Part 14 (1/2)

”It would put him in a false position towards Rodrigg. Rodrigg will imagine that you are bribing him.”

”_Bribing_ him!” Camelia straightened herself.

”Yes; that the price paid for his apostasy will be your hand,” and this indeed was exactly what Mr. Rodrigg, with some alarm, was beginning to think.

”Apostasy! If the creature won't be sincerely convinced we don't want him!” cried Camelia.

”Very well, you have my opinion of the matter.” Perior's whole manner had of late been particularly irksome to Camelia.

Lady Henge meanwhile, seeing her son's foe within the gates, most seriously and conscientiously, and openly, made good her opportunity.

She took her mental mastery far more gravely than Camelia took hers, and poor Mr. Rodrigg began to think that he was asked to pay a heavy price for his hymeneal visit when Lady Henge cornered him in the drawing-room and stupefyingly admonished him. Lady Henge's arguments were all based on superbly moral grounds, and levelled with severity at the iniquity of individualistic theories, which she demonstrated to be scientifically and ethically unsound. He at times found it very difficult to keep his temper. But under the exquisite warmth of Camelia's urgency his hopes were high. He could regard with humoring half compliances this pretty whim of his pretty Camelia. Camelia would have raged could she have known Mr. Rodrigg's real impressions--impressions accompanied by the fatherly tolerance of that ”pretty Camelia.”

CHAPTER XII

Sir Arthur was back again on Thursday, alertly conscious of a half promise, and he intended to put it to the test while he and Camelia rode together in the afternoon. The party was made up: Mrs. Fox-Darriel, Gwendolen Holt, Sir Harry, and another young man--but Camelia did not go. The horses were already before the door, and she, fully equipped in riding costume, engaged before her mirror on the final details of veil and gloves, when Perior rode up; Camelia saw him through the window, and heard him decline to join their party, as he had come for Mary. Mary was not a good rider, nor could she be urged beyond the dullest trot, and Perior's refusal was no doubt on her account. Poor Alceste! Condemned to Mary for a whole afternoon! In a rapid change of project Camelia dashed out of her habit and into her prettiest white dress, sent down a note to Sir Arthur pleading sudden headache, and commanding him to go without her, saw the five depart obediently, and placidly descended to capture Perior. Mary was getting ready; Camelia, as she pa.s.sed her room, saw her sewing a b.u.t.ton on a glove, her habit laid in readiness on the bed.

Camelia would have liked her ride; it was only from the impulsive wish for ten or fifteen minutes with Perior that she had sacrificed it, and she saw with satisfaction that Mary would take quite that time.

”Well, how do you do?” she said, finding him as usual in the morning-room, ”I _think_ we have got him,” she added, picking up the threads of their last conversation.

”That is Rodrigg, of course,” said Perior, looking with a pleasure he could not conceal at her charming appearance. He felt for a moment like telling her that in that dress she was bewitchingly pretty, but checked the impulse with some surprise at it.

”Yes, I argued out the whole third clause with him yesterday,” said Camelia, smiling her happiest smile, for she was quite conscious of those unspoken words.

”Dear me!”

”He seemed impressed--though you are not. Sit down.”

”He seemed what he was not, no doubt--I haven't the faculty.” Perior spoke quite good-temperedly. Indeed, Camelia's political manoeuvres did not displease him--consoled him in a sense. There was a pretty folly about them quite touching, and her earnestness seemed to vouch for some real feeling.

”Why should you imagine that he pretends?” she asked, taking the place beside him on the sofa and leaning forward, her arms on her knees.

”The man wants to please you,” said Perior, looking at her white hands hanging idly together. He wondered again whether egotism or a real fondness for Arthur moved her.

The long delay of the engagement excited and made him nervous. It had usually been so easy to see through Camelia, and he did not like the perplexity. Still, the thought that she hesitated pleased him; she would accept Arthur, doubtlessly, but at least she would imagine that she cared for him. Camelia had gained some moral value in his eyes from that pause.

”Why should you imagine that he pretends?” she asked, feeling delightedly that the atmosphere was much less chilling than usual.

”The man wants to please you.”

”Well, and what then?”

”He expects to marry you.”

”Nonsense!” she said with a laugh of truest sincerity.

”Tell him that you are engaged to Arthur, and see.” Perior's curiosity made that little probe, and the eyes of both showed a mutual self-consciousness; both thought of the last scene in the morning-room.

”I can't make the experiment yet, even to please you,” said Camelia, satisfied that her cheeks showed no rising color. ”Mr. Rodrigg is really attached to me. He would do a great deal for me.”