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Brookenham's health, and it might have been apparent still to our sharp spectator that he found nothing wonderful in her daughter's unsupported arrival. "I can make tea beautifully," she said from behind her table. "Mother showed me how this morning." "This morning?" and Mitchy, who, before the fire and still erect, had declined to be laid low, greeted the simple remark with uproarious mirth.
"I'm an old boy who remembers the mothers," he at last replied. "Yes, you told me how well you remember Mrs. Brookenham's." "Oh, oh!" and he arrived at a new subject. "This must be your sister Mary." "Yes; it's very bad, but as she's dead " "Dead? Dear, dear!" "Oh long ago" Vanderbank eased him off. "It's delightful of you," this informant went on, "to have known also such a lot of MY people."
Brookenham's drawing-room to the particular element the element of physical splendour void of those disparities that make the question of others tiresome comprised in Lady Fanny's presence.
Mitchy's silence, which lasted a minute, seemed to take the idea, but not perhaps quite to know what to do with it. "Ah I'm afraid I shall never really serve her right!" Just as he spoke the butler reappeared; at sight of whom Mrs. Brook immediately guessed. "Mr. Longdon?" "In Mr. Brookenham's room, ma'am. Mr. Brookenham has gone out." "And where has he gone?"
"If she had declared her passion shouldn't I rather compromise her ?" "By letting me know?" Mr. Longdon reflected. "I'm sure I can't say it's a sort of thing for which I haven't a measure or a precedent. In my time women didn't declare their passion. I'm thinking of what the meaning is of Mrs. Brookenham's wanting you as I've heard it called herself."
Brookenham's failure to repudiate the vision appeared to suffice, and her visitor cheerfully took a further jump. "As much of Tishy as she wants AFTER. But not before." "After what?" "Well say after Mr. Mitchett. Mr. Mitchett won't take her after Mrs. Grendon." "And what are your grounds for assuming that he'll take her at all?"
There was no anger, however, in her voice, and not even a harsh plaint; only a detached accepted disenchantment. Mrs. Brookenham's supreme rebellion against fate was just to show with the last frankness how much she was bored. "No, darling mummy, you won't speak to my father you'll do anything in the world rather than that," Harold replied, quite as if he were kindly explaining her to herself.
What CAN you all mention in my presence, poor things, that isn't personal?" Mrs. Brookenham's face covered him for an instant as no painted Madonna's had ever covered the little charge at the breast beneath it. "And the finest thing of all in you is your beautiful, beautiful pride! You're prouder than all of us put together."
Little ensued then, for some minutes, while the servants were present; she spoke only as the butler was about to close the door. "If Mr. Longdon presently comes show him into Mr. Brookenham's room if Mr. Brookenham isn't there. If he is show him into the dining-room and in either case let me immediately know." The man waited expressionless. "And in case of his asking for Miss Brookenham ?"
Ten minutes of talk with Mr. Longdon by Mrs. Brookenham's hearth elapsed for him without his arriving at the right moment to take up the business so richly put before him in his previous interview.
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