A Laodicean

Chapter 6

A quick arrested expression in her two sapphirine eyes,

accompanied by a little, a very little, blush which loitered

long, was all the outward disturbance that the sight of her

lover caused. The habit of self-repression at any new

emotional impact was instinctive with her always. Somerset

could not say more than a word; he looked his intense

solicitude, and Paula spoke.

She declared that this was an unexpected pleasure. Had he

arranged to come on the tenth as she wished? How strange that

they should meet thus!--and yet not strange--the world was so

small.

Somerset said that he was coming on the very day she

mentioned--that the appointment gave him infinite

gratification, which was quite within the truth.

'Come into this shop with me,' said Paula, with good-humoured

authoritativeness.

They entered the shop and talked on while she made a small

purchase. But not a word did Paula say of her sudden errand

to town.

'I am having an exciting morning,' she said. 'I am going from

here to catch the one-o'clock train to Markton.'

'It is important that you get there this afternoon, I

suppose?'

'Yes. You know why?'

'Not at all.'

'The Hunt Ball. It was fixed for the sixth, and this is the

sixth. I thought they might have asked you.'

'No,' said Somerset, a trifle gloomily. 'No, I am not asked.

But it is a great task for you--a long journey and a ball all

in one day.'

'Yes: Charlotte said that. But I don't mind it.'

'You are glad you are going. Are you glad?' he said softly.

Her air confessed more than her words. 'I am not so very glad

that I am going to the Hunt Ball,' she replied confidentially.

'Thanks for that,' said he.

She lifted her eyes to his for a moment. Her manner had

suddenly become so nearly the counterpart of that in the tea-

house that to suspect any deterioration of affection in her

was no longer generous. It was only as if a thin layer of

recent events had overlaid her memories of him, until his

presence swept them away.

Somerset looked up, and finding the shopman to be still some

way off, he added, 'When will you assure me of something in

return for what I assured you that evening in the rain?'

'Not before you have built the castle. My aunt does not know

about it yet, nor anybody.'

'I ought to tell her.'

'No, not yet. I don't wish it.'

'Then everything stands as usual?'

She lightly nodded.

'That is, I may love you: but you still will not say you love

me.'

She nodded again, and directing his attention to the advancing

shopman, said, 'Please not a word more.'

Soon after this, they left the jeweller's, and parted, Paula

driving straight off to the station and Somerset going on his

way uncertainly happy. His re-impression after a few minutes

was that a special journey to town to fetch that magnificent

necklace which she had not once mentioned to him, but which

was plainly to be the medium of some proud purpose with her

this evening, was hardly in harmony with her assertions of

indifference to the attractions of the Hunt Ball.

He got into a cab and drove to his club, where he lunched, and

mopingly spent a great part of the afternoon in making

calculations for the foundations of the castle works. Later

in the afternoon he returned to his chambers, wishing that he

could annihilate the three days remaining before the tenth,

particularly this coming evening. On his table was a letter

in a strange writing, and indifferently turning it over he

found from the superscription that it had been addressed to

him days before at the Lord-Quantock-Arms Hotel, Markton,

where it had lain ever since, the landlord probably expecting

him to return. Opening the missive, he found to his surprise

that it was, after all, an invitation to the Hunt Ball.

'Too late!' said Somerset. 'To think I should be served this

trick a second time!'

After a moment's pause, however, he looked to see the time of

day. It was five minutes past five--just about the hour when

Paula would be driving from Markton Station to Stancy Castle

to rest and prepare herself for her evening triumph. There

was a train at six o'clock, timed to reach Markton between

eleven and twelve, which by great exertion he might save even

now, if it were worth while to undertake such a scramble for

the pleasure of dropping in to the ball at a late hour. A

moment's vision of Paula moving to swift tunes on the arm of a

person or persons unknown was enough to impart the impetus

required. He jumped up, flung his dress clothes into a

portmanteau, sent down to call a cab, and in a few minutes was

rattling off to the railway which had borne Paula away from

London just five hours earlier.

Once in the train, he began to consider where and how he could

most conveniently dress for the dance. The train would

certainly be half-an-hour late; half-an-hour would be spent in

getting to the town-hall, and that was the utmost delay

tolerable if he would secure the hand of Paula for one spin,

or be more than a mere dummy behind the earlier arrivals. He

looked for an empty compartment at the next stoppage, and

finding the one next his own unoccupied, he entered it and

changed his raiment for that in his portmanteau during the

ensuing run of twenty miles.

Thus prepared he awaited the Markton platform, which was

reached as the clock struck twelve. Somerset called a fly and

drove at once to the town-hall.

The borough natives had ascended to their upper floors, and

were putting out their candles one by one as he passed along

the streets; but the lively strains that proceeded from the

central edifice revealed distinctly enough what was going on

among the temporary visitors from the neighbouring manors.

The doors were opened for him, and entering the vestibule

lined with flags, flowers, evergreens, and escutcheons, he

stood looking into the furnace of gaiety beyond.

It was some time before he could gather his impressions of the

scene, so perplexing were the lights, the motions, the

toilets, the full-dress uniforms of officers and the harmonies

of sound. Yet light, sound, and movement were not so much the

essence of that giddy scene as an intense aim at obliviousness

in the beings composing it. For two or three hours at least

those whirling young people meant not to know that they were

mortal. The room was beating like a heart, and the pulse was

regulated by the trembling strings of the most popular

quadrille band in Wessex. But at last his eyes grew settled

enough to look critically around.

The room was crowded--too crowded. Every variety of fair one,

beauties primary, secondary, and tertiary, appeared among the

personages composing the throng. There were suns and moons;

also pale planets of little account. Broadly speaking, these

daughters of the county fell into two classes: one the pink-

faced unsophisticated girls from neighbouring rectories and

small country-houses, who knew not town except for an

occasional fortnight, and who spent their time from Easter to

Lammas Day much as they spent it during the remaining nine

months of the year: the other class were the children of the

wealthy landowners who migrated each season to the town-house;

these were pale and collected, showed less enjoyment in their

countenances, and wore in general an approximation to the

languid manners of the capital.

A quadrille was in progress, and Somerset scanned each set.

His mind had run so long upon the necklace, that his glance

involuntarily sought out that gleaming object rather than the

personality of its wearer. At the top of the room there he

beheld it; but it was on the neck of Charlotte De Stancy.

The whole lucid explanation broke across his understanding in

a second. His dear Paula had fetched the necklace that

Charlotte should not appear to disadvantage among the county

people by reason of her poverty. It was generously done--a

disinterested act of sisterly kindness; theirs was the

friendship of Hermia and Helena. Before he had got further

than to realize this, there wheeled round amongst the dancers

a lady whose tournure he recognized well. She was Paula; and

to the young man's vision a superlative something

distinguished her from all the rest. This was not dress or

ornament, for she had hardly a gem upon her, her attire being

a model of effective simplicity. Her partner was Captain De

Stancy.

The discovery of this latter fact slightly obscured his

appreciation of what he had discovered just before. It was

with rather a lowering brow that he asked himself whether

Paula's predilection d'artiste, as she called it, for the De

Stancy line might not lead to a predilection of a different

sort for its last representative which would be not at all

satisfactory.

The architect remained in the background till the dance drew

to a conclusion, and then he went forward. The circumstance

of having met him by accident once already that day seemed to

quench any surprise in Miss Power's bosom at seeing him now.

There was nothing in her parting from Captain De Stancy, when

he led her to a seat, calculated to make Somerset uneasy after

his long absence. Though, for that matter, this proved

nothing; for, like all wise maidens, Paula never ventured on

the game of the eyes with a lover in public; well knowing that

every moment of such indulgence overnight might mean an hour's

sneer at her expense by the indulged gentleman next day, when

weighing womankind by the aid of a cold morning light and a

bad headache.

While Somerset was explaining to Paula and her aunt the reason

of his sudden appearance, their attention was drawn to a seat

a short way off by a fluttering of ladies round the spot. In

a moment it was whispered that somebody had fallen ill, and in

another that the sufferer was Miss De Stancy. Paula, Mrs.

Goodman, and Somerset at once joined the group of friends who

were assisting her. Neither of them imagined for an instant

that the unexpected advent of Somerset on the scene had

anything to do with the poor girl's indisposition.

She was assisted out of the room, and her brother, who now

came up, prepared to take her home, Somerset exchanging a few

civil words with him, which the hurry of the moment prevented

them from continuing; though on taking his leave with

Charlotte, who was now better, De Stancy informed Somerset in

answer to a cursory inquiry, that he hoped to be back again at

the ball in half-an-hour.

When they were gone Somerset, feeling that now another dog

might have his day, sounded Paula on the delightful question

of a dance.

Paula replied in the negative.

'How is that?' asked Somerset with reproachful disappointment.

'I cannot dance again,' she said in a somewhat depressed tone;

'I must be released from every engagement to do so, on account

of Charlotte's illness. I should have gone home with her if I

had not been particularly requested to stay a little longer,

since it is as yet so early, and Charlotte's illness is not

very serious.'

If Charlotte's illness was not very serious, Somerset thought,

Paula might have stretched a point; but not wishing to hinder

her in showing respect to a friend so well liked by himself,

he did not ask it. De Stancy had promised to be back again in

half-an-hour, and Paula had heard the promise. But at the end

of twenty minutes, still seeming indifferent to what was going

on around her, she said she would stay no longer, and

reminding Somerset that they were soon to meet and talk over

the rebuilding, drove off with her aunt to Stancy Castle.

Somerset stood looking after the retreating carriage till it

was enveloped in shades that the lamps could not disperse.

The ball-room was now virtually empty for him, and feeling no

great anxiety to return thither he stood on the steps for some

minutes longer, looking into the calm mild night, and at the

dark houses behind whose blinds lay the burghers with their

eyes sealed up in sleep. He could not but think that it was

rather too bad of Paula to spoil his evening for a sentimental

devotion to Charlotte which could do the latter no appreciable

good; and he would have felt seriously hurt at her move if it

had not been equally severe upon Captain De Stancy, who was

doubtless hastening back, full of a belief that she would

still be found there.

The star of gas-jets over the entrance threw its light upon

the walls on the opposite side of the street, where there were

notice-boards of forthcoming events. In glancing over these

for the fifth time, his eye was attracted by the first words

of a placard in blue letters, of a size larger than the rest,

and moving onward a few steps he read:--

In a profound study Somerset turned and re-entered the ball-

room, where he remained gloomily standing here and there for

about five minutes, at the end of which he observed Captain De

Stancy, who had returned punctually to his word, crossing the

hall in his direction.

The gallant officer darted glances of lively search over every

group of dancers and sitters; and then with rather a blank

look in his face, he came on to Somerset. Replying to the

latter's inquiry for his sister that she had nearly recovered,

he said, 'I don't see my father's neighbours anywhere.'

'They have gone home,' replied Somerset, a trifle drily.

'They asked me to make their apologies to you for leading you

to expect they would remain. Miss Power was too anxious about

Miss De Stancy to care to stay longer.'

The eyes of De Stancy and the speaker met for an instant.

That curious guarded understanding, or inimical confederacy,

which arises at moments between two men in love with the same

woman, was present here; and in their mutual glances each said

as plainly as by words that her departure had ruined his

evening's hope.

They were now about as much in one mood as it was possible for

two such differing natures to be. Neither cared further for

elaborating giddy curves on that town-hall floor. They stood

talking languidly about this and that local topic, till De

Stancy turned aside for a short time to speak to a dapper

little lady who had beckoned to him. In a few minutes he came

back to Somerset.

'Mrs. Camperton, the wife of Major Camperton of my battery,

would very much like me to introduce you to her. She is an

old friend of your father's, and has wanted to know you for a

long time.'

De Stancy and Somerset crossed over to the lady, and in a few

minutes, thanks to her flow of spirits, she and Somerset were

chatting with remarkable freedom.

'It is a happy coincidence,' continued Mrs. Camperton, 'that I

should have met you here, immediately after receiving a letter

from your father: indeed it reached me only this morning. He

has been so kind! We are getting up some theatricals, as you

know, I suppose, to help the funds of the County Hospital,

which is in debt.'

'I have just seen the announcement--nothing more.'

'Yes, such an estimable purpose; and as we wished to do it

thoroughly well, I asked Mr. Somerset to design us the

costumes, and he has now sent me the sketches. It is quite a

secret at present, but we are going to play Shakespeare's

romantic drama, 'Love's Labour's Lost,' and we hope to get

Miss Power to take the leading part. You see, being such a

handsome girl, and so wealthy, and rather an undiscovered

novelty in the county as yet, she would draw a crowded room,

and greatly benefit the funds.'

'Miss Power going to play herself?--I am rather surprised,'

said Somerset. 'Whose idea is all this?'

'O, Captain De Stancy's--he's the originator entirely. You

see he is so interested in the neighbourhood, his family

having been connected with it for so many centuries, that

naturally a charitable object of this local nature appeals to

his feelings.'

'Naturally!' her listener laconically repeated. 'And have you

settled who is to play the junior gentleman's part, leading

lover, hero, or whatever he is called?'

'Not absolutely; though I think Captain De Stancy will not

refuse it; and he is a very good figure. At present it lies

between him and Mr. Mild, one of our young lieutenants. My

husband, of course, takes the heavy line; and I am to be the

second lady, though I am rather too old for the part really.

If we can only secure Miss Power for heroine the cast will be

excellent.'

'Excellent!' said Somerset, with a spectral smile.