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Updated: May 9, 2025
Spence had just received from Greece, a servant came into the drawing-room to say that Mr. Elgar wished to speak with Mrs. Baske. The ladies looked at each other; then Miriam directed that the visitor should go up to her own sitting-room. "This has something to do with Cecily," said Eleanor in a low voice. "Probably." And Miriam turned away.
They left the villa, and Mallard grew less restrained in his conversation. "How does Mrs. Baske answer to your expectations?" Spence asked him. "I had seen her photograph, you know." "Where?" "Her brother showed it me one taken at the time of her marriage." "What is Elgar doing at present?" "It's more than a year since we crossed each other," Mallard replied.
Spence was here this morning, but Cecily would not see her. I made excuses, and of course said nothing of what was going on. I asked the child if she would like to see Mrs. Baske, but she refused." Mallard sat as if he had nothing to say, looking vaguely about the room. "Have you heard from Mr. Elgar?" Mrs. Lessingham inquired. "No. I know nothing about him.
For the first time, Mallard was alone with Mrs. Baske. Miriam had not concealed surprise at the new adjustment of companionship; she looked curiously both at Cecily and at Mallard whilst it was going on. The first remark which the artist addressed to her, when they had been driving for a few minutes, was perhaps, she thought, an explanation of the proceeding.
He had no confidence in that lady's discretion; he thought it not improbable that she would speak of Reuben to Cecily in the very way she should not, making him an impressive figure. Then again, what part was Mrs. Baske likely to have in such a situation? Could she be relied upon to rep resent her brother unfavourably, with the right colour of unfavourableness?
Mallard's ward was then little more than fifteen; after several years of weak health, she had entered upon a vigorous maidenhood, and gave such promise of free, joyous, aspiring life as could not but strongly affect the sympathies of a woman like Eleanor. Three years prior to that, at the time of her father's death, Cecily was living with Mrs. Baske, a pietistic mill-owner, aged fifty.
"Miss Doran knows my wishes," he answered drily, "but I haven't insisted upon them to her, and am not disposed to do so." "Would it not be very simple and natural if you did?" The look he gave her was stern all but to anger. "It wouldn't be a very pleasant task to me, Mrs. Baske, to lay before her my strongest arguments against her marrying Mr. Elgar.
He thought, without wishing to do so, of Cecily; her matchless, maidenly charm in movement was something of quite another kind. Mrs. Baske trod the common earth, yet with, it seemed to him, a dignity that distinguished her from ordinary women. There had been silence for a long time. They were alike in the custom of forgetting what had last been said, or how long since.
One of her girl friends had just married, and was come to live in the neighbourhood. The husband, Welland by name, was wealthier and of more social importance than Mr. Baske had been; it soon became evident that Mrs. Welland, who also aspired to prominence in religious life, would be a formidable rival to the lady of Redbeck House.
"I see. No doubt, Mrs. Baske?" The certainty of this flashed upon Mallard. He had never seen Miriam walk by, but on the instant he comprehended her doing so. It was even possible, he thought, that, if she had not herself seen Cecily, some one in her employment had made the espial for her. The whole train of divination was perfect in his mind before Elgar spoke.
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