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Page 99
In silence Frederick ate his soup, and the eyes, the large
expressive eyes of the young woman opposite, were on him, he could
feel, with a growing look in them of inquiry. They were, he could see,
very intelligent and attractive eyes, and full, apart from the inquiry
of goodwill. Probably she thought he ought to talk--but if she knew
everything she wouldn't think so. Briggs didn't talk either. Briggs
seemed uneasy. What was the matter with Briggs? And Rose too didn't
talk, but then that was natural. She never had been a talker. She had
the loveliest expression on her face. How long would it be on it after
Lady Caroline's entrance? He didn't know; he didn't know anything.
But the genial man on Mrs. Fisher's left was talking enough for
everybody. That fellow ought to have been a parson. Pulpits were the
place for a voice like his; it would get him a bishopric in six months.
He was explaining to Briggs, who shuffled about in his seat--why did
Briggs shuffle about in his seat?--that he must have come out by the
same train as Arbuthnot, and when Briggs, who said nothing, wriggled in
apparent dissent, he undertook to prove it to him, and did prove it to
him in long clear sentences.
"Who's the man with voice?" Frederick asked Rose in a whisper;
and the young woman opposite, whose ears appeared to have the quickness
of hearing of wild creatures, answered, "He's my husband."
"Then by all the rules," said Frederick pleasantly, pulling
himself together, "you oughtn't to be sitting next to him."
"But I want to. I like sitting next to him. I didn't before I
came here."
"Frederick could think of nothing to say to this, so he only
smiled generally.
"It's this place," she said, nodding at him. "It makes one
understand. You've no idea what a lot you'll understand before you've
done here."
"I'm sure I hope so," said Frederick with real fervour.
The soup was taken away, and the fish was brought. Briggs, on
the other side of the empty chair, seemed more uneasy than ever. What
was the matter with Briggs? Didn't he like fish?
Frederick wondered what Briggs would do in the way of fidgets if
he were in his own situation. Frederick kept on wiping his moustache,
and was not able to look up from his plate, but that was as much as he
showed of what he was feeling.
Though he didn't look up he felt the eyes of the young woman
opposite raking him like searchlights, and Rose's eyes were on him too,
he knew, but they rested on him unquestioningly, beautifully, like a
benediction. How long would they go on doing that once Lady Caroline
was there? He didn't know; he didn't know anything.
He wiped his moustache for the twentieth unnecessary time, and
could not quite keep his hand steady, and the young woman opposite saw
his hand not being quite steady, and her eyes raked him persistently.
Why did her eyes rake him persistently? He didn't know; he didn't know
anything.
Then Briggs leapt to his feet. What was the matter with Briggs?
Oh--yes--quite: she had come.
Frederick wiped his moustache and got up too. He was in for it
now. Absurd, fantastic situation. Well, whatever happened he could
only drift--drift, and look like an ass to Lady Caroline, the most
absolute as well as deceitful ass--an ass who was also a reptile, for
she might well think he had been mocking her out in the garden when he
said, no doubt in a shaking voice--fool and ass--that he had come
because he couldn't help it; while as for what he would look like to
his Rose--when Lady Caroline introduced him to her--when Lady Caroline
introduced him as her friend whom she had invited in to dinner--well,
God alone knew that.
He, therefore, as he got up wiped his moustache for the last time
before the catastrophe.
But he was reckoning without Scrap.
That accomplished and experienced young woman slipped into the
chair Briggs was holding for her, and on Lotty's leaning across
eagerly, and saying before any one else could get a word in, "Just
fancy, Caroline, how quickly Rose's husband has got here!" turned to
him without so much as the faintest shadow of surprise on her face, and
held out her hand, and smiled like a young angel, and said, "and me
late your very first evening."
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