The Arbiter: A Novel
Page 6
CHAPTER VI
Robert Pateley was a journalist, and a successful man. Some peoplesucceed in life because they have certain qualities which enlist thesympathy and co-operation of their fellow-creatures; others, withoutsuch qualities, yet succeed by having a dogged determination and powerof push which make them independent of that sympathy and co-operation.Robert Pateley was one of the latter. When he was discussed by twopeople who felt they ought to like him, they said to one another, "Whatis it about Pateley that puts people off, I wonder? Why can't one likehim more?" and then they would think it over and come to no conclusion.Perhaps it was that his journalism was of the very newest kind. He wascertainly extremely able, although his somewhat boisterous personalityand entirely non-committal conversation did not give at the firstmeeting with him the impression of his being the sagacious andkeen-witted politician that he really was. Was it his laugh that peopledisliked? Was it his voice? It could not have been his intelligence,which was excellent, nor yet his moral character, which was blameless.In fact, in a quiet way, Pateley had been a hero, for he had been left,through his father's mismanagement of the family affairs, with twosisters absolutely on his hands, and he had never, since undertaking thewhole charge of them, for one instant put his own welfare, advancementor interest before theirs. Absorbed in his resolute purpose, he hadcoolness of head and determination enough to govern his ambitionsinstead of letting himself be governed by them. The son of a solicitorin a country town, he had made up his mind that, as he put it tohimself, he would be "somebody" some day. He had got to the top of thelocal grammar school, and tasted the delights of success, and hedetermined that he would continue them in a larger sphere. It is notalways easy to draw the line between conspicuousness and distinction.Pateley, who went along the path of life like a metaphoricalfire-engine, had very early become conspicuous; he had gone steadily on,calling to his fellow-creatures to get out of his way, until now, assteerer of the _Arbiter_, a dashing little paper that under his guidancehad made a sudden leap into fame and influence, he was a personage to bereckoned with, and it was evident enough in his bearing that he wasconscious of the fact.
Such was the person who, almost as his name was on Sir William Gore'slips, came cheerfully, loudly, briskly into the room, includingeverybody in the heartiest of greetings, stepping at once into theforeground of the picture, and filling it up.
"Did I hear you say that you would like to see my face, Gore? How verypolite of you! most gratifying!" he said with a loud laugh, which seemedto correspond to his big and burly person.
"You did," said Sir William. "Wentworth says you know everything aboutphotography."
"Ah! now, that," said Pateley, galvanised into real eagerness andinterest as he turned round after shaking hands with Lady Gore, "Ireally do know at this moment, as I have just come from the PhotographicExhibition."
"Oh!" said Miss Tarlton with an irrepressible cry, the ordinaryconventions of society abrogated by the enormous importance of theinformation which she felt was coming.
"Let me introduce you to Miss Tarlton," said Sir William. Miss Tarltonbowed quickly, and then proceeded at once to business.
"Do you know the name of a quite tiny camera?" she said; "the verynewest?"
"I do," said Pateley. "It is the 'Viator,' and I have just seen it." Asort of audible murmur of relief ran through the company at this burningquestion having been answered at last. "And it is only by a specialgrace of Providence," Pateley went on, "assisted by my high principles,that that machine is not in my pocket at this moment."
"Oh! I wish it were!" said Miss Tarlton.
"I'm afraid it may be before many days are over," said Pateley. "Inever saw anything so perfect. And do you know, it takes a snapshot in aroom even just as well as in the open air. If I had it in my hand Icould snap any one of you here, at this moment, almost without yourknowing anything about it."
"I am so glad you haven't," Lady Gore couldn't help ejaculating.
"The man who was showing it took one of me as I turned to look at it. Itis perfectly wonderful."
"And that in a room?" Miss Tarlton said, more and more awestruck. "Andsimply a snapshot, not a time exposure at all?"
"Precisely," Pateley said.
"I shall go and see it," Miss Tarlton said, and, notebook in hand, shecontinued with a businesslike air to write down the particularscommunicated by Pateley.
"I am quite out of my depth," Lady Gore said to Wentworth. "What does a'time exposure' mean?"
"Heaven knows," said Wentworth. "Something about seconds and things, Isuppose."
"I can never judge of how many seconds a thing takes," said Lady Gore.
"I'm sure I can't," Wentworth replied. "The other day I thought we hadbeen three-quarters of an hour in a tunnel and we had only been twominutes and a half."
"Now then," Pateley said with a satisfied air, turning to Sir William,"I have cheered Miss Tarlton on to a piece of extravagance." SirWilliam felt a distinct sense of pleasure. "I have persuaded her to buya new machine."
"The thing that amuses me," said Sir William with some scorn, havingapparently forgotten which of his pet aversions had been the subject ofthe conversation, "is people's theory that when once you have bought abicycle it costs you nothing afterwards."
"It is not a bicycle, Sir William, it is a camera," said Miss Tarlton,with some asperity.
"Oh, well, it is the same thing," Sir William said.
"_The same thing?_" Miss Tarlton repeated, with the accent of one whofeels an immeasurable mental gulf between herself and her interlocutor.
"As to results, I mean," he said. Arrived at this point Miss Tarltonfelt she need no longer listen, she simply noted with pitying tolerancethe random utterance. "A camera costs very nearly as much to keep as ahorse, what with films and bottles of stuff, and all the otheraccessories. And as for a bicycle, I am quite sure that you have tocount as much for mending it as you do for a horse's keep."
"The really expensive thing, though, is a motor," said Wentworth. "Lotsof men nowadays don't marry because they can't afford to keep a wife aswell as a motor."
Rendel, who was standing by Rachel's side at the tea-table, caught thissentence. He looked up at her with a smile. She blushed.
"I have no intention of keeping a motor," he said. Rachel said nothing.
"Are you very angry with me?" Rendel said.
"I am not sure," she answered. "I think I am."
"You mustn't be--after saving my life, too, this morning, in the boat."
"Saving your life?" said Rachel, surprised.
"Yes," Rendel said. "By not steering me into any of the things we met onthe Thames."
"Oh!" said Rachel, smiling, "I am afraid even that was more your doingthan mine, as you kept calling out to me which string to pull."
"Perhaps. But the extraordinary thing was that when you were told youdid pull it," said Rendel.
"Oh, any one can do that," replied Rachel.
"I beg your pardon, it is not so simple," Rendel answered, thinking tohimself, though he had the good sense at that moment not to formulateit, what an adorable quality it would be in a wife that she shouldalways pull exactly the string she was told to pull.
"I've been asking Sir William if I may come and speak to him...." hesaid in a lower tone. "He said I might." Rachel was silent. "You don'tmind, do you?" he said, looking at her anxiously.
"I--I--don't know," Rachel said. "I feel as if I were not sure aboutanything--you have done it all so quickly--I can't realise----"
"Yes," he said penitently, "I have done it all very quickly, I know, butI won't hurry you to give me any answer. My chief's going awayto-morrow for ten days, and I am afraid I must go too, but may I come assoon as I am back again?"
"Yes," said Rachel shyly.
"And perhaps by that time," he said, "you will know the answer. Do youthink you will?" Rachel looked at him as her hand lay in his.
"Yes, by that time I shall know," she said.
As Rendel went out a few minutes later
he was dimly conscious of meetingan agitated little figure which hurried past him into the room. MissJudd was a lady who contrived to reduce as many of her fellow-creaturesto a state of mild exasperation during the day as any female enthusiastin London, by her constant haste to overtake her manifold duties towardsthe human race. Those duties were still further complicated by the factthat she had a special gift for forgetting more things in one afternoonthan most people are capable of remembering in a week.
"My dear Jane, how do you do?" said Lady Gore. "We have not seen you foran age."
"No, Cousin Elinor, no," said Miss Judd, who always spoke in littlegasps as if she had run all the way from her last stopping-place. "Ihave been so frightfully busy. Oh, thank you, William, thank you; but doyou know, that tea looks dreadfully strong. In fact, I think I hadreally better not have any. I wonder if I might have some hot waterinstead? Thank you so much. Thank you, dear Rachel--simply water,nothing else."
"That doesn't sound a very reviving beverage," said Lady Gore.
"Oh, but it is, I assure you," said Miss Judd. "It is wonderful. And,you see, I had tea for luncheon, and I don't like to have it too often."
"Tea for luncheon?" said Sir William.
"Yes, at an Aerated Bread place," she replied, "near Victoria. I havebeen leaving the canvassing papers for the School Board election, and Ihad not time to go home."
"What it is to be such a pillar of the country!" said Lady Gorelaughing.
"You may laugh, Cousin Elinor," Miss Judd said, drinking her hot waterin quick, hurried sips, "but I assure you it is very hard work. You see,whatever the question is that I am canvassing for, I always feel boundto explain it to the voters at every place I go to, for fear they shouldvote the wrong way: and sometimes that is very hard work. At the lastGeneral Election, for instance, I lunched off buns and tea for afortnight."
"Good Lord!" said Sir William to Pateley as they stood a little apart."Imagine public opinion being expounded by people who lunch off buns!"
"And the awful thing, do you know," said Pateley laughing, "is that Ibelieve those people do make a difference."
"It is horrible to reflect upon," said Sir William.
"By the way," said Pateley, with a laugh, "your side is going in for thesex too, I see. Is it true that you are going to have a Women's PeaceCrusade?"
"Yes," said Sir William with an expression of disgust, "I believe thatit is so. _My_ womenkind are not going to have anything to do with it, Iam thankful to say."
"Oh, yes, I saw about that Crusade," said Wentworth, joining them, "inthe _Torch_."
"Don't believe too firmly what the _Torch_ says--or indeed anynewspaper--ha, ha!" said Pateley.
"I should be glad not to believe all that I see in the _Arbiter_, thismorning," Sir William said. "Upon my word, Pateley, that paper of yoursis becoming incendiary."
"I don't know that we are being particularly incendiary," said Pateley,with the comfortable air of one disposing of the subject. "It is onlythat the world is rather inflammable at this moment."
"Well, we have had conflagrations enough at the present," said SirWilliam. "We want the country to quiet down a bit."
"Oh! it will do that all in good time," said Pateley. "I am bound to saythings are rather jumpy just now. By the way, Sir William, I wonder ifyou know of any investment you could recommend?"
Wentworth discreetly turned away and strolled back to Lady Gore's sofa.
"I rather want to know of a good thing for my two sisters who are livingtogether at Lowbridge. I have got a modest sum to invest that my fatherleft them, and I should like to put it into something that is prettycertain, but, if possible, that will give them more than 2-1/2 percent."
"Why," said Sir William, "I believe I may know of the very thing. Onlyit is a dead secret as yet."
"Hullo!" said Pateley, pricking up his ears. "That sounds promising. Forhow long?"
"Just for the moment," said Sir William. "But of necessity the wholeworld must know of it before very long."
"Well, if it really is a good thing let us have a day or two's start,"said Pateley laughing.
"All right, you shall," said Sir William. "You shall hear from me in aday or two."