the chaperon-第8章

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little　old　romantic　cities　in　the　most　frolicsome　aesthetic　way）　she
liked　their　companion　better　than　she　had　ever　liked　him　before。　　She
did　him　the　justice　to　recognise　that　if　he　was　not　quite　honest　with
himself　he　was　at　least　wholly　honest　with　HER。　　She　reckoned　up
everything　he　had　been　since　he　joined　them；　and　put　upon　it　all　an
interpretation　so　favourable　to　his　devotion　that；　catching　herself
in　the　act　of　glossing　over　one　or　two　episodes　that　had　not　struck
her　at　the　time　as　disinterested　she　exclaimed；　beneath　her　breath；
〃Look　outyou're　falling　in　love！〃　　But　if　he　liked　correctness
wasn't　he　quite　right？　　Could　any　one　possibly　like　it　more　than　SHE
did？　　And　if　he　had　protested　against　her　throwing　in　her　lot　with
her　mother；　this　was　not　because　of　the　benefit　conferred　but　because
of　the　injury　received。　　He　exaggerated　that　injury；　but　this　was　the
privilege　of　a　lover　perfectly　willing　to　be　selfish　on　behalf　of　his
mistress。　　He　might　have　wanted　her　grandmother's　money　for　her；　but
if　he　had　given　her　up　on　first　discovering　that　she　was　throwing
away　her　chance　of　it　（oh；　this　was　HER　doing　too！）　he　had　given　up
her　grandmother　as　much：　　not　keeping　well　with　the　old　woman；　as
some　men　would　have　done；　not　waiting　to　see　how　the　perverse
experiment　would　turn　out　and　appeasing　her；　if　it　should　promise
tolerably；　with　a　view　to　future　operations。　　He　had　had　a　simple…
minded；　evangelical；　lurid　view　of　what　the　girl　he　loved　would　find
herself　in　for。　　She　could　see　this　nowshe　could　see　it　from　his
present　bewilderment　and　mystification；　and　she　liked　him　and　pitied
him；　with　the　kindest　smile；　for　the　original　naivete　as　well　as　for
the　actual　meekness。　　No　wonder　he　hadn't　known　what　she　was　in　for；
since　he　now　didn't　even　know　what　he　was　in　for　himself。　　Were　there
not　moments　when　he　thought　his　companions　almost　unnaturally　good；
almost　suspiciously　safe？　　He　had　lost　all　power　to　verify　that
sketch　of　their　isolation　and　declassement　to　which　she　had　treated
him　on　the　great　square　at　Milan。　　The　last　thing　he　noticed　was　that
they　were　neglected；　and　he　had　never；　for　himself；　had　such　an
impression　of　society。

It　could　scarcely　be　enhanced　even　by　the　apparition　of　a　large；
fair；　hot；　red…haired　young　man；　carrying　a　lady's　fan　in　his　hand；
who　suddenly　stood　before　their　little　party　as；　on　the　third　evening
after　their　arrival　in　Venice；　it　partook　of　ices　at　one　of　the
tables　before　the　celebrated　Cafe　Florian。　　The　lamplit　Venetian　dusk
appeared　to　have　revealed　them　to　this　gentleman　as　he　sat　with　other
friends　at　a　neighbouring　table；　and　he　had　sprung　up；　with
unsophisticated　glee；　to　shake　hands　with　Mrs。　Tramore　and　her
daughter。　　Rose　recalled　him　to　her　mother；　who　looked　at　first　as
though　she　didn't　remember　him　but　presently　bestowed　a　sufficiently
gracious　smile　on　Mr。　Guy　Mangler。　　He　gave　with　youthful　candour　the
history　of　his　movements　and　indicated　the　whereabouts　of　his　family：
he　was　with　his　mother　and　sisters；　they　had　met　the　Bob　Veseys；　who
had　taken　Lord　Whiteroy's　yacht　and　were　going　to　Constantinople。
His　mother　and　the　girls；　poor　things；　were　at　the　Grand　Hotel；　but
he　was　on　the　yacht　with　the　Veseys；　where　they　had　Lord　Whiteroy's
cook。　　Wasn't　the　food　in　Venice　filthy；　and　wouldn't　they　come　and
look　at　the　yacht？　　She　wasn't　very　fast；　but　she　was　awfully　jolly。
His　mother　might　have　come　if　she　would；　but　she　wouldn't　at　first；
and　now；　when　she　wanted　to；　there　were　other　people；　who　naturally
wouldn't　turn　out　for　her。　　Mr。　Mangler　sat　down；　he　alluded　with
artless　resentment　to　the　way；　in　July；　the　door　of　his　friends　had
been　closed　to　him。　　He　was　going　to　Constantinople；　but　he　didn't
careif　THEY　were　going　anywhere；　meanwhile　his　mother　hoped　awfully
they　would　look　her　up。

Lady　Maresfield；　if　she　had　given　her　son　any　such　message；　which
Rose　disbelieved；　entertained　her　hope　in　a　manner　compatible　with
her　sitting　for　half　an　hour；　surrounded　by　her　little　retinue；
without　glancing　in　the　direction　of　Mrs。　Tramore。　　The　girl；
however；　was　aware　that　this　was　not　a　good　enough　instance　of　their
humiliation；　inasmuch　as　it　was　rather　she　who；　on　the　occasion　of
their　last　contact；　had　held　off　from　Lady　Maresfield。　　She　was　a
little　ashamed　now　of　not　having　answered　the　note　in　which　this
affable　personage　ignored　her　mother。　　She　couldn't　help　perceiving
indeed　a　dim　movement　on　the　part　of　some　of　the　other　members　of　the
group；　she　made　out　an　attitude　of　observation　in　the　high…plumed
head　of　Mrs。　Vaughan…Vesey。　　Mrs。　Vesey；　perhaps；　might　have　been
looking　at　Captain　Jay；　for　as　this　gentleman　walked　back　to　the
hotel　with　our　young　lady　（they　were　at　the　〃Britannia；〃　and　young
Mangler；　who　clung　to　them；　went　in　front　with　Mrs。　Tramore）　he
revealed　to　Rose　that　he　had　some　acquaintance　with　Lady　Maresfield's
eldest　daughter；　though　he　didn't　know　and　didn't　particularly　want
to　know；　her　ladyship。　　He　expressed　himself　with　more　acerbity　than
she　had　ever　heard　him　use　（Christian　charity　so　generally　governed
his　speech）　about　the　young　donkey　who　had　been　prattling　to　them。
They　separated　at　the　door　of　the　hotel。　　Mrs。　Tramore　had　got　rid　of
Mr。　Mangler；　and　Bertram　Jay　was　in　other　quarters。

〃If　you　know　Mrs。　Vesey；　why　didn't　you　go　and　speak　to　her？　　I'm
sure　she　saw　you；〃　Rose　said。

Captain　Jay　replied　even　more　circumspectly　than　usual。　　〃Because　I
didn't　want　to　leave　you。〃

〃Well；　you　can　go　now；　you're　free；〃　Rose　rejoined。

〃Thank　you。　　I　shall　never　go　again。〃

〃That　won't　be　civil；〃　said　Rose。

〃I　don't　care　to　be　civil。　　I　don't　like　her。〃

〃Why　don't　you　like　her？〃

〃You　ask　too　many　questions。〃

〃I　know　I　do；〃　the　girl　acknowledged。

Captain　Jay　had　already　shaken　hands　with　her；　but　at　this　he　put　out
his　hand　again。　　〃She's　too　worldly；〃　he　murmured；　while　he　held　Rose
Tramore's　a　moment。

〃Ah；　you　dear！〃　Rose　exclaimed　almost　audibly　as；　with　her　mother；
she　turned　away。

The　next　morning；　upon　the　Grand　Canal；　the　gondola　of　our　three
friends　encountered　a　stately　barge　which；　though　it　contained
several　persons；　seemed　pervaded　mainly　by　one　majestic　presence。
During　the　instant　the　gondolas　were　passing　each　other　it　was
impossible　either　for　Rose　Tramore　or　for　her　companions　not　to
become　conscious　that　this　distinguished　identity　had　markedly
inclined　itselfa　circumstance　commemorated　the　next　moment；　almost
within　earshot　of　the　other　boat；　by　the　most　spontaneous　cry　that
had　issued　for　many　a　day　from　the　lips　of　Mrs。　Tramore。　　〃Fancy；　my
dear；　Lady　Maresfield　has　bowed　to　us！〃

〃We　ought　to　have　returned　it；〃　Rose　answered；　but　she　looked　at
Bertram　Jay；　who　was　opposite　to　her。　　He　blushed；　and　she　blushed；
and　during　this　moment　was　born　a　deeper　understanding　than　had　yet
existed　between　these　associated　spirits。　　It　had　something　to　do
with　their　going　together　that　afternoon；　without　her　mother；　to　look
at　certain　out…of…the…way　pictures　as　to　which　Ruskin　had　inspired
her　with　a　desire　to　see　sincerely。　　Mrs。　Tramore　expressed　the　wish
to　stay　at　home；　and　the　motive　of　this　wisha　finer　shade　than　any
that　even　Ruskin　had　ever　found　a　phrase　forwas　not　translated　into
misrepresenting　words　by　either　the　mother　or　the　daughter。　　At　San
Giovanni　in　Bragora　the　girl　and　her　companion　came　upon　Mrs。
Vaughan…Vesey；　who；　with　one　of　her　sisters；　was　also　endeavouring　to
do　the　earnest　thing。　　She　did　it　to　Rose；　she　did　it　to　Captain　Jay；
as　well　as　to　Gianbellini；　she　was　a　handsome；　long…necked；　aquiline
person；　of　a　different　type　from　the　rest　of　her　family；　and　she　did
it　remarkably　well。　　She　secured　our　friendsit　was　her　own
expressionfor　luncheon；　on　the　morrow；　on　the　yacht；　and　she　made
it　public　to　Rose　that　she　would　come　that　afternoon　to　invite　her
mother。　　When　the　girl　returned　to　the　hotel；　Mrs。　Tramore　mentioned；
before　Captain　Jay；　who　had　come　up　to　their　sitting…room；　that　Lady
Maresfield　had　called。　　〃She　stayed　a　long　timeat　least　it　seemed
long！〃　laughed　Mrs。　Tramore。

The　poor　lady　could　laugh　freely　now；　yet　there　was　some　grimness　in
a　colloquy　that　she　had　with　her　daughter　after　Bertram　Jay　had
departed。　　Before　this　happened　Mrs。　Vesey's　card；　scrawled　over　in
pencil　and　referring　to　the　morrow's　luncheon；　was　brought　up　to　Mrs。
Tramore。

〃They　mean　it　all　as　a　bribe；〃　said　the　principal　recipient　of　these
civilities。

〃As　a　bribe？〃　Rose　repeated。

〃She　wants　to　marry　you　to　that　boy；　they've　seen　Captain　Jay　and
they're　frightened。〃

〃Well；　dear　mamma；　I　can't　take　Mr。　Mangler　for　a　husband。〃

〃Of　course　not。　　But　oughtn't　we　to　go　to　the　luncheon？〃

〃Certainly　we'll　go　to　the　luncheon；〃　Rose　said；　and　when　the　affair
took　place；　on　the　morrow；　she　could　feel　for　the　first　time　that　she
was　taking　her　mother　out。　　This　appearance　was　somehow　brought　home
to　every　one　else；　and　it　was　really　the　agent　of　her　success。　　For
it　is　of　the　essence　of　this　simple　history　that；　in　the　first　place；
that　success　dated　from　Mrs。　Vesey's　Venetian　dejeuner；　and　in　the
second　reposed；　by　a　subtle　social　logic；　on　the　very　anomaly　that
had　made　it　dubious。　　There　is　always　a　chance　in　things；　and　Rose
Tramore's　chance　was　in　the　fact　that　Gwendolen　Vesey　was；　as　some
one　had　said；　awfully　modern；　an　immense　improvement　on　the　exploded
science　of　her　mother；　and　capable　of　seeing　what　a　〃draw〃　there
would　be　in　the　comedy；　if　properly　brought　out；　of　the　reversed
positions　of　Mrs。　Tramore　and　Mrs。　Tramore's　diplomatic　daughter。
With　a　first…rate　managerial　eye　she　perceived　that　people　would
flock　into　any　roomand　all　the　more　into　one　of　hersto　see　Rose
bring　in　her　dreadful　mother。　　She　treated　the　cream　of　English
society　to　this　thrilling　spectacle　later　in　the　autumn；　when　she
once　more　〃secured〃　both　the　performers　for　a　week　at　Brimble。　　It
made　a　hit　on　the　spot；　the　very　first　eveningthe　girl　was　felt　to
play　her　part　so　well。　　The　rumour　of　the　performance　spread；　every
one　wanted　to　see　it。　　It　was　an　entertainment　of　which；　that　winter
in　the　country；　and　the　next　season　in　town；　persons　of　taste　desired
to　give　their　friends　the　freshness。　　The　thing　was　to　make　the
Tramores　come　late；　after　every　one　had　arrived。　　They　were　engaged
for　a　fixed　hour；　like　the　American　imitator　and　the　Patagonian
contralto。　　Mrs。　Vesey　had　been　the　first　to　say　the　girl　was　awfully
original；　but　that　became　the　general　view。

Gwendolen　Vesey　had　with　her　mother　one　of　the　few　quarrels　in　which
Lady　Maresfield　had　really　stood　up　to　such　an　antagonist　（the　elder
woman　had　to　recognise　in　general　in　whose　veins　it　was　that　the
blood　of　the　Manglers　flowed）　on　account　of　this　very　circumstance　of
her　attaching　more　importance　to　Miss　Tramore's　originality　（〃Her
originality　be　hanged！〃　her　ladyship　had　gone　so　far　as
unintelligently　to　exclaim）　than　to　the　prospects　of　the　unfortunate
Guy。　　Mrs。　Vesey　actually　lost　sight　of　these　pressing　problems　in
her　admiration　of　the　way　the　mother　and　the　daughter；　or　rather　the
daughter　and　the　mother　（it　was　slightly　confusing）　〃drew。〃　　It　was
Lady　Maresfield's　version　of　the　ca