She had managed rather marvellously to redeem one room from the old-fashioned severity of the rest of the house,the library behind the big "parlour."It was Nancy's room,eloquent of her daintiness and taste,of her essential modernity and luxuriousness;and that evening,as I was ushered into it,this quality of luxuriousness,of being able to shut out the disagreeable aspects of life that surrounded and threatened her,particularly impressed me.She had not lacked opportunities to escape.
I wondered uneasily as I waited why she had not embraced them.I strayed about the room.A coal fire burned in the grate,the red-shaded lamps gave a subdued but cheerful light;some impulse led me to cross over to the windows and draw aside the heavy hangings.Dusk was gathering over that garden,bleak and frozen now,where we had romped together as children.How queer the place seemed!How shrivelled!Once it had had the wide range of a park.There,still weathering the elements,was the old-fashioned latticed summer-house,but the fruit-trees that I recalled as clouds of pink and white were gone....A touch of poignancy was in these memories.I dropped the curtain,and turned to confront Nancy,who had entered noiselessly.
"Well,Hugh,were you dreaming?"she said.
"Not exactly,"I replied,embarrassed."I was looking at the garden.""The soot has ruined it.My life seems to be one continual struggle against the soot,--the blacks,as the English call them.It's a more expressive term.They are like an army,you know,overwhelming in their relentless invasion.Well,do sit down.It is nice of you to come.
You'll have some tea,won't you?"
The maid had brought in the tray.Afternoon tea was still rather a new custom with us,more of a ceremony than a meal;and as Nancy handed me my cup and the thinnest of slices of bread and butter I found the intimacy of the situation a little disquieting.Her manner was indeed intimate,and yet it had the odd and disturbing effect of making her seem more remote.As she chatted I answered her perfunctorily,while all the time I was asking myself why I had ceased to desire her,whether the old longing for her might not return--was not even now returning?I might indeed go far afield to find a wife so suited to me as Nancy.She had beauty,distinction,and position.She was a woman of whom any man might be proud....
"I haven't congratulated you yet,Hugh,"she said suddenly,"now that you are a partner of Mr.Watling's.I hear on all sides that you are on the high road to a great success.""Of course I'm glad to be in the firm,"I admitted.
It was a new tack for Nancy,rather a disquieting one,this discussion of my affairs,which she had so long avoided or ignored."You are getting what you have always wanted,aren't you?"I wondered in some trepidation whether by that word "always"she was making a deliberate reference to the past.
"Always?"I repeated,rather fatuously.
"Nearly always,ever since you have been a man."I was incapable of taking advantage of the opening,if it were one.She was baffling.
"A man likes to succeed in his profession,of course,"I said.
"And you made up your mind to succeed more deliberately than most men.Ineedn't ask you if you are satisfied,Hugh.Success seems to agree with you,--although I imagine you will never be satisfied.""Why do you say that?"I demanded.
"I haven't known you all your life for nothing.I think I know you much better than you know yourself.""You haven't acted as if you did,"I exclaimed.
She smiled.
"Have you been interested in what I thought about you?"she asked.
"That isn't quite fair,Nancy,"I protested."You haven't given me much evidence that you did think about me.""Have I received much encouragement to do so?"she inquired.
"But you haven't seemed to invite--you've kept me at arm's length.""Oh,don't fence!"she cried,rather sharply.
I had become agitated,but her next words gave me a shock that was momentarily paralyzing.
"I asked you to come here to-day,Hugh,because I wished you to know that I have made up my mind to marry Hambleton Durrett.""Hambleton Durrett!"I echoed stupidly."Hambleton Durrett!""Why not?""Have you--have you accepted him?""No.But I mean to do so.""You--you love him?""I don't see what right you have to ask.""But you just said that you invited me here to talk frankly.""No,I don't love him.""Then why,in heaven's name,are you going to marry him?"She lay back in her chair,regarding me,her lips slightly parted.All at once the full flavour of her,the superfine quality was revealed after years of blindness.--Nor can I describe the sudden rebellion,the revulsion that I experienced.Hambleton Durrett!It was an outrage,a sacrilege!I got up,and put my hand on the mantel.Nancy remained motionless,inert,her head lying back against the chair.Could it be that she were enjoying my discomfiture?There is no need to confess that I knew next to nothing of women;had I been less excited,I might have made the discovery that I still regarded them sentimentally.Certain romantic axioms concerning them,garnered from Victorian literature,passed current in my mind for wisdom;and one of these declared that they were prone to remain true to an early love.Did Nancy still care for me?
The query,coming as it did on top of my emotion,brought with it a strange and overwhelming perplexity.Did I really care for her?The many years during which I had practised the habit of caution began to exert an inhibiting pressure.Here was a situation,an opportunity suddenly thrust upon me which might never return,and which I was utterly unprepared to meet.Would I be happy with Nancy,after all?Her expression was still enigmatic.
"Why shouldn't I marry him?"she demanded.
"Because he's not good enough for you."
