Part 20 (1/2)
”Why, that's a washer-woman, isn't it?”
”Well--rather better than that, perhaps--_de fin_, you know!--things are so different in Paris! I don't think you'd say she was very much like a washer-woman--to look at!”
”Is she so good-looking, then?”
”Oh yes; extremely so. You may well say that--very beautiful, indeed--about that, at least, there is no doubt whatever!”
”And of unblemished character?”
Taffy, red and perspiring as if he were going through his Indian-club exercise, was silent--and his face expressed a miserable perplexity. But nothing could equal the anxious misery of those two maternal eyes, so wistfully fixed on his.
After some seconds of a most painful stillness, the lady said, ”Can't you--oh, _can't_ you give me an answer, Mr. Wynne?”
”Oh, Mrs. Bagot, you have placed me in a terrible position! I--I love your son just as if he were my own brother! This engagement is a complete surprise to me--a most painful surprise! I'd thought of many possible things, but never of _that!_ I cannot--I really _must_ not conceal from you that it would be an unfortunate marriage for your son--from a--a worldly point of view, you know--although both I and McAllister have a very deep and warm regard for poor Trilby O'Ferrall--indeed, a great admiration and affection and respect! She was once a model.”
”A _model_, Mr. Wynne? What _sort_ of a model--there are models and models, of course.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'IS SHE A _LADY_, MR. WYNNE?'”]
”Well, a model of every sort, in every possible sense of the word--head, hands, feet, everything!”
”A model for the _figure?_”
”Well--yes!”
”Oh, my G.o.d! my G.o.d! my G.o.d!” cried Mrs. Bagot--and she got up and walked up and down the studio in a most terrible state of agitation, her brother-in-law following her and begging her to control herself. Her exclamations seemed to shock him, and she didn't seem to care.
”Oh, Mr. Wynne! Mr. Wynne! If you only _knew_ what my son is to me--to all of us--always has been! He has been with us all his life, till he came to this wicked, accursed city! My poor husband would never hear of his going to any school, for fear of all the harm he might learn there.
My son was as innocent and pure-minded as any girl, Mr. Wynne--I could have trusted him anywhere--and that's why I gave way and allowed him to come _here_, of all places in the world--all alone. Oh! I should have come with him! Fool--fool--fool that I was!...
”Oh, Mr. Wynne, he won't see either his mother or his uncle! I found a letter from him at the hotel, saying he'd left Paris--and I don't even know where he's gone!... Can't _you_, can't Mr. McAllister, do _anything_ to avert this miserable disaster? You don't know how he loves you both--you should see his letters to me and to his sister! they are always full of you!”
”Indeed, Mrs. Bagot--you can count on McAllister and me for doing everything in our power! But it is of no use our trying to influence your son--I feel quite sure of _that_! It is to _her_ we must make our appeal.”
”Oh, Mr. Wynne! to a washer-woman--a figure model--and Heaven knows what besides! and with such a chance as this!”
”Mrs. Bagot, you don't know her? She may have been all that. But strange as it may seem to you--and seems to me, for that matter--she's a--she's--upon my word of honor, I really think she's about the best woman I ever met--the most unselfish--the most--”
”Ah! She's a _beautiful_ woman--I can well see _that!_”
”She has a beautiful nature, Mrs. Bagot--you may believe me or not, as you like--and it is to that I shall make my appeal, as your son's friend, who has his interests at heart. And let me tell you that deeply as I grieve for you in your present distress, my grief and concern for her are far greater!”
”What! grief for her if she marries my son!”
”No, indeed--but if she refuses to marry him. She may not do so, of course--but my instinct tells me she will!”
”Oh! Mr. Wynne, is that likely?”
”I will do my best to make it so--with such an utter trust in her unselfish goodness of heart and her pa.s.sionate affection for your son as--”