IV
This piece of strategy left me staring and made me, I must confess,
quite furious. My only consolation was that Archie, when I told him,
looked as blank as myself, and that the trick touched him more nearly,
for I was not now in love with Louisa. We agreed that we required an
explanation and we pretended to expect one the next day in the shape of
a letter satisfactory even to the point of being apologetic. When I say
"we" pretended I mean that I did, for my suspicion that he knew what had
been on foot--through an arrangement with Linda--lasted only a moment.
If his resentment was less than my own his surprise was equally great. I
had been willing to bolt, but I felt slighted by the ease with which
Mrs. Pallant had shown she could part with us. Archie professed no sense
of a grievance, because in the first place he was shy about it and
because in the second it was evidently not definite to him that he had
been encouraged--equipped as he was, I think, with no very particular
idea of what constituted encouragement. He was fresh from the wonderful
country in which there may between the ingenuous young be so little
question of "intentions." He was but dimly conscious of his own and
could by no means have told me whether he had been challenged or been
jilted. I didn't want to exasperate him, but when at the end of three
days more we were still without news of our late companions I observed
that it was very simple:--they must have been just hiding from us; they
thought us dangerous; they wished to avoid entanglements. They had found
us too attentive and wished not to raise false hopes. He appeared to
accept this explanation and even had the air--so at least I inferred
from his asking me no questions--of judging the matter might be delicate
for myself. The poor youth was altogether much mystified, and I smiled
at the image in his mind of Mrs. Pallant fleeing from his uncle's
importunities. We decided to leave Homburg, but if we didn't pursue our
fugitives it wasn't simply that we were ignorant of where they were. I
could have found that out with a little trouble, but I was deterred by
the reflexion that this would be Louisa's reasoning. She was a dreadful
humbug and her departure had been a provocation--I fear it was in that
stupid conviction that I made out a little independent itinerary with
Archie. I even believed we should learn where they were quite soon
enough, and that our patience--even my young man's--would be longer than
theirs. Therefore I uttered a small private cry of triumph when three
weeks later--we happened to be at Interlaken--he reported to me that he
had received a note from Miss Pallant. The form of this confidence was
his enquiring if there were particular reasons why we should longer
delay our projected visit to the Italian lakes. Mightn't the fear of the
hot weather, which was moreover at that season our native temperature,
cease to operate, the middle of September having arrived? I answered
that we would start on the morrow if he liked, and then, pleased
apparently that I was so easy to deal with, he revealed his little
secret. He showed me his letter, which was a graceful natural document--
it covered with a few flowing strokes but a single page of note-paper--
not at all compromising to the young lady. If, however, it was almost
the apology I had looked for--save that this should have come from the
mother--it was not ostensibly in the least an invitation. It mentioned
casually--the mention was mainly in the words at the head of her paper--
that they were on the Lago Maggiore, at Baveno; but it consisted mainly
of the expression of a regret that they had had so abruptly to leave
Homburg. Linda failed to say under what necessity they had found
themselves; she only hoped we hadn't judged them too harshly and would
accept "this hasty line" as a substitute for the omitted good-bye. She
also hoped our days were passing pleasantly and with the same lovely
weather that prevailed south of the Alps; and she remained very
sincerely and with the kindest remembrances--!
The note contained no message from her mother, and it was open to me to
suppose, as I should prefer, either that Mrs. Pallant hadn't known she
was writing or that they wished to make us think she hadn't known. The
letter might pass as a common civility of the girl's to a person with
whom she had been on easy terms. It was, however, for something more
than this that my nephew took it; so at least I gathered from the
touching candour of his determination to go to Baveno. I judged it idle
to drag him another way; he had money in his own pocket and was quite
capable of giving me the slip. Yet--such are the sweet incongruities of
youth--when I asked him to what tune he had been thinking of Linda since
they left us in the lurch he replied: "Oh I haven't been thinking at
all! Why should I?" This fib was accompanied by an exorbitant blush.
Since he was to obey his young woman's signal I must equally make out
where it would take him, and one splendid morning we started over the
Simplon in a post-chaise.
I represented to him successfully that it would be in much better taste
for us to alight at Stresa, which as every one knows is a resort of
tourists, also on the shore of the major lake, at about a mile's
distance from Baveno. If we stayed at the latter place we should have to
inhabit the same hotel as our friends, and this might be awkward in view
of a strained relation with them. Nothing would be easier than to go and
come between the two points, especially by the water, which would give
Archie a chance for unlimited paddling. His face lighted up at the
vision of a pair of oars; he pretended to take my plea for discretion
very seriously, and I could see that he had at once begun to calculate
opportunities for navigation with Linda. Our post-chaise--I had insisted
on easy stages and we were three days on the way--deposited us at
Stresa toward the middle of the afternoon, and it was within an
amazingly short time that I found myself in a small boat with my nephew,
who pulled us over to Baveno with vigorous strokes. I remember the
sweetness of the whole impression. I had had it before, but to my
companion it was new, and he thought it as pretty as the opera: the
enchanting beauty of the place and, hour, the stillness of the air and
water, with the romantic fantastic Borromean Islands set as great jewels
in a crystal globe. We disembarked at the steps by the garden-foot of
the hotel, and somehow it seemed a perfectly natural part of the lovely
situation that I should immediately become conscious of Mrs. Pallant and
her daughter seated on the terrace and quietly watching us. They had the
air of expectation, which I think we had counted on. I hadn't even asked
Archie if he had answered Linda's note; this was between themselves and
in the way of supervision I had done enough in coming with him.
There is no doubt our present address, all round, lacked a little the
easiest grace--or at least Louisa's and mine did. I felt too much the
appeal of her exhibition to notice closely the style of encounter of the
young people. I couldn't get it out of my head, as I have sufficiently
indicated, that Mrs. Pallant was playing a game, and I'm afraid she saw
in my face that this suspicion had been the motive of my journey. I had
come there to find her out. The knowledge of my purpose couldn't help
her to make me very welcome, and that's why I speak of our meeting
constrainedly. We observed none the less all the forms, and the
admirable scene left us plenty to talk about. I made no reference before
Linda to the retreat from Homburg. This young woman looked even prettier
than she had done on the eve of that manoeuvre and gave no sign of an
awkward consciousness. She again so struck me as a charming clever girl
that I was freshly puzzled to know why we should get--or should have
got--into a tangle about her. People had to want to complicate a
situation to do it on so simple a pretext as that Linda was in every way
beautiful. This was the clear fact: so why shouldn't the presumptions be
in favour of every result of it? One of the effects of that cause, on
the spot, was that at the end of a very short time Archie proposed to
her to take a turn with him in his boat, which awaited us at the foot of
the steps. She looked at her mother with a smiling "May I, mamma?" and
Mrs. Pallant answered "Certainly, darling, if you're not afraid." At
this--I scarcely knew why--I sought the relief of laughter: it must have
affected me as comic that the girl's general competence should suffer
the imputation of that particular flaw. She gave me a quick slightly
sharp look as she turned away with my nephew; it appeared to challenge
me a little--"Pray what's the matter with YOU?" It was the first
expression of the kind I had ever seen in her face. Mrs. Pallant's
attention, on the other hand, rather strayed from me; after we had been
left there together she sat silent, not heeding me, looking at the lake
and mountains--at the snowy crests crowned with the flush of evening.
She seemed not even to follow our young companions as they got into
their boat and pushed off. For some minutes I respected her mood; I
walked slowly up and down the terrace and lighted a cigar, as she had
always permitted me to do at Homburg. I found in her, it was true,
rather a new air of weariness; her fine cold well-bred face was pale; I
noted in it new lines of fatigue, almost of age. At last I stopped in
front of her and--since she looked so sad--asked if she had been having
bad news.
"The only bad news was when I learned--through your nephew's note to
Linda--that you were coming to us."
"Ah then he wrote?"
"Certainly he wrote."
"You take it all harder than I do," I returned as I sat down beside her.
And then I added, smiling: "Have you written to his mother?"
Slowly at last, and more directly, she faced me. "Take care, take care,
or you'll have been more brutal than you'll afterwards like," she said
with an air of patience before the inevitable.
"Never, never! Unless you think me brutal if I ask whether you knew when
Linda wrote."
She had an hesitation. "Yes, she showed me her letter. She wouldn't have
done anything else. I let it go because I didn't know what course was
best. I'm afraid to oppose her to her face."
"Afraid, my dear friend, with that girl?"
"That girl? Much you know about her! It didn't follow you'd come. I
didn't take that for granted."
"I'm like you," I said--"I too am afraid of my nephew. I don't venture
to oppose him to his face. The only thing I could do--once he wished
it--was to come with him."
"I see. Well, there are grounds, after all, on which I'm glad," she
rather inscrutably added.
"Oh I was conscientious about that! But I've no authority; I can neither
drive him nor stay him--I can use no force," I explained. "Look at the
way he's pulling that boat and see if you can fancy me."
"You could tell him she's a bad hard girl--one who'd poison any good
man's life!" my companion broke out with a passion that startled me.
At first I could only gape. "Dear lady, what do you mean?"
She bent her face into her hands, covering it over with them, and so
remained a minute; then she continued a little differently, though as if
she hadn't heard my question: "I hoped you were too disgusted with us--
after the way we left you planted."
"It was disconcerting assuredly, and it might have served if Linda
hadn't written. That patched it up," I gaily professed. But my gaiety
was thin, for I was still amazed at her violence of a moment before. "Do
you really mean that she won't do?" I added.
She made no direct answer; she only said after a little that it didn't
matter whether the crisis should come a few weeks sooner or a few weeks
later, since it was destined to come at the first chance, the favouring
moment. Linda had marked my young man--and when Linda had marked a
thing!
"Bless my soul--how very grim--" But I didn't understand. "Do you mean
she's in love with him?"
"It's enough if she makes him think so--though even that isn't
essential."
Still I was at sea. "If she makes him think so? Dear old friend, what's
your idea? I've observed her, I've watched her, and when all's said what
has she done? She has been civil and pleasant to him, but it would have
been much more marked if she hadn't. She has really shown him, with her
youth and her natural charm, nothing more than common friendliness. Her
note was nothing; he let me see it."
"I don't think you've heard every word she has said to him," Mrs.
Pallant returned with an emphasis that still struck me as perverse.
"No more have you, I take it!" I promptly cried. She evidently meant
more than she said; but if this excited my curiosity it also moved, in a
different connexion, my indulgence.
"No, but I know my own daughter. She's a most remarkable young woman."
"You've an extraordinary tone about her," I declared "such a tone as I
think I've never before heard on a mother's lips. I've had the same
impression from you--that of a disposition to 'give her away,' but never
yet so strong."
At this Mrs. Pallant got up; she stood there looking down at me. "You
make my reparation--my expiation--difficult!" And leaving me still more
astonished she moved along the terrace.
I overtook her presently and repeated her words. "Your reparation--your
expiation? What on earth are you talking about?"
"You know perfectly what I mean--it's too magnanimous of you to pretend
you don't."
"Well, at any rate," I said, "I don't see what good it does me, or what
it makes up to me for, that you should abuse your daughter."
"Oh I don't care; I shall save him!" she cried as we went, and with an
extravagance, as I felt, of sincerity. At the same moment two ladies,
apparently English, came toward us--scattered groups had been sitting
there and the inmates of the hotel were moving to and fro--and I
observed the immediate charming transition, the fruit of such years of
social practice, by which, as they greeted us, her tension and her
impatience dropped to recognition and pleasure. They stopped to speak to
her and she enquired with sweet propriety as to the "continued
improvement" of their sister. I strolled on and she presently rejoined
me; after which she had a peremptory note. "Come away from this--come
down into the garden." We descended to that blander scene, strolled
through it and paused on the border of the lake.
