Part 62 (2/2)
Being so well treated--and so well deceived! So courted and so flouted!
The change was violent from the days when Vivien's companion stole kisses that belonged to her unsuspecting charge. A pretty irony to find herself on the defensive! A prettier, perhaps, to see her best resource in an alliance with Mrs. Freere! But it came to that. Never in words, of course--tacitly, in lifted brows and shoulders shrugged. So long as there was n.o.body except Mrs. Freere--so long as there was n.o.body besides his wife--things were not very wrong for the allies. A sense of security regained, precariously regained--a current of silent but mutual congratulations--ran between the Bedford and the Norfolk hotels at Brighton when Lady Lucy had received her _conge_. Harry's degrees of penitence and of confession at the two houses of entertainment must remain uncertain; at both he was no doubt possessed by the determination to lead a new life; he had been possessed by that when first he heard the potent voice calling him to Meriton.
Harry Belfield--the admired Harry of so many hopes--was in process of becoming a joke! It was the worst fate of all; yet what other refuge had the despair of his friends? Even to condemn with gravity was difficult; gravity seemed to accuse its wearer of making too much of the ridiculous--which was to be ridiculous himself. In old days they had laughed at Harry's love affairs as at his foible; he seemed all foible now--there was nothing else. His life and its possibilities had narrowed and dwindled down to that. Billy Foot had tried to be serious on the subject. What was the use, when there was only one question to be asked about him--who was the latest woman? An atmosphere of ridicule, kindly, tender, infinitely regretful, yet still ridicule, enveloped the figure of him who once had been a hero. This was a different quality of jest from that which found its occasion in Andy Hayes' patient wooing. Andy could afford to be patient; once again his opponent was doing his work for him.
Spring saw the Nun installed in a hired house of her own at Meriton, Seymour being kept busy conveying her to and fro between her new home and London, as and when the claims of her profession called her. But Sunday was always marked by a gathering of friends--the Foots if they were at Halton, Andy, Vivien Wellgood from Nutley; often Belfield would drop in to see the younger folk. Jack Rock had his audiences to himself, for he st.u.r.dily refused to intrude on his ”betters”--aye, even though his sign was down, though the National, Colonial, and International Purveyors reigned in his stead, though the Member for the Division occupied rooms in his house. To Jack life seemed to have done two wonderful things for him--one was the rise and triumph of Andy; the other was his friends.h.i.+p with Miss Doris Flower. He was, in fact, hopelessly in love with that young lady; the Nun was quite aware of it and returned his affection heartily. Jack delighted to sit with her, to look and listen, and sometimes to talk of Andy--of all that he had done, of all that he was going to do. Jack's hard-working, honest, and, it may be added, astute life was crowned by a very gracious evening.
The Nun's new home stood in High Street, with a pretty little front garden, where she loved to sit and survey the doings of the town, even as had been her wont from her window at the Lion. Here she was one morning, and Jack Rock with her. She lay stretched on a long chair, with her tiny feet protruding from her white frock, her hair gleaming in the sun, her eyes looking at Jack with a merry affection.
”You do make a picture, miss; you fair do make a picture!” said Jack.
”Don't flirt, Jack,” said the Nun in grave rebuke. ”You ought to know by now that I don't go in for flirtation, and I can't let even you break the rules. Though I confess at once that you tempt me very much, because you do it so nicely. It's funny, Jack, that both you and I should have chosen the single life, isn't it?”
Jack shook his head reproachfully. ”Ah, miss, that's where you're wrong!
I'm not sayin' anythin' against Miss Vivien--she's a sweet young lady.”
”What has Vivien got to do with single lives?”
”Well, miss, no offence, I hope? But if it had been so as you'd laid yourself out--so to speak--for Andy.”
The Nun blushed just a little, and laughed just a little also. ”Oh, that's your idea, Jack? You are a schemer!”
”I've got nothin' to say against Miss Vivien. But I wish it had been you, miss,” Jack persisted.
”Oh, Jack, wouldn't you have been jealous? Do say you'd have been jealous!”
”Keepin' him waitin' too the way she does!” Jack's voice grew rather indignant. ”It don't look to me as if she put a proper value on him, miss.”
”Perhaps you're just a little bit partial to Andy?” the Nun suggested.
”And not a proper value on herself either, if she's still hankerin'
after Mr. Harry. Him as is after half the women in London, if you can trust all you hear.”
The Nun's face was towards the street, Jack's back towards it. The garden gate was open.
”Hus.h.!.+” said the Nun softly. ”Here comes Vivien!”
Poor old Jack was no diplomatist. He sprang to his feet, red as a turkey c.o.c.k, and turned round to find Vivien at his elbow.
”I--I beg your pardon, miss,” he stammered, rus.h.i.+ng at the conclusion that she had overheard.
Vivien looked at him in amused surprise. ”But what's the matter, Mr.
Rock? Why, I believe you must have been talking about me!” She looked at the Nun. ”Was he?” she asked merrily.
”I don't know that it's much good trying to deny it, is it, Jack?”
Jack was terribly ashamed of himself. ”It wasn't my place to do it. I beg your pardon, miss.” He stooped and picked up his hat, which he had taken off and laid on the ground by him. ”Miss Flower's too kind to me, miss. She makes me forget my place--and my manners.”
Vivien held out her hand to him; she was grave now. ”But we're all so fond of you, Mr. Rock. And I'm sure you weren't saying anything unkind about me. Was he, Doris?”
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