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Love at Second Sight

<h3 id="id00324" style="margin-top: 3em">CHAPTER VI</h3> Edith and Madame Frabelle had long talks next day over the little dinner-party, and the people of their intimate circle whom she had met. She was delighted with Landi, though a little frightened of him, as most people were when they first knew him, unless he really liked them immensely. She impressed on Edith to beware of Mr. Mitchell. Bruce, for once, had really been satisfied with his own entertainment, and declared to Edith that Madame Frabelle had made it go off splendidly. Edith was growing to like her more and more. In a house where Bruce lived it was certainly a wonderful help to have a third person often present—if it was the right person. The absurd irritations and scenes of fault-finding that she had become inured to, but which were always trying, were now shorter, milder, or given up altogether. Bruce's temper was perennially good, and got better. Then the constant illnesses that he used to suffer from—he was unable to pass the military examination and go to the front on account of a neurotic heart—these illnesses were either omitted entirely or talked over with Madame Frabelle, whose advice turned out more successful than that of a dozen specialists. 'An extraordinary woman she is, you know, Edith,' he said. 'You know that really peculiar feeling I sometimes have?' 'Which, dear?' 'You know that sort of emptiness in the feet, and heaviness in the head, and that curious kind of twitching of the eyelids that I get?' 'Yes, I know. Well, dear?' 'Well, Madame Frabelle has given me a complete cure for it. It seems her husband (by the way, what a brute he must have been, and what a life that poor woman led! However, never mind that now) had something very much of the same kind, only not quite so bad.' 'Which, dear?' 'How do you mean "Which"? Which what?' 'Which peculiar feeling?' 'What peculiar feeling are we talking about?' 'I said, which peculiar feeling did Mr. Frabelle have?' 'What are you trying to get at, Edith?' He looked at her suspiciously. Edith sighed. 'Was it the heaviness in the feet, or the lightness in the head, or was it the twitching of the eyelid which Mr. Frabelle used to suffer from?' 'Oh, ah! Yes, I see what you mean. It seemed he had a little of them all. But what do you think she used to do?' 'I haven't the slightest idea.' 'There's some stuff called Tisane—have you ever heard of it?' Bruce asked. 'It's a simple remedy, but a very good thing. Well, he used to use that.' 'Did he bathe his eye with it?' 'Oh, my dear Edith, you're wool-gathering. Do pull yourself together. He drank it, that's what he did, and that's what I'm going to do. Eg—Madame Frabelle would go straight down into the kitchen and show you how to make it if you like.' 'I don't mind, if cook doesn't,' said Edith. 'Oh, we'll see about that. Anyway she's going to show me how to get it made. 'Then there's another thing Madame Frabelle suggested. She's got an idea it would do me a world of good to spend a day in the country.' 'Oh, really? Sounds a good idea.' 'Yes. Say, on the river. She's not been there for years it seems. She thinks she would rather enjoy it.' 'I should think it would be a capital plan,' said Edith. 'Well, how about next Saturday?' said Bruce, thinking he was concealing his eagerness and satisfaction. 'Saturday? Oh yes, certainly. Saturday, by all means, if it's fine. What time shall we start?' He started at once, but was silent. 'Saturday, yes,' Edith went on, after a glance at him. 'Only, I promised to take the two children to an afternoon performance.' 'Did you though?' Bruce brightened up. 'Rather hard luck on them to disappoint them. Mind you, Edith, I don't believe in spoiling children. I don't think their parents should be absolute slaves to them; but, on the other hand, I don't think it's good for them to disappoint them quite so much as that; and, after all—well, a promise to a child!' He shook his head sentimentally. 'Perhaps it's a fad of mine; I daresay it is; but I don't like the idea of breaking a promise to a child!' 'It does seem a shame. Too bad.' 'You agree with me? I knew you would. I've heard you say the same yourself. Well then, look here, Edith; suppose we do it—suppose you do it, I mean. Suppose you go with Archie and Dilly. They're to lunch with my mother, aren't they?' 'Yes, dear. But we were to have fetched them from there and then taken them on to the theatre!' 'Well, do it, then, my dear girl! Stick to your plan. Don't let me spoil your afternoon! Gracious heaven! I—I—why, I can quite well take Madame Frabelle myself.' He looked at the barometer. 'The glass is going up,' he said, giving it first a tap and then a slight shake to encourage it to go up higher and to look sharp about it. 'So that's settled, then, dear. That's fixed up. I'll take her on the river. I don't mind in the very least. I shall be only too pleased—delighted. Oh, don't thank me, my dear girl; I know one ought to put oneself out for a guest, especially a widow … under these circumstances over in England … during the war too … hang it, it's the least one can do.'… Bruce's murmurings were interrupted by the entrance of the lady in question. He made the suggestion, and explained the arrangement. She consented immediately with much graciousness. 'I dote on the river, and haven't been for years.' 'Now where would you like to go?' he asked. 'What part of the river do you like? How about Maidenhead?' 'Oh, any part. Don't ask me! Anything you suggest is sure to be right. You know far more about these things than I do. But Maidenhead—isn't it just a little commonplace? A little noisy and crowded, even now?' 'By jove, yes, you're quite right. Madame Frabelle's perfectly right, Edith, you know. Well, what about Shepperton?' 'Shepperton? Oh, charming! Dear little town. But it isn't exactly what I call the river, if you know what I mean. I mean to say—' 'Well, could you suggest a place?' said Bruce. 'Oh, I'm the worst person in the world for suggesting anything,' said Madame Frabelle. 'And I know so little of the river. But how about Kingston?' 'Kingston? Oh, capital. That would be charming.' 'Kyngestown, as it used to be called' (Madame Frabelle hastened to show her knowledge) 'in the days when Saxon kings were crowned there. Am I wrong or not? Oh, surely yes…. Wasn't it Kingston? Didn't great Caesar cross the river there? And the Roman legions camp upon the sloping uplands?' Bruce gasped. 'You know everything!' he exclaimed. 'Oh no. I remember a little about the history,' she said modestly, 'Ah, poor, weak King Edwy!' 'Yes, indeed,' said Bruce, though he had no recollection of having heard the gentleman mentioned before. 'Poor chap!' 'Too bad,' murmured Edith. 'How he must have hated that place!' said Madame Frabelle. 'Rather. I should think so indeed.' 'However, you won't,' said Edith adroitly changing the subject, seeing her husband getting deeper out of his depth. Most of the evening Madame Frabelle read up Baedeker, to the immense astonishment of Bruce, who had never before thought of regarding the river from the historical and geographical point of view. The next day, which was fine, if not warm, the two started off with a certain amount of bustle and a bundle of rugs, Madame Frabelle in a short skirt with a maritime touch about the collar and what she called a suitable hat and a dark blue motor veil. She carried off the whole costume to admiration. Archie seemed rather bewildered and annoyed at this division of the party. 'But, Mother, we're going out to lunch with grandmother.' 'I know, darling. I'll come and fetch you from there.' Conventional and restrained as Archie usually was, he sometimes said curious things. Edith saw by his dreamy expression he was going to say one now. He looked at her for a little while after his father's departure and then asked: 'Mother!' 'Yes, darling.' 'Is Madame Frabelle a nice little friend for father?' Edith knew he had often heard her and the nurse or the governess discussing whether certain children were nice little friends for him or Dilly. 'Oh yes, dear, very nice.' 'Oh.' The cook came in for orders. 'You're going to lunch all alone then, aren't you, Mother?' 'Yes, I suppose I must. I don't mind. I've got a nice book.' Archie walked slowly to the door, then said in a tone of envious admiration which contained a note of regret: 'I suppose you'll order a delicious pudding?' * * * * * She went to fetch the children, who were excited at the prospect of a theatre. The elder Mrs Ottley was a pleasant woman, who understood and was utterly devoted to her daughter-in-law. Fond as she was of her son, she marvelled at Edith's patience and loved her as much as she loved Bruce. Though she had never been told, for she was the sort of woman who does not require to be told things in order to know them, she knew every detail of the sacrifice Edith had once made. She had been almost as charmed by Aylmer Ross as her daughter-in-law was, and she had considered Edith's action nearly sublime. But she had never believed Edith was at that time really in love with Aylmer. She had said, after Bruce's return: 'It mustn't happen again, you know, Edith.' 'What mustn't?' 'Don't spoil Bruce. You've made it almost too easy for him. Don't let him think he can always be running away and coming back!' 'No, never again,' Edith had answered, with a laugh. Now they never spoke of the subject. It was a painful one to Mrs Ottley. Today that lady seemed inclined to detain Edith, and make her—as Archie feared—late for the rising of the curtain. 'You really like Madame Frabelle so much, dear?' 'Really I do,' said Edith. 'The more I know her, the more I like her. She's the most good-natured, jolly, kind woman I've ever seen. Landi likes her too. That's a good sign.' 'And she keeps Bruce in a good temper?' said Mrs Ottley slyly. 'Well, why shouldn't she? I'm not afraid of Madame Frabelle,' Edith said, laughing. 'After all, Bruce may be thirty-seven, but she's fifty.' 'She's a wonderful woman,' admitted Mrs. Ottley, who had at first disliked her, but had come round, like everyone else. 'Very very nice; and really I do like her. But you know my old-fashioned ideas. I never approve of a third person living with a married couple.' 'Oh—living! She's only been with us about a month.' 'But you don't think she's going away before the end of the season?' 'You can't call it a season. And she can't easily settle down just now, on account of the war. Many of her relations are abroad, and some in the country. She hasn't made up her mind where to live yet. She has never had a house of her own since her husband died.' 'Yes, I see.' 'Do come, Mother!' urged Archie. 'All right, darling.' 'Will I have to take my hat off?' pouted Dilly, who had on a new hat with daisies round it, in which she looked like a baby angel. She had a great objection to removing it. 'Yes, dear. Why should you mind?' 'My hair will be all anyhow if I have to take it off in the theatre,' said Dilly. 'Don't be a silly little ass,' Archie murmured to his sister. 'Why, in some countries women would be sent to prison unless they took their hats off at a play!' The three reached the theatre in what even Archie called good time. This meant to be alone in the dark, gloomy theatre for at least twenty minutes, no-one present as yet, except two or three people eating oranges in the gallery. He liked to be the first and the last. Edith was fancying to herself how Madame Frabelle would lay down the law about the history of Kingston, and read portions of the guide-book aloud, while Bruce was pointing out the scenery. The entertainment, which was all odds and ends, entertained the children, but rather bored her. Archie was learning by heart—which was a way he had—the words of a favourite song now being sung— 'Kitty, Kitty, isn't it a pity, In the city you work so hard,— With your one, two, three, four, five, Six, three, seven, five, Cerrard? Kitty, Kitty, isn't it a pity, That you're wasting so much time? With your lips close to the telephone, When they might be close to mine_!' When Edith's eye was suddenly attracted by the appearance of a boy in khakis, who was in a box to her right. He looked about seventeen and was tall and good-looking; but what struck her about him was his remarkable likeness in appearance and in movement to Aylmer Ross. Even his back reminded her strongly of her hero. There was something familiar in the thick, broad shoulders, in the cool ease of manner, and in the expression of the face. But could that young man—why, of course, it was three years ago when she parted with Aylmer Ross, Teddy was fourteen; these years made a great difference and of course all plans had been changed on account of the war. Aylmer, she thought, was too old to have been at the front. The boy must be in the New Army. She watched him perpetually; she felt a longing to go and speak to him. After a while, as though attracted by her interest, he turned round and looked her straight in the face. How thrilled she felt at this likeness…. They were the very last to go out, and Edith contrived to be near the party in the box. She dropped something and the young man picked it up. She had never seen him, and yet she felt she knew him. When he smiled she could not resist speaking to him. 'Thank you. Excuse me. Are you the son of Mr. Aylmer Ross?' 'I am. And I know you quite well by your photograph,' he said in exactly Aylmer's pleasant, casual voice. 'You were a great friend of my father's, weren't you?' 'Yes. Where are you now?' He was at Aldershot, but was in town on leave. 'And where's your father?' 'Didn't you know? My father's at the front. He's coming over on leave, too, in a fortnight.' 'Really? And are you still at Jermyn Street?' 'Oh yes. Father let his house for three years, but we've come back again. Jolly little house, isn't it?' 'Very. And I hope we shall see you both,' said Edith conventionally. The boy bowed, smiled and walked away so quickly that Archie had no time for the salute he had prepared. He was wonderfully like Aylmer. Edith was curiously pleased and excited about this little incident. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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