Innocent : her fancy and his fact Part 42

There was a small library of very old books in the farmhouse where I lived, and I read and re-read these. Then, when I was about sixteen, it suddenly came into my head that I would try to write a story myself--and I did. Little by little it grew into a book, and I brought it to London and finished it here. You know the rest!"

"Like Byron, you awoke one morning to find yourself famous!" said Lord Blythe, smiling. "You have no parents living?"

Her cheeks burned with a hot blush as she replied.

"No."

"A pity! They would have been very proud of you. Here is the d.u.c.h.ess!"

And in another moment she was drawn into the vortex of a brilliant circle surrounding her hostess--men and women of notable standing in politics, art and letters, to whom the d.u.c.h.ess presented her with the half kindly, half patronising air of one who feels that any genius in man or woman is a kind of disease, and that the person affected by it must be soothingly considered as a sort of "freak" or nondescript creature, like a white crow or a red starling.

"These abnormal people are so interesting!" she was wont to say. "These prodigies and things! I love them! They're often quite ugly and have rude manners--Beethoven used to eat with his fingers I believe; wasn't it wonderful of him! Such a relief from the conventional way! When I was quite a girl I used to adore a man in Paris who played the 'cello divinely--a perfect marvel!--but he wouldn't comb his hair or blow his nose properly--and it wasn't very nice!--not that it mattered much, he was such a wonderful artist! Oh yes, I know! it wouldn't have lessened his genius to have wiped his nose with a handkerchief instead of--!

well!--perhaps we'd better not mention it!" And she would laugh charmingly and again murmur, "These deaf abnormal people!"

With Innocent, however, she was somewhat put off her usual line of conduct; the girl was too graceful and easy-mannered to be called "abnormal" or eccentric; she was perfectly modest, simple and unaffected, and the d.u.c.h.ess was a trifle disappointed that she was not ill-dressed, frowsy, frumpish and blue-spectacled.

"She's so young too!" thought her Grace, half crossly--"Almost a child!--and not in the least 'bookish.' It seems quite absurd that such a baby-looking creature should be actually a genius, and famous at twenty! Simply amazing!"

And she watched the little "lion" or lioness of the evening with keen interest and curiosity, whimsically vexed that it did not roar, snort, or make itself as noticeable as certain other animals of the literary habitat whom she had occasionally entertained. Just then a mirthful, mellow voice spoke close beside her.

"Where is the new Corinne? The Sappho of the Leucadian rock of London?

Has she met her Phaon?"

"How late you are, Amadis!" and the d.u.c.h.ess smiled captivatingly as she extended her hand to Jocelyn, who gallantly stooped and kissed the perfectly fitting glove which covered it. "If you mean Miss Armitage, she is just over there talking to two old fogies. I think they're Cabinet ministers--they look it! She's quite the success of the evening,--and pretty, don't you think?"

Jocelyn looked, and saw the small fair head rising like a golden flower from sea-blue draperies; he smiled enigmatically.

"Not exactly," he answered, "But spirituelle--she has what some painters might call an imaginative head--she could pose very well for St. Dorothy. I can quite realise her preferring the executioner's axe to the embraces of Theophilus."

The d.u.c.h.ess gave him a swift glance and touched his arm with the edge of her fan.

"Are you going to make love to her?" she asked. "You make love to every woman--but most women understand your sort of love-making--"

"Do they?" and his blue eyes flashed amus.e.m.e.nt. "And what do they think of it?"

"They laugh at it!" she answered, calmly. "But that clever child would not laugh--she would take it au grand serieux."

He pa.s.sed his hand carelessly through the rough dark hair which gave his ruggedly handsome features a singular softness and charm.

"Would she? My dear d.u.c.h.ess, n.o.body takes anything 'au grand serieux'

nowadays. We grin through every scene of life, and we don't know and don't care whether it's comedy or tragedy we're grinning at! It doesn't do to be serious. I never am. 'Life is real, life is earnest' was the line of conduct practised by my French ancestors; they cut up all their enemies with long swords, and then sat down to wild boar roasted whole for dinner. That was real life, earnest life! We in our day don't cut up our enemies with long swords--we cut them up in the daily press.

It's so much easier!"

"How you love to hear yourself talk!" commented the d.u.c.h.ess. "I let you do it--but I know you don't mean half you say!"

"You think not? Well, I'm going to join the court of Corinne--she's not the usual type of Corinne--I fancy she has a heart--"

"And you want to steal it if you can, of course!" and the d.u.c.h.ess laughed. "Men always long for what they haven't got, and tire of what they have!"

"True, O Queen! We are made so! Blame, not us, but the Creator of the poor world-mannikins!"

He moved away and was soon beside Innocent, who blushed into a pretty rose at sight of him.

"I thought you were never coming!" she said, shyly. "I'm so glad you are here!"

He looked at her with an admiring softness in his eyes.

"May I have the first dance?" he said. "I timed myself to gain the privilege."

She gave him her dance programme where no name was yet inscribed. He took it and scribbled his name down several times, then handed it back to her. Several of the younger men in the group which had gathered about her laughed and remonstrated.

"Give somebody else a chance, Miss Armitage!"

She looked round upon them, smiling.

"But of course! Mr. Amadis de Jocelyn has not taken all?"

They laughed again.

"His name dominates your programme, anyhow!"

Her eyes shone softly.

"It is a beautiful name!" she said.

"Granted! But show a little mercy to the unbeautiful names!" said one man near her. "My name, for instance, is Smith--can you tolerate it?"

She gave a light gesture of protest.

"You play with me!" she said--"Of course! You will find a dance, Mr.

Smith!--and I will dance it with you!"

They were all now ready for fun, and taking her programme handed it round amongst themselves and soon filled it. When it came back to her she looked at it, amazed.

"But I shall never dance all these!" she exclaimed.

"No, you will sit out some of them," said Jocelyn, coolly--"With me!"

The ball-room doors were just then thrown invitingly open and entrancing strains of rhythmical music came swinging and ringing in sweet cadence on the ears. He pa.s.sed his arm round her waist.

"We'll begin the revelry!" he said, and in another moment she felt herself floating deliciously, as it were, in his arms--her little feet flying over the polished floor, his hand warmly clasping her slim soft body--and her heart fluttered wildly like the beating wings of a snared bird as she fell into the mystic web woven by the strange and pitiless loom of destiny. The threads were already tangling about her--but she made no effort to escape. She was happy in her dream; she imagined that her Ideal had been found in the Real.

CHAPTER IV

The first waltz over, Jocelyn led his partner out of the ball-room.