“You are very good, Captain Clavering.”
“I couldn’t bear to think that you should be here in London, and that one shouldn’t see anything of you or know anything about you. Tell me now; is there anything I can do for you? Do you want anybody to settle anything for you in the city?”
“I think not, Captain Clavering; thank you very much.”
“Because I should be so happy; I should indeed. There’s nothing I should like so much as to make myself useful in some way. Isn’t there anything now? There must be so much to be looked after—about money and all that.”
“My lawyer does all that, Captain Clavering.”
“Those fellows are such harpies. There is no end to their charges; and all for doing things that would only be a pleasure to me.”
“I’m afraid I can’t employ you in any matter that would suit your tastes.”
“Can’t you indeed, now?” Then again there was a silence, and Captain Clavering was beginning to think that he must go. He was willing to work hard at talking or anything else; but he could not work if no ground for starting were allowed to him. He thought he must go, though he was aware that he had not made even the slightest preparation for future obedience to his friend’s precepts. He began to feel that he had commenced wrongly. He should have made her know that he was there from the first moment of her entrance into the room. He must retreat now in order that he might advance with more force on the next occasion. He had just made up his mind to this and was doubting how he might best get himself out of his chair with the purpose of going, when sudden relief came in the shape of another visitor. The door was thrown open and Madam Gordeloup was announced.
“Well, my angel,” said the little woman, running up to her friend and kissing her on either side of her face. Then she turned round as though she had only just seen the strange gentleman, and curtseyed to him. Captain Clavering holding his hat in both his hands bowed to the little woman.
“My sister’s brother-in-law, Captain Clavering,” said Lady Ongar. “Madam Gordeloup.”
Captain Clavering bowed again. “Ah, Sir ’Oo’s brother,” said Madam Gordeloup. “I am very glad to see Captain Clavering; and is your sister come?”
“No; my sister is not come.”
“Lady Clavering is not in town this spring,” said the captain.
“Ah, not in town! Then I do pity her. There is only de one place to live in, and that is London, for April, May, and June. Lady Clavering is not coming to London?”
“Her little boy isn’t quite the thing,” said the captain.
“Not quite de ting?” said the Franco-Pole in an inquiring voice, not exactly understanding the gentleman’s language.
“My little nephew is ill, and my sister does not think it wise to bring him to London.”
“Ah; that is a pity. And Sir ’Oo? Sir ’Oo is in London?”
“Yes,” said the captain; “my brother has been up some time.”
“And his lady left alone in the country? Poor lady! But your English ladies like the country. They are fond of the fields and the daisies. So they say; but I think often they lie. Me; I like the houses, and the people, and the pavé. The fields are damp, and I love not rheumatism at all.” Then the little woman shrugged her shoulders and shook herself. “Tell us the truth, Julie; which do you like best, the town or the country?”
“Whichever I’m not in, I think.”
“Ah, just so. Whichever you are not in at present. That is because you are still idle. You have not settled yourself!” At this reference to the possibility of Lady Ongar settling herself, Captain Clavering pricked up his ears, and listened eagerly for what might come next. He only knew of one way in which a young woman without a husband could settle herself. “You must wait, my dear, a little longer, just a little longer, till the time of your trouble has passed by.”
“Don’t talk such nonsense, Sophie,” said the countess.
“Ah, my dear, it is no nonsense. I am always telling her, Captain Clavering, that she must go through this black, troublesome time as quick as she can; and then nobody will enjoy the town so much as de rich and beautiful Lady Ongar. Is it not so, Captain Clavering?”
Archie thought that the time had now come for him to say something pretty, so that his love might begin to know that he was there. “By George, yes, there’ll be nobody so much admired when she comes out again. There never was anybody so much admired before—before—that is, when you were Julia Brabazon, you know; and I shouldn’t wonder if you didn’t come out quite as strong as ever.”
“As strong!” said the Franco-Pole. “A woman that has been married is always more admired than a meess.”
“Sophie, might I ask you and Captain Clavering to be a little less personal?”
“There is noting I hate so much as your meesses,” continued Madame Gordeloup; “noting! Your English meesses give themselves such airs. Now in Paris, or in dear Vienna, or in St. Petersburg, they are not like that at all. There they are nobodies—they are nobodies; but then they will be something very soon, which is to be better. Your English meess is so much and so grand; she never can be greater and grander. So when she is a mamma, she lives down in the country by herself, and looks after de pills and de powders. I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all. No; if my husband had put me into the country to look after de pills and de powders, he should
