Part 20 (2/2)

”Because you asked me, and because I can't help saying what I think when I'm asked like that and I think the person's worth it.”

Blanche had pushed away her cup, and now she folded her arms on the table and bent to him over them. Her face was very earnest.

”I do know what you mean,” she admitted; ”I think I know it better than you do. And I suppose it's partly because I've no mother and I've had to protect myself. A woman is very like some kinds of animals I've heard of--she has to a.s.sume protective colouring. If I seem to like people that have nothing in common with me it's because I find it's the simplest way. You are different; I don't have to pretend anything with you. I think if my real self were beginning to be overlaid you could help me revive her.”

”Your real self ... haven't I seen that?”

”I thought so till you said what you did,” she answered in a low voice, looking away from him; then she went on hurriedly: ”You know, when Mamma died I was only thirteen, and though I loved my father very dearly it's never quite the same, is it? It was dreadful leaving Papa, but I had to earn money somehow; you see, he wants all sorts of little things, extra delicacies he can't get on his small means, and I do manage most times to send him them. He didn't like my choosing the stage; but I'm not really well enough educated for a governess--besides, I did try that once....”

”What happened?” asked Ishmael as she paused.

”She--the lady--had a grown-up son as well as the children, and he fell in love with me. I couldn't help that, but she was very angry. And I was so unhappy I couldn't bear to go anywhere else. I wanted a new life. You see--I cared rather.”

”But if you both cared--”

”I wouldn't let him defy his mother. It would have made it all dreadful, somehow. And he wasn't a strong character, not like you. You wouldn't mind who was against you if you were in love.”

Ishmael did not reply and she went on:

”I've been trying to make a fine thing out of acting now for three years, ever since I was little more than a child--a real child in the little I knew. And if I had not minded certain things of course by now I could have been a leading lady and driven in my brougham, or left the stage for good--or for bad. But one cannot alter the way one is made, or drop the ideas one was brought up to have ... at least I can't; and so I'm still in the attic in Cecil Street, with a small part and no prospects. And how I hate it all sometimes; you can't imagine how I hate it! London is like an awful monster that draws one in inch by inch--a monster that breathes soot instead of fire.”

Ishmael had been turning over a wonderful plan in his mind while she was speaking, an idea that had flashed on him before, but that had seemed too splendid to be possible of realization. Now, emboldened by her words, he ventured on the great question.

”I say,” he began, ”why not, when you want a holiday, when this piece you're playing in is over, come and stay at Cloom? I don't know whether you've heard--whether Carminow has told you about me--I hope he has; I dropped him a hint, because I hate to think I'm sailing under false colours with you--” He paused, his courageous words dying in hot embarra.s.sment. Blanche met him perfectly.

”I know all about it. Mr. Carminow told me. What difference does it make, except to make your friends care all the more for you?”

”Then you would come? My sister Va.s.sie--you'd like her. And I think even my mother would love you. It would be so good for you after all this.”

She did not reply at once and Ishmael's heart sank.

”Your father....” he murmured; ”I suppose you feel--”

She interrupted with a sudden radiance: ”Oh, no, it's not that. My father is married again, you know.... I don't often talk of it; it was a grief to me. We were so everything to each other. But I don't go home very often, because of that. I would love to come, Mr. Ruan. I wonder if I can; I wonder....”

”But why should you wonder?” he urged more boldly; ”one advantage of your lonely situation is that you are free to decide for yourself. Do promise me!”

She turned her head away as though to hide eyes suddenly dewy, then met his look with her wonted level candour.

”I'll come,” she said; ”I'll come. Oh, it will he heavenly!... You don't know what the mere thought of it means.... To get away, even for a little while, from all this....” She swept her hands expressively around on the lodging-house surroundings.

”It must be rotten,” said Ishmael in heartfelt accents. ”I know how I felt in the parlour at home after my sister Va.s.sie had done it up for my return. I felt as though the woolly mats were choking me. And I couldn't say anything for fear of hurting her feelings.”

”And have you got used to it? That's what I'm always so afraid of--getting used to ugliness.”

”Va.s.sie has altered. She is the cleverest girl at picking up ideas I've ever known, and somehow when Killigrew was down with us she soon found out, though I don't think he actually said anything. And we have beautiful old furniture hidden away in the attics, so we simply pulled it all out, and Va.s.sie and Phoebe are making new needlework seats for the chairs.”

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