The Reflections of Ambrosine Part 15

"Of course, you are cousins, in a way. You don't know how interested Antony was in you that night after the Tilchester Yeomanry ball. He came and sat in my sitting-room and talked to me about you, and then it was he put two and two together and discovered you were related. I had heard that evening about your grandmother and you living at the cottage, and was able to give him some information. I don't think he realized when you met that you were connected, did he?"

"No, not at all."

"A friend of mine and I were sitting by the fire, having said good-night to the rest of the party--do you remember what a cold May night it was? Antony came in and joined us. We all had admired you so. I recollect this is one of the things he said: 'I met an eighteenth-century marquise to-night.'"

"Yes, he called me that."

"He is so very hard to please. The ordinary women, like Babykins and Cordelia Grenellen, don't understand his subtle wit. They are generally in love with him, though. Cordelia was madly _eprise_ last autumn; but he is as indifferent as possible, and does not trouble himself about any of them. He is reported to have said once that it had taken him five years to degrade himself sufficiently to be able to enjoy the society of modern women. He is a wonderful cynic!"

"The Duke gave me to understand that no man of the world was ever without some affair," I said.

"Well, I suppose it is true more or less, but Antony is always the person who holds the cheek, hardly even complacently--generally with perfect indifference. I have never known him, for years, put himself out an inch for any woman."

I don't know why, but this conversation interested me deeply.

Just then some one came and joined us at the window, and Lady Tilchester had to rise and talk with her other guests; but before she moved off she put her hand on my arm and said, as if she had only then remembered it:

"Oh, the housekeeper let me know just now that some soot had fallen in your chimney. I do hope you won't mind sleeping in a tiny bedroom off mine, just for to-night. We were so afraid the smell would keep you awake. Your maid has moved your things."

Dear and kind lady! I will never forget your goodness to me nor cease to love you.

It was pouring rain as we drove home next day.

Augustus and I only met as we were ready to get into the carriage. I had breakfasted in my room.

His face was the color of putty, and he had that look in his eyes which, I remember, long ago I used to say appeared as if he had not had enough sleep. His expression was sulky and morose, and I was thankful when at last we started.

The guests were catching all sorts of trains. There were casual good-byes. Lady Tilchester was not down, and no one occupied themselves much with any one.

Lady Grenellen left just before us. She did not take the least notice of me, but she talked in a caressing way to Augustus, and I heard him say:

"Now, you won't forget! It is a bargain!" in the most _empresse_ voice, as he pulled his head out of the carriage-window.

For the first mile or two of our journey neither of us spoke. Augustus lit a cigarette and smoked in a nervous way, and kept opening and shutting the window.

Then he swore at me. I will not say the words he used, but the sentence ended with a demand why I sat there looking like a "stuck pig."

I told him quietly that if he spoke to me like that I would not reply at all.

He got very angry and said he would have none of that nonsense; that I seemed to forget that I was his wife, and that he could do as he pleased with me.

"No, you cannot," I said. "I will not be spoken to like that."

"You'll be spoken to just as I jolly well please," was his refined reply. "Sitting there like a white wax doll, and giving yourself the airs of a d.u.c.h.ess!"

I did not answer.

"A deaf and dumb doll, too," he said, with an oath.

He then asked where I had been all night, and what I had meant by daring to stay away from him.

I remained perfectly silent, which, I fear, was infinitely provoking, but I could not stoop to bandy words with him.

He began to bl.u.s.ter, and loaded me with every coa.r.s.e abuse and a tremendous justification of himself and his behavior of the night before. I had not mentioned the subject or accused him of anything, but he a.s.sured me he had not been the least drunk and that my haughtiness was enough to drive any man mad.

When at least ten minutes of this torrent had spent itself a little, I said the whole subject was so disagreeable to me and discreditable to him that he had better not talk of it and I would try and forget it.

Grandmamma often told me how her grandfather, the husband of Ambrosine Eustasie, had refused to fight with a man of low birth who had insulted him, but had sent one of his valets to throw the creature into the street, because in those days a gentleman only crossed swords with his equals. I now understood his feelings. I could not quarrel with Augustus, the whole situation was so impossible.

I tried to tell myself that it did not in the least matter what he said and did. Then, as he continued abusing me, I repeated a bit of Beranger to myself, and so grew unconscious, at last, of the words he was saying.

Silence came eventually, and then, after a while, in quite a humble voice, Augustus said:

"I say, little woman--er--you won't tell the mater--er--will you?"

Something touched me in his face--his common, unpleasant face. The bl.u.s.ter was gone and there was a piteousness in it. I felt a slight lump in my throat.

"Oh no; do not fear," I said.

Then he called me an angel and kissed me many times, and that was the worst of all.

Oh! When the year is up, will the "monotonous complacency" have set in?

V

The days are flying by. October has almost come, and the damp and the falling leaves. It will soon be time for Mrs. Gurrage to depart for Bournemouth.

Augustus is in a continual ferment, as the report that the rest of the Tilchester Yeomanry are going to volunteer for active service has cropped up frequently, and, while he likes the uniform and what he considers the prestige of belonging to such a corps, he has no ardor for using his weapons against the Boers.

I have tried very hard to take an interest in the matter, but the numbness has returned. The oppression of the surroundings at Ledstone cramps my spirit.

We have had several "parties"--batches of Gurrage relations--one or two really awful people. And some days ago I was bidden to write and invite the guests for the first big partridge drive.

"The mater will be gone to Bournemouth," Augustus said, "and you'll have to stand on your own legs."

Matrimony has not cured him of his habit of using horrid phrases.

He has often been very rude to me lately, and has taken to going more frequently to town for the day, and stays away for a night or two sometimes.

These seem to me as holidays, and I have never thought of asking him where he has been, although he comes back with an apologetic air of a guilty school-boy which ought to excite my jealousy, I feel sure.

During these absences his mother looks uneasy and has once or twice asked me if I know where he is.