Part 33 (1/2)
”Portraits so seldom _are_ like people. Haven't you noticed it?
That's why I generally prefer photographs. But your picture is different. There are only two things about it that don't _quite_ please me.” She paused, eyeing the canvas with her head on one side; and Maurice, who was irresistibly reminded of a bird contemplating a worm, wondered idly what was coming in the way of criticism. ”I wish you had allowed her to wear something _smarter_ than that limp white silk; and I think she looks much too unpractical, day-dreaming on a verandah railing at that hour of the morning! But then, Elsie _is_ rather unpractical; or would be,” she added quickly, ”if I didn't insist on her helping me with the house. That's where moat Anglo-Indian mothers make such a mistake. But _I_ always say it is a mother's duty to have _some_ consideration for her girl's future husband!”
And she smiled confidentially upon the aspirant at her side. But Maurice, absorbed in critical apprais.e.m.e.nt of his own skill in rendering the luminous quality of Elsie's eyes, missed the smile; missed also most of the interesting disquisition on her education.
”Yes, yes,--no doubt,” he agreed with vague politeness, and Mrs Mayhew opened her round eyes.
But the direction of his gaze was excuse enough for any breach of manners; and she returned to the charge undismayed, approaching her subject this time from a less prosaic point of view.
”Really, Mr Maurice, I never knew till now that I _had_ such a pretty daughter! The whole effect is so charming, that I begin to think you must have flattered her!” she remarked archly; and Maurice fell headlong into the trap.
”Flattered her? _Mon Dieu_, no! Nature has taken care to make that impossible. For, although she falls short of true beauty, she has such delicacy of outline, of colouring, an atmosphere so ethereal, that one wants a brush of gossamer dipped in moonlight, not coa.r.s.e canvas, camel's hair, and oils, if one is even to do her justice. Some day I must try water-colours, or pastels. _Sans doute ca ira mieux_.” He was off on his Pegasus now, far above Mrs Mayhew's bewildered head.
”She would make a divine Undine--moonlight, and overhanging trees. The face and figure dimly seen through a veil of water weeds.--But where is she, then?” he broke off, falling suddenly to earth like a rocket.
”May one see her this afternoon? I want to hear from herself that she is satisfied.”
Mrs Mayhew smiled and nodded, a world of comprehension in her eyes.
”Yes, yes, I can quite believe _that_. I will tell her you are here.
She looked rather a wisp after the dance last night, so I sent her up to rest, for the sake of her complexion! But, of _course_, she must come down now. You will find her more entertaining than '_la pet.i.te mere_,' She has taken to calling me that lately!”
The complacent little lady took a step forward, then--a bubble with maternal satisfaction--spoke the word too much that is responsible for half the minor miseries of life.
”Do you know, Mr Maurice, it is quite charming of you to have shown me your feelings so openly, and I think the least that I can do is to a.s.sure you of my sympathy and approval. I don't feel _quite_ so certain about her father. He is wrapped up in the child, and man-like, wants to keep her for himself. But no doubt between us we shall persuade him to listen to reason! Now, I will go to Elsie.”
But Michael made haste to interpose;--a changed Michael, puzzled to the verge of anger, yet punctiliously polite withal.
”One moment, Mrs Mayhew, please. It might be as well if you and I understood one another first. It seems that I have been clumsy in expressing myself, that I have given you a false impression. If so, I ask your pardon. Believe me, I fully sympathise with Colonel Mayhew's reluctance to part with such a daughter; and I am not arrogant enough to dream of asking him to make such a sacrifice,--on my behalf.”
It was very neatly done. Michael's detached self, looking on at the little scene, applauded it as quite a masterpiece in its way. But Mrs Mayhew stood petrified. Her brain worked slowly, and it took her an appreciable time to realise that she had been something more than a fool. Then, drawing herself up to her full height--barely five feet in her heels,--she answered him with an attempt at hauteur that quite missed fire.
”Since you are so _considerate_ of Colonel Mayhew's feelings, I only wonder it has not occurred to you that your conduct during the past two months has been little short of dishonourable?”
”Dishonourable?” His eyes flashed. ”_Mais comment_?”
”You have given every one in Dalhousie the impression that you were--in love with Miss Mayhew.”
His relief was obvious.
”Naturally, my dear lady. For I _am_ in love with her. How could a man, and an artist, be anything else? But marriage--no----” He shook his head decisively. ”That is another pair of sleeves. Women are adorable. But they are terrible monopolists; and, frankly, I have no talent for the domesticities. As a lover, I am well enough. But as a husband--believe me, in six months I should drive a woman distracted!
Ask Quita. She knows. If I have given Miss Mayhew cause to regret her kindness to me, I am inconsolable; though, in any case, I can never regret the privilege of having known, and--loved her.”
Throughout this ingenious jumble of egoism and gallantry, his listener had been freezing visibly. On the last word she compressed her mouth to a mere line, and stabbed the unrepentant sinner with her eyes; since it was unhappily impossible to stab him with a hat-pin, which she would infinitely have preferred.
”I have never in my _life_ heard any man express such improper ideas upon a serious subject,” she remarked with icy emphasis. ”And I am _quite_ thankful that your peculiar views prevent you from wis.h.i.+ng to marry my daughter.”
”_Bien_! Then we are of one mind after all,” Maurice answered cheerfully. ”And since we understand each other, may I at least be permitted to see Miss Mayhew before I go?”
”See her? Certainly _not_. Really, Mr Maurice, your effrontery astounds me! Understand, please, that from to-day there is an _end_ of your free-and-easy French intimacies! Colonel Mayhew and I have to consider her good name and her future happiness; and we cannot allow you, or any man, to endanger either.”