THE COLLECTED NOVELS OF E. M. DELAFIELD (6 Titles in One Edition). E. M. Delafield
any individuality for him."
"I cannot say that I agree with you," said Mrs. Lloyd-Evans coldly, and she told Henry an hour later that it was really quite odd to see how very jealous foreigners always were of an Englishman's good looks.
But even her strong disapproval of the undoubtedly foreign element that pervaded Villetswood could not dash the satisfaction with which Mrs. Lloyd-Evans viewed the progress of the affaire Pontisbury.
By the exercise of some self-control she refrained from mentioning the matter to Louis, knowing as she did that gentlemen very often rush in where the other and more tactful sex may fear to tread, and most characteristically conjecturing that Louis might precipitate a crisis by some ill-judged outburst of premature rejoicing. But she felt that the moment had come when Zella must indubitably feel the need of a mother's guidance.
She consequently repaired to her niece's room at the consecrated hour of eleven p.m.
Having determined to supply a mother's guidance on the subject of Zella's possible relations with Stephen Pontisbury, Mrs. Lloyd-Evans entered the room full of bright phrases about the projected fancy-dress dinner. "I should like you to look nice, dear," she said. '' Why
dress? One can so easily manipulate an evening dress a little."
The originality of this scheme failed to appeal to Zella. She answered vaguely and untruthfully:
"I'm afraid I haven't thought much about it, Aunt Marianne. It's sure to be amusing, though, isn't it? I might put on that blue shepherdess dress we found in the box upstairs; it ought to fit me."'
She was talking rather at random, conscious of the purpose for which Aunt Marianne had sought her, half anxious to avoid the subject that was in both their minds, and half eager for the gratification of her vanity by discussing it.
"I wonder what they'll all be," she said nervously.
"My only hope," declared Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, seating herself in an armchair, "is that that poor Frenchman won't try to be funny. It would be too painful."
By thus alluding to St. Algers she attained the double object of implying the slight contempt in which she held
not powder your hair and
link him as a foreigner, and of avoiding the pronunciation of his foreign and unpronounceable name.
"I don't suppose he will," abstractedly replied Zella, brushing out her soft thick hair, and subconsciously wondering what form of fancy dress would admit of her wearing it down her back.
"One can never tell, dear."
"Now, I should think that Mr. Pontisbury would look very well in almost any sort of poudré costume," said Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, feigning a passionate interest in the tassel of a cushion, and apparently under the impression that the word " now " would successfully bridge over any possible irrelevance in her remark.
"Oh, should you? That tassel is getting so ragged, it worries me every time I look at it."
She bent forward, also absorbed in the tassel.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans put her head on one side for the purpose of better contemplation.
"I should almost take it off altogether, if I were you; the cushion would really look better without it. Yes."
Her head resumed its normal position on her shoulders.
"What was I saying? Oh yes! Stephen Pontisbury. He's good-looking, isn't he?"
"Very."
"I'm so glad you like him, dear," said Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, skilfully appearing to have deduced the information from the foregoing reply.
"I hoped you would, when I knew he was coming here. I said to myself, 'He's very good-looking, and just about the right age for a man; and he and Zella have a great deal in common, since he's fond of books and quite keen about all that sort of thing.' I know quite well that a man like Muriel's husband wouldn't have suited you, Zella dear, any more than you'd have satisfied him. He and Muriel have all the same tastes in common, and simply care about being out of doors and living in the country; and I'm sure they would never dream of discussing a book, either of them, as you or I might. Aunt Marianne, as you know, is very fond of reading, and in some ways it was a little disappointing that Muriel shouldn't care about it; but, after all, it's more natural at her age to care about riding and hunting and animals, and, as I always say, James has taken after me. And when you think how very happy Muriel is, I'm sure you've often wondered when your turn would come, dear. Of course one doesn't want to say anything indiscreet or premature in any way, but X thought perhaps, having no mother to advise you, you might like a little talk with Aunt Marianne."
"Yes," faltered Zella, her heart beating faster at the conviction that Stephen's admiration was evidently not only the work of her imagination.
"Well, darling," said Aunt Marianne more kindly than ever, and evidently enjoying herself, "I don't know, of course, whether you feel that you could really care about this man. Marriage is a most serious thing, and no one should be in a hurry to decide. But here is a good man, of a suitable age and family and everything, who evidently wishes to ask you to become his wife, and one can't help feeling you might be very happy together. After all, Zella dear," said Mrs. Lloyd-Evans with emotion, "marriage is the natural sphere of every woman."
"I think he was once in love with somebody else," said Zella, on whom the episode of the Scotch moors still weighed.
"He may have had boyish fancies, dear. All young men go through something of that sort," asserted her aunt sweepingly; "but it is all over long ago, you may depend upon it. Remember the line I am so fond of:
"Let the dead Past bury its dead!'"
"Do you really think he cares for me, Aunt Marianne?" asked Zella, looking out into the summer darkness. of the garden.
"Well, dear, you must judge for yourself. He certainly admires you a great deal, and you have spent hours talking together on the terrace. I'm sure he is much too honourable to be anything but in earnest, after paying such very obvious attention to an extremely young and inexperienced girl."
Both adjectives annoyed Zella considerably. One apparently on the verge of receiving a proposal of marriage could hardly be so very young and inexperienced as her aunt's tone implied.
"He and I have a great deal in common intellectually, of course," she observed haughtily. "He says I am the only person who has ever really understood him."
Well, dear, as his mother and father are still alive and particularly devoted to him, that is probably an exaggeration; but it was a natural enough thing to say, I dare say, if he thought it would please you. It shows I am right in feeling sure that he is very much in love with you. I am not very often mistaken about that sort of thing."
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans smiled a pensively reminiscent smile, and Zella continued to gaze out of the open window, with her thoughts in a strange tumult.
"I can't help thinking he means to propose to you, somehow. Of course, one doesn't want to advise you rashly, and, after all, it is your first proposal, and you are not twenty yet—though look at Muriel!"
Zella was again conscious of some vexation, and would have liked to hint at past conquests of which her aunt had heard nothing, but before anything of a convincing nature could be evolved Mrs. Lloyd-Evans began again.
"Of course there is the question of religion. I felt at the time, Zella, that it might be a great drawback to you later on, when the Sisters persuaded you into becoming a Roman Catholic, and it was very weak of poor papa to allow it. No, dear, I don't blame you in the least, and never did. As I said to Uncle Henry at the time, 'Zella is only an ignorant, impressionable child, and it is perfectly natural that she should be worked upon by all those priests and nuns; in fact, it was to be expected, especially with no mother to watch over her.' But all that is past and gone, and I don't want to speak about it. Only it does seem a pity, when husband and wife do not belong to the same Church, or, rather, when one of them belongs to the Church and the other does not. As I always say, How can two walk together unless they be agreed?"