XIX
The sudden elevation of her Jack to a marquisate, beside whose roots,gripping the foundations of Britain's aristocracy, and ramifying thelength and breadth of its society, the lost dukedom was a mere mushroom,created for a favorite of the last George, and notorious for its_mesalliances_, did not cost Mrs. Kaye a moment's loss of poise. Shemerely wondered that she had ever questioned her star. People thatdisliked her found a subtle suggestion of arrogance in her manner, andthe slight significant smile on her large firm lips was a trifle morestereotyped. Those that she favored with the abundance of her offeringsremembered afterwards that she had never been so brilliant as during themonth that followed the announcement of her bethrothal, and attributedthe fact to the electrified springs of affection.
Gwynne and she had been invited to the same houses for the rest of theautumn, but he cancelled his engagements while begging her to fulfilhers, as he should be too busy to entertain her were she so sweet as toinsist upon coming to Capheaton. This she had not the least intention ofdoing, for she not only yearned for the additional tribute due to her,but she always avoided long sojourns in Lady Victoria's vicinity,knowing her as a woman of caprice, who often dropped people as abruptlyas she took them up. Susceptible to the charm of novelty, so far Mrs.Kaye had wholly pleased her; but the clever Julia gauged the depths ofher future mother-in-law's credulity and kept her distance. With all herreason for self-gratulation, in the depths of her cynical soul she wasquite aware of her natural inferiority to the women she emulated in allbut their license. That prerogative, with the wisdom that had marked herupward course, she had flagrantly avoided, knowing that the world iscomplacent only to those that fire its snobbishness, never to those thatfan the flame; and while she bitterly envied these women, she neverforgot the market value of her own unimpeachable virtue. She could notin any case have been the slave of her passions, but her serenity wassometimes ruffled as she reflected that, in spite of eminence achieved,her caution in this and in other respects branded her in her secret soulas second rate.
But if she tactfully did not insist upon flying to Capheaton, she wrotesuch charming letters, happily free of solecisms, that Gwynne wonderedat his failure to sound the depths of her charm. But he refrained frommeeting her, and the reason was that he was slowly working towards amomentous decision, and wished to arm himself at all points beforebraving her possible disapproval. When he was his cool normal collectedself again, he gave way to his impatience to see the woman he had everyreason to believe was deeply in love with him. He telegraphed her aperemptory appeal to go up to her house in London, and she was too wiseto refuse. It was now October and London quite bearable. She telegraphedto her servants to strip her house of its summer shroud, and returnedearly on the day of his choice.
It is hardly necessary to state that Mrs. Kaye lived in Park Lane. Shehad cultivated half-tones with a notable success, but to symbolize hernew estate was a temptation it had not occurred to her to resist.Shortly after her return from India she had bought a large house in thefacade of London, and furnished it with a luxury that satisfied one ofthe deepest cravings of her being, while her admirable sense of balancesaved her from the peculiar extravagances of the cocotte.
She had seen Lady Victoria's expressive boudoir at Capheaton, and itsmate in Curzon Street, and relieved the envy they inspired in a causticepigram that happily did not reach the insolent beauty's ear. "These oldcoquettes," she had lisped, with an amused uplift of one eyebrow. "Theysurround themselves with the atmosphere of the demi-monde and forgetthat a wrinkle is as fatal as a chaperon."
The pictures in her own house were as correct as they were costly, andshe had no boudoir. She invariably received her guests in thedrawing-room, an immense and unique apartment, with a frieze of duskycopies of old masters, all of a size, and all framed in gilt as dim withtime. From them depended a tapestry of crimson silk brocade ofuncheckered surface. By a cunning arrangement of furniture the greatroom was broken up into a semblance of smaller ones, each with its groupof comfortable chairs, its tea-table, or book case, or cabinet ofbibelots, or open hearth. And all exhaled the inviting atmosphere ofoccupation.
Mrs. Kaye, rested, and more self-possessed than if the hastening loverhad been the late Lord Brathland, but agreeably stirred nevertheless,awaited the new peer in a charming corner before a screen of dull gold,the last reviews on a table beside her, the afternoon sun shining in onher healthy unworn face. When he entered and advanced impetuously acrossthe room she decided that he certainly was a dear, even if he lacked thefascination of Brathland and his kind. And his halo was almost visible.She therefore yielded enchantingly when he enveloped her, smothered her,stormed her lips, and even pulled her hair. She finally got him over tothe little sofa--she had advanced to meet him--but remained in his arm,the very picture of tender voluptuous young womanhood. Indeed, she waswell pleased, and found her Jack, with that light blazing in his eyes,quite handsome, and fascinating in his own boyish imperiousself-confident way.
It was half an hour before she rang for tea, and then she looked sopretty and domestic on the other side of the little table, with itsdelicate and costly service, that Gwynne was obliged to pause and summonall his resolution before proceeding to another subject that possessedhim as fully as herself; but he succeeded, for not even passion couldturn him from his course; and she gave him his opening.
"Poor Lord Strathland!" she exclaimed, with a tear in her throat. "Hewas always so jolly and amusing, quite the most cheerful person I evermet. And before your cousin became--lost his health--we were greatfriends. Indeed he never quite forgot me. But it was for you I was sohorribly cut up. I cried for two nights."
"Did you? But I was positive you did not make those tears in your firstletter with your hair-brush." He laughed like a happy school-boy, whileshe protested with a roughish expression that made her look like a veryyoung girl.
"It need not prevent our immediate marriage," he said. "What do you sayto the last of this month?"
"I could get ready. Only girls, who never have any clothes, poor things,get trousseaux in these days. I had set my heart upon spending thehoneymoon at the Abbey, but it would be rather indecent yet awhile;don't you think so?"
He had not an atom of tact and rushed upon his doom. "We shall have tocut the Abbey," he said, firmly. "I start for California three weeksfrom to-day."
"Indeed?" she said, stiffly. "I should have thought you would haveconsulted me. Not but that I shall be enchanted to visit California,but--well, you _are_ rather lordly, you know."
"My dear girl, I have been too harassed to consider the amenities. Andwhen a man is rearranging his whole life he must isolate himself or runthe risk of clouds in his judgment."
He paused. She disguised her mortification and answered, kindly: "I canunderstand that in this sudden demand for readjustment you have had manybad moments. It was far too soon for you to go up to the Peers'. Butwith your marvellous energies, your genius--there is no other word forit--you can soon astonish the world anew with a patent fordefossilization. At all events the Peers' will enter upon a new life asa sort of mastodon cave swept out and illuminated by the most energeticand aspiring of knights-errant."
Gwynne laughed dryly. "The role does not appeal to me; nor any other inthe same setting. I have done a month of the hardest thinking of mylife. Everything that went before looks like child's play. I havearrived at the definite conclusion that my career in England has cometo a full stop, and I have made up my mind to create another--out ofwhole cloth--in the United States."
She stared at him, her face not yet unset, but her eyes expanding withincredulous apprehension. "You mean to desert England?" she asked,quietly.
"Forever. Absolutely. It is all or nothing. I cannot become an Americancitizen until five years after entering the country, and I do not wishto lose any valuable time. Having made up my mind, I have ceased towonder if I shall like it. That is now beside the question. I shall dropmy title as a matter of course, and hope that I shall pass undiscoveredas John Gwy
nne. In short, I shall begin life all over again--as if Iwere a criminal in disguise instead of the sport of circumstances. Ihave ceased to regret the inevitable and begun to be stimulated by thethought of a struggle to which all that I have had here was a mere game,and I am sure that you, with your brains and energy, will enjoy thefight as much as I. I am not going into the wilderness. We shall be onlytwo hours from San Francisco, which I am told is the only city inAmerica that in the least suggests Europe; it should be very attractive.On the ranch you shall have every comfort and luxury. You must be sickof London, anyhow. You have conquered everything here."
He paused and regarded her in some trepidation. In spite of hisself-confidence he had had his moments of doubt. And although he hadanticipated tears and remonstrance, he was unprepared for the moresubtle weapon of amusement, flickering through absolute calm. Hesuddenly wished that she were younger. He had never given a thought toher age before, but he remembered that she had lived for two yearslonger than himself, and it made him feel even less than thirty.
"My dear boy," she said, wonderingly, "I never heard anything soromantic and impossible. Of course it is the American cousin with whomyou have been shut up all these weeks that has been putting suchpreposterous ideas into your head. I always said that nature just missedmaking you a poet. But if you wish to work out your manifest destiny--tobe immortalized in history--you will remind yourself that England is theone place on earth where an Anglo-Saxon can cut a really great figure.Not only because he has the proper background of traditions, but becausehe has an audience trained to recognize a man's greatness during hislifetime. If you go in for those unspeakable American politics you willnever be given credit for anything higher than your medium; in otherwords, should you develop into a statesman on American lines you wouldnever be recognized for anything but a successful politician. Even ifyou survived in their hurly-burly of history, you would be judged bycontemporary standards--infused with a certain contempt because you werenot American-born."
"I have thought it all out. The obstacles to greatness, even more thanto success, have whetted my appetite for the struggle. I must fight!fight! fight! I must exercise my powers of usefulness to some good end,and now, now, when I am young and ardent. I should go mad sitting rounddoing nothing. I have no temper for attacking the passive resistance ofinertia. I want to fight out in the open. If I fail I will take mybeating like a man. But I have not the least intention of failing. I amacutely aware of the powers within me, and I can use them anywhere."
"Then why not in the Upper House?" she asked, quickly.
"For the reasons I have given you, and because I should fear the resultson my character. You know what it means to be a peer of Great Britain.Flattery without accomplishment is demoralizing--would be to me, at allevents. It is wine to me when I am achieving, but it would drug me inidleness. Are you so wedded to London?"
"London is the _raison d'etre_ of life. Has it occurred to you," sheasked, gently, "that I might refuse to go to America?"
"I was afraid the idea would be something of a shock, but I was sure youwould see the matter in my light."
"It is not wanting in power! But it seems that I am. I have neveraspired to the role of Amelia Sedley. I have, in fact, rather apronounced individuality; and yet you have taken upon yourself todispose of my future as if I were a slip of eighteen--delighted at theprospect of a husband."
"Indeed you are wrong!" he cried, distressed to have bruised so belovedan ego. "But, I repeat, it was a question I was forced to decide alone.Nor would it have been fair to ask you to assume any part of so great aresponsibility. Do you suppose I did not think of that? Do you suppose Ihave ever lost sight of your happiness? Let me think for both and youshall not regret it."
She could have smiled outright at this evidence of the ingenuousness ofman, but her breast was raging with a fury of disappointment andconsternation. She kept her eyes down lest they should betray her. Butsuddenly she had an inspiration. She controlled herself with a masterlyeffort, flooded her eyes with tenderness, raised them, and said,softly:
"I do love London, love it with what I called a passion before I--beforewe met. And I cannot believe that this extraordinary resolution of yourshas had time to mature. Promise me at least that you will not apply forletters of citizenship for at least a year after your arrival--"
"I shall apply the day after I arrive in Rosewater." He steeled himself,for he had had his experience of woman's wiles; and his faith inmasculine supremacy as a habit did not waver. "I only regret that thetime of probation must be so long. I am on fire to throw myself into thearena--however, there will be opportunities to make myself known andfelt. I have decided to study law meanwhile--and the law, it seems, is acareer in itself in America."
And then he watched her eyes, fascinated. They slowly hardened, until,with the sun slanting into them, they looked like bronze. She was toointent upon studying his own to hide them, and upon arriving at a finalconclusion. She reached it in a moment, for to her habit of rapidthought and her understanding of the workings of the masculine mind sheowed no little of her supremacy among the clever women of London.
"I see that your decision is irrevocable," she said. "You are yourself;no one could make or unmake you, and God forbid that I should try.But--and I forbear to lead up to it artistically--I dissever myself fromyour chariot wheels. I am not afraid of being crushed, for no doubt youwould always remember to be polite, if not considerate. I am not surethat you would even permit me to become unrecognizable with dust. But Iam no longer plastic. I am thirty-two, and I am as much I as you areyou. I shall watch you from afar with great interest, and I sincerelyhope, for both your sakes, that Miss Otis will succeed in marrying you.I cannot fancy anything more suitable."
He had turned white, but he looked at her steadily. He felt as if theround globe were slipping from under him; and vaguely wondered if shehad gone about alluding to him as "the marquess." Then he sprang to hisfeet, lifted her forcibly from her chair, deposited her on the sofa, andtaking her in his arms defied her to dismiss him, to live without him.As the body, so yielding before, declined even to become rigid inresistance, he poured out such a flood of pleading that, believingpassion had conquered reason, she flung her arms about his neck andoffered to marry him on the morrow if he would promise to remain inEngland. But there was a crystal quality in Gwynne's intellect that nopassion could obscure. He merely renewed his pleadings; and then sheslipped out of his embrace and rose to her feet.
"We are wasting time," she said. "I always drive before dinner, and Icannot go out in a tea-gown." She paused a moment to summon from herresources the words that would humiliate him most and slake the desirefor vengeance that shrieked within her. She had never hated any one sobitterly before, not even in her youth, when snubs were frequent. Forthe third time she watched a coronet slip through her strong determinedimpotent fingers. She could forgive her husband and Brathland theiruntimely deaths, but for this young man, passionately in love with her,who tossed the dazzling prize aside as an actor might a "propertycrown," she felt such a rage of hatred that for almost a moment shethought of giving her inherited self the exquisite satisfaction ofscratching his eyes out. But it was too late in her day to be whollynatural, and, indeed, she preferred the weapons the world and herambitions had given her. As he rose and stared at her doubtingly, shesaid, without a high or a sharp note, in her clear lisping voice:
"I think it wise to put an end to all this by telling you that I wasengaged to Lord Brathland when he died. I was more in love with him thanI ever shall be with any one again. You caught me in the violence of therebound, for I was confused with grief, and distraction was welcome: youare always sufficiently amusing. I have not the least idea it would everhave come off, for, to tell you the truth, my friend, you are toohopelessly the _enfant gate_ for a woman who is neither young enough norold enough to crave youth on any terms. As a husband, I fear, not to puttoo fine a point on it, you would be a bore. At the risk of beingthought a snob--to which I am quite indifferent-
-I will add that asplain John Gwynne you seem to have so shrunk in size as to have becomeas insignificant as most men are, no doubt, when you catch a glimpse oftheir unmanufactured side. However"--with the air of a great ladydismissing an object of patronage--"I wish you good-fortune, andsincerely hope that we shall one day read of John Gwynne, senator, andrecall for a moment the brilliant Elton Gwynne so long forgotten in thisbusy London of ours."
During quite half of her discourse Gwynne had felt his soul writhe undera rain of hot metal, gibber towards some abyss where it could hide itshumiliation and its scars for ever. His brain seemed vacant and his verynostrils turned white. But like many clever people goaded to words by afurious sense of failure, she overshot her mark, and before shefinished his pride had made a terrified rebound and taken completepossession of him. He still felt stripped, lashed, a presumptuous youthbefore a scornful woman in the ripeness of her maturity, but it wasimperative for his future self-respect that he should reassert hismanhood and retire in good order. He let her finish, and then, as shestood with a still impatience, he lifted his eyes and drew himself up.His face was devoid of expression. His eyes did not even glitter; hemight have been listening with voluntary politeness to the speech ofmajesty laying a corner-stone.
"You are quite right," he said. "You have given me the drubbing Ideserve, and I am grateful to you. It was the only thing I needed tosnap my last tie with England and brace me for the struggle in America.It emboldens me to ask another favor--that you will regard what I havetold you of my plans as confidential. I shall give out that I am goingto travel for a time. As I believe I mentioned, I do not wish to berecognized in the United States; and that by the time I have made my newname my old one will be forgotten, is one of the sure points upon whichI have reckoned. Have I your promise?"
"My oath!" she said, flippantly; and although she was not generousenough to admire, and still felt as if the world itself were a corpse,every inherited instinct in her united in a visible respect for a poisethat was a gift of the centuries, not a deftly manufactured mask.
She rang the bell and extended her hand. Gwynne shook it politely; and amoment later was walking down Park Lane in that singular state ofelation that in mercurial natures succeeds one of the brutal blows oflife, when all the forces of the spirit have leaped to the rescue.
PART II
1905
Ancestors: A Novel Page 19