John was recalled, of course, before the end of our furlough, which knocked various things on the head; but that is the sort of thing one learned to take with philosophy in any lengthened term of Her Majesty’s service. Besides, there is usually sugar for the pill; and in this case it was a Staff command bigger than anything we expected for at least five years to come. The excitement of it when it was explained to her gave Cecily a charming colour. She took a good deal of interest in the General, her papa; I think she had an idea that his distinction would alleviate the situation in India, however it might present itself. She accepted that prospective situation calmly; it had been placed before her all her life. There would always be a time when she should go and live with papa and mamma in India, and so long as she was of an age to receive the idea with rebel tears she was assured that papa and mamma would give her a pony. The pony was no longer added to the prospect; it was absorbed no doubt in the general list of attractions calculated to reconcile a young lady to a parental roof with which she had no practical acquaintance. At all events, when I feared the embarrassment and dismay of a pathetic parting with darling grandmamma and the aunties, and the sweet cat and the dear vicar and all the other objects of affection, I found an agreeable unexpected philosophy.
I may add that while I anticipated such broken-hearted farewells I was quite prepared to take them easily. Time, I imagined, had brought philosophy to me also, equally agreeable and equally unexpected.
It was a Bombay ship, full of returning Anglo-Indians. I looked up and down the long saloon tables with a sense of relief and of solace; I was again among my own people. They belonged to Bengal and to Burma, to Madras and to the Punjab, but they were all my people. I could pick out a score that I knew in fact, and there were none that in imagination I didn’t know. The look of wider seas and skies, the casual experienced glance, the touch of irony and of tolerance, how well I knew it and how well I liked it! Dear old England, sitting in our wake, seemed to hold by comparison a great many soft, unsophisticated people, immensely occupied about very particular trifles. How difficult it had been, all the summer, to be interested! These of my long acquaintance belonged to my country’s Executive, acute, alert, with the marks of travail on them. Gladly I went in and out of the women’s cabins and listened to the argot of the men; my own ruling, administering, soldiering little lot.
Cecily looked at them askance. To her the atmosphere was alien, and I perceived that gently and privately she registered objections. She cast a disapproving eye upon the wife of a Conservator of Forests, who scanned with interest a distant funnel and laid a small wager that it belonged to the Messageries Maritimes. She looked with a straightened lip at the crisply stepping women who walked the deck in short and rather shabby skirts with their hands in their jacket-pockets talking transfers and promotions; and having got up at six to make a water-colour sketch of the sunrise, she came to me in profound indignation to say that she had met a man in his pyjamas; no doubt; poor wretch, on his way to be shaved. I was unable to convince her he was not expected to visit the barber in all his clothes.
At the end of the third day she told me that she wished these people wouldn’t talk to her; she didn’t like them. I had turned in the hour we left the Channel and had not left my berth since, so possibly I was not in the most amiable mood to receive a douche of cold water. ‘I must try to remember, dear,’ I said, ‘that you have been brought up altogether in the society of pussies and vicars and elderly ladies, and of course you miss them. But you must have a little patience. I shall be up tomorrow, if this beastly sea continues to go down; and then we will try to find somebody suitable to introduce to you.’
‘Thank you, mamma,’ said my daughter, without a ray of suspicion. Then she added consideringly, ‘Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice do seem quite elderly ladies beside you, and yet you are older than either of them aren’t you? I wonder how that is.’
It was so innocent, so admirable, that I laughed at my own expense; while Cecily, doing her hair, considered me gravely. ‘I wish you would tell me why you laugh, mamma,’ quoth she; ‘you laugh so often.’
We had not to wait after all for my good offices of the next morning. Cecily came down at ten o’clock that night quite happy and excited; she had been talking to a bishop, such a dear bishop. The bishop had been showing her his collection of photographs, and she had promised to play the harmonium for him at the eleven-o’clock service in the morning. ‘Bless me!’ said I, ‘is it Sunday?’ It seemed she had got on very well indeed with the bishop, who knew the married sister, at Tunbridge, of her very greatest friend. Cecily herself did not know the married sister, but that didn’t matter—it was a link. The bishop was charming. ‘Well, my love,’ said I—I was teaching myself to use these forms of address for fear she would feel an unkind lack of them, but it was difficult—‘I am glad that somebody from my part of the world has impressed you favourably at last. I wish we had more bishops.’
‘Oh, but my bishop doesn’t belong to your part of the world,’ responded my daughter sleepily. ‘He is travelling for his health.’
It was the most unexpected and delightful thing to be packed into one’s chair next morning by Dacres Tottenham. As I emerged from the music saloon after breakfast—Cecily had stayed below to look over her hymns and consider with her bishop the possibility of an anthem—Dacres’s face was the first I saw; it simply illuminated, for me, that portion of the deck. I noticed with pleasure the quick toss of the cigar overboard as he recognized and bore down upon me. We were immense friends; John liked him too. He was one of those people who make a tremendous difference; in all our three hundred passengers there could be no one like him, certainly no one whom I could be more glad to see. We plunged at once into immediate personal affairs, we would get at the heart of them later. He gave his vivid word to everything he had seen and done; we laughed and exclaimed and were silent in a concert of admirable understanding. We were still unravelling, still demanding and explaining when the ship’s bell began to ring for church, and almost simultaneously Cecily advanced towards us. She had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers under the brim, and a church-going frock; she wore gloves and clasped a prayer-book. Most of the women who filed past to the summons of the bell were going down as they were, in cotton blouses and serge skirts, in tweed caps or anything, as to a kind of family prayers. I knew exactly how they would lean against the pillars of the saloon during the psalms. This young lady would be little less than a rebuke to them. I surveyed her approach; she positively walked as if it were Sunday.
‘My dear,’ I said, ‘how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be very pleased with you. This gentleman is Mr. Tottenham, who administers Her Majesty’s pleasure in parts of India about Allahabad. My daughter, Dacres.’ She was certainly looking very fresh, and her calm grey eyes had the repose in them that has never known itself to be disturbed about anything. I wondered whether she bowed so distantly also because it was Sunday, and then I remembered that Dacres was a young man, and that the Farnham ladies had probably taught her that it was right to be very distant with young men.
‘It is almost eleven, mamma.’
‘Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.’
‘Are you not coming, mamma?’
I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had ‘La Duchesse Bleue’ uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to. I fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the service, but there was something in my daughter’s intonation that made me distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as they were, extenuating nothing.
‘I think not, dear.’
‘I’ve turned up two such nice seats.’
‘Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,’ said Dacres, with his charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and amused observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and this one was even newer to him than to me.
‘No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,’ I said. ‘When she comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;’ and as the flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of diminishing, Cecily, with one grieved glance, hastened down.
‘You amazing lady!’ said Dacres. ‘A daughter—and such a tall daughter! I somehow never—’
‘You knew we had one?’
‘There was theory of that kind, I remember, about ten years ago. Since then—excuse me—I don’t think you’ve mentioned her.’
‘You talk as if she were a skeleton in the closet!’
‘You DIDN’T talk—as if she were.’
‘I think she was, in a way, poor child. But the resurrection day hasn’t confounded me as I deserved. She’s a very good girl.’
‘If you had asked me to pick out your daughter—’
‘She would have been the last you would indicate! Quite so,’ I said. ‘She is like her father’s people. I can’t help that.’
‘I shouldn’t think you would if you could,’ Dacres remarked absently; but the sea air, perhaps, enabled me to digest his thoughtlessness with a smile.
‘No,’ I said, ‘I am just as well pleased. I think a resemblance to me would confuse me, often.’
There was a trace of scrutiny in Dacres’s glance. ‘Don’t you find yourself in sympathy with her?’ he asked.
‘My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You see, I’ve always stuck to John.’
‘But between mother and daughter—I may be old-fashioned, but I had an idea that there was an instinct that might be depended on.’
‘I am depending on it,’ I said, and let my eyes follow the little blue waves that chased past the hand-rail. ‘We are making very good speed, aren’t we? Thirty-five knots since last night at ten. Are you in the sweep?’
‘I never bet on the way out—can’t afford it. Am I old-fashioned?’ he insisted.
‘Probably. Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about women. I fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed of all.’
‘We see it a beatitude!’ he cried.
‘I know,’ I said wearily, ‘and you never modify the view.’
Dacres contemplated the portion of the deck that lay between us. His eyes were discreetly lowered, but I saw embarrassment and speculation and a hint of criticism in them.
‘Tell me more about it,’ said he.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t be sympathetic!’ I exclaimed. ‘Lend me a little philosophy instead. There is nothing to tell. There she is and there I am, in the most intimate relation in the world, constituted when she is twenty-one and I am forty.’ Dacres started slightly at the ominous word; so little do men realize that the women they like can ever pass out of the constated years of attraction. ‘I find the young lady very tolerable, very creditable, very nice. I find the relation atrocious. There you have it. I would like to break the relation into pieces,’ I went on recklessly, ‘and throw it into the sea. Such things should be tempered to one. I should feel it much less if she occupied another cabin, and would consent to call me Elizabeth or Jane. It is not as if I had been her mother always. One grows fastidious at forty—new intimacies are only possible then on a basis of temperament—’
I paused; it seemed to me that I was making excuses, and I had not the least desire in the world to do that.
‘How awfully rough on the girl!’ said Dacres Tottenham.
‘That consideration has also occurred to me,’ I said candidly, ‘though I have perhaps been even more struck by its converse.’
‘You had no earthly business to be her mother,’ said my friend, with irritation.
I shrugged my shoulders—what would you have done?—and opened ‘La Duchesse Bleue’.
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