Part 7 (1/2)

Before this singular figure, Dyce Lashmar paused and bowed. Pale, breathing uneasily, he supported the scrutiny of those dark eyes for what seemed to him a minute or two of most uncomfortable time. Then, with the faintest of welcoming smiles, Lady Ogram--who had slowly straightened herself--spoke in a voice which startled the hearer, so much louder and firmer was it than he had expected.

”I am glad to see you, Mr. Lashmar. Pray sit down.”

Without paying any attention to the rest of the company, Dyce obeyed.

His feeling was that he had somehow been admitted to the presence of a sovereign, and that any initiative on his own part would be utterly out of place. Never in his life had he felt so little and so subdued.

”You have come from town this morning?” pursued his hostess, still closely examining him.

”This morning, yes.”

Lady Ogram turned to the lady sitting near her right hand, and said abruptly:

”I don't agree with you at all. I should like to see as many women doctors as men. Doctoring is mostly humbug, and if women were attended by women there'd be a good deal less of that. Miss Bride has studied medicine, and a very good doctor she would have made.”

Dyce turned towards Constance, of whose proximity he had been aware, though he had scarcely looked at her, and, as she bent her head smiling, he rose and bowed. The lady whom their hostess had addressed--she was middle-aged, very comely and good-humoured of countenance, and very plainly attired--replied to the blunt remarks in an easy, pleasant tone.

”I should have no doubt whatever of Miss Bride's competence. But--”

Lady Ogram interrupted her, seeming not to have heard what she said.

”Let me introduce to you Mr. Dyce Lashmar, who has thought a good deal more about this kind of thing than either you or me. Mrs. Gallantry, Mr. Gallantry.”

Again Dyce stood up. Mr. Gallantry, a tall, loose-limbed, thinly thatched gentleman, put on a pair of gla.s.ses to inspect him, and did so with an air of extreme interest, as though profoundly gratified by the meeting. Seldom breaking silence himself, he lent the most flattering attention to anyone who spoke, his brows knitted in the resolve to grasp and a.s.similate whatever wisdom was uttered:

”Did you walk out from Hollingford?” asked Lady Ogram, who again had her eyes fixed on the visitor.

”No, I drove, as I didn't know the way.”

”You'd have done much better to walk. Couldn't you ask the way? You look as if you didn't take enough exercise. Driving, one never sees anything. When I'm in new places, I always walk. Miss Bride and I are going to Wales this summer, and we shall walk a great deal. Do you know Brecknock? Few people do, but they tell me it's very fine. Perhaps you are one of the people who always go abroad? I prefer my own country.

What did you think of the way from Hollingford?”

To this question she seemed to expect an answer, and Dyce, who was beginning to command himself, met her gaze steadily as he spoke.

”There's very little to see till you come to Shawe. It's a pretty village--or rather, it was, before someone built that hideous paper-mill.”

Scarcely had he uttered the words when he became aware of a change in Lady Ogram's look. The gleam of her eyes intensified; deeper wrinkles carved themselves on her forehead, and all at once two rows of perfect teeth shone between the pink edges of her shrivelled lips.

”Hideous paper-mill, eh?” she exclaimed, on a half-laughing note of peculiar harshness, ”I suppose you don't know that _I_ built it?”

A shock went through Dyce's blood. He sat with his eyes fixed on Lady Ogram's, powerless to stir or to avert his gaze. Then the courage of despair suddenly possessed him.

”If I had known that,” he said, with much deliberation, ”I should have kept the thought to myself. But I'm afraid there's no denying that the mill spoils the village.”

”The mill is the making of the village,” said Lady Ogram, emphatically.

”In one sense, very likely. I spoke only of the picturesqueness of the place.”

”I know you did. And what's the good of picturesqueness to people who have to earn their living? Is that your way of looking at things? Would you like to keep villages pretty, and see the people go to the dogs?”

”Not at all. I'm quite of the other way of thinking, Lady Ogram. It was by mere accident that I made that unlucky remark. If anyone with me had said such a thing, it's more than likely I should have replied with your view of the matter. You must remember that this district is quite strange to me. Will you tell me something about it? I am sure you had excellent reasons for building the mill; be so kind as to explain them to me.”