A Laodicean : A Story of To-day

by Thomas Hardy

  VII.

  When he awoke the next morning at the Lord-Quantock-Arms Hotel Somersetfelt quite morbid on recalling the intelligence he had received fromMrs. Camperton. But as the day for serious practical consultation aboutthe castle works, to which Paula had playfully alluded, was now close athand, he determined to banish sentimental reflections on the frailtiesthat were besieging her nature, by active preparation for hisprofessional undertaking. To be her high-priest in art, to elaborate astructure whose cunning workmanship would be meeting her eye every daytill the end of her natural life, and saying to her, 'He invented it,'with all the eloquence of an inanimate thing long regarded--this was nomean satisfaction, come what else would.

  He returned to town the next day to set matters there in such trim thatno inconvenience should result from his prolonged absence at the castle;for having no other commission he determined (with an eye rather toheart-interests than to increasing his professional practice) to make,as before, the castle itself his office, studio, and chief abiding-placetill the works were fairly in progress.

  On the tenth he reappeared at Markton. Passing through the town, on theroad to Stancy Castle, his eyes were again arrested by the notice-boardwhich had conveyed such startling information to him on the night of theball. The small bills now appeared thereon; but when he anxiously lookedthem over to learn how the parts were to be allotted, he foundthat intelligence still withheld. Yet they told enough; the list oflady-players was given, and Miss Power's name was one.

  That a young lady who, six months ago, would scarcely join forconscientious reasons in a simple dance on her own lawn, should now bewilling to exhibit herself on a public stage, simulating love-passageswith a stranger, argued a rate of development which under anycircumstances would have surprised him, but which, with the particularaddition, as leading colleague, of Captain De Stancy, inflamed himalmost to anger. What clandestine arrangements had been going on in hisabsence to produce such a full-blown intention it were futile to guess.Paula's course was a race rather than a march, and each successive heatwas startling in its eclipse of that which went before.

  Somerset was, however, introspective enough to know that his moralswould have taken no such virtuous alarm had he been the chief maleplayer instead of Captain De Stancy.

  He passed under the castle-arch and entered. There seemed a little turnin the tide of affairs when it was announced to him that Miss Powerexpected him, and was alone.

  The well-known ante-chambers through which he walked, filled withtwilight, draughts, and thin echoes that seemed to reverberate from twohundred years ago, did not delay his eye as they had done when he hadbeen ignorant that his destiny lay beyond; and he followed on throughall this ancientness to where the modern Paula sat to receive him.

  He forgot everything in the pleasure of being alone in a room with her.She met his eye with that in her own which cheered him. It was a lightexpressing that something was understood between them. She said quietlyin two or three words that she had expected him in the forenoon.

  Somerset explained that he had come only that morning from London.

  After a little more talk, in which she said that her aunt would jointhem in a few minutes, and Miss De Stancy was still indisposed at herfather's house, she rang for tea and sat down beside a little table.

  'Shall we proceed to business at once?' she asked him.

  'I suppose so.'

  'First then, when will the working drawings be ready, which I think yousaid must be made out before the work could begin?'

  While Somerset informed her on this and other matters, Mrs. Goodmanentered and joined in the discussion, after which they found it would benecessary to adjourn to the room where the plans were hanging. On theirwalk thither Paula asked if he stayed late at the ball.

  'I left soon after you.'

  'That was very early, seeing how late you arrived.'

  'Yes.... I did not dance.'

  'What did you do then?'

  'I moped, and walked to the door; and saw an announcement.'

  'I know--the play that is to be performed.'

  'In which you are to be the Princess.'

  'That's not settled,--I have not agreed yet. I shall not play thePrincess of France unless Mr. Mild plays the King of Navarre.'

  This sounded rather well. The Princess was the lady beloved by theKing; and Mr. Mild, the young lieutenant of artillery, was a diffident,inexperienced, rather plain-looking fellow, whose sole interest intheatricals lay in the consideration of his costume and the sound ofhis own voice in the ears of the audience. With such an unobjectionableperson to enact the part of lover, the prominent character of leadingyoung lady or heroine, which Paula was to personate, was really the mostsatisfactory in the whole list for her. For although she was to be wooedhard, there was just as much love-making among the remaining personages;while, as Somerset had understood the play, there could occur noflingings of her person upon her lover's neck, or agonized downfallsupon the stage, in her whole performance, as there were in the partschosen by Mrs. Camperton, the major's wife, and some of the otherladies.

  'Why do you play at all!' he murmured.

  'What a question! How could I refuse for such an excellent purpose? Theysay that my taking a part will be worth a hundred pounds to thecharity. My father always supported the hospital, which is quiteundenominational; and he said I was to do the same.'

  'Do you think the peculiar means you have adopted for supporting itentered into his view?' inquired Somerset, regarding her with criticaldryness. 'For my part I don't.'

  'It is an interesting way,' she returned persuasively, though apparentlyin a state of mental equipoise on the point raised by his question. 'AndI shall not play the Princess, as I said, to any other than that quietyoung man. Now I assure you of this, so don't be angry and absurd!Besides, the King doesn't marry me at the end of the play, as inShakespeare's other comedies. And if Miss De Stancy continues seriouslyunwell I shall not play at all.'

  The young man pressed her hand, but she gently slipped it away.

  'Are we not engaged, Paula!' he asked. She evasively shook her head.

  'Come--yes we are! Shall we tell your aunt?' he continued. Unluckilyat that moment Mrs. Goodman, who had followed them to the studio at aslower pace, appeared round the doorway.

  'No,--to the last,' replied Paula hastily. Then her aunt entered, andthe conversation was no longer personal.

  Somerset took his departure in a serener mood though not completelyassured.