once looked tootenderly into those of the Nickelville Solomon stared wildly atthe palm-trees in the asylum grounds. This paragraph was rich insentiment.

  There were a good many mentions of the explosion in New York, too, andhints, dark, but uncommonly straight, that the great Sunday Schoolteacher had been the author and stage-manager of an awful comedydesigned expressly to injure a firm of contractors against whom he hada standing grudge. In proof of the assertion, the story went on to saythat he had written four hours before the 'accident' happened to givewarning of it to the young lady whom he was about to marry. She wasa neurasthenic young lady, and in spite of the warning she died verysuddenly at the theatre from shock immediately after the explosion,and his note was found on her dressing-table when she was brought homedead. Clearly, if the explosion had not been his work, and if he hadbeen informed of it beforehand, he would have warned the police andthe Department of Public Works at the same time. The young lady'suntimely death had not prevented him from sailing for Europe three orfour days later, and on the trip he had actually occupied alone thesame 'thousand dollar suite' which he had previously engaged forhimself and his bride. From this detail the public might form someidea of the Nickelville magnate's heartless character. In fact, ifone-half of what was written, telegraphed, and printed about Rufus VanTorp on both sides of the Atlantic during the next fortnight was to bebelieved, he had no character at all.

  To all this he answered nothing, and he did not take the trouble toallude to the matter in the few letters he wrote to his acquaintances.Day after day numbers of marked papers were carefully ironed and laidon the breakfast-table, after having been read and commented on in theservants' hall. The butler began to look askance at him, Mrs. Dubbs,the housekeeper, talked gloomily of giving warning, and the footmengossiped with the stable hands; but the men all decided that it wasnot derogatory to their dignity to remain in the service of a masterwho was soon to be exhibited in the divorce court beside such a 'reallady' as Lord Creedmore's daughter; the housemaids agreed in thisview, and the housekeeper consulted Miss More. For Mrs. Dubbs was animposing person, morally and physically, and had a character to lose;and though the place was a very good one for her old age, because themaster only spent six weeks or two months at Oxley Paddox each year,and never found fault, yet Mrs. Dubbs was not going to have her nameassociated with that of a gentleman who blew up underground works andtook Solomon's view of the domestic affections. She came of very goodpeople in the north; one of her brothers was a minister, and the otherwas an assistant steward on a large Scotch estate.

  Miss More's quiet serenity was not at all disturbed by what washappening, for it could hardly be supposed that she was ignorant ofthe general attack on Mr. Van Torp, though he did not leave the paperslying about, where little Ida's quick eyes might fall on a markedpassage. The housekeeper waited for an occasion when Mr. Van Torphad taken the child for a drive, as he often did, and Miss More wasestablished in her favourite corner of the garden, just out of sightof the house. Mrs. Dubbs first exposed the situation, then expresseda strong opinion as to her own respectability, and finally asked MissMore's advice.

  Miss More listened attentively, and waited till her large and sleekinterlocutor had absolutely nothing more to say. Then she spoke.

  'Mrs. Dubbs,' she said, 'do you consider me a respectable youngwoman?'

  'Oh, Miss More!' cried the housekeeper. 'You! Indeed, I'd put my handinto the fire for you any day!'

  'And I'm an American, and I've known Mr. Van Torp several years,though this is the first time you have seen me here. Do you think Iwould let the child stay an hour under his roof, or stay here myself,if I believed one word of all those wicked stories the papers arepublishing? Look at me, please. Do you think I would?'

  It was quite impossible to look at Miss More's quiet healthy face andclear eyes and to believe she would. There are some women of whomone is sure at a glance that they are perfectly trustworthy in everyimaginable way, and above even the suspicion of countenancing anywrong.

  'No,' answered Mrs. Dubbs, with honest conviction, 'I don't, indeed.'

  'I think, then,' said Miss More, 'that if I feel I can stay here, youare safe in staying too. I do not believe any of these slanders, andI am quite sure that Mr. Van Torp is one of the kindest men in theworld.'

  'I feel as if you must be right, Miss More,' replied the housekeeper.'But they do say dreadful things about him, indeed, and he doesn'tdeny a word of it, as he ought to, in my humble opinion, though it'snot my business to judge, of course, but I'll say this, Miss More, andthat is, that if the butler's character was publicly attacked in thepapers, in the way Mr. Van Torp's is, and if I were Mr. Van Torp,which of course I'm not, I'd say "Crookes, you may be all right, butif you're going to be butler here any longer, it's your duty to defendyourself against these attacks upon you in the papers, Crookes,because as a Christian man you must not hide your light under abushel, Crookes, but let it shine abroad." That's what I'd say, MissMore, and I should like to know if you don't think I should be right.'

  'If the English and American press united to attack the butler'scharacter,' answered Miss More without a smile, 'I think you wouldbe quite right, Mrs. Dubbs. But as regards Mr. Van Torp's presentposition, I am sure he is the best judge of what he ought to do.'

  These words of wisdom, and Miss More's truthful eyes, greatlyreassured the housekeeper, who afterwards upbraided the servants forpaying any attention to such wicked falsehoods; and Mr. Crookes, thebutler, wrote to hi
s aged mother, who was anxious about his situation,to say that Mr. Van Torp must be either a real gentleman or a veryhardened criminal indeed, because it was only forgers and realgentlemen who could act so precious cool; but that, on the whole, he,Crookes, and the housekeeper, who was a highly respectable person andthe sister of a minister, as he wished his mother to remember, hadmade up their minds that Mr. V.T. was Al, copper-bottomed--Mrs.Crookes was the widow of a seafaring man, and lived at Liverpool,and had heard Lloyd's rating quoted all her life--and that they, thewriter and Mrs. Dubbs, meant to see him through his troubles, thoughhe was a little trying at his meals, for he would have butter onthe table at his dinner, and he wanted two and three courses servedtogether, and drank milk at his luncheon, like no Christian gentlemandid that Mr. Crookes had ever seen.

  The financier might have been amused if he could have read thisletter, which contained no allusion to the material attractionsof Torp Towers as a situation; for like a good many Americanmillionaires, Mr. Van Torp had a blind spot on his financial retina.He could deal daringly and surely with vast sums, or he could screwtwice the normal quantity of work out of an underpaid clerk; but thehousehold arithmetic that lies between the two was entirely beyond hiscomprehension. He 'didn't want to be bothered,' he said; he maintainedthat he 'could make more money in ten minutes than he could save in ayear by checking the housekeeper's accounts'; he 'could live on coffeeand pie,' but if he chose to hire the chef of the Cafe Anglais to cookfor him at five thousand dollars a year he 'didn't want to know theprice of a truffled pheasant or a chaudfroid of ortolans.' That washis way, and it was good enough for him. What was the use of havingmade money if you were to be bothered? And besides, he concluded, 'itwas none of anybody's blank blank business what he did.'

  Mr. Van Torp did not hesitate to borrow similes from another worldwhen his rather limited command of refined language was unequal to theoccasion.

  But at the present juncture, though his face did not change, andthough he slept as soundly and had as good an appetite as usual, nowords with which he was acquainted could express his feelings at all.He had, indeed, consigned the writer of the first article to perditionwith some satisfaction; but after his interview with Logotheti,when he had understood that a general attack upon him had begun, hegathered his strength in silence and studied the position with all theconcentration of earnest thought which his exceptional nature couldcommand.

  He had recognised Feist's handwriting, and he remembered the man ashis partner's former secretary. Feist might have written the letterto Logotheti and the first article, but Van Torp did not believehim capable of raising a general hue and cry on both sides of theAtlantic. It undoubtedly happened sometimes that when a fire had beensmouldering long unseen a single spark sufficed to start the blaze,but Mr. Van Torp was too well informed as to public opinion about himto have been in ignorance of any general feeling against him, if ithad existed; and the present attack was of too personal a nature tohave been devised by financial rivals. Besides, the Nickel Trust hadrecently absorbed all its competitors to such an extent that it had norivals at all, and the dangers that threatened it lay on the one handin the growing strength of the Labour Party in its great movementagainst capital, and on the other in its position with regard torecent American legislation about Trusts. From the beginning Mr. VanTorp had been certain that the campaign of defamation had not beenbegun by the Unions, and by its nature it could have no connectionwith the legal aspect of his position. It was therefore clear thatwar had been declared upon him by one or more individuals on purelypersonal grounds, and that Mr. Feist was but the chief instrument inthe hands of an unknown enemy.

  But at first sight it did not look as if his assailant were IsidoreBamberger. The violent attack on him might not affect the credit ofthe Nickel Trust, but it was certainly not likely to improve it andMr. Van Torp believed that if his partner had a grudge against him,any attempt at revenge would be made in a shape that would not affectthe Trust's finances. Bamberger was a resentful sort of man, but onthe other hand he was a man of business, and his fortune depended onthat of his great partner.

  Mr. Van Torp walked every morning in the park, thinking over thesethings, and little Ida tripped along beside him watching the squirrelsand the birds, and not saying much; but now and then, when she feltthe gentle pressure of his hand on hers, which usually meant that hewas going to speak to her, she looked up to watch his lips, and theydid not move; only his eyes met hers, and the faint smile that cameinto his face then was not at all like the one which most people sawthere. So she smiled back, happily, and looked at the squirrels again,sure that a rabbit would soon make a dash over the open and cross theroad, and hoping for the rare delight of seeing a hare. And the tamered and fallow deer looked at her suspiciously from a distance, as ifshe might turn into a motor-car. In those morning walks she did notagain see his lips forming words that frightened her, and she began tobe quite sure that he had stopped swearing to himself because she hadspoken to him so seriously.

  Once he looked at her so long and with so much earnestness that sheasked him what he was thinking of, and he gently pushed back thebroad-brimmed hat she wore, so as to see her forehead and beautifulgolden hair.

  'You are growing very like your mother,' he said, after a littlewhile.

  They had stopped in the broad drive, and little Ida gazed gravely upat him for a moment. Then she put up her arms.

  'I think I want to give you a kiss, Mr. Van Torp,' she said with theutmost gravity. 'You're so good to me.'

  Mr. Van Torp stooped, and she put her arms round his short neck andkissed the hard, flat cheek once, and he kissed hers rather awkwardly.

  'Thank you, my dear,' he said, in an odd voice, as he straightenedhimself.

  He took her hand again to walk on, and the great iron mouth was drawna little to one side, and it looked as if the lips might have trembledif they had not been so tightly shut. Perhaps Mr. Van Torp had neverkissed a child before.

  She was very happy and contented, for she had spent most of her lifein a New England village alone with Miss More, and the great Englishcountry-house was full of wonder and mystery for her, and the park wascertainly the Earthly Paradise. She had hardly ever been with otherchildren and was rather afraid of them, because they did not alwaysunderstand what she said, as most grown people did; so she was not atall lonely now. On the contrary, she felt that her small existencewas ever so much fuller than before, since she now loved two peopleinstead of only one, and the two people seemed to agree so welltogether. In America she had only seen Mr. Van Torp at intervals, whenhe had appeared at the cottage near Boston, the bearer of toys andchocolates and other good things, and she had not been told till aftershe had landed in Liverpool that she was to be taken to stop with himin the country while he remained in England. Till then he had alwayscalled her 'Miss Ida,' in an absurdly formal way, but ever since shehad arrived at Oxley Paddox he had dropped the 'Miss,' and had neverfailed to spend two or three hours alone with her every day. Thoughhis manner had not changed much, and he treated her with a sort ofqueer formality, much as he would have behaved if she had been twentyyears old instead of nine, she had been growing more and more surethat he loved her and would give her anything in the world she askedfor, though there was really nothing she wanted; and in return shegrew gratefully fond of him by quick degrees, till her affectionexpressed itself in her solemn proposal to 'give him a kiss.'

  Not long after that Mr. Van Torp found amongst his letters one fromLady Maud, of which the envelope was stamped with the address of herfather's country place, 'Craythew.' He read the contents carefully,and made a note in his pocket-book before tearing the sheet and theenvelope into a number of small bits.

  There was nothing very compromising in the note, but Mr. Van Torpcertainly did not know that his butler regularly offered first andsecond prizes in the servants' hall, every Saturday night, for the'best-put-together letters' of the week--to those of his satellites,in other words, who had been most successful in piecing togetherscraps
from the master's wastepaper basket. In houses where thepost-bag has a patent lock, of which the master keeps the key, thisdiversion has been found a good substitute for the more thrillingentertainment of steaming the letters and reading them before takingthem upstairs. If Mrs. Dubbs was aware of Mr. Crookes' weeklydistribution of rewards she took no notice of it; but as she rarelycondescended to visit the lower regions, and only occasionally askedMr. Crookes to dine in her own sitting-room, she may be allowed thebenefit of the doubt; and, besides, she was a very superior person.

  On the day after he had received Lady Maud's note, Mr. Van Torp rodeout by himself. No one, judging from his looks, would have taken himfor a good rider. He rode seldom, too, never talked of horses, and wasnever seen at a race. When he rode he did not even take the trouble toput on gaiters, and, after he had bought Oxley Paddox, the first timethat his horse was brought to the door, by a groom who had never seenhim, the latter could have sworn that the millionaire had never beenon a horse before and was foolishly determined to break his neck. Onthat occasion Mr. Van Torp came down the steps, with a big cigar inhis mouth, in his ordinary clothes, without so much as a pair ofstraps to keep his trousers down, or a bit of a stick in his hand. Theanimal was a rather ill-tempered black that had arrived from Yorkshiretwo days previously in charge of a boy who gave him a bad character.As Mr. Van Torp descended the steps with his clumsy gait, the horselaid his ears well back for a moment and looked as if he meant tokick anything within reach. Mr. Van Torp looked at him in a dull way,puffed his cigar, and made one remark in the form of a query.

  'He ain't a lamb, is he?'

  'No, sir,' answered the groom with sympathetic alacrity, 'and if I wasyou, sir, I wouldn't--'

  But the groom's good advice was checked by an unexpected phenomenon.Mr. Van Torp was suddenly up, and the black was plunging wildly aswas only to be expected; what was more extraordinary was that Mr. VanTorp's expression showed no change whatever, the very big cigar wasstuck in his mouth at precisely the same angle as before, and heappeared to be glued to the saddle. He sat perfectly erect, with hislegs perpendicularly straight, and his hands low and quiet.

  The next moment the black bolted down the drive, but Mr. Van Torp didnot seem the least disturbed, and the astonished groom, his mouth wideopen and his arms hanging down, saw that the rider gave the beast hishead for a couple of hundred yards, and then actually stopped himshort, bringing him almost to the ground on his haunches.

  'My Gawd, 'e's a cowboy!' exclaimed the groom, who was a Cockney,and had seen a Wild West show and recognised the real thing. 'Andme thinkin' 'e was goin' to break his precious neck and wastin' mybloomin' sympathy on 'im!'

  Since that first day Mr. Van Torp had not ridden more than a score oftimes in two years. He preferred driving, because it was less trouble,and partly because he could take little Ida with him. It was thereforealways a noticeable event in the monotonous existence at Torp Towerswhen he ordered a horse to be saddled, as he did on the day after hehad got Lady Maud's note from Craythew.

  He rode across the hilly country at a leisurely pace, first by lanesand afterwards over a broad moor, till he entered a small beech woodby a bridle-path not wide enough for two to ride together, and linedwith rhododendrons, lilacs, and laburnum. A quarter of a mile fromthe entrance a pretty glade widened to an open lawn, in the middleof which stood a ruin, consisting of the choir and chancel arch of achapel. Mr. Van Torp drew rein before it, threw his right leg over thepommel before him, and remained sitting sideways on the saddle, forthe very good reason that he did not see anything to sit on if he gotdown, and that it was of no use to waste energy in standing. His horsemight have resented such behaviour on the part of any one else, butaccepted the western rider's eccentricities quite calmly and proceededto crop the damp young grass at his feet.

  Mr. Van Torp had come to meet Lady Maud. The place was lonely andconveniently situated, being about half-way between Oxley Paddox andCraythew, on Mr. Van Torp's land, which was so thoroughly protectedagainst trespassers and reporters by wire fences and special watchmenthat there was little danger of any one getting within the guardedboundary. On the side towards Craythew there was a gate with a patentlock, to which Lady Maud had a key.

  Mr. Van Torp was at the meeting-place at least a quarter of an hourbefore the appointed time. His horse only moved a short step every nowand then, eating his way slowly across the grass, and his rider satsideways, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at nothingparticular, with that perfectly wooden expression of his whichindicated profound thought.

  But his senses were acutely awake, and he caught the distant sound ofhoofs on the soft woodland path just a second before his horse liftedhis head and pricked his ears. Mr. Van Torp did not slip to theground, however, and he hardly changed his position. Half a dozenyoung pheasants hurled themselves noisily out of the wood on the otherside of the ruin, and scattered again as they saw him, to perch onthe higher boughs of the trees not far off instead of settling onthe sward. A moment later Lady Maud appeared, on a lanky and elderlythoroughbred that had been her own long before her marriage. Herold-fashioned habit was evidently of the same period too; it had beenmade before the modern age of skirted coats, and fitted her figure ina way that would have excited open disapproval and secret admirationin Rotten Row. But she never rode in town, so that it did not matter;and, besides, Lady Maud did not care.

  Mr. Van Torp raised his hat in a very un-English way, and at the sametime, apparently out of respect for his friend, he went so far as tochange his seat a little by laying his right knee over the pommel andsticking his left foot into the stirrup, so that he sat like a woman.Lady Maud drew up on his off side and they shook hands.

  'You look rather comfortable,' she said, and the happy ripple was inher voice.

  'Why, yes. There's nothing else to sit on, and the grass is wet. Doyou want to get off?'

  'I thought we might make some tea presently,' answered Lady Maud.'I've brought my basket.'

  'Now I call that quite sweet!' Mr. Van Torp seemed very much pleased,and he looked down at the shabby little brown basket hanging at hersaddle.

  He slipped to the ground, and she did the same before he could goround to help her. The old thoroughbred nosed her hand as if expectingsomething good, and she produced a lump of sugar from the tea-basketand gave it to him.

  Mr. Van Torp pulled a big carrot from the pocket of his tweed jacketand let his horse bite it off by inches. Then he took the basket fromLady Maud and the two went towards the ruin.

  'We can sit on the Earl,' said Lady Maud, advancing towards a low tombon which was sculptured a recumbent figure in armour. 'The horseswon't run away from such nice grass.'

  So the two installed themselves on each side of the stone knight'sarmed feet, which helped to support the tea-basket, and Lady Maud tookout her spirit-lamp and a saucepan that just held two cups, and a tinbottle full of water, and all the other things, arranging them neatlyin order.

  'How practical women are!' exclaimed Mr. Van Torp, looking on. 'Now Iwould never have thought of that.'

  But he was really wondering whether she expected him to speak first ofthe grave matters that brought them together in that lonely place.

  'I've got some bread and butter,' she said, opening a smallsandwich-box, 'and there is a lemon instead of cream.'

  'Your arrangements beat Hare Court hollow,' observed the millionaire.'Do you remember the cracked cups and the weevilly biscuits?'

  'Yes, and how sorry you were when you had burnt the little beasts! Nowlight the spirit-lamp, please, and then we can talk.'

  Everything being arranged to her satisfaction, Lady Maud looked up ather companion.

  'Are you going to do anything about it?' she asked.

  'Will it do any good if I do? That's the question.'

  'Good? What is good in that sense?' She looked at him a moment, butas he did not answer she went on. 'I cannot bear to see you abused inprint like this, day after day, when I know the truth, or most of it.'

 
'It doesn't matter about me. I'm used to it. What does your fathersay?'

  'He says that when a man is attacked as you are, it's his duty todefend himself.'

  'Oh, he does, does he?'

  Lady Maud smiled, but shook her head in a reproachful way.

  'You promised me that you would never give me your business answer,you know!'

  'I'm sorry,' said Mr. Van Torp, in a tone of contrition. 'Well, yousee, I forgot you weren't a man. I won't do it again. So your fatherthinks I'd better come out flat-footed with a statement to the press.Now, I'll tell you. I'd do so, if I didn't feel sure that all thiscircus about me isn't the real thing yet. It's been got up with anobject, and until I can make out what's coming I think I'd best keepstill. Whoever's at the root of this is counting on my losing mytemper and hitting out, and saying things, and then the real attackwill come from an unexpected quarter. Do you see that? Under thecircumstances, almost any man in my position would get interviewed andtalk back, wouldn't he?'

  'I fancy so,' answered Lady Maud.

  'Exactly. If I did that, I might be raising against another man'sstraight flush, don't you see? A good way in a fight is never to dowhat everybody else would do. But I've got a scheme for getting behindthe other man, whoever he is, and I've almost concluded to try it.'

  'Will you tell me what it is?'

  'Don't I always tell you most things?'

  Lady Maud smiled at the reservation implied in 'most.'

  'After all you have done for me, I should have no right to complain ifyou never told me anything,' she answered. 'Do as you think best. Youknow that I trust you.'

  'That's right, and I appreciate it,' answered the millionaire. 'Inthe first place, you're not going to be divorced. I suppose that'ssettled.'

  Lady Maud opened her clear eyes in surprise.

  'You didn't know that, did you?' asked Mr. Van Torp, enjoying herastonishment.

  'Certainly not, and I can hardly believe it,' she answered.

  'Look here, Maud,' said her companion, bending his heavy brows in away very unusual with him, 'do you seriously think I'd let you bedivorced on my account? That I'd allow any human being to play trickswith your good name by coupling it with mine in any sort of way? IfI were the kind of man about whom you had a right to think that, Iwouldn't deserve your friendship.'

  It was not often that Rufus Van Torp allowed his face to show feeling,but the look she saw in his rough-hewn features for a moment almostfrightened her. There was something Titanic in it.

  'No, Rufus--no!' she cried, earnestly. 'You know how I have believedin you and trusted you! It's only that I don't see how--'

  'That's a detail,' answered the American. 'The "how" don't matterwhen a man's in earnest.' The look was gone again, for her words hadappeased him instantly. 'Well,' he went on, in his ordinary tone,'you can take it for granted that the divorce will come to nothing.There'll be a clear statement in all the best papers next week, sayingthat your husband's suit for a divorce has been dismissed with costsbecause there is not the slightest evidence of any kind against you.It will be stated that you came to my partner's chambers in Hare Courton a matter of pure business, to receive certain money, which was dueto you from me in the way of business, for which you gave me the usualbusiness acknowledgment. So that's that! I had a wire yesterday to sayit's as good as settled. The water's boiling.'

  The steam was lifting the lid of the small saucepan, which stoodsecurely on the spirit-lamp between the marble knight's greaved shins.But Lady Maud took no notice of it.

  'It's like you,' said she. 'I cannot find anything else to say!'

  'It doesn't matter about saying anything,' returned Mr. Van Torp. 'Thewater's boiling.'

  'Will you blow out the lamp?' As she spoke she dropped a batteredsilver tea-ball into the water, and moved it about by its littlechain.

  Mr. Van Torp took off his hat, and bent down sideways till his flatcheek rested on the knight's stone shin, and he blew out the flamewith one well-aimed puff. Lady Maud did not look at the top of hishead, nor steal a furtive glance at the strong muscles and sinews ofhis solid neck. She did nothing of the kind. She bobbed the tea-ballup and down in the saucepan by its chain, and watched how the hotwater turned brown.

  'But I did not give you a "business acknowledgment," as you call it,'she said thoughtfully. 'It's not quite truthful to say I did, youknow.'

  'Does that bother you? All right.'

  He produced his well-worn pocket-book, found a scrap of white paperamongst the contents, and laid it on the leather. Then he took hispencil and wrote a few words.

  'Received of R. Van Torp L4100 to balance of account.'

  He held out the pencil, and laid the pocket-book on his palm for herto write. She read the words with out moving.

  '"To balance of account"--what does that mean?'

  'It means that it's a business transaction. At the time you couldn'tmake any further claim against me. That's all it means.'

  He put the pencil to the paper again, and wrote the date of themeeting in Hare Court.

  'There! If you sign your name to that, it just means that you had nofurther claim against me on that day. You hadn't, anyway, so you mayjust as well sign!'

  He held out the paper, and Lady Maud took it with a smile and wroteher signature.

  'Thank you,' said Mr. Van Torp. 'Now you're quite comfortable, Isuppose, for you can't deny that you have given me the usual businessacknowledgment. The other part of it is that I don't care to keep thatkind of receipt long, so I just strike a match and burn it.' He didso, and watched the flimsy scrap turn black on the stone knight'sknee, till the gentle breeze blew the ashes away. 'So there!' heconcluded. 'If you were called upon to swear in evidence that yousigned a proper receipt for the money, you couldn't deny it, couldyou? A receipt's good if given at any time after the money has beenpaid. What's the matter? Why do you look as if you doubted it? What istruth, anyhow? It's the agreement of the facts with the statement ofthem, isn't it? Well, I don't see but the statement coincides with thefacts all right now.'

  While he had been talking Lady Maud had poured out the tea, and hadcut some thin slices from the lemon, glancing at him incredulously nowand then, but smiling in spite of herself.

  'That's all sophistry,' she said, as she handed him his cup.

  'Thanks,' he answered, taking it from her. 'Look here! Can you denythat you have given me a formal dated receipt for four thousand onehundred pounds?'

  'No--'

  'Well, then, what can't be denied is the truth; and if I choose topublish the truth about you, I don't suppose you can find fault withit.'

  'No, but--'

  'Excuse me for interrupting, but there is no "but." What's good in lawis good enough for me, and the Attorney-General and all his angelscouldn't get behind that receipt now, if they tried till they wereblack in the face.'

  Mr. Van Torp's similes were not always elegant.

  'Tip-top tea,' he remarked, as Lady Maud did not attempt to sayanything more. 'That was a bright idea of yours, bringing the lemon,too.'

  He took several small sips in quick succession, evidently appreciatingthe quality of the tea as a connoisseur.

  'I don't know how you have managed to do it,' said Lady Maud at last.'As you say, the "how" does not matter very much. Perhaps it's just aswell that I should not know how you got at the Patriarch. I couldn'tbe more grateful if I knew the whole story.'

  'There's no particular story about it. When I found he was the man tobe seen, I sent a man to see him. That's all.'

  'It sounds very simple,' said Lady Maud, whose acquaintance withAmerican slang was limited, even after she had known Mr. Van Torpintimately for two years. 'You were going to tell me more. You saidyou had a plan for catching the real person who is responsible forthis attack on you.'

  'Well, I have a sort of an idea, but I'm not quite sure how the landlays. By the bye,' he said quickly, correcting himself, 'isn't thatone of the things I say wrong? You told me I ought to say how the land"lies," didn't you? I alway
s forget.'

  Lady Maud laughed as she looked at him, for she was quite sure that hehad only taken up his own mistake in order to turn the subject fromthe plan of which he did not mean to speak.

  'You know that I'm not in the least curious,' she said, 'so don'twaste any cleverness in putting me off! I only wish to know whether Ican help you to carry out your plan. I had an idea too. I thought ofgetting my father to have a week-end party at Craythew, to which youwould be asked, by way of showing people that he knows all about ourfriendship, and approves of it in spite of what my husband has beentrying to do. Would that suit you? Would it help you or not?'

  'It might come in nicely after the news about the divorce appears,'answered Mr. Van Torp approvingly. 'It would be just the same if Iwent over to dinner every day, and didn't sleep in the house, wouldn'tit?'

  'I'm not sure,' Lady Maud said. 'I don't think it would, quite. Itmight seem odd that you should dine with us every day, whereas if youstop with us people cannot but see that my father wants you.'

  'How about Lady Creedmore?'

  'My mother is on the continent. Why in the world do you not want tocome?'

  'Oh, I don't know,' answered Mr. Van Torp vaguely. 'Just like that,I suppose. I was thinking. But it'll be all right, and I'll come anyway, and please tell your father that I highly appreciate the kindinvitation. When is it to be?'

  'Come on Thursday next week and stay till Tuesday. Then you will bethere when the first people come and till the last have left. Thatwill look even better.'

  'Maybe they'll say you take boarders,' observed Mr. Van Torpfacetiously. 'That other piece belongs to you.'

  While talking they had finished their tea, and only one slice of breadand butter was left in the sandwich-box.

  'No,' answered Lady Maud, 'it's yours. I took the first.'

  'Let's go shares,' suggested the millionaire.

  'There's no knife.'

  'Break it.'

  Lady Maud doubled the slice with conscientious accuracy, gentlypulled the pieces apart at the crease, and held out one half to hercompanion. He took it as naturally as if they had been children, andthey ate their respective shares in silence. As a matter of fact Mr.Van Torp had been unconsciously and instinctively more interested inthe accuracy of the division than in the very beautiful white fingersthat performed it.

  'Who are the other people going to be?' he asked when he had finishedeating, and Lady Maud was beginning to put the tea-things back intothe basket.

  'That depends on whom we can get. Everybody is awfully busy just now,you know. The usual sort of set, I suppose. You know the kind ofpeople who come to us--you've met lots of them. I thought of askingMiss Donne if she is free. You know her, don't you?'

  'Why, yes, I do. You've read those articles about our interview in NewYork, I suppose.'

  Lady Maud, who had been extremely occupied with her own affairs oflate, had almost forgotten the story, and was now afraid that she hadmade a mistake, but she caught at the most evident means of setting itright.

  'Yes, of course. All the better, if you are seen stopping in the samehouse. People will see that it's all right.'

  'Well, maybe they would. I'd rather, if it'll do her any good. Butperhaps she doesn't want to meet me. She wasn't over-anxious to talkto me on the steamer, I noticed, and I didn't bother her much. She's alovely woman!'

  Lady Maud looked at him, and her beautiful mouth twitched as if shewanted to laugh.

  'Miss Donne doesn't think you're a "lovely" man at all,' she said.

  'No,' answered Mr. Van Torp, in a tone of child-like and almostsheepish regret, 'she doesn't, and I suppose she's right. I didn'tknow how to take her, or she wouldn't have been so angry.'

  'When? Did you really ask her to marry you?' Lady Maud was smilingnow.

  'Why, yes, I did. Why shouldn't I? I guess it wasn't very well done,though, and I was a fool to try and take her hand after she'd saidno.'

  'Oh, you tried to take her hand?'

  'Yes, and the next thing I knew she'd rushed out of the room andbolted the door, as if I was a dangerous lunatic and she'd just foundit out. That's what happened--just that. It wasn't my fault if I wasin earnest, I suppose.'

  'And just after that you were engaged to poor Miss Bamberger,' saidLady Maud in a tone of reflection.

  'Yes,' answered Mr. Van Torp slowly. 'Nothing mattered much just then,and the engagement was the business side. I told you about all that inHare Court.'

  'You're a singular mixture of several people all in one! I shall neverquite understand you.'

  'Maybe not. But if you don't, nobody else is likely to, and I mean tobe frank to you every time. I suppose you think I'm heartless.Perhaps I am. I don't know. You have to know about the business sidesometimes; I wish you didn't, for it's not the side of myself I likebest.'

  The aggressive blue eyes softened a little as he spoke, and there wasa touch of deep regret in his harsh voice.

  'No,' answered Lady Maud, 'I don't like it either. But you are notheartless. Don't say that of yourself, please--please don't! Youcannot fancy how it would hurt me to think that your helping me wasonly a rich man's caprice, that because a few thousand pounds arenothing to you it amused you to throw the money away on me and myideas, and that you would just as soon put it on a horse, or play withit at Monte Carlo!'

  'Well, you needn't worry,' observed Mr. Van Torp, smiling in areassuring way. 'I'm not given to throwing away money. In fact, theother people think I'm too much inclined to take it. And why shouldn'tI? People who don't know how to take care of money shouldn't have it.They do harm with it. It is right to take it from them since theycan't keep it and haven't the sense to spend it properly. However,that's the business side of me, and we won't talk about it, unless youlike.'

  'I don't "like"!' Lady Maud smiled too.

  'Precisely. You're not the business side, and you can have anythingyou like to ask for. Anything I've got, I mean.'

  The beautiful hands were packing the tea-things.

  'Anything in reason,' suggested Lady Maud, looking into the shabbybasket.

  'I'm not talking about reason,' answered Mr. Van Torp, gouging hiswaistcoat pockets with his thick thumbs, and looking at the top of herold grey felt hat as she bent her head. 'I don't suppose I've donemuch good in my life, but maybe you'll do some for me, because youunderstand those things and I don't. Anyhow, you mean to, and I wantyou to, and that constitutes intention in both parties, which is themain thing in law. If it happens to give you pleasure, so much thebetter. That's why I say you can have anything you like. It's anunlimited order.'

  'Thank you,' said Lady Maud, still busy with the things. 'I know youare in earnest, and if I needed more money I would ask for it. ButI want to make sure that it is really the right way--so many peoplewould not think it was, you know, and only time can prove that I'mnot mistaken. There!' She had finished packing the basket, and shefastened the lid regretfully. 'I'm afraid we must be going. It wasawfully good of you to come!'

  'Wasn't it? I'll be just as good again the day after to-morrow, ifyou'll ask me!'

  'Will you?' rippled the sweet voice pleasantly. 'Then come at the sametime, unless it rains really hard. I'm not afraid of a shower, youknow, and the arch makes a very fair shelter here. I never catch cold,either.'

  She rose, taking up the basket in one hand and shaking down the foldsof her old habit with the other.

  'All the same, I'd bring a jacket next time if I were you,' said hercompanion, exactly as her mother might have made the suggestion, andscarcely bestowing a glance on her almost too visibly perfect figure.

  The old thoroughbred raised his head as they crossed the sward, andmade two or three steps towards her of his own accord. Her foot resteda moment on Mr. Van Torp's solid hand, and she was in the saddle. Theblack was at first less disposed to be docile, but soon yielded at thesight of another carrot. Mr. Van Torp did not take the trouble toput his foot into the stirrup, but vaulted from the ground with noapparent effort. Lady Maud smiled approvingly, but no
t as a womanwho loves a man and feels pride in him when he does anything verydifficult. It merely pleased and amused her to see with what ease andindifference the rather heavily-built American did a thing which manya good English rider, gentleman or groom, would have found it hard todo at all. But Mr. Van Torp had ridden and driven cattle in Californiafor his living before he had been twenty.

  He wheeled and came to her side, and held out his hand.

  'Day after to-morrow, at the same time,' he said as she took it.'Good-bye!'

  'Good-bye, and don't forget Thursday!'

  They parted and rode away in opposite directions, and neither turned,even once, to look back at the other.