by W. S. Lewis
X
Nancy emerged from her social service work with the feeling that she hadadded several chapters to the store of her experience. The sheep-likeexpression that covered the composite face of her group had brought hometo her the ineffectiveness of her plan. One couldn't, it was clear, godown among the masses, no matter how thoughtfully dressed, with only anequipment of good will, and hope to do them much good. Nor was she, shenow suspected, the person to attempt such a career. She fancied she sawinherent weaknesses in her character which would preclude a successfulperformance. She had been frightened, rather than inspired, by the womenin that room, particularly by the women of her own age. "What right haveyou to come down here with your pearls and your simple gingham dress,"she felt they were asking, "and get off a lot of this college stuff tous?" What right indeed? She was convinced, in short, that she had beenembarked upon a hopeless piece of snobbery, and, finding the wholebusiness distasteful, it had not been difficult to discover herunfitness.
The time had not been wasted, however. Not only had she satisfiedherself that a career of Uplift was not for her, but she had made afriend into the bargain. Tom, she decided, had behaved beautifullythrough it; and in her humbled state of mind the offence she had takenat his acting in the charade became all the more odious. What amean-minded girl she could be, to be sure; yet how perfectly he hadrisen above the situation. He had received her rudeness with aninstinctive fineness that gave freshness to the Biblical admonitionabout the other cheek. He had returned good for evil, and in supportingher through the ordeal of the Uplift Plan he had proved himself a towerof strength.
Tom and she, a few days after the final lecture, had gone together tothe college book shop and picked out their present for Professor Sprig.They had dawdled over the shelves, pulling down a book here and anotherthere, meeting every few minutes to show each other a possibility, andthen putting it back. The thing could, of course, have been done muchmore quickly, but neither seemed in a hurry to find the right one, forthey both liked books, and the shop was well-stocked, and the clerks didnot descend like buzzards upon them. They at length selected arag-paper, wide-margined copy of Calverley's _Verses and Fly Leaves_ andlaughed at its inappropriateness for the physiologist. Still, they wereconfident enough that Mr. Sprig knew his Calverley quite as well asthey, and that another copy would not be a burden. It had been adelightful two hours, and Nancy, at dinner, began a detailed account ofit.
But Henry was not interested. "It seems to me that you are seeing agood deal of Tom Reynolds, lately," was all that he said.
And why shouldn't she see a good deal of Tom Reynolds? she askedherself. There was that in Henry's tone which opened up the old-timeanger. Here he was, questioning her again, this time questioning herfriends. He was questioning Tom!
Had Henry wished to further the young man's chances with his sister tothe best of his ability, he could not have chosen a more effectivemethod. Tom, who had been doing very well on his own account, was nowmade doubly romantic through persecution. Nor do I think Nancy should becondemned as over-sentimental for feeling so, for if the reader--whocannot conceivably be thought over-sentimental--examine his ownexperience, I dare say he will find a parallel. In any event, Nancy wasin a fair way to discover a tender interest in Tom, if, indeed, she hadnot already done so.
But in the meantime, she must be true to herself and live richly. Shehad not yet determined what her new work would be, nor should shedetermine what it would be until she had considered the matter moredispassionately than she had the last one. Until the right thing wasapparent, therefore, she would devote herself with more assiduity to thephysical, mental, and spiritual progress of her nephew. After all, whatfiner work could there be than the rearing of a first-class Americanyouth?
Henry had sent his son to Miss West's kindergarten when he was scarcelyfour. Harry had not done well at the various cutting and pastingexercises, but he had been somewhat precocious at reading and wasalready advanced into the third reader. His orthographic sense, however,had not yet unbudded, and it was to the gentle fostering of this, inparticular, that Nancy now committed herself. She also thought it hightime that his musical education should commence, and the services ofMiss Marbury were invoked. Harry, unlike the general run of his fellows,was wholly charmed with the prospect of playing, and the old piano wasassailed with a diligence reminiscent of the youthful Haendel. So ithappened that Harry was practising in mid-afternoon on the day whenLeofwin Balch called, something over a week after the debacle of Nancy'ssocial service career.
Nancy, too, was at home and was much surprised and annoyed when her lateassistant appeared. Not the least surprising feature of his call was hiscostume. Usually clad with a conspicuous and artistic carelessness, hewas today arrayed like the lilies of the field. He was wearing a morningcoat, faultlessly pressed, and in its buttonhole bloomed a gardenia. Hecarried a stick with a gold band around it, his spats were of a lightand wonderful tan, and in his hand, in place of the usual greenish-brownveteran, he held a grey fedora of precisely the shape and shade worn byHis Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, on the occasion of that happiestof events, his recent visit to our country.
"I learned from your chauffeur that you were at home," said Leofwin,smiling graciously, "but I had no way of knowing that you were alone."
He had actually been spying on her! "Why didn't you call up one of themaids?" replied Nancy with more asperity than was perhaps becoming in ahostess.
"Delightful picture," laughed Leofwin, "but as a matter of fact you seeI don't know any of them, what?" and he nodded pleasantly.
Harry, who had progressed to the D scale at his second and latestlesson, was going over it with all the ardour of first love, andcontributed a tinkly-winkly background which was vaguely disturbing. Itwas not near enough, however, to be quite recognizable, and Leofwincarried on without comment, supposing it to be a kind of funny clock, orsomething.
"I called," he continued, "at this odd hour in the hope that I mightfind out how you are after our recent attempt to improve the lowerclasses." He drew his chair up nearer to Nancy as he spoke, and therewas a tenderness in his tone that alarmed her, particularly in the wayhe emphasized "our."
"I am quite well, thank you."
"Oh, but I am glad to hear it," he said.
The fervour of his words was nonsensical, but his intention, alas, wasbecoming clear.
"If you will forgive me," he continued, "I shall begin at once upon thebusiness at hand. We artists, you know, are sometimes accused of beingunbusinesslike. Goodness only knows, I am a mere child at stocks andbonds and par and all those things, but the underlying essence ofbusiness I rather fancy I have--that is, quickness of perception. Now Iquickly perceive that we are likely to be interrupted here at almost anyminute." He paused and looked about a little wildly. "I do wish we mighthave a more secluded nook for our talk." Nancy, however, who was nowprepared for the worst, did not offer more seclusion and her lovercontinued. "I wish we had some grotto where I could lead you. I wouldhave it on the Libyan shore. Overhead would be the azure sky. Before us,stealing up the golden beach, would be the Mediterranean. What acolourful scene! Soft breezes would lull you to my mood, and on theirspicy-laden breath would come the notes of faery music."
While preparing for this call Leofwin had laboured over that conceitwith all the diligence at his command; perhaps too diligently, for evenhe, had he not been blinded by zeal, might have seen that it wassomething too ornate to appeal to a rather practical young lady oftwenty-five. It was much too ornate, that is certain; and it alone wouldhave made him absurd had not fate joined forces against him and atprecisely this point prompted Harry, who was for once impatient with hisprogress, to try to reproduce the larger music coursing through hissoul. This he did by striking out wildly upon the keys in alldirections; and at the same time the faithful Clarence, slumberinglywaiting for his master's return to earthly matters, burst into fullcry.
"Good gracious, what is that?" cried Leofwin.
Nancy sped to t
he door of the music room, while strange and crashingharmonies rang through the house. "Stop, Harry. Stop that dreadfulnoise. You mustn't do that. Some one is calling on me. I think you hadbetter go out and play, anyway."
"Oh, please, Auntie, please let me play the scales some more. Just forfifteen minutes."
It would have taken a heart of flint to withstand such pleading. Nancyleft the musician and went boldly back to her visitor.
Leofwin was plainly annoyed by the interruption. He should now have tostart all over again, and starting was difficult. As Nancy reappeared,however, the clouds rolled from his brow.
"Is everything quite all right?" he asked solicitously.
"Quite all right, thank you."
"Well, in speaking just now of the Libyan grotto, I think I probablysuggested the theme of my visit to you this afternoon. I confess, I am apassionate man. Things of the senses appeal to me more than to most; itis, of course, the artist within me. I am like a mountain torrent or thebeetling crest of an ocean comber rushing, full-bodied, downupon--upon--the floor." He came to a full stop and stared with pursedlips at the object of his love, sitting unhappily before him. What thedevil _do_ mountain torrents and ocean combers rush down upon? Nothingas domestic, surely, as a floor. The thing was unhappily met.
"Please, Mr. Balch," said Nancy, rising, "please don't go any further. Ireally can't listen to you."
"Nancy," he cried, attempting to seize her hand. "I must call you'Nancy.' I must call you more than that. With you by my side there willbe nothing I cannot do. I shall make your name ring down the ages--likeMadame Recamier, or--or, Mona Lisa. I already have planned a piece forus. You are to be Miranda, and I shall be Ferdinand. You are justemerging from your bath, and I am peering through the bushes at you----"
The picture was such a dreadful one that Nancy could endure thesituation no longer. From being anxious to let him down as easily aspossible--for he was, after all, paying her a compliment--she wished thescene over at any cost. He was making the most holy of moments atravesty. She felt amazingly self-possessed.
"I appreciate the honour of your intention, Mr. Balch"--the language wasthat of Jane Austen, whom she had just been reading--"but I cannot allowit to go on. In fact," she hastened to add, for he showed signs of goingon, "I shall have to ask you to go."
The D scale, laboriously achieved, floated in from the music room.Leofwin turned away and Nancy, standing aside for him, was dismayed tonote that his little eyes were filled with sorrow and disappointment.
"It is true," he said, "that I have for some time wanted you for myself,but of late another reason has been urging me on. If it hadn't been forit, I don't think I could have come to you. You see, it is my sister.She has set her heart upon a trip abroad; not an ordinary touristy trip,you know, but a real one--to Italy. We have now only enough money forone to go--I gladly resigned it to her--but she does not feel that shecan leave me alone. If only you could have--but there, my dear, I'll notgo on."
Nancy was a little disconcerted by this sudden turn. The situation hadbecome almost impersonal. "I'm sorry," she said. She wished that shecould have thought of a better remark--a better one came in the night,when she was going over the whole affair--but he seemed grateful evenfor that.
"Thank you," he said. "But Elfrida will be so disappointed. You simplycan't imagine how this will spoil all her plans. But perhaps you willlet me try again some time?"
Harry was following his right hand with his left, an octave lower, withalmost no success.
"No, I am afraid not," said Nancy as they stood in the doorway. Shesoftened her words, however, by holding out her hand.
"Good-bye," he replied, gently taking it; and then, following theContinental custom, he stooped and kissed it, much to the amusement oftwo undergraduates who were at the time passing down Tutors' Lane.