Five minutes later came down a scrap of paper (all she had, no doubt) with a little pencil scrawl, saying that Miss Lethbridge was delighted to accept Mr. and Mrs. Swan's kind invitation for seven-thirty, and thanked Sir Lionel Pendragon for obtaining it. I have put this away with my treasures, of course.
I was at the place appointed before the time, and she didn't keep me waiting. As a matter of fact, she's always extraordinarily prompt. Modern school training, I suppose, as Ellaline the First was never known to be in time for anything. And the swans were worth getting up for. They are magnificent creatures; but, unlike many professional beauties, they're as clever as they are handsome. For generations they and their ancestors have been trained to ring a bell when they breakfast; and to see the whole family, mother, babies, and cousins, breasting the clear, lilied water, and waiting in a dignified, not too eager, row while father pulls a bell in the old palace wall, tweaking the string impatiently with his beak, is better than any theatrical performance of this season in London.
Ellaline was entranced, and would have the play played over and over again by the swan actors and the stage manageress, a kindly and polite woman who conducted the entertainment. When we were both ashamed to beg for more, Ellaline suggested a walk round the town, which is of an unspoiled beauty, and you can guess whether or no I was glad to be her guide. I'm certain I should have proposed before breakfast (I wonder if any other man was ever in love enough for that?) if Dick Burden and his aunt hadn't turned a corner at the critical moment. But perhaps it was just as well. In spite of what you say, I am certain she would have refused me.
Nevertheless, for your encouragement, my dear old Pat, I am
Yours ever gratefully,
Pen.
XXVI
MRS. SENTER TO HER SISTER, MRS. BURDEN
_Empire Hotel, Bath_, _August Without End, Amen!_
My Dear Sis: Talk about a land where it is always afternoon! Seems to me it will never stop being August. I'm dead sick of motoring in present company, and so furious with Sir Lionel that the only revenge I can think of is to marry him. Would that I could say, "Vengeance is mine"; but it's still a bird in the bush, I regret to say, while in my hand is nothing save the salt which I'm trying to sprinkle on its tail.
Curious feeling one has on a motor tour. I have the sensation of being detached from my own past (good thing that, for _some_ ladies of our acquaintance!) like a hook that's come out of its eye. The hook, however, is quite ready to fit into any new eye that happens to be handy, or dig out any eye that happens to be in the way. And that brings me back to Mademoiselle Lethbridge. It really can't be good for one's liver to dislike anyone as much as I have grown to dislike that girl; but unfortunately I can't afford to despise her. She is clever; almost too clever, for cherished, protected, schoolgirl nineteen. Would that I could find a screw loose in her history! Wouldn't I make it rattle? I thought I had got hold of one, through the Tyndals, but Sir Lionel wouldn't listen to the rattling, wouldn't let it rattle for an instant. It is only the change of climate and English food that prevents his manners from being (as no doubt they were in Eastern climes) those of a Bashaw; and if he were one's husband he couldn't be more disagreeable than he is at times.
Not that he means to be disagreeable. If he did, one would know how to take him--or not to take him. But it is his polite indifference to which I object. I'm not used to it in men. It's like a brick wall you're dying to kick against, only it's no use. I don't take all the trouble I do with my hair and complexion not to be looked at, I assure you. Why, my waist might just as well be two inches bigger for all he notices! It is too trying. And then, to see the way he looks at that girl, who doesn't know enough about physical economy to make powder stick on her nose when it rains!
It does me good to talk to you like this. Dick isn't sympathetic, because he happens to be in love with the young female, and though he occasionally abuses her himself, on the spur of a snub, he won't let me do it.
Don't think, however, that I give up hope. By no means. I have heaps of tricks up my sleeve, small and fashionable as it is, and lots of strings to my bow. But I just wish one was a "bowstring" and round a girl's neck. I'd give a tiny, tiny pull. In fact, I _did_ give one yesterday--one which I've been wanting to give ever since I received your letter. But actually, till yesterday, I never got a chance. I "made" several, but they always went to bits, like a child's house of cards. Poor me! That is part of the creature's cleverness. I think she knew by instinct that I had something nasty to say, and she kept dodging about, preventing me from laying hands (I won't say claws) on her.
Dick, too, she has kept in the same position, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Indeed, she has handled us both surprisingly well, considering her age and bringing up. I have a certain respect for her. But one often respects people one dislikes, doesn't one? At least, really nice, amusing people of my type do.
Exactly what Dick wants to do with his white mouse when he has pounced on it I have no means of knowing, for since a slight misunderstanding, not to say row, which we had on the night of his return from Scotland and you, a certain reserve has fallen between us, like a stage curtain. He is on the stage side; I am in the position of audience. But I was never in doubt for a moment as to what would follow _my_ pounce, provided the mouse didn't prove too strong for me--and I don't think it has. My pretty little ladylike bite must have left a mark on the velvet fur.
I dare say I have excited your curiosity by referring to a "row" with Dick, and lest you neglect my interests in the rest of the letter, to brood upon his, I'd better pander at once to your maternal anxiety.
He wouldn't have confessed to me anything you had told him about Miss Lethbridge's antecedents, for the very good reason that he hangs onto her with the grip of a bulldog on a marrow-bone; but as I was armed with your letter (I found it waiting for me at Bideford) containing full information, he saw it was no use to keep anything back.
If I had had the letter a little earlier I might not have racked my valuable brain as violently as I did to give him a chance alone with Ellaline. I arranged for him to find her deserted at King Arthur's Castle, like Mariana in her moated grange; but on reading what you had to say, I admit I had qualms as to the wisdom of my policy where Dick's future was concerned. However, even then I trusted to myself to save him if it came to the worst; and it might have been valuable for my future if things had happened "according to schedule"--just because Sir Lionel _is_ such a Bashaw. He would never again have felt the same to the girl if she had schemed to be left behind in order to meet Dick. However--I can control most men, and many women, but I can't control trains; and it was through their missing connections that Dick missed rescuing his ladylove. As it has turned out, no harm has been done to him. I wish I could be as sure of myself; for Sir Lionel, I fancy, hasn't been quite as nice since. He can't guess what I had to do with the affair; but--I suppose even men have instinct, inferior to ours though it be.
Dick came to my room at Bideford, and was cross because things had gone wrong; I was cross because he was cross (I hate injustice in anyone but myself), and then he was crosser because I told him it would never do for him to marry the girl, knowing what we now know. He said he would have her, and hang everybody else, especially Sir Lionel; I argued that hanging people would do no good; and he then said that it would be all right anyhow about the _dot_, as he knew a way of getting something decent out of Sir Lionel for her. What he knew he firmly refused to divulge, and when I asked if he'd told you, he replied that he jolly well hadn't. Also he accused me of "stinginess," in not wanting "Pendragon to part," and wishing to keep the "whole hog" for myself; his delicate way of expressing my desire to retain the means of purchasing tiaras, etc., suitable to my rank, in case I should become the future Lady Pendragon.
At this point in the conversation our family relations were somewhat strained, but before they reached snapping point, with my accustomed tact (partly learned from you) I smoothed my nephew down, regardless of my own injured feelings. Nothing could be better for me than that he should be engaged to Miss Lethbridge, though, of course, nothing could be worse for us all than that he should marry her. Trust me, I say again, as I have said before, to prevent that. I assure you, I can easily do it. Meanwhile, I encourage Dick to believe that he has softened my hard heart; and though he doesn't believe in me absolutely, or tell me all the workings of his mind, I'm certain you need have no anxiety about your son and heir.