Part 9 (1/2)

”No, of course not,” Miss Verney a.s.sented; ”but isn't that all the more reason for his friends to think of him? It was very dear of him to give up everything to nurse Mr. Darrow--but, after all, if a man is going to get on in his career there are times when he must think first of himself.”

Mrs. Peyton paused, trying to choose her words with deliberation. It was quite clear now that d.i.c.k had not spoken, and she felt the responsibility that devolved upon her.

”Getting on in a career--is that always the first thing to be considered?”

she asked, letting her eyes rest musingly on the girl's.

The glance did not disconcert Miss Verney, who returned it with one of equal comprehensiveness. ”Yes,” she said quickly, and with a slight blush.

”With a temperament like Mr. Peyton's I believe it is. Some people can pick themselves up after any number of bad falls: I am not sure that he could. I think discouragement would weaken instead of strengthening him.”

Both women had forgotten external conditions in the quick reach for each other's meanings. Mrs. Peyton flushed, her maternal pride in revolt; but the answer was checked on her lips by the sense of the girl's unexpected insight. Here was some one who knew d.i.c.k as well as she did--should she say a partisan or an accomplice? A dim jealousy stirred beneath Mrs. Peyton's other emotions: she was undergoing the agony which the mother feels at the first intrusion on her privilege of judging her child; and her voice had a flutter of resentment.

”You must have a poor opinion of his character,” she said.

Miss Verney did not remove her eyes, but her blush deepened beautifully. ”I have, at any rate,” she Said, ”a high one of his talent. I don't suppose many men have an equal amount of moral and intellectual energy.”

”And you would cultivate the one at the expense of the other?”

”In certain cases--and up to a certain point.” She shook out the long fur of her m.u.f.f, one of those silvery flexible furs which clothe a woman with a delicate sumptuousness. Everything about her, at the moment, seemed rich and cold--everything, as Mrs. Peyton quickly noted, but the blush lingering under her dark skin; and so complete was the girl's self-command that the blush seemed to be there only because it had been forgotten.

”I dare say you think me strange,” she continued. ”Most people do, because I speak the truth. It's the easiest way of concealing one's feelings. I can, for instance, talk quite openly about Mr. Peyton under shelter of your inference that I shouldn't do so if I were what is called 'interested' in him. And as I _am_ interested in him, my method has its advantages!”

She ended with one of the fluttering laughs which seemed to flit from point to point of her expressive person.

Mrs. Peyton leaned toward her. ”I believe you are interested,” she said quietly; ”and since I suppose you allow others the privilege you claim for yourself, I am going to confess that I followed you here in the hope of finding out the nature of your interest.”

Miss Verney shot a glance at her, and drew away in a soft subsidence of undulating furs.

”Is this an emba.s.sy?” she asked smiling.

”No: not in any sense.”

The girl leaned back with an air of relief. ”I'm glad; I should have disliked--” She looked again at Mrs. Peyton. ”You want to know what I mean to do?”

”Yes.”

”Then I can only answer that I mean to wait and see what he does.”

”You mean that everything is contingent on his success?”

”_I_ am--if I'm everything,” she admitted gaily.

The mother's heart was beating in her throat, and her words seemed to force themselves out through the throbs.

”I--I don't quite see why you attach such importance to this special success.”

”Because he does,” the girl returned instantly. ”Because to him it is the final answer to his self-questioning--the questioning whether he is ever to amount to anything or not. He says if he has anything in him it ought to come out now. All the conditions are favourable--it is the chance he has always prayed for. You see,” she continued, almost confidentially, but without the least loss of composure--”you see he has told me a great deal about himself and his various experiments--his phrases of indecision and disgust. There are lots of tentative talents in the world, and the sooner they are crushed out by circ.u.mstances the better. But it seems as though he really had it in him to do something distinguished--as though the uncertainty lay in his character and not in his talent. That is what interests, what attracts me. One can't teach a man to have genius, but if he has it one may show him how to use it. That is what I should be good for, you see--to keep him up to his opportunities.”

Mrs. Peyton had listened with an intensity of attention that left her reply unprepared. There was something startling and yet half attractive in the girl's avowal of principles which are oftener lived by than professed.

”And you think,” she began at length, ”that in this case he has fallen below his opportunity?”