Chapter XVI: “Truth is a strong thing—let man’s life be true.”

ROBERT BROWNING.

Confusion reigned over the picnic party. In spite of Lady Middleton’s hint to Providence it had begun to pour. Black soft rain-clouds covered up the sun. The trees themselves proved little shelter from the deluge, and it was very unbecoming. Katherine knew a short cut home, and by this she conducted Daphne, Dora, and the young American, leaving the twins to drive in a tiny brougham with Lady Cheston, whose face was a daring spectacle of rouge and rivulets, and Lady Middleton, who was (as she had said she would be in the event of its raining) exceedingly annoyed. It was suggested that Dora should be taken with them, but both Vera and Lady Cheston said that it was absurd, and that there was no room. The twins at once offered to walk, but Lady Cheston’s eyes sharply reminded them that she had paid for their dresses.

Reggie and David (who had broken through the arrangement made for him) walked home together.

“Do you think I’m a brute?” David asked his friend à propos of nothing, as they trudged on through the mud.

“Does she know?” Reggie asked.

“Know? Know what?” shouted David angrily, stopping in the middle of the lane.

“I say, come on home,” said Reggie, “I’m getting fairly wet. I mean, does Daphne know your little weakness?”

“Damn my little weakness!” said David gloomily.

“That’s right, do!” said Reggie cheerfully. “Then you won’t need to tell her.”

“Who talks about telling her? Do you suppose a girl like Daphne would ever speak to me again if she knew I got drunk like a beast?” David asked.

“Not like a beast,” said Reggie soothingly. “Beasts don’t! Like a man.”

“Oh, hang your distinctions,” David muttered, “you might help a fellow, Reggie.”

“If I were you, I should tell her,” said Reggie, “you wouldn’t like it, to get to her from any other quarter.”

David shot a quick glance at him. Reggie’s face was a pleasant blank. “Do you suppose,” said David, “it would be likely to?”

“I shouldn’t take the risk myself,” said Reggie.

“I don’t believe she cares for me,” said David.

“Then you _must_ tell her,” said Reggie.

“Oh, confound your _must_,” growled David, “I don’t believe you know what it is to care for a girl like Daphne. She isn’t like the usual sort of London girl. I wouldn’t look at any of ’em. Innocent-faced, scheming-hearted little foxes! Bound to try for a man or get sent to grass in the country while the younger ones are coming out! Daphne is—is different, I can’t explain——”

“Don’t try,” said Reggie briefly, “I know.”

“What do you know?” David asked suspiciously.

“Why—that you’re a silly old ass!” laughed Reggie. They became silent after Reggie’s confession of knowledge, and trudged on through heavy rain, regardless of the beautiful young world of green drinking in life around them. It was not until they reached the park gates that Reggie spoke again. “You’ll tell her, old man?” he said anxiously, “won’t you?”

David frowned. “She’ll never look at me again,” he repeated. The sky began to clear. Spaces of blue broke through the blackness overhead. The sun catching the edges of the clouds set them on fire. Lady Middleton stood at the hall door. She was comfortable again and happy. Her maid had been very busy the last half-hour.

“My dear David,” she said, “no Daphne? I left you to come home together?”

“Well, we’ve come home,” said David with an unpleasant look, “separately.”

“We’re awfully wet,” said Reggie apologetically, “we ought to have come in some other way.”

“But such a lovely sky!” said Lady Middleton. “I so often wish I was a cloud!”

The remark that David contributed on clouds was fortunately lost, Lady Middleton went back into the drawing-room. She had had the fire lit. Arthur Field was there.

“Well!” she said rather briskly, “when are you going?”

“At the end of a week,” he answered. “Who was that out there with you?”

“Reggie Cheston,” said Lady Middleton, taking up some embroidery—it was always the same piece.

“There were two voices,” he reminded her.

“Oh, the other was the young American!” said Lady Middleton.

Arthur Field opened a note-book of his next month’s appointments. “I wonder,” he said aloud, “why women always lie?”

“Because men are such brutes,” said Lady Middleton viciously.

“Then you shouldn’t lie to them,” he said smiling, “they might take a brute’s advantage.”

“Well—some of them don’t find out,” said Lady Middleton.

“Then they might take a fool’s advantage.”

“What’s that?” she asked quickly.

“I am not sure that I will tell you,” he said, “sometimes it seems to me as if fools had _all_ the advantages.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Lady Middleton looking annoyed, “and I don’t see how a fool could do any one harm.”

“And yet there is a great deal of harm done,” he reminded her, “and very few wise people.”

Reggie went straight upstairs to his mother’s room and knocked at the door. Lady Cheston opened it, and though she looked surprised at seeing him, she let him in. She shrieked when she saw his clothes. “Oh, Reggie! what a shocking mess you’re in! What do _you_ want to come and drip about my room for?”

“All right, mother,” said Reggie, “I’m not doing any harm. Look here! I don’t want you to meddle in this affair.”

His mother looked at him keenly. “What affair?” she asked, shutting her lips tight.

“Between Daphne and David,” said Reggie. “If any tales are told, or any change in their relations takes place while you are under this roof, I cut down your allowance. What you do afterwards I can’t trace, though if I find out that you have been interfering in any way, I shall be forced to take unpleasant measures. Do you quite understand?”

Lady Cheston tapped her foot on the carpet, an angry pulse beat in her cheek, but she was holding herself in. “I don’t see what difference it makes to you!” she said, “unless you think that although you can’t get her now, after she’s married David——”

“Mother!”

Lady Cheston checked the words on her lips. She was not easily frightened, but there were times when Reggie could silence her. “Well,” she said, “people do those things, Reggie, but I’m sure I’m sorry if I’ve made you angry. It isn’t a good look out for Daphne, and I did mention it last night to Vera. However, she knew already, and she’s not likely to tell Daphne—you remember the Lil Courteny episode? So you ought to be satisfied. Are you still angry?” she asked. There was something almost timid in her appeal to him, he was her only son, and all that was good in her centred around the thought of that.

“No, mother,” he said, “I’m merely disgusted, and I’m quite used to that you know. You’ll remember about the money?”

Lady Cheston’s eyes hardened. “Oh, yes, Reggie!” she said, “trust me to remember that!” and he left the room.