Part 32 (1/2)
Then Paul proved himself to be a proud and delicate lover, and when London with its season and its duties and its pleasures absorbed them, he had his reward. For it was sweet to see her in great a.s.semblies, s.h.i.+ning like a queen and like a queen surrounded by homage, and to know that he alone of mortals was enthroned in her heart. It was sweet to meet her laughing glance, dear fellow-conspirator. It was sweet every morning and night to have the intimate little talk through the telephone. And it was sweetest of all to s.n.a.t.c.h a precious hour with her alone. Of such vain and foolish things is made all that is most beautiful in life.
He took his dearest lady--though Miss Winwood, now disclaimed the t.i.tle--into his confidence. So did the Princess. It was very comforting to range Miss Winwood on their side; and to feel themselves in close touch with her wisdom and sympathy. And her sympathy manifested itself in practical ways--those of the woman confidante of every love affair since the world began. Why should the Princess Zobraska not interest herself in some of the philanthropic schemes of which the house in Portland Place was the headquarters? There was one, a Forlorn Widows'
Fund, the presidency of which she would be willing to resign in favour of the Princess. The work was trivial: it consisted chiefly in consultation with Mr. Savelli and in signing letters. The Princess threw her arms round her neck, laughing and blus.h.i.+ng and calling her delicieuse. You see it was obvious that Mr. Savelli could not be consulted in his official capacity or official letters signed elsewhere than in official precincts.
”I'll do what I can for the pair of you,” said Miss Winwood to Paul.
”But it's the most delightfully mad and impossible thing I've ever put my hand to.”
Accepting the fact of their romance, however, she could not but approve Paul's att.i.tude. It was the proud att.i.tude of the boy who nearly six years ago was going, without a word, penniless and debonair out of her house. All the woman in her glowed over him.
”I'm not going to be called an adventurer,” he had declared. ”I shall not submit Sophie to the indignity of trailing a despised husband after her. I'm not going to use her rank and wealth as a stepping-stone to my ambitions. Let me first attain an una.s.sailable position. I shall have owed it to you, to myself, to anybody you like--but not to my marriage.
I shall be somebody. The rest won't matter. The marriage will then be a romantic affair, and romantic affairs are not unpopular dans le monde ou l'on s'ennuie.”
This declaration was all very well; the former part all very n.o.ble, the latter exhibiting a knowledge of the world rather shrewd for one so young. But when would he be able to attain his una.s.sailable position?
Some years hence. Would Sophie Zobraska, who was only a few months younger than he, be content to sacrifice these splendid and irretrievable years of her youth? Ursula Winwood looked into the immediate future, and did not see it rosy. The first step toward an una.s.sailable position was flight from the nest. This presupposed an income. If the party had been in power it would not have been difficult to find him a post. She worried herself exceedingly, for in her sweet and unreprehensible way she was more than ever in love with Paul.
Meeting Frank Ayres one night at a large reception, she sought his advice.
”Do you mind a wrench?” he asked. ”No? Well, then--you and Colonel Winwood send him about his business and get another secretary. Let Savelli give all his time to his Young England League. Making him mug up material for Winwood's speeches and write letters to const.i.tuents about football clubs is using a razor to cut b.u.t.ter. His League's the thing. It can surely afford to pay him a decent salary. If it can't I'll see to a guarantee.”
”The last thing we see, my dear Frank,” she said after she had thanked him, ”is that which is right under our noses.”
The next day she went to Paul full of the scheme. Had he ever thought of it? He took her hands and smiled in his gay, irresistible way. ”Of course, dearest lady,” he said frankly. ”But I would have cut out my tongue sooner than suggest it.”
”I know that, my dear boy.”
”And yet,” said he, ”I can't bear the idea of tearing myself away from you. It seems like black ingrat.i.tude.”
”It isn't. You forget that James and I have our little ambitions too--the ambition of a master for a favourite pupil. If you were a failure we should both be bitterly disappointed. Don't you see? And as for leaving us--why need you? We should miss you horribly. You've never been quite our paid servant. And now you're something like our son.”
Tears started in the sweet lady's clear eyes. ”Even if you did go to your own chambers, I shouldn't let our new secretary have this room”--they were in what the household called ”the office”--really Paul's luxuriously furnished private sitting room, which contained his own little treasures of books and pictures and bits of china and gla.s.s acc.u.mulated during the six years of easeful life--”He will have the print room, which n.o.body uses from one year's end to another, and which is far more convenient for the street door. And the same at Drane's Court. So when you no longer work for us, my dear boy, our home will be yours, as long as you're content to stay, just because we love you.”
Her hand was on his shoulder and his head was bent. ”G.o.d grant,” said he, ”that I may be worthy of your love.”
He looked up and met her eyes. Her hand was still on his shoulder. Then very simply he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
He told his Princess all about it. She listened with dewy eyes. ”Ah, Paul,” she said. ”That 'precious seeing' of love--I never had it till you came. I was blind. I never knew that there were such beautiful souls as Ursula Winwood in the world.”
”Dear, how I love you for saying that!” cried Paul.
”But it's true.”
”That is why,” said he.
So the happiest young man in London worked and danced through the season, knowing that the day of emanc.i.p.ation was at hand. His transference from the Winwoods to the League was fixed for October 1.
He made great plans for an extension of the League's, activities, dreamed of a palace for headquarters with the banner of St. George flying proudly over it, an object-lesson for the nation. One day in July while he was waiting for Colonel Winwood in the lobby of the House of Commons, Frank Ayres stopped in the middle of a busy rush and shook hands.
”Been down to Hickney Heath again? I would if I were you. Rouse 'em up.”
As the words of a Chief Whip are apt to be significant, Paul closeted himself with the President of the Hickney Heath Lodge, who called the Secretary of the local Conservative a.s.sociation to the interview. The result was that Paul was invited to speak at an anti-Budget meeting convened by the a.s.sociation. He spoke, and repeated his success. The Conservative newspapers the next morning gave a resume of his speech.
His Sophie, coming to sign letters in her presidential capacity, brought him the cuttings, a proceeding which he thought adorable. The season ended triumphantly.