the unbearable bassington-第25章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



chickens　in　her　incubator！〃



〃What　eggs　did　she　put　in　it？〃　asked　Francesca。



〃Oh；　some　very　special　strain　of　White　Orpington。〃



〃Then　I　don't　see　anything　remarkable　in　the　result。　　If　she　had　

put　in　crocodile's　eggs　and　hatched　out　White　Orpingtons；　there　

might　have　been　something　to　write　to　COUNTRY　LIFE　about。〃



〃What　funny　fascinating　things　these　little　green　park…chairs　are；〃　

said　Merla；　starting　off　on　a　fresh　topic；　〃they　always　look　so　

quaint　and　knowing　when　they're　stuck　away　in　pairs　by　themselves　

under　the　trees；　as　if　they　were　having　a　heart…to…heart　talk　or　

discussing　a　piece　of　very　private　scandal。　　If　they　could　only　

speak；　what　tragedies　and　comedies　they　could　tell　us　of；　what　

flirtations　and　proposals。〃



〃Let　us　be　devoutly　thankful　that　they　can't；〃　said　Francesca；　with　

a　shuddering　recollection　of　the　luncheon…table　conversation。



〃Of　course；　it　would　make　one　very　careful　what　one　said　before　

them　…　or　above　them　rather；〃　Merla　rattled　on；　and　then；　to　

Francesca's　infinite　relief；　she　espied　another　acquaintance　

sitting　in　unprotected　solitude；　who　promised　to　supply　a　more　

durable　audience　than　her　present　rapidly　moving　companion。　　

Francesca　was　free　to　return　to　her　drawing…room　in　Blue　Street　to　

await　with　such　patience　as　she　could　command　the　coming　of　some　

visitor　who　might　be　able　to　throw　light　on　the　subject　that　was　

puzzling　and　disquieting　her。　　The　arrival　of　George　St。　Michael　

boded　bad　news；　but　at　any　rate　news；　and　she　gave　him　an　almost　

cordial　welcome。



〃Well；　you　see　I　wasn't　far　wrong　about　Miss　de　Frey　and　Courtenay　

Youghal；　was　I？〃　he　chirruped；　almost　before　he　had　seated　himself。　　

Francesca　was　to　be　spared　any　further　spinning…out　of　her　period　

of　uncertainty。　　〃Yes；　it's　officially　given　out；〃　he　went　on；　〃and　

it's　to　appear　in　the　MORNING　POST　to…morrow。　　I　heard　it　from　

Colonel　Deel　this　morning；　and　he　had　it　direct　from　Youghal　

himself。　　Yes；　please；　one　lump；　I'm　not　fashionable；　you　see。〃　　He　

had　made　the　same　remark　about　the　sugar　in　his　tea　with　unfailing　

regularity　for　at　least　thirty　years。　　Fashions　in　sugar　are　

apparently　stationary。　　〃They　say；〃　he　continued；　hurriedly；　〃that　

he　proposed　to　her　on　the　Terrace　of　the　House；　and　a　division　bell　

rang；　and　he　had　to　hurry　off　before　she　had　time　to　give　her　

answer；　and　when　he　got　back　she　simply　said；　'the　Ayes　have　it。'〃　　

St。　Michael　paused　in　his　narrative　to　give　an　appreciative　giggle。



〃Just　the　sort　of　inanity　that　would　go　the　rounds；〃　remarked　

Francesca；　with　the　satisfaction　of　knowing　that　she　was　making　the　

criticism　direct　to　the　author　and　begetter　of　the　inanity　in　

question。　　Now　that　the　blow　had　fallen　and　she　knew　the　full　

extent　of　its　weight；　her　feeling　towards　the　bringer　of　bad　news；　

who　sat　complacently　nibbling　at　her　tea…cakes　and　scattering　

crumbs　of　tiresome　small…talk　at　her　feet；　was　one　of　wholehearted　

dislike。　　She　could　sympathise　with；　or　at　any　rate　understand；　the　

tendency　of　oriental　despots　to　inflict　death　or　ignominious　

chastisement　on　messengers　bearing　tidings　of　misfortune　and　

defeat；　and　St。　Michael；　she　perfectly　well　knew；　was　thoroughly　

aware　of　the　fact　that　her　hopes　and　wishes　had　been　centred　on　the　

possibility　of　having　Elaine　for　a　daughter…in…law；　every　purring　

remark　that　his　mean　little　soul　prompted　him　to　contribute　to　the　

conversation　had　an　easily　recognizable　undercurrent　of　malice。　　

Fortunately　for　her　powers　of　polite　endurance；　which　had　been　put　

to　such　searching　and　repeated　tests　that　day；　St。　Michael　had　

planned　out　for　himself　a　busy　little　time…table　of　afternoon　

visits；　at　each　of　which　his　self…appointed　task　of　forestalling　

and　embellishing　the　newspaper　announcements　of　the　Youghal…de　Frey　

engagement　would　be　hurriedly　but　thoroughly　performed。



〃They'll　be　quite　one　of　the　best…looking　and　most　interesting　

couples　of　the　Season；　won't　they？〃　he　cried；　by　way　of　farewell。　　

The　door　closed　and　Francesca　Bassington　sat　alone　in　her　drawing…

room。



Before　she　could　give　way　to　the　bitter　luxury　of　reflection　on　the　

downfall　of　her　hopes；　it　was　prudent　to　take　precautionary　

measures　against　unwelcome　intrusion。　　Summoning　the　maid　who　had　

just　speeded　the　departing　St。　Michael；　she　gave　the　order：　〃I　am　

not　at　home　this　afternoon　to　Lady　Caroline　Benaresq。〃　　On　second　

thoughts　she　extended　the　taboo　to　all　possible　callers；　and　sent　a　

telephone　message　to　catch　Comus　at　his　club；　asking　him　to　come　

and　see　her　as　soon　as　he　could　manage　before　it　was　time　to　dress　

for　dinner。　　Then　she　sat　down　to　think；　and　her　thinking　was　

beyond　the　relief　of　tears。



She　had　built　herself　a　castle　of　hopes；　and　it　had　not　been　a　

castle　in　Spain；　but　a　structure　well　on　the　probable　side　of　the　

Pyrenees。　　There　had　been　a　solid　foundation　on　which　to　build。　　

Miss　de　Frey's　fortune　was　an　assured　and　unhampered　one；　her　

liking　for　Comus　had　been　an　obvious　fact；　his　courtship　of　her　a　

serious　reality。　　The　young　people　had　been　much　together　in　

public；　and　their　names　had　naturally　been　coupled　in　the　match…

making　gossip　of　the　day。　　The　only　serious　shadow　cast　over　the　

scene　had　been　the　persistent　presence；　in　foreground　or　

background；　of　Courtenay　Youghal。　　And　now　the　shadow　suddenly　

stood　forth　as　the　reality；　and　the　castle　of　hopes　was　a　ruin；　a　

hideous　mortification　of　dust　and　debris；　with　the　skeleton　

outlines　of　its　chambers　still　standing　to　make　mockery　of　its　

discomfited　architect。　　The　daily　anxiety　about　Comus　and　his　

extravagant　ways　and　intractable　disposition　had　been　gradually　

lulled　by　the　prospect　of　his　making　an　advantageous　marriage；　

which　would　have　transformed　him　from　a　ne'er…do…well　and　

adventurer　into　a　wealthy　idler。　　He　might　even　have　been　moulded；　

by　the　resourceful　influence　of　an　ambitious　wife；　into　a　man　with　

some　definite　purpose　in　life。　　The　prospect　had　vanished　with　

cruel　suddenness；　and　the　anxieties　were　crowding　back　again；　more　

insistent　than　ever。　　The　boy　had　had　his　one　good　chance　in　the　

matrimonial　market　and　missed　it；　if　he　were　to　transfer　his　

attentions　to　some　other　well…dowered　girl　he　would　be　marked　down　

at　once　as　a　fortune…hunter；　and　that　would　constitute　a　heavy　

handicap　to　the　most　plausible　of　wooers。　　His　liking　for　Elaine　

had　evidently　been　genuine　in　its　way；　though　perhaps　it　would　have　

been　rash　to　read　any　deeper　sentiment　into　it；　but　even　with　the　

spur　of　his　own　inclination　to　assist　him　he　had　failed　to　win　the　

prize　that　had　seemed　so　temptingly　within　his　reach。　　And　in　the　

dashing　of　his　prospects；　Francesca　saw　the　threatening　of　her　own。　　

The　old　anxiety　as　to　her　precarious　tenure　of　her　present　quarters　

put　on　again　all　its　familiar　terrors。　　One　day；　she　foresaw；　in　

the　horribly　near　future；　George　St。　Michael　would　come　pattering　

up　her　stairs　with　the　breathless　intelligence　that　Emmeline　

Chetrof　was　going　to　marry　somebody　or　other　in　the　Guards　or　the　

Record　Office　as　the　case　might　be；　and　then　there　would　be　an　

uprooting　of　her　life　from　its　home　and　haven　in　Blue　Street　and　a　

wandering　forth　to　some　cheap　unhappy　far…off　dwelling；　where　the　

stately　Van　der　Meulen　and　its　companion　host　of　beautiful　and　

desirable　things　would　be　stuffed　and　stowed　away　in　soulless　

surroundings；　like　courtly　emigres　fallen　on　evil　days。　　It　was　

unthinkable；　but　the　trouble　was　that　it　had　to　be　thought　about。　　

And　if　Comus　had　played　his　cards　well　and　transformed　himself　from　

an　encumbrance　into　a　son　with　wealth　at　his　command；　the　tragedy　

which　she　saw　looming　in　front　of　her　might　have　been　avoided　or　at　

the　worst　whittled　down　to　easily　bearable　proportions。　　With　money　

behind　one；　the　problem　of　where　to　live　approaches　more　nearly　to　

the　simple　question　of　where　do　you　wish　to　live；　a