Robert Orange
to admit fear of conquest.
"Those opals are beautiful," said he, presently.
"I am glad you approve of--the opals."
"But you put them to a disadvantage."
"O! is that a compliment? The first you have ever paid me."
"Do you care about them?"
"From you, yes. I was reading in Saint-Simon's Memoirs yesterday that
your ancestor--Charles de Hausee--was the first swordsman, the bravest
soldier, the hardest rider, and the best judge of women in France. But
let us be serious. Lady Larch is wearing her brightest smile!"
"Must we be very earnest this evening?"
"I am afraid so. You see, I have secured Pole-Knox. He has never been
permitted to dine here before."
"Why not?"
"Because I once told Lady Augusta that he was a man for the shortest
part of the afternoon--not for evenings, at all. She couldn't forgive
this."
"Does she forgive it now?"
"Yes. She has reached the stage when one may criticise him."
"That means a complete cure, I suppose."
"Far from it--resignation to the worst that can be said of his
character. There is no cure possible then."
"Have you had any conversation with Reckage?" he asked.
Sara coloured and put her fingers to her lips.
"Hush!" said she. "There's a deceptive quiet about him which puzzles me.
But I don't think he is sorry to be rid of Agnes. A regiment of
relatives drove him into the engagement. Now it has come to an end--let
us thank God!"
"Your own conscience is easy, I take it?"
"You have no right to ask such a question--none at all."
"Some men, you know, can be laughed out of their loves," he continued.
"Timorous men--yes! Is Reckage timorous?"
"You turned that most adroitly."
"Thank you. Please sit between Lady Augusta and Aumerle at dinner."
The dinner passed most agreeably. As little as possible was said about
the Meeting; each talked to his or her neighbour, and although the
separate dialogues may have been profound, the general effect produced
was one of restful flippancy. Pole-Knox remarked over his fish that
England had little to fear--unless through the corruption of her
religion, whereupon Penborough declared that religion in the country was
a School, not a Church. To this Lady Augusta rejoined that Rome's
strength depended merely on Canterbury's weakness.
"Forcing a change is a very ticklish business," said Aumerle, studying
the menu, and regretting that his digestion was not all it had been.
Lord Garrow deplored the fact that Mr. Gladstone had embarked on a very
vulgar and very false policy.
"But its vulgarity," he sighed, "gives it a very easy reception."
"He expects everything except docility," said Penborough; "if the
Opposition employ that means, they will embarrass all his calculations."
Reckage, meanwhile, was confiding to Sara--
"I turned the horse round, rammed my spurs in, and put him at the rails
again!"
One statement, made by Penborough, caused a flutter.
"If Catherine of Arragon had been immoral and Mary Stuart virtuous, the
whole course of European History would have been different. The
Reformation, for instance, would have found no favour in England."
"That's _very_ advanced," murmured Lady Larch.
Sara, at dessert, tried to encourage a debate on the egoism of the
Saints compared with the egoism of Montaigne.
"They were selfishly bent on pain and renunciation, he was selfishly
bent on pleasure and indulgence. Isn't that the one difference between
them, Mr. Orange?"
Orange refused to be drawn, but he promised to lend her the _Acta
Sanctorum_ of the Bollandists in sixty volumes in folio.
"After you have read them," said he, "I will tell you my ideas about
Montaigne."
Many other remarks were probably more amusing; these, however, were the
most characteristic.
When dinner was ended, Sara and the two ladies withdrew to the
drawing-room, where they discussed with the utmost vehemence Orange's
illegal marriage and Reckage's broken engagement.
The sum and substance of their investigations were as follows:--
Lady Larch wondered what the world was coming to.
Lady Augusta declared that no woman yet ever fathomed the heart of man.
Lady Sara maintained that it was a very good thing for both young men to
have had such reverses before they finally settled down.
At this Lady Augusta forgot to sigh, and Lady Larch lost control of her
smile.
"How," exclaimed Augusta, "can they forget so soon? Can any settling
down be in contemplation? Are no deep, sacred feelings left?"
Emmeline Larch, who was a widow, said she would never be hard on any one
who tried to recover, for the sake of others, from a shattering
bereavement.
"Dear Lady Larch!" exclaimed Sara.
The three women formed a picturesque group round the fireplace as the
men entered. But the card-tables were already placed, and Sara lost no
time in arranging a quartette for whist. Penborough had to leave for the
_Times_ office. Pole-Knox had to hurry back to Fulham. The young lady,
who was known to detest all games, was thus able to choose Robert for
her partner in a short conversation.
"Forgive me," said she, "but--have you anything to tell me about Mrs.
Parflete?"
"Yes; she is now with Pensee."
"May I call upon her? May I know her? Would she see me?"
"With pleasure, I am sure."
"And you?" she asked.
"I don't see her," he said quietly; "I don't hear from her. I don't
write to her. And--I don't talk about her. But I should like you to know
her. She needs true friends--who understand."
"Have you been to Prince d'Alchingen's, or has he approached you in any
way?"
"I am to dine with him to-morrow."
"Has he said anything to you about the Marquis of Castrillon?"
"Not a word," replied Robert, in surprise: "why should he?"
"I believe there is mischief in the air. Be careful, won't you? Reckage
is watching us. I think he would like some music. He is so _triste_ this
evening."
She moved away, and played delightfully on the guitar until the guests
rose to leave. Then she found an opportunity to tell Lord Reckage not to
come back again. She was tired, she said, and her papa would think it
too odd.
"Then to-morrow morning," said he.
She named an hour.
CHAPTER XX
Robert, on leaving the house, drove to Grosvenor Gate, where he had an
appointment with Disraeli. The ex-Minister was sitting, in a flowered
dressing-gown, by the library fire. The blinds were not drawn, for the
night was bright and starry; the moonlight streamed into the room,
mingling strangely with the soft glow of the green-shaded lamp. There
was a large bundle of documents on the table by Disraeli's side, and a
pile of Continental newspapers on the floor. One of the latter he was
reading, and, by the slight curl of his mouth and the gleam in his fine
eyes, Orange saw that he was working out, to his amusement, some train
of thought which gave full jurisdiction to his knowledge of humanity.
"Bismarck," said he, "is the first German statesman who has not regarded
newspapers as inconvenient lumber. He wishes the Press to advance his
great ideas by assuming the place of the Universities in training public
opinion, and the place of the Church in controlling it. He might as well
strive to make the horse into the lion, the mule into the unicorn, a
parrot into the soaring eagle! Any man who is written up into a place
can be written down out of it. Our friend will learn this too
late--probably about the time that we, in England, are adopting, with
enthusiasm, his present error. Ah, my dear Orange, watch the sky and you
will learn the hearts of men. Observe the changing light, the clouds
driven by the wind, the glimpses of pure blue, the sudden blackness, the
startling brilliancy, and then--the monotonous grey. They seem too hard
for me, at times. The clash between ideas and interests makes our
inheritance a grim battlefield, and there are moments of mortification
when one may feel tempted to sell it--not for a mess of pottage, but for
the _promise_ of a mess of pottage. Tempted, I said. There is always a
course left, if you have the courage to face it. It may avail you; I
cannot insure you even that. But if I were in your place, I would try."
"I could never do better, sir, than to follow your advice or your
example."
"Never betray, then, the least depression at disappointments or
reverses, but seize the few joyful occasions of life for the indulgence
of any accumulated melancholy and bitterness. By this simple rule you
will escape the charge urged against all the ambitious, who are usually
as intoxicated by success as they are cowardly in adversity. It delights
me to see you in high spirits. Tell me the news, but first give me your
opinion of this little paragraph which will appear in to-morrow's
_Times_."
He took from his pocket-book a slip of paper on which was written the
following in Mrs. Disraeli's hand:--
Mr. Orange, the new Member for Norbet Royal, is the son of a French
nobleman of very ancient lineage. It was a condition of his
adoption by the late Admiral Bertin that his own name should be
dropped, and he has accordingly always borne that of the Orange
family. The circumstances of his birth were communicated to the
Queen before his naturalisation as a British subject, and his
presentation, by Mr. Disraeli, at Court.
"Was that necessary?" asked Robert.
"A public man must speak out, and this expedient occurred to me as a
slight pull in your favour. The two things in life which are really
gratuitous are the grace of God and one's pedigree! The rest depends
upon ourselves. Now you can't think how much I am interested in every
little detail of your mental experiences. I believe you will be a Jesuit
yet. I have never concealed my respect for the Jesuits. When Spain and
France expelled the Society of Jesus, they persecuted their truest
allies. A terrible price, too, they paid for that crime. You see, then,
that I understand staunch Catholics. If I could rouse an Imperial
feeling in England which would at all correspond with the feeling of
Catholics for their Church! Sometimes I dream this may be possible.
Pope, the satirist, remained, in spite of his wit, a loyal son of the
Faith, while many dull worthies who shuddered at his epigrams were
recanting daily either from fear or for some worldly advantage. In the
same way, Robert, men who hate my novels because they contain a few
truths, would sell England, if they could, to-morrow. I mentioned the
fact about Pope to a gentleman who complains that you are by no means
typical of your co-religionists in this country."
"The very expression 'typical Catholic' is a paradox," replied Robert,
who always accepted adverse criticism with good humour; "there is one
Spirit, but it has many manifestations. From the apostles, saints and
martyrs to the rank and file, we have to recognise the individuality of
each soul. In fact, sir, is not that the very essence of the Church's
teaching?"
"So I have always understood. And we have not heard the last of the 'law
of liberty'; although I observe to my chagrin that many modern Papists
depart from those great principles which they should take every
opportunity of claiming as their own. In the freezing snows of the
world's solitude, a prudent man does not try to make himself happy, but
he is less than a man if he allows others to make him wretched. The
flesh has its discomfort: the spirit, however, has its illimitable
conjectures. When all else fails me, I may still find solace in
conjectures. Does it strike you that they may have, nevertheless, a
danger also?"
"This is your own way of asking me whether I know my own mind! If you
mean, Have I put all sentiment resolutely from my thoughts, Yes. If you
mean, Have I determined to continue in my present line till I have a