Conrad in Quest of His Youth: An Extravagance of Temperament. Merrick Leonard
not a chicken; I have seen
Full many a chill September,
And though I was a youngster then,
That girl I well remember.'
Holmes wrote 'gale,' not 'girl,' otherwise he might have been speaking for me."
"Such constancy is very beautiful," breathed the lady; "I thought—" She paused, slightly pink.
"But it was unfair," he assured her; "men can be quite as constant as women—especially to the women they never won."
"Er—perhaps you would like to see the house?" she inquired; "and you will allow me to offer you some tea before you go?"
"I accept both offers gratefully," said Conrad.
He followed her into the hall, and she conducted him, with little prefatory murmurs, to such of the apartments as a maiden lady might modestly display. Repapered and rearranged they looked quite strange to him, but the knowledge that he was in Mowbray Lodge averted boredom.
"You find them altered," she said, as they went back to the drawing-room.
"Improved," said he.
"And the town," she added; "no doubt you find the town improved too?"
"Altered," said Conrad, thinking of the market garden. "Well, it is certainly bigger."
"The rapid development of Sweetbay can astonish none who bear in mind its remarkable combination of climatic advantages, but the sylvan fairness of the town is not diminished, and it continues to present an unrivalled example of the 'rus in urbe,'" responded the lady with surprising fluency. "Do you take sugar and milk?"
"Ah—thank you," he said.
"Are you making a long stay among us, or——?"
"A very brief one. Indeed, I thought of returning to-morrow."
"Oh!" There was a tinge of disappointment in her "Oh." "I wondered if you meant to stop. If you had meant to pass the winter here—But I daresay you would have preferred an hotel anyhow?"
"I don't understand," he said, sipping. "What is it you were going to be good enough to suggest?"
"It occurred to me that, as the house has so many associations for you, you might have liked to take it for a short term. I am trying to let it furnished during the next few months, and I could leave the servants. My cook has been with me now——"
"You would let this house to me?" exclaimed Conrad, thrilling, and saw such splendid visions that for quite a minute he forgot to attend to her.
"If the rent is too high—?" She was regarding him nervously.
"Not at all," he cried, "not at all. I was simply lost in the effulgent prospect that you've opened to me."
"Really?"
"It was an inspiration. How kind of you to mention it."
She deprecated gratitude. "There would be no children, of course?" she said, her gaze dwelling among her china.
"Four," he answered promptly. "That is, the youngest must be about thirty-five now. I beg your pardon, but I have had an inspiration, too, I'm dazzled by the idea of peopling the house with the men and women who were children here five-and-twenty years ago; I dare swear my relatives have never set foot in Sweetbay since. We'll be comrades all over again—You know how Time loosens these childish ties—in the very place, in the very rooms, where we were such comrades then. Why, it's the most delightful plan that was ever hatched!" He hesitated. "I wonder if they'll come? How about the trains? One of my cousins would have to go up rather often, I expect."
"The railway company has combined with Mother Nature and a spirited Corporation to render Sweetbay attractive to the jaded Londoner. The service is fast and frequent, and well-appointed 'flys' may be chartered at most reasonable fares," replied his hostess without an instant's pause.
"How convenient!" said Conrad. "What more can he want?"
"If you think your friends may need persuasion, I should be pleased to present you with a copy of a little work of mine to send them. It describes all the attractions of the neighbourhood—and it's quite unlike the usual guide-book. It is thorough, but chatty. My aim has been to inform the visitor in a sprightly way."
"An authoress?" he said warmly.
"Of one book only," she murmured, her face suffused by an unbecoming blush.
"But of many readers, I'll be bound! If obstacles arise then, it shall be your pen that conquers them. You overwhelm me with kindnesses. I really think, though, the address will be magnet enough for the friends I want. 'Mowbray Lodge, Sweetbay'—how they'll stare! 'Bring your spades and pails,' I shall write; 'come, and let us all be boys and girls again.' The girls have little girls and boys of their own now. No, don't be afraid of their smashing that soul-stirring Chelsea, my dear madam—I won't have them. That's the essence of the contract, the new generation must be left behind. There must be we four, and nobody else—the four who will find their childhood waiting for them here, just the four who can feel the enchantment of Mowbray Lodge. So it is settled?"
"As far as—" She smoothed her gown.
"Oh, naturally there must be references, and inventories, and all sorts of tiresome details—and with your permission we will get them over as soon as possible. I shall have the pleasure of writing to you to-morrow. To whom——"
"Miss Phipps," she intimated.
"And mine is 'Warrener.' Stay, I have a card. But, by the way, when did you propose to let me come in, Miss Phipps?"
"Would next month suit you?" she asked. "Perhaps you would prefer it to be early in the month?"
"I wouldn't disorder your arrangements for the world, yet I own that 'early' has a musical ring. It would be agreeable to arrive before the colder weather."
"There are places in England where winter's cold blasts seem never to penetrate, and where birds and flowers go on singing and blooming in defiance of the calendar," she rejoined.
"Really?" said Conrad. "Still——"
"And among such places," concluded the lady firmly, "Sweetbay is pre-eminent. … But you will let me give you another cup of tea?"
CHAPTER III
He could not persuade himself that the invitations evoked enthusiasm, indeed two of them were declined at the beginning. Only Nina accepted at once. She wrote: "How on earth did you find Sweetbay again—is it still on the map? Yes, I will come—and with 'no encumbrances'—but I won't promise to be rural so long as all that. If I were you, I would arrange with the Stores for constant supplies. Can you depend on the cook?"
Regina was obviously indignant at the exclusion of her husband. She replied that her cousin's remembrance of their childhood was "quite touching." This was underlined. "But though I fully understand that Toto's presence would spoil your romantic plan, I cannot pretend to forget that I am now a wife, Conrad." Conrad was perturbed. He drove to Regent's Park and showed the letter to Nina, and she said that her sister couldn't forget she was a wife, because she had married a remote relation of Lord Polpero's.
"They have stayed at the 'Abbey,' my dear; at least she tells me they have as often as she condescends to dine with us—Regent's Park is 'so far away' from their poky little place in Mayfair! She can just call it 'Mayfair' without getting a remonstrance from the postal authorities. An 'Abbey' has been too much for her. Of course Polpero is a pauper, and the Abbey's a wreck, but I believe she slept with the family-tree over her bed. It's about the only tree of Polpero's that the woodman has spared, but 'Gina feels Norman."
Conrad was still perturbed. He hastened