Part 3 (1/2)
”Why are you so eccentric in your movements, Dyce?” said Mrs. Lashmar, irritably, when he entered the drawing-room again. ”You write one day that you're coming in a week or two, and on the next here you are. How could you know that it was convenient to us to have you just now?”
”The Woolstan boy has a cold,” Dyce replied, ”and I found myself free for a few days. I'm sorry to put you out.”
”Not at all. I say that it _might_ have done.”
Dyce's bearing to his mother was decently respectful, but in no way affectionate. The knowledge that she counted for little or nothing with him was an annoyance, rather than a distress, to Mrs. Lashmar. With tenderness she could dispense, but the loss of authority wounded her.
Dinner was a rather silent meal. The vicar seemed to be worrying about something even more than usual. When they had risen from table, Mrs.
Lashmar made the remark which was always forthcoming on these occasions.
”So you are still doing nothing, Dyce?”
”I a.s.sure you, I'm very busy,” answered the young man, as one indulgent to an inferior understanding.
”So you always say. When did you see Lady Susan?”
”Oh, not for a long time.”
”What vexes me is, that you don't make the slightest use of your opportunities. It's really astonis.h.i.+ng that, with your talents, you should be content to go on teaching children their A. B. C. You have no energy, Dyce, and no ambition. By this time you might have been in the diplomatic service, you might have been in Parliament. Are you going to waste your whole life?”
”That depends on the view one takes of life,” said Dyce, in a philosophical tone which he sometimes adopted--generally after dinner.
”Why should one always be thinking about 'getting on?' It's the vice of the time. Why should I elbow and hustle in a vulgar crowd? A friend of mine, Lord Dymchurch--”
”What! You have made friends with a lord?” cried Mrs. Lashmar, her face illumined.
”Why not?--I was going to say that Dymchurch, though he's poor, and does nothing at all, is probably about the most distinguished man in the peerage. He is distinguished by nature, and that's enough for him.
You'd like Dymchurch, father.”
The vicar looked up from a fit of black brooding, and said ”Ah! no doubt.” Mrs. Lashmar, learning the circ.u.mstances of Lord Dymchurch, took less pride in him, but went on to ask questions. Had his lords.h.i.+p no interest, which might serve a friend? Could he not present Dyce to more influential people.
”I should be ashamed to hint that kind of thing to him,” answered Dyce.
”Don't be so impatient, mother. If I am to do anything--in your sense of the word the opportunity will come. If it doesn't, well, fate has ordered it so.”
”All I know is, Dyce, that you might be the coming man, and you're content to be n.o.body at all.”
Dyce laughed.
”The coming man! Well, perhaps, I _am_; who knows? At all events, it's something to know that you believe in me. And it may be that you are not the only one.”
Later, Dyce and his father went into the study to smoke. The young man brought with him a large paperbacked volume which he had taken out of his travelling bag.
”Here's a book I'm reading. A few days ago I happened to be at Williams & Norgates'. This caught my eyes, and a glance at a page or two interested me so much that I bought it at once. It would please you, father.”
”I've no time for reading nowadays,” sighed the vicar. ”What is it?”
He took the volume, a philosophical work by a French writer, bearing recent date. Mr. Lashmar listlessly turned a few pages, whilst Dyce was filling and lighting his pipe.
”It's uncommonly suggestive,” said Dyce, between puffs. ”The best social theory I know. He calls his system Bio-sociology; a theory of society founded on the facts of biology--thoroughly scientific and convincing. Smas.h.i.+ng socialism in the common sense that is, social democracy; but establis.h.i.+ng a true socialism in harmony with the aristocratic principle. I'm sure you'd enjoy it. I fancy it's just your view.”