“Dr. Winchester said he was worried half out of his senses about you.”
“Why not have said so?”
“You may be wondering,” Mrs. Bailey flushed a girlish pink, “why I come up today telling you all this. That’s just what I say. That’s just the worst of it. He never breathed a word to me till he went.”
Dr. Winchester gone … the others gone … of course. Next week would be August. They had all vanished away; out of the house, back to Canada. Dr. von Heber gone without a word. Perhaps he had been worried. They all had. That was why they had all been so nice and surrounding. … That was the explanation of everything. … They were brothers. Jealous brothers. The first she had had. This was the sort of thing girls had who had brothers. Cheek. If only she had known and shown them how silly they were.
“Lawk. I wish to goodness he’d come straight to me at once.”
“Well. It’s awfully sweet of them from their point of view. They were such awfully nice little men in their way.” … Why didn’t they come to me, instead of all this talk? They knew me well enough. All those long talks at night. And all the time they were seeing a foolish girl fascinated by a disreputable foreigner. How dare they?
“That’s what I say. I can’t forgive him for that. They’re all alike. Selfish.”
“All old men like Dr. Winchester are selfish. Selfish and weak. They get to think of nothing but their comforts. And keep out of everything by talk.”
“It’s not him I mean. It’s the other one.”
“Which?” What was Mrs. Bailey going to say? What? Miriam gazed angrily.
“That’s what I must tell you. That’s why I asked you if you was under a fascination.”
“Oh well, they’ve gone. What does it matter?”
“I feel I ought to tell you. He, von Heber, had made up his mind to speak. He was one in a thousand, Winchester said. She’s lost von Heber he said. He thought the world of her, ’e sez,” gasped Mrs. Bailey. “My word, I wish I’d known what was going on.”
Miriam flinched. Mrs. Bailey must be made to go now.
“Oh really,” she said in trembling tones. “He was an awfully nice man.”
“My word. Isn’t it a pity,” said Mrs. Bailey with tears in her eyes. “It worries me something shocking.”
“Oh well, if he was so stupid.”
“Well, you can’t blame him after what Mendizzable said.”
“You haven’t told me.”
“He said he’d only to raise his finger. Oh Lawk. Well there you are, now you’ve got it all.”
Mrs. Bailey must go. Mr. Mendizabal’s mind was a French novel. He’d said French thoughts in English to the doctors. They had believed. Even Canadian men can have French minds.
“Yes. Well I see it all now. Mr. Mendizabal’s vanity is his own affair. … I’m sure I hope they’ve all had an interesting summer. I’m awfully glad you’ve told me. It’s most interesting.”
“Well, I felt it was my duty to come up and tell you. I felt you ought to know.”
“Yes … I’m awfully glad you’ve told me. It’s like, er, a storm in a teacup.”
“It’s not them I’m thinking of. Lot of low-minded gossips. That’s my opinion. It’s the harm they do I’m thinking of.”
“They can’t do any harm. As for the doctors they’re quite able to take care of themselves.” Miriam moved impatiently about the room. But she could not let herself look at her thoughts with Mrs. Bailey there.
“Well young lady,” murmured Mrs. Bailey dolorously at last, “I felt I couldn’t do less than come up, for my own satisfaction.”
She thinks I have made a scandal, without consulting her … her mind flew, flaming, over the gossiping household, over Mrs. Bailey’s thoughts as she pondered the evidence. Wrenching away from the spectacle she entrenched herself far off; clutching out towards the oblivion of the coming holidays; a clamour came up from the street, the swaying tumult of a fire-engine, the thunder of galloping horses, the hoarse shouts of the firemen; the outside life to which she went indifferent to any grouped faces either of approval or of condemnation.
“I’m awfully sorry you’ve had all this, Mrs. Bailey.”
“Oh that’s nothing. It’s not that I think of.”
“Don’t think about anything. It doesn’t matter.”
“Well I’ve got it off my mind now I’ve spoken.”
“It is abominable isn’t it. Never mind. I don’t care. People are perfectly welcome to talk about me if it gives them any satisfaction.”
“That is so. It’s von Heber I’m so mad about.”
“They’re all alike as you say.”
“He might have given you a chance.”
Dr. von Heber; suddenly nearer than anyone. Her own man. By his own conviction. Found away here, at Mrs. Bailey’s; Mrs. Bailey’s regret measuring his absolute genuineness. Gone away. …
She steadied herself to say “Oh, if he’s selfish.”
“They’re all that, every one of them. But we’ve all got to settle in life, sooner or later.”
That was all, for Mrs. Bailey. She rallied woefully in the thought that Mrs. Bailey knew she could have settled in life if she had chosen.
Flickering faintly far away was something to be found behind all this, some silent thing she would find by herself if only Mrs. Bailey would go.
Fascinated. How did they find the word? It was true; and false. This was the way people talked. These were the true-false phrases used to sum up things for which there were no words.
They had no time. They were too busy. That was in the scheme. They were somehow prevented from doing anything. Dr. von Heber had been saved. The fascinating eyes and snorting smile had saved him; coming out of space to tell him she was a flirt. He had boasted. She adore me; hah! I tell you she adore me, he would say. It was history repeating itself. Max and Ted.
