What right had you to ask her, without first finding out whether you could go or not?
It was spoken rather gravely than severely. Mr. Lord never looked fixedly at his daughter, and even a glance at her face was unusual; but at this juncture he met her eyes for an instant. The nervous motion with which he immediately turned aside had been marked by Nancy on previous occasions, and she had understood it as a sign of his lack of affection for her.
I am twenty-three years old, father, she replied, without aggressiveness.
That would be something of an answer if you were a man, observed the father, his eyes cast down.
Because I am a woman, you despise me?
Stephen was startled at this unfamiliar mode of address. He moved uneasily.
If I despised you, Nancy, I shouldnt care very much what you did. I suppose you must do as you like, but you wont go with my permission.
There was a silence, then the girl said:
I meant to ask Horace to go with us.
Horacepooh!
Again a silence. Mr. Lord laid down his cup, moved a few steps away, and turned back.
I didnt think this kind of thing was in your way, he said gruffly. I thought you were above it.
Nancy defended herself as she had done to Jessica, but without the playfulness. In listening, her father seemed to weigh the merits of the case conscientiously with wrinkled brows. At length he spoke.
Horace is no good. But if Samuel Barmby will go with you, I make no objection.
A movement of annoyance was Nancys first reply. She drummed with her fingers on the table, looking fixedly before her.
I certainly cant ask Mr. Barmby to come with us, she said, with an effort at self-control.
Well, you neednt. Ill speak about it myself.
He waited, and again it chanced that their eyes met. Nancy, on the point of speaking, checked herself. A full minute passed, and Stephen stood waiting patiently.
If you insist upon it, said Nancy, rising from her chair, we will take Mr. Barmby with us.
Without comment, Mr. Lord left the room, and his own door closed rather loudly behind him.
Not long afterwards Nancy heard a new foot in the passage, and her brother made his appearance. Horace had good looks, but his face showed already some of the unpleasant characteristics which time had developed on that of Stephen Lord, and from which the daughter was entirely free; one judged him slow of intellect and weakly self-willed. His hair was of pale chestnut, the silky pencillings of his moustache considerably darker. His cheek, delicately pink and easily changing to a warmer hue, his bright-coloured lips, and the limpid glistening of his eyes, showed him of frail constitution; he was very slim, and narrow across the shoulders. The fashion of his attire tended to a dandiacal extreme,modish silk hat, lavender necktie, white waistcoat, gaiters over his patent-leather shoes, gloves crushed together in one hand, and in the other a bamboo cane. For the last year or two he had been progressing in this direction, despite his fathers scornful remarks and his sisters good-natured mockery.
Father in yet? he asked at the door of the dining-room, in subdued voice.
Nancy nodded, and the young man withdrew to lay aside his outdoor equipments.
What sort of temper? was his question when he returned.
Pretty gooduntil I spoilt it.
Horace exhibited a pettish annoyance.
What on earth did you do that for? I want to have a talk with him to-night.
About what?
Oh, never mind; Ill tell you after.
Both kept their voices low, as if afraid of being overheard in the next room. Horace began to nibble at a biscuit; the hour of his return made it unnecessary for him, as a rule, to take anything before dinner, but at present he seemed in a nervous condition, and acted mechanically.
Come out into the garden, will you? he said, after receiving a brief explanation of what had passed between Nancy and her father. Ive something to tell you.
His sister carelessly assented, and with heads uncovered they went through the house into the open air. The garden was but a strip of ground, bounded by walls of four feet high; in the midst stood a laburnum, now heavy with golden bloom, and at the end grew a holly-bush, flanked with laurels; a border flower-bed displayed Stephen Lords taste and industry. Nancy seated herself on a rustic bench in the shadow of the laburnum, and Horace stood before her, one of the branches in his hand.
I promised Fanny to take her to-morrow night, he began awkwardly.
Oh, you have?
And were going together in the morning, you know.
I know now. I didnt before, Nancy replied.
Of course we can make a party in the evening.
Of course.
Horace looked up at the ugly house-backs, and hesitated before proceeding.
That isnt what I wanted to talk about, he said at length. A very queer thing has happened, a thing I cant make out at all.
The listener looked her curiosity.
I promised to say nothing about it, but theres no harm in telling you, you know. You remember I was away last Saturday afternoon? Well, just when it was time to leave the office, that day, the porter came to say that a lady wished to see mea lady in a carriage outside. Of course I couldnt make it out at all, but I went down as quickly as possible, and saw the carriage waiting there,a brougham,and marched up to the door. Inside there was a ladya great swell, smiling at me as if we were friends. I took off my hat, and said that I was Mr. Lord. Yes, she said, I see you are; and she asked if I could spare her an hour or two, as she wished to speak to me of something important. Well, of course I could only say that I had nothing particular to do,that I was just going home. Then will you do me the pleasure, she said, to come and have lunch with me? I live in Weymouth Street, Portland Place.
The young man paused to watch the effect of his narrative, especially of the last words. Nancy returned his gaze with frank astonishment.
What sort of lady was it? she asked.
Oh, a great swell. Somebody in the best societyyou could see that at once.
But how old?
Well, I couldnt tell exactly; about forty, I should think.
Oh!Go on.
One couldnt refuse, you know; I was only too glad to go to a house in the West End. She opened the carriage-door from the inside, and I got in, and off we drove. I felt awkward, of course, but after all I was decently dressed, and I suppose I can behave like a gentleman, andwell, she sat looking at me and smiling, and I could only smile back. Then she said she must apologise for behaving so strangely, but I was very young, and she was an old woman,one couldnt call her that, though,and she had taken this way of renewing her acquaintance with me. Renewing? But I didnt remember to have ever met her before, I said. Oh, yes, we have met before, but you were a little child, a baby in fact, and theres no wonder you dont remember me? And then she said, I knew your mother very well.
Nancy leaned forward, her lips apart.
Queer, wasnt it? Then she went on to say that her name was Mrs. Damerel; had I ever heard it? No, I couldnt remember the name at all. She was a widow, she said, and had lived mostly abroad for a great many years; now she was come back to settle in England. She hadnt a house of her own yet, but lived at a boarding-house; she didnt know whether to take a house in London, or somewhere just out in the country. Then she began to ask about father, and about you; and it seemed to amuse her when I looked puzzled. Shes a jolly sort of person, always laughing.