Part 4 (1/2)
Five years of fatherhood finished his training in the school of chivalry. He had been profoundly moved by little Amy's sacrifice to the powers of life, and he was further touched by the heartrending spectacle of Jane. Jane doing all she knew for him; Jane, so engaging in her innocence, hiding her small, childlike charm under dark airs of a.s.sumed maternity; Jane, whose skirts fluttered wide to all the winds of dream; Jane with an ap.r.o.n on and two little girls tied to the strings of it; Jane, adorable in disaster, striving to be discreet and comfortable and competent.
He had a pa.s.sionate pity for all creatures troubled and unfortunate. And Mrs. Tailleur's face called aloud to him for pity. For Lucy Mrs.
Tailleur's face wore, like a veil, the shadow of the incredible past and of the future; it was reminiscent and prophetic of terrible and tragic things. Across the great s.p.a.ces of the public rooms his gaze answered her call. Then Mrs. Tailleur's face would become dumb. Like all hurt things, she was manifestly shy of observation and pursuit.
Pursuit and observation, perpetual, implacable, were what she had to bear. The women had driven her from the drawing-room; the men made the smoke-room impossible. A cold, wet mist came with the evenings. It lay over the sea and drenched the lawns of the hotel garden. Mrs. Tailleur had no refuge but the lounge.
To-night the wine-faced man and his companion had tracked her there.
Mrs. Tailleur had removed herself from the corner where they had hemmed her in. She had found an unoccupied sofa near the writing-table. The pursuer was seized instantly with a desire to write letters. Mrs.
Tailleur went out and s.h.i.+vered on the veranda. His eyes followed her. In pa.s.sing she had turned her back on the screened hearth-place where Lucy and his sister sat alone.
”Did you see that?” said Lucy.
”I did indeed,” said Jane.
”It's awful that a woman should be exposed to that sort of thing. What can her people be thinking of?”
”Her people?”
”Yes; to let her go about alone.”
”I go about alone,” said Jane pensively.
”Yes, but she's so good looking.”
”Am _I_ not?”
”You're all right, Jenny; but you never looked like that. There's something about her----”
”Is that what makes those men horrid to her?”
”Yes, I suppose so. The brutes!” He paused irritably. ”It mustn't happen again.”
”What's the poor lady to do?” said Jane.
”She can't do anything. _We_ must.”
”We?”
”I must. You must. Go out to her, Janey, and be nice to her.”
”No, you go and say I sent you.”
He strode out on to the veranda. Mrs. Tailleur sat with her hands in her lap, motionless, and, to his senses, unaware.
”Mrs. Tailleur.”
She started and looked up at him.
”My sister asked me to tell you that there's a seat for you in there, if you don't mind sitting with us.”