The Irrational Knot Part 43

"No," said Elinor. "As far as I can judge from her account, you are a monotonously amiable husband."

"Indeed! Hm! Would you like your coffee out here?"

"Yes."

"Do not stir, Marian: I will ring for it."

When he was gone, Marian said "Nelly: for Heaven's sake say nothing that could make the slightest coldness between Ned and me. I am clinging to him with all my heart and soul; and you must help me. Those sharp things that you say to him stab me cruelly; and he is clever enough to guess everything I have said to you from them."

"If I cannot keep myself from making mischief, I shall go away," said Elinor. "Dont suppose I am in a huff: I am quite serious. I have an unlucky tongue; and my disposition is such that when I see that a jug is cracked, I feel more inclined to smash and have done with it than to mend it and handle it tenderly ever after. However, I hope your marriage is not a cracked jug yet."

CHAPTER XIII

On the following Wednesday Douglas called on his mother at Manchester Square in the afternoon. As if to emphasize the purely filial motive of his visit, he saluted his mother so affectionately that she was emboldened to be more demonstrative with him than she usually ventured to be.

"My darling boy," she said, holding him fondly for a moment, "this is the second visit you have paid your poor old mother this week. I want to speak to you about something, too. Marian has been with me this morning."

"What! Has she gone?" said Douglas.

"Why?" said Mrs. Douglas. "Did you know she was coming?"

"She mentioned to me that she intended to come," he replied, carelessly; "but she bade me not to tell you."

"That accounts for your two visits. Well, Sholto, I do not blame you for spending your time in gayer places than this."

"You must not reproach me for neglecting you, mother. You know my disposition. I am seldom good company for any one; and I do not care to come only to cast a damp on you and your friends when I am morose. I hope you received Marian kindly."

"I did not expect to see her; and I told her so."

"Mother!"

"But it made no difference. There is no holding her in check now, Sholto; she cares no more for what I say than if I was her father or you. What could I do but kiss and forgive her? She got the better of me."

"Yes," said Douglas, gloomily. "She has a wonderful face."

"The less you see of her face, the better, Sholto. I hope you will not go to her house too often."

"Do you doubt my discretion, mother?"

"No, no, Sholto. But I am afraid of any unpleasantness arising between you and that man. These working men are so savage to their wives, and so jealous of gentlemen. I hardly like your going into his house at all."

"Absurd, mother! You must not think that he is a navvy in fustian and corduroys. He seems a sensible man: his address is really remarkably good, considering what he is. As to his being savage, he is quite the reverse. His head is full of figures and machinery; and I am told that he does nothing at home but play the piano. He must bore Marian terribly. I do not want to go to his house particularly; but Marian and he are, of course, very sensitive to anything that can be construed as a slight; and I shall visit them once or twice to prevent them from thinking that I wish to snub Conolly. He will be glad enough to have me at his dinner-table. I am afraid I must hurry away now: I have an appointment at the club. Can I do anything for you in town?"

"No, thank you, Sholto. I thought you would have stayed with me for a cup of tea."

"Thank you, dear mother, no: not to-day. I promised to be at the club."

"If you promised, of course, you must go. Good-bye. You will come again soon, will you not?"

"Some day next week, if not sooner. Good-bye, mother."

Douglas left Manchester Square, not to go to his club, where he had no real appointment, but to avoid spending the afternoon with his mother, who, though a little hurt at his leaving her, was also somewhat relieved by being rid of him. They maintained toward one another an att.i.tude which their friends found beautiful and edifying; but, like artists'

models, they found the att.i.tude fatiguing, in spite of their practice and its dignity.

At Hyde Park Corner, Douglas heard his name unceremoniously shouted.

Turning, he saw Marmaduke Lind, carelessly dressed, walking a little behind him.

"Where are you going to?" said Marmaduke, abruptly.

"Why do you ask?" said Douglas, never disposed to admit the right of another to question him.

"I want to have a talk with you. Come and lunch somewhere, will you?"

"Yes, if you wish."

"Let's go to the South Kensington Museum."

"The South----! My dear fellow, why not suggest Putney, or the Star and Garter? Why do you wish to go westward from Hyde Park in search of luncheon?"

"I have a particular reason. I am to meet someone at the Museum this afternoon; and I want to ask your advice first. You might as well come; it's only a matter of a few minutes if we drive."

"Well, as you please. I have not been to the Museum for years."

"All right. Come al----oh, d.a.m.n! There's Lady Carbury and Constance coming out of the Park. Dont look at them. Come on."

But Constance, sitting a little more uprightly than her mother, who was supine upon the carriage cushions, had seen the two gentlemen as they stood talking.

"Mamma," she said, "there's Marmaduke and Sholto Douglas."

"Where???" said the Countess, lifting her head quickly. "Josephs, drive slowly. Where are they, Constance?"

"They are going away. I believe Marmaduke saw us. There he is, pa.s.sing the hospital."

"We must go and speak to them. Look pleasant, child; and dont make a fool of yourself."

"Surely youll not speak to him, mamma! You dont expect me----"

"Nonsense. I heard a great deal about him the other day. He has moved from where he was living, and is quite reformed. His father is very ill.

Do as I tell you. Josephs, stop half way to the hotel."

"I say," said Marmaduke, finding himself out-manoeuvred: "come back.

There they are right ahead, confound them. What are they up to?"

"It cannot be helped," said Douglas. "There is no escape. You must not cross: it would be pointedly rude."