Lady Rylton

“ It is such a comfort to dwell on it," says Lady Rylton, still dabbing her eyes. "He was happy—quite happy when he left me."
"I never saw anyone so happy," says Mrs. Bethune.
Her voice sounds choking; no doubt it is emotion. She rises and goes to the window. The emotion seems to have got into her shoulders.
"All which proves," goes on Lady Rylton, turning to Margaret, "that a marriage based on friendship, even between two young people, is often successful."
"But surely in your case there was love on one side," says Miss
Knollys, a little impatiently. "My uncle——"
"Oh, he adored me!" ”

“ And this girl! If Maurice can be persuaded to have her——"
"My dear Tessie, what a word!" says Margaret, rising, with a distinct frown. "Has he only to ask, then, and have?"
"Beyond doubt," says Lady Rylton insolently, waving her fan to and fro, "if he does it in the right way. In all my experience, my dear Margaret, I have never known a woman to frown upon a man who was as handsome, as well-born, as chic as Maurice! Even though the man might be a—well"—smiling and lifting her shoulders—"it's a rude word, but—well, a very devil!" ”

“ She stands up, and looks at the older woman as if defying her. Her small face is all alight, her eyes are burning.
"I dare say not, after all," says Lady Rylton, with a cruel smile. "He knew what he was about when he made that arrangement. It leaves him delightfully free to renew his love-affair with Marian Bethune."
"If he desires such freedom it is his." Tita gathers up her fan, and the long suède gloves lying on the chair near her, and walks towards the door.
"Stay, Tita!" cries Lady Rylton hurriedly. "You will say nothing of this to Maurice. ”

“ She breaks off, evidently overcome, yet behind the cobweb she presses to her cheeks she has an eye on Marian.
"I don't think Maurice's arms could hold her," says Mrs. Bethune, with a low laugh. It is a strange laugh. Lady Rylton's glance grows keener. "Such a mere doll of a thing. A mite!" She laughs again, but this time (having caught Lady Rylton's concentrated gaze) in a very ordinary manner—the passion, the anger has died out of it.
"Yes, she's a mere mite," says Lady Rylton. "She is positively trivial! ”

“ She spreads her beautiful little hands abroad, as if in eloquent description of an end to her sentence.
Mrs. Bethune bursts out laughing. She can always laugh at pleasure.
"It sounds like the old Bible story," says she; "you have an only son, and you must sacrifice him!"
"Don't study to be absurd!" says Lady Rylton, with a click of her fan that always means mischief.
She throws herself back in her chair, and a tiny frown settles upon her brow. She is such a small creation of Nature's that only a frown of the slightest dimensions could settle itself comfortably between her eyes. ”

“ She dislikes me, as I dislike her. If you wish to see her, send a message through her maid, or," a happy thought coming to her, "through Margaret; she cares for Tita as a cat might care for her kitten!"
"Poor Margaret," says Lady Rylton, with a sneer. "I fear she will always have to care for other cats' kittens!"
"Do you? I don't," says Marian, who, though she detests most people, has always a strange tenderness for Margaret.
"What do you mean?" asks Lady Rylton sharply.
"I think she will marry Colonel Neilson."
"Don't make yourself more absurd than you need be!" says her aunt contemptuously. ”

“ Yet Lady Rylton smiles on, enjoying the changes in Margaret's face.
It is a terrible smile, coming from so fragile a creature.
Margaret's face has grown white, but she answers coldly and with deliberation. All that past horrible time—her lover, his unworthiness, his desertion—all her young, young life lies once more massacred before her.
"The women who give in to such fascination, such mere outward charms, are fools!" says she with a strength that adorns her.
"Oh, come! Come now, dearest Margaret," says her aunt, with the gayest of little laughs, "would you call yourself a fool? ”

“ You're worse than him," her anger growing because of that smile. "I never——"
"Never what?"
"I never met such a cross cat in my life!" says Lady Rylton, turning her back on him.
"It's well to be unique in one's own line," says he grimly.
A short laugh breaks from him. How absurd she is! A regular little spitfire; yet what a pretty one. His heart is full of sadness, yet he cannot keep back that laugh. He hardly knows how he has so much mirth left in him, but the laugh sounds through the room and drives Tita to frenzy. ”

“ Altogether she is just a little, a very little, pronounced in her behaviour. Her opponents, people who have come over to The Place for the day, whisper something to each other, and laugh a little. After all, they have lost—perhaps they are somewhat spiteful. Lady Rylton, sitting on the terrace above, bites her lips. What an impossible girl! and yet how rich! Things must be wrong somewhere, when Fate showers money on such a little ill-bred creature. ”

“ Bethune leans back in her chair and laughs.
"A suitable wife for Maurice!" repeats she. "Where is she to be found?"
"Here! In this girl!" declares Lady Rylton solemnly. "Margaret, you know how we are situated. You know how low we have fallen—you can understand that in this marriage lies our last hope. If Maurice can be induced to marry Miss Bolton——"
A sound of merry laughter interrupts her here. There comes the sound of steps upon the terrace—running steps. Instinctively the three women within the room grow silent and draw back a little. ”

“ I wish someone would bet me my old dear home, my Oakdean, upon that. I should be a happy girl again."
A great sadness grows within her eyes.
"Tita, you could be happy if you chose."
"You are always saying that," says Lady Rylton, looking full at her.
"But how—how can I be happy!"
"See Maurice! Make it up with him. Put an end to this foolish quarrel."
"What should I gain by agreeing to live again with a man who cares nothing for me? I tell you, Margaret, that I desire no great things. I did not expect to wring from life extraordinary joys. I have never been exorbitant in my demands. ”

“ She is not what I would have chosen for him, I admit that; but all things must give way before the ruin that threatens us."
"Yes; true—all things," says Mrs. Bethune in a low tone.
"You see that. But how to bring Maurice to the point? He is so very difficult. You, Marian—you have influence with him——"
"I?" Mrs. Bethune rises in the slow, beautiful fashion that is hers always; she moves towards the window. There is no hurry, no undue haste, to betray the disquietude of her soul.
"You—you, of course," says Lady Rylton peevishly. "I always rely upon you." ”

“ Margaret gives her a nod, and goes out through the window.
"My dearest child," says Lady Rylton, nestling cosily into her chair, and smiling delicately at Tita over the top of her fan, "you may have noticed that I gave dear Margaret her congé with intent?"
"I saw that you wanted to get rid of her," says Tita.
"I fear, my dear, your training has been somewhat defective," says Lady Rylton, biting her lips. "We never—we in society, I mean—never 'get rid' of people. There are better ways of doing things, that——"
"It must cause you a lot of trouble," says Tita. ”

“ There is a horror in her mind—the horror of hearing again that he—he had loved Marian. But how to stop it?
"You seem to admire honesty," says Lady Rylton, with a sneering laugh. "It is a pity you do not emulate his! If Maurice is as true to you as you"—with a slight laugh—"imagine him, why, you should, in common generosity, be true to him. And this flirtation, with this Mr. Hescott——"
"Don't go on!" says Tita passionately; "I cannot bear it. Whoever has told you that I ever—— Oh!" She covers her eyes suddenly with her pretty hands. "Oh! it is a lie!" cries she. ”

“ Oh, the wisdom of it!"
"You go too far!" says Margaret. "Money is not everything."
"And Maurice is not a satyr," says Mrs. Bethune, a trifle unwisely. She has been watching the players on the ground below. Lady Rylton looks at her.
"Of course you object to it," says she.
"I!" says Marian. "Why should I object to it? I talk of marriage only in the abstract."
"I am glad of that!" Lady Rylton's eyes are still fixed on hers. "This will be a veritable marriage, I assure you; I have set my mind on it. It is terrible to contemplate, but one must give way sometimes ”

“ She stops—she feels choking; she honestly believes that Tita likes Tom Hescott far more than she likes her husband. But that the girl is guilty, even in thought guilty, she does not believe; and now she speaks—and to this woman of all others—— And yet if she does speak, ruin will probably come out of it—to Tita. She hesitates; she is lost!
"Oh, go on!" says Lady Rylton, who can be a little vulgar at times—where the soul is coarse, the manner will be coarse too.
"There is a cousin!" says Marian slowly.
"A cousin? You grow interesting!" says Lady Rylton. ”

“ Bethune, breaking impatiently into the conversation. "About Maurice and this girl! This new girl! There," contemptuously, "have been so many of them!"
"You mean Miss Bolton," says Margaret, in her quiet way. "Do you seriously mean," addressing Lady Rylton, "that you desire this marriage?"
"Desire it? No. It is a necessity!" says Lady Rylton. "Who could desire a daughter-in-law of no lineage, and with the most objectionable tastes? But she has money! That throws a cloak over all defects."
"I don't think that poor child has so many defects as you fancy," says Miss Knollys. ”

“ This woman who has betrayed her son's secret. Even to so young a girl, and one who is not in love with her husband, the idea of the husband being in love with somebody else is distinctly distasteful.
"Besides, remember," says Tita, "Mrs. Bethune lives here. After all you have told me of her, and—Maurice—you," breaking into a gay little laugh, "could hardly expect me to make this place my home."
"You certainly seem to take it very lightly," says Lady Rylton. "Maurice must be congratulated on having secured so compliant a wife." ”

“ I think you might try to forget it."
"Does one ever forget?" says Margaret coldly. A swift flush has dyed her pale face. "And story or no story, I shall always think that the woman who marries a man without caring for him is a far greater fool than the woman who marries a man for whom she does care."
"After all, I am not thinking of a woman," says Lady Rylton with a shrug. "I am thinking of Maurice. ”

“ Bethune. "Go on, Margaret—you were in the middle of a sermon; I dare say we shall endure to the end."
"I was saying that Miss Bolton is only a child."
"She is seventeen. She told us about it last night at dinner. Gave us month and day. It was very clever of her. We ought to give her birthday-gifts, don't you think? And yet you call her a child!"
"At seventeen, what else?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Margaret," says Lady Rylton pettishly; "and, above all things, don't be old-fashioned. There is no such product nowadays as a child of seventeen. There isn't time for it. It has gone out! ”

“ If you wish it—I——"
"I wish nothing with regard to either her or you," interrupts Tita, her breath coming a little quickly. "It is nothing to me. I do not care."
"Don't say that," says Rylton hoarsely. He is fighting his battle inch by inch. "Give me some hope! Is one sin to condemn a man for ever? I tell you all that is done. And you—if you love no one—give me a chance!"
"Why should I trouble myself so far?" says she, with infinite disdain.
At this Rylton turns away from her. He goes to the window, and stands there gazing out, but seeing nothing. ”

“ Why should we not be as brother and sister to each other? Yes, yes," vehemently; "tell me it shall be so. You will ask me to your new house, Maurice, won't you?"
She is looking up into his face, her hand still pressing his arm.
"My wife's house."
"Your wife's house is yours, is it not? You owe yourself something from this marriage. You will ask me there now and then?"
"She will ask her own guests, I suppose."
"She will ask whom you choose. Pah! what is she but a child in your hands?"
"Tita is not the cipher you describe her," says Rylton coldly. ”

“ Sir Maurice is only crossing the lawn now, and by running through the hall outside, and getting on to the veranda outside the dining-room window, she can see him before he enters the drawing-room.
Gaining the veranda, she leans over the railings and makes a signal to him; it is an old signal. Rylton responds to it, and in a second is by her side.
"Oh no, you must not stay; your mother is waiting for you in the south drawing-room. She saw you coming; she wants you."
"Well, but about what?" asks Rylton, naturally bewildered.
"Nothing—only—she is going to advise you for your good. ”

“ Give it the new name and be done with it."
"There can be no new name for a mere imagination. I don't believe she ever had any—any love affair with Mr. Hescott. I don't really, and," boldly, "in your heart I don't think you believe it either. No, don't turn away, don't. It is for your sake I speak, because I have always your interest at heart; Maurice, I entreat you to pause, to think. Is all the fault on Tita's side? Have you loved her as she should be loved?—that little, quick, enthusiastic creature. Where has your heart been since your marriage!"
"You go very far," says Rylton, pale, cold. ”

“ Rylton has turned; he is looking at her; his eyes seem to devour her—more with anger than delight, however. And yet the beauty of her, in spite of him, enters into his heart. How sweet she is, standing there with her loose gown in her pretty uplifted hands, and the lace flounces of her petticoat showing in front! She had not fastened this new delight in robes across her neck, and now the whiteness of her throat and neck vies with the purity of the gown itself. ”