Chapter 9
Bernard talked of this matter rather theoretically, inasmuch as to his own
sense, he was in a state neither of incipient nor of absorbed fascination.
He got on very easily, however, with Angela Vivian, and felt none of the
mysterious discomfort alluded to by his friend. The element of mystery
attached itself rather to the young lady's mother, who gave him the
impression that for undiscoverable reasons she avoided his society. He
regretted her evasive deportment, for he found something agreeable in this
shy and scrupulous little woman, who struck him as a curious specimen of
a society of which he had once been very fond. He learned that she was of
old New England stock, but he had not needed this information to
perceive that Mrs. Vivian was animated by the genius of Boston.
She has the Boston temperament,
he said, using a phrase with
which he had become familiar and which evoked a train of associations.
But then he immediately added that if Mrs. Vivian was a daughter of the
Puritans, the Puritan strain in her disposition had been mingled with
another element.
It is the Boston temperament sophisticated,
he said;
perverted a little — perhaps even corrupted. It is the local
east-wind with an infusion from climates less tonic.
It seemed to
him that Mrs. Vivian was a Puritan grown worldly — a Bostonian relaxed;
and this impression, oddly enough, contributed to his wish to know more
of her. He felt like going up to her very politely and saying,
Dear
lady and most honored compatriot, what in the world have I done to
displease you? You don't approve of me, and I am dying to know the
reason why. I should be so happy to exert myself to be agreeable to you.
It 's no use; you give me the cold shoulder. When I speak to you, you
look the other way; it is only when I speak to your daughter that you look
at me. It is true that at those times you look at me very hard, and if I am
not greatly mistaken, you are not gratified by what you see. You count the
words I address to your beautiful Angela — you time our harmless little
interviews. You interrupt them indeed whenever you can; you call her
away — you appeal to her; you cut across the conversation. You are always
laying plots to keep us apart. Why can't you leave me alone? I assure you
I am the most innocent of men. Your beautiful Angela can't possibly be
injured by my conversation, and I have no designs whatever upon her
peace of mind. What on earth have I done to offend you?
These observations Bernard Longueville was disposed to make, and
one afternoon, the opportunity offering, they rose to his lips and came
very near passing them. In fact, however, at the last moment, his
eloquence took another turn. It was the custom of the orchestra at the
Kursaal to play in the afternoon, and as the music was often good, a great
many people assembled under the trees, at three o'clock, to listen to it.
This was not, as a regular thing, an hour of re-union for the little group in
which we are especially interested; Miss Vivian, in particular, unless an
excursion of some sort had been agreed upon the day before, was usually
not to be seen in the precincts of the Conversation-house until the evening.
Bernard, one afternoon, at three o'clock, directed his steps to this small
world-centre of Baden, and, passing along the terrace, soon encountered
little Blanche Evers strolling there under a pink parasol and accompanied
by Captain Lovelock. This young lady was always extremely sociable; it
was quite in accordance with her habitual geniality that she should stop
and say how d' ye do to our hero.
Mr. Longueville is growing very frivolous,
she said,
coming to the Kursaal at all sorts of hours.
There is nothing frivolous in coming here with the hope of
finding you,
the young man answered.
That is very
serious.
It would be more serious to lose Miss Evers than to find
her,
remarked Captain Lovelock, with gallant jocosity.
I wish you would lose me!
cried the young girl.
I
think I should like to be lost. I might have all kinds of adventures.
I `guess' so!
said Captain Lovelock, hilariously.
Oh, I should find my way. I can take care of myself!
Blanche went on.
Mrs. Vivian does n't think so,
said Bernard, who had
just perceived this lady, seated under a tree with a book, over the top of
which she was observing her pretty
protégée. Blanche
looked toward her and gave her a little nod and a smile. Then chattering
on to the young men —
She 's awfully careful. I never saw any one so careful. But I
suppose she is right. She promised my mother she would be tremendously
particular; but I don't know what she thinks I would do.
That is n't flattering to me,
said Captain Lovelock.
Mrs. Vivian does n't approve of me — she wishes me in Jamaica.
What does she think me capable of?
And me, now?
Bernard asked.
She likes me least
of all, and I, on my side, think she 's so nice.
Can't say I 'm very sweet on her,
said the Captain.
She strikes me as feline.
Blanche Evers gave a little cry of horror.
Stop, sir, this instant! I won't have you talk that way about a
lady who has been so kind to me.
She is n't so kind to you. She would like to lock you up
where I can never see you.
I 'm sure I should n't mind that!
cried the young girl,
with a little laugh and a toss of her head.
Mrs. Vivian has the most
perfect character — that 's why my mother wanted me to come with her.
And if she promised my mother she would be careful, is n't she right to
keep her promise? She 's a great deal more careful than mamma ever was,
and that 's just what mamma wanted. She would never take the trouble
herself. And then she was always scolding me. Mrs. Vivian never scolds
me. She only watches me, but I don't mind that.
I wish she would watch you a little less and scold you a little
more,
said Captain Lovelock.
I have no doubt you wish a great many horrid things,
his companion rejoined, with delightful asperity.
Ah, unfortunately I never have anything I wish!
sighed
Lovelock.
Your wishes must be comprehensive,
said Bernard.
It seems to me you have a good deal.
The Englishman gave a shrug.
It 's less than you might think. She is watching us more
furiously than ever,
he added, in a moment, looking at Mrs.
Vivian.
Mr. Gordon Wright is the only man she likes. She is
awfully fond of Mr. Gordon Wright.
Ah, Mrs. Vivian shows her wisdom!
said Bernard.
He is certainly very handsome,
murmured Blanche
Evers, glancing several times, with a very pretty aggressiveness, at
Captain Lovelock.
I must say I like Mr. Gordon Wright. Why in the
world did you come here without him?
she went on, addressing
herself to Bernard.
You two are so awfully inseparable. I don't think
I ever saw you alone before.
Oh, I have often seen Mr. Gordon Wright alone,
said
Captain Lovelock —
that is, alone with Miss Vivian. That 's what the
old lady likes; she can't have too much of that.
The young girl, poised for an instant in one of her pretty attitudes,
looked at him from head to foot.
Well, I call that scandalous! Do you mean that she wants to
make a match?
I mean that the young man has six thousand a year.
It 's no matter what he has — six thousand a year is n't much!
And we don't do things in that way in our country. We have n't those
horrid match-making arrangements that you have in your dreadful country.
American mothers are not like English mothers.
Oh, any one can see, of course,
said Captain Lovelock,
that Mr. Gordon Wright is dying of love for Miss Vivian.
I can't see it!
cried Blanche.
He dies easier than I, eh?
I wish you would die!
said Blanche.
At any rate,
Angela is not dying of love for Mr. Wright.
Well, she will marry him all the same,
Lovelock
declared.
Blanche Evers glanced at Bernard.
Why don't you contradict that?
she asked.
Why
don't you speak up for your friend?
I am quite ready to speak for my friend,
said Bernard,
but I am not ready to speak for Miss Vivian.
Well, I am,
Blanche declared.
She won't marry
him.
If she does n't, I 'll eat my hat!
said Captain Lovelock.
What do you mean,
he went on,
by saying that in
America a pretty girl's mother does n't care for a young fellow's
property?
Well, they don't — we consider that dreadful. Why don't you
say so, Mr. Longueville?
Blanche demanded.
I never saw any
one take things so quietly. Have n't you got any patriotism?
My patriotism is modified by an indisposition to
generalize,
said Bernard, laughing.
On this point permit me
not to generalize. I am interested in the particular case — in ascertaining
whether Mrs. Vivian thinks very often of Gordon Wright's income.
Miss Evers gave a little toss of disgust.
If you are so awfully impartial, you had better go and ask
her.
That 's a good idea — I think I will go and ask her,
said
Bernard.
Captain Lovelock returned to his argument.
Do you mean to say that your mother would be indifferent to
the fact that I have n't a shilling in the world?
Indifferent?
Blanche demanded.
Oh no, she would
be sorry for you. She is very charitable — she would give you a
shilling!
She would n't let you marry me,
said Lovelock.
She would n't have much trouble to prevent it!
cried
the young girl.
Bernard had had enough of this intellectual fencing.
Yes, I will go and ask Mrs. Vivian,
he repeated. And
he left his companions to resume their walk.