December Love

by Robert Hichens

  CHAPTER III

  That day Craven walked away from Lady Sellingworth's house with Miss VanTuyn, leaving Sir Seymour Portman behind him.

  Miss Van Tuyn was staying with a friend at the Hyde Park Hotel, and, asshe said she wanted some air, Craven offered to accompany her there onfoot.

  "Do!" she said in her frank and very conscious way. "I'm afraid ofLondon on a Sunday."

  "Afraid!"

  "As I'm afraid of a heavy, dull person with a morose expression. Pleasedon't be angry."

  Craven smiled.

  "I know! Paris is much lighter in hand than London on a Sunday."

  "Isn't it? But there are people in London! Isn't _she_ a preciousperson?"

  "Lady Sellingworth?"

  "Yes. You have marvellous old women in London who do all that we youngpeople do, and who look astonishing. They might almost be somewhere inthe thirties when one knows they are really in the sixties. They playgames, ride, can still dance, have perfect digestions, sit up till twoin the morning and are out shopping in Bond Street as fresh as paintby eleven, having already written dozens of acceptances to invitations,arranged dinners, theatre parties, heaven knows what! Made of cast iron,they seem. They even manage somehow to be fairly attractive to youngmen. They are living marvels, and I take off my toque to them. But LadySellingworth, quite old, ravaged, devastated by time one might say, whogoes nowhere and who doesn't even play bridge--she beats them all. Ilove her. I love her wrinkled distinction, her husky voice, her carelesswalk. She walks anyhow, like a woman alone on a country road. She lookseven older than she is. But what does it matter? If I were a man--"

  "Would you fall in love with her?" Craven interposed.

  "Oh, no!"

  She shot a blue glance at him.

  "But I should love her--if only she would let me. But she wouldn't. Ifeel that."

  "I never saw her till to-day. She charmed me."

  "Of course. But she didn't try to."

  "Probably not."

  "That's it! She doesn't try, and that's partly why she succeeds, beingas God has made her. Do you know that some people hate her?"

  "Impossible!"

  "They do."

  "Who do?"

  "The young-old women of her time, the young-old Edwardian women. Shedates them. She shows them up by looking as she does. She is theircontemporary, and she has the impertinence to be old. And they can'tforgive her for it."

  "I understand," said Craven. "She has betrayed the 'old guard.' She hasdisobeyed the command inscribed on their banner. She has given up."

  "Yes. They will never pardon her, never!"

  "I wonder what made her do it?" said Craven.

  And he proceeded to touch on Miss Van Tuyn's desire to get LadySellingworth to Paris. He soon found out that she did not know about thejewels episode. She showed curiosity, and he told her what he knew. Sheseemed deeply interested.

  "I was sure there was a mystery in her life," she said. "I have alwaysfelt it. Ten years ago! And since then she has never stayed in Paris!"

  "And since then--from that moment--she has betrayed the 'old guard.'"

  "How? I don't understand."

  Craven explained. Miss Van Tuyn listened with an intensity of interestwhich flattered him. He began to think her quite lovely, and she saw thepretty thought in his mind.

  When he had finished she said:

  "No attempt to recover the lost jewels, the desertion of Paris, thesudden change into old age! What do you make of it?"

  "I can make nothing. Unless the chagrin she felt made her throw upeverything in a fit of anger. And then, of course, once the thing wasdone she couldn't go back."

  "You mean--go back to the Edwardian youthfulness she had abandoned?"

  "Yes. One may refuse to grow old, but once one has become definitely,ruthlessly old, it's practically impossible to jump back to a pretenceof the thirties."

  "Of course. It would frighten people. But--it wasn't that."

  "No?"

  "No. For if she had felt the loss of her jewels so much as you suggest,she would have made every effort to recover them."

  "I suppose she would."

  "The heart of the mystery lies in her not wishing to try to get thejewels back. That, to me, is inexplicable. Because we women love jewels.And no woman carries about jewels worth fifty thousand pounds withoutcaring very much for them."

  "Just what I have thought," said Craven.

  After a short silence he added:

  "Could Lady Sellingworth possibly have known who had stolen the jewels,do you think?"

  "What! And refrained from denouncing the thief!"

  "She might have had a reason."

  Miss Van Tuyn's keen though still girlish eyes looked sharply intoCraven's for an instant.

  "I believe you men, you modern men are very apt to think terrible thingsabout women," she said.

  Craven warmly defended himself against this abrupt accusation.

  "Well, but what did you mean?" persisted Miss Van Tuyn. "Now, go againstyour sex and be truthful for once to a woman."

  "I really don't know exactly what I meant," said Craven. "But I supposeit's possible to conceive of circumstances in which a woman might knowthe identity of a thief and yet not wish to prosecute."

  "Very well. I'll let you alone," she rejoined. "But this mystery makesLady Sellingworth more fascinating to me than ever. I'm not particularlycurious about other people. I'm too busy about myself for that. ButI would give a great deal to know a little more of her truth. Do youremember her remark when I said 'I wish I had known you then'?"

  "Yes. She said, 'You would not have known _me_ then.'"

  "There have been two Adela Sellingworths. And I only know one. I do wantto know the other. But I am almost sure I never shall. And yet she'sfond of me. I know that. She likes my being devoted to her. I feel she'sa book of wisdom, and I have only read a few pages."

  She walked on quickly with her light, athletic step. Just as they werepassing Hyde Park Corner she said:

  "I think I shall go to one of the 'old guard.'"

  "Why?" asked Craven.

  "You ask questions to which you know the answers," she retorted.

  And then they talked of other things.

  When they reached the hotel and Craven was about to say good-bye, MissVan Tuyn said to him:

  "Are you coming to see me one day?"

  Her expression suggested that she was asking a question to which sheknew the answer, in this following the example just given to her byCraven.

  "I want to," he said.

  "Then do give me your card."

  He gave it to her.

  "We both want to know her secret," she said, as she put it into hercard-case. "Our curiosity about that dear, delightful woman is a linkbetween us."

  Craven looked into her animated eyes, which were strongly searching himfor admiration. He took her hand and held it for a moment.

  "I don't think I want to know Lady Sellingworth's secret if she doesn'twish me to know it," he said.

  "Now--is that true?"

  "Yes," he said, with a genuine earnestness which seemed to amuse her."Really, really it is true."

  She sent him a slightly mocking glance.

  "Well, I am less delicate. I want to know it, whether she wishes me toor not. And yet I am more devoted to her than you are. I have known herfor quite a long time."

  "One can learn devotion very quickly," he said, pressing her hand beforehe let it go.

  "In an afternoon?"

  "Yes, in an afternoon."

  "Happy Lady Sellingworth!" she said.

  Then she turned to go into the hotel. Just before she passed through theswing door she looked round at Craven. The movement of her young headwas delicious.

  "After all, in spite of the charm that won't die," he thought, "there'snothing like youth for calling you."

  He thought Lady Sellingworth really more charming than Miss Van Tuyn,but he knew that the feeling of her hand in his would not have thrilledsomethi
ng in him, a very intimate part of himself, as he had just beenthrilled.

  He felt almost angry with himself as he walked away, and he mutteredunder his breath:

  "Damn the animal in me!"