The Age of Innocence

V.

The next evening old Mr. Sillerton Jackson came to dine with theArchers.

Mrs. Archer was a shy woman and shrank from society; but she liked tobe well-informed as to its doings. Her old friend Mr. SillertonJackson applied to the investigation of his friends' affairs thepatience of a collector and the science of a naturalist; and hissister, Miss Sophy Jackson, who lived with him, and was entertained byall the people who could not secure her much-sought-after brother,brought home bits of minor gossip that filled out usefully the gaps inhis picture.

Therefore, whenever anything happened that Mrs. Archer wanted to knowabout, she asked Mr. Jackson to dine; and as she honoured few peoplewith her invitations, and as she and her daughter Janey were anexcellent audience, Mr. Jackson usually came himself instead of sendinghis sister. If he could have dictated all the conditions, he wouldhave chosen the evenings when Newland was out; not because the youngman was uncongenial to him (the two got on capitally at their club) butbecause the old anecdotist sometimes felt, on Newland's part, atendency to weigh his evidence that the ladies of the family nevershowed.

Mr. Jackson, if perfection had been attainable on earth, would alsohave asked that Mrs. Archer's food should be a little better. But thenNew York, as far back as the mind of man could travel, had been dividedinto the two great fundamental groups of the Mingotts and Mansons andall their clan, who cared about eating and clothes and money, and theArcher-Newland-van-der-Luyden tribe, who were devoted to travel,horticulture and the best fiction, and looked down on the grosser formsof pleasure.

You couldn't have everything, after all. If you dined with the LovellMingotts you got canvas-back and terrapin and vintage wines; at AdelineArcher's you could talk about Alpine scenery and ”The Marble Faun”; andluckily the Archer Madeira had gone round the Cape. Therefore when afriendly summons came from Mrs. Archer, Mr. Jackson, who was a trueeclectic, would usually say to his sister: ”I've been a little goutysince my last dinner at the Lovell Mingotts'--it will do me good todiet at Adeline's.”

Mrs. Archer, who had long been a widow, lived with her son and daughterin West Twenty-eighth Street. An upper floor was dedicated to Newland,and the two women squeezed themselves into narrower quarters below. Inan unclouded harmony of tastes and interests they cultivated ferns inWardian cases, made macrame lace and wool embroidery on linen,collected American revolutionary glazed ware, subscribed to ”GoodWords,” and read Ouida's novels for the sake of the Italian atmosphere.(They preferred those about peasant life, because of the descriptionsof scenery and the pleasanter sentiments, though in general they likednovels about people in society, whose motives and habits were morecomprehensible, spoke severely of Dickens, who ”had never drawn agentleman,” and considered Thackeray less at home in the great worldthan Bulwer--who, however, was beginning to be thought old-fashioned.)Mrs. and Miss Archer were both great lovers of scenery. It was whatthey principally sought and admired on their occasional travels abroad;considering architecture and painting as subjects for men, and chieflyfor learned persons who read Ruskin. Mrs. Archer had been born aNewland, and mother and daughter, who were as like as sisters, wereboth, as people said, ”true Newlands”; tall, pale, and slightlyround-shouldered, with long noses, sweet smiles and a kind of droopingdistinction like that in certain faded Reynolds portraits. Theirphysical resemblance would have been complete if an elderly embonpointhad not stretched Mrs. Archer's black brocade, while Miss Archer'sbrown and purple poplins hung, as the years went on, more and moreslackly on her virgin frame.

Mentally, the likeness between them, as Newland was aware, was lesscomplete than their identical mannerisms often made it appear. Thelong habit of living together in mutually dependent intimacy had giventhem the same vocabulary, and the same habit of beginning their phrases”Mother thinks” or ”Janey thinks,” according as one or the other wishedto advance an opinion of her own; but in reality, while Mrs. Archer'sserene unimaginativeness rested easily in the accepted and familiar,Janey was subject to starts and aberrations of fancy welling up fromsprings of suppressed romance.

Mother and daughter adored each other and revered their son andbrother; and Archer loved them with a tenderness made compunctious anduncritical by the sense of their exaggerated admiration, and by hissecret satisfaction in it. After all, he thought it a good thing for aman to have his authority respected in his own house, even if his senseof humour sometimes made him question the force of his mandate.

On this occasion the young man was very sure that Mr. Jackson wouldrather have had him dine out; but he had his own reasons for not doingso.

Of course old Jackson wanted to talk about Ellen Olenska, and of courseMrs. Archer and Janey wanted to hear what he had to tell. All threewould be slightly embarrassed by Newland's presence, now that hisprospective relation to the Mingott clan had been made known; and theyoung man waited with an amused curiosity to see how they would turnthe difficulty.

They began, obliquely, by talking about Mrs. Lemuel Struthers.

”It's a pity the Beauforts asked her,” Mrs. Archer said gently. ”Butthen Regina always does what he tells her; and BEAUFORT--”

”Certain nuances escape Beaufort,” said Mr. Jackson, cautiouslyinspecting the broiled shad, and wondering for the thousandth time whyMrs. Archer's cook always burnt the roe to a cinder. (Newland, who hadlong shared his wonder, could always detect it in the older man'sexpression of melancholy disapproval.)

”Oh, necessarily; Beaufort is a vulgar man,” said Mrs. Archer. ”Mygrandfather Newland always used to say to my mother: 'Whatever you do,don't let that fellow Beaufort be introduced to the girls.' But atleast he's had the advantage of associating with gentlemen; in Englandtoo, they say. It's all very mysterious--” She glanced at Janey andpaused. She and Janey knew every fold of the Beaufort mystery, but inpublic Mrs. Archer continued to assume that the subject was not one forthe unmarried.

”But this Mrs. Struthers,” Mrs. Archer continued; ”what did you say SHEwas, Sillerton?”

”Out of a mine: or rather out of the saloon at the head of the pit.Then with Living Wax-Works, touring New England. After the policebroke THAT up, they say she lived--” Mr. Jackson in his turn glancedat Janey, whose eyes began to bulge from under her prominent lids.There were still hiatuses for her in Mrs. Struthers's past.

”Then,” Mr. Jackson continued (and Archer saw he was wondering why noone had told the butler never to slice cucumbers with a steel knife),”then Lemuel Struthers came along. They say his advertiser used thegirl's head for the shoe-polish posters; her hair's intensely black,you know--the Egyptian style. Anyhow, he--eventually--married her.”There were volumes of innuendo in the way the ”eventually” was spaced,and each syllable given its due stress.

”Oh, well--at the pass we've come to nowadays, it doesn't matter,” saidMrs. Archer indifferently. The ladies were not really interested inMrs. Struthers just then; the subject of Ellen Olenska was too freshand too absorbing to them. Indeed, Mrs. Struthers's name had beenintroduced by Mrs. Archer only that she might presently be able to say:”And Newland's new cousin--Countess Olenska? Was SHE at the ball too?”

There was a faint touch of sarcasm in the reference to her son, andArcher knew it and had expected it. Even Mrs. Archer, who was seldomunduly pleased with human events, had been altogether glad of her son'sengagement. (”Especially after that silly business with Mrs.Rushworth,” as she had remarked to Janey, alluding to what had onceseemed to Newland a tragedy of which his soul would always bear thescar.)

There was no better match in New York than May Welland, look at thequestion from whatever point you chose. Of course such a marriage wasonly what Newland was entitled to; but young men are so foolish andincalculable--and some women so ensnaring and unscrupulous--that it wasnothing short of a miracle to see one's only son safe past the SirenIsle and in the haven of a blameless domesticity.

All this Mrs. Archer felt, and her son knew she felt; but he knew alsothat she had been perturbed by the premature announcement of hisengagement, or rather by its cause; and it was for that reason--becauseon the whole he was a tender and indulgent master--that he had stayedat home that evening. ”It's not that I don't approve of the Mingotts'esprit de corps; but why Newland's engagement should be mixed up withthat Olenska woman's comings and goings I don't see,” Mrs. Archergrumbled to Janey, the only witness of her slight lapses from perfectsweetness.

She had behaved beautifully--and in beautiful behaviour she wasunsurpassed--during the call on Mrs. Welland; but Newland knew (and hisbetrothed doubtless guessed) that all through the visit she and Janeywere nervously on the watch for Madame Olenska's possible intrusion;and when they left the house together she had permitted herself to sayto her son: ”I'm thankful that Augusta Welland received us alone.”

These indications of inward disturbance moved Archer the more that hetoo felt that the Mingotts had gone a little too far. But, as it wasagainst all the rules of their code that the mother and son should everallude to what was uppermost in their thoughts, he simply replied: ”Oh,well, there's always a phase of family parties to be gone through whenone gets engaged, and the sooner it's over the better.” At which hismother merely pursed her lips under the lace veil that hung down fromher grey velvet bonnet trimmed with frosted grapes.

Her revenge, he felt--her lawful revenge--would be to ”draw” Mr.Jackson that evening on the Countess Olenska; and, having publicly donehis duty as a future member of the Mingott clan, the young man had noobjection to hearing the lady discussed in private--except that thesubject was already beginning to bore him.

Mr. Jackson had helped himself to a slice of the tepid filet which themournful butler had handed him with a look as sceptical as his own, andhad rejected the mushroom sauce after a scarcely perceptible sniff. Helooked baffled and hungry, and Archer reflected that he would probablyfinish his meal on Ellen Olenska.

Mr. Jackson leaned back in his chair, and glanced up at the candlelitArchers, Newlands and van der Luydens hanging in dark frames on thedark walls.

”Ah, how your grandfather Archer loved a good dinner, my dear Newland!”he said, his eyes on the portrait of a plump full-chested young man ina stock and a blue coat, with a view of a white-columned country-housebehind him. ”Well--well--well ... I wonder what he would have said toall these foreign marriages!”

Mrs. Archer ignored the allusion to the ancestral cuisine and Mr.Jackson continued with deliberation: ”No, she was NOT at the ball.”

”Ah--” Mrs. Archer murmured, in a tone that implied: ”She had thatdecency.”

”Perhaps the Beauforts don't know her,” Janey suggested, with herartless malice.

Mr. Jackson gave a faint sip, as if he had been tasting invisibleMadeira. ”Mrs. Beaufort may not--but Beaufort certainly does, for shewas seen walking up Fifth Avenue this afternoon with him by the wholeof New York.”

”Mercy--” moaned Mrs. Archer, evidently perceiving the uselessness oftrying to ascribe the actions of foreigners to a sense of delicacy.

”I wonder if she wears a round hat or a bonnet in the afternoon,” Janeyspeculated. ”At the Opera I know she had on dark blue velvet,perfectly plain and flat--like a night-gown.”

”Janey!” said her mother; and Miss Archer blushed and tried to lookaudacious.

”It was, at any rate, in better taste not to go to the ball,” Mrs.Archer continued.

A spirit of perversity moved her son to rejoin: ”I don't think it wasa question of taste with her. May said she meant to go, and thendecided that the dress in question wasn't smart enough.”

Mrs. Archer smiled at this confirmation of her inference. ”PoorEllen,” she simply remarked; adding compassionately: ”We must alwaysbear in mind what an eccentric bringing-up Medora Manson gave her.What can you expect of a girl who was allowed to wear black satin ather coming-out ball?”

”Ah--don't I remember her in it!” said Mr. Jackson; adding: ”Poorgirl!” in the tone of one who, while enjoying the memory, had fullyunderstood at the time what the sight portended.

”It's odd,” Janey remarked, ”that she should have kept such an uglyname as Ellen. I should have changed it to Elaine.” She glanced aboutthe table to see the effect of this.

Her brother laughed. ”Why Elaine?”

”I don't know; it sounds more--more Polish,” said Janey, blushing.

”It sounds more conspicuous; and that can hardly be what she wishes,”said Mrs. Archer distantly.

”Why not?” broke in her son, growing suddenly argumentative. ”Whyshouldn't she be conspicuous if she chooses? Why should she slinkabout as if it were she who had disgraced herself? She's 'poor Ellen'certainly, because she had the bad luck to make a wretched marriage;but I don't see that that's a reason for hiding her head as if she werethe culprit.”

”That, I suppose,” said Mr. Jackson, speculatively, ”is the line theMingotts mean to take.”

The young man reddened. ”I didn't have to wait for their cue, ifthat's what you mean, sir. Madame Olenska has had an unhappy life:that doesn't make her an outcast.”

”There are rumours,” began Mr. Jackson, glancing at Janey.

”Oh, I know: the secretary,” the young man took him up. ”Nonsense,mother; Janey's grown-up. They say, don't they,” he went on, ”that thesecretary helped her to get away from her brute of a husband, who kepther practically a prisoner? Well, what if he did? I hope there isn'ta man among us who wouldn't have done the same in such a case.”

Mr. Jackson glanced over his shoulder to say to the sad butler:”Perhaps ... that sauce ... just a little, after all--”; then, havinghelped himself, he remarked: ”I'm told she's looking for a house. Shemeans to live here.”

”I hear she means to get a divorce,” said Janey boldly.

”I hope she will!” Archer exclaimed.

The word had fallen like a bombshell in the pure and tranquilatmosphere of the Archer dining-room. Mrs. Archer raised her delicateeye-brows in the particular curve that signified: ”The butler--” andthe young man, himself mindful of the bad taste of discussing suchintimate matters in public, hastily branched off into an account of hisvisit to old Mrs. Mingott.

After dinner, according to immemorial custom, Mrs. Archer and Janeytrailed their long silk draperies up to the drawing-room, where, whilethe gentlemen smoked below stairs, they sat beside a Carcel lamp withan engraved globe, facing each other across a rosewood work-table witha green silk bag under it, and stitched at the two ends of a tapestryband of field-flowers destined to adorn an ”occasional” chair in thedrawing-room of young Mrs. Newland Archer.

While this rite was in progress in the drawing-room, Archer settled Mr.Jackson in an armchair near the fire in the Gothic library and handedhim a cigar. Mr. Jackson sank into the armchair with satisfaction, lithis cigar with perfect confidence (it was Newland who bought them), andstretching his thin old ankles to the coals, said: ”You say thesecretary merely helped her to get away, my dear fellow? Well, he wasstill helping her a year later, then; for somebody met 'em living atLausanne together.”

Newland reddened. ”Living together? Well, why not? Who had the rightto make her life over if she hadn't? I'm sick of the hypocrisy thatwould bury alive a woman of her age if her husband prefers to live withharlots.”

He stopped and turned away angrily to light his cigar. ”Women ought tobe free--as free as we are,” he declared, making a discovery of whichhe was too irritated to measure the terrific consequences.

Mr. Sillerton Jackson stretched his ankles nearer the coals and emitteda sardonic whistle.

”Well,” he said after a pause, ”apparently Count Olenski takes yourview; for I never heard of his having lifted a finger to get his wifeback.”