CHAPTER III

‘Lady Camper is no common enigma,’ General Ople observed to his

daughter.

Elizabeth inclined to be pleased with her, for at her suggestion the

General had bought a couple of horses, that she might ride in the park,

accompanied by her father or the little groom. Still, the great lady

was hard to read. She tested the resources of his income by all sorts of

instigation to expenditure, which his gallantry could not withstand; she

encouraged him to talk of his deeds in arms; she was friendly, almost

affectionate, and most bountiful in the presents of fruit, peaches,

nectarines, grapes, and hot-house wonders, that she showered on his

table; but she was an enigma in her evident dissatisfaction with him for

something he seemed to have left unsaid. And what could that be?

At their last interview she had asked him, ‘Are you sure, General, you

have nothing more to tell me?’

And as he remarked, when relating it to Elizabeth, ‘One might really be

tempted to misapprehend her ladyship’s... I say one might commit oneself

beyond recovery. Now, my dear, what do you think she intended?’

Elizabeth was ‘burning brown,’ or darkly blushing, as her manner was.

She answered, ‘I am certain you know of nothing that would interest her;

nothing, unless...’

‘Well?’ the General urged her.

‘How can I speak it, papa?’

‘You really can’t mean...’

‘Papa, what could I mean?’

‘If I were fool enough!’ he murmured. ‘No, no, I am an old man. I was

saying, I am past the age of folly.’

One day Elizabeth came home from her ride in a thoughtful mood. She had

not, further than has been mentioned, incited her father to think of the

age of folly; but voluntarily or not, Lady Camper had, by an excess

of graciousness amounting to downright invitation; as thus, ‘Will you

persist in withholding your confidence from me, General?’ She added, ‘I

am not so difficult a person.’ These prompting speeches occurred on the

morning of the day when Elizabeth sat at his table, after a long ride

into the country, profoundly meditative.

A note was handed to General Ople, with the request that he would step

in to speak with Lady Camper in the course of the evening, or next

morning. Elizabeth waited till his hat was on, then said, ‘Papa, on my

ride to-day, I met Mr. Rolles.’

‘I am glad you had an agreeable escort, my dear.’

‘I could not refuse his company.’

‘Certainly not. And where did you ride?’

‘To a beautiful valley; and there we met.... ‘

‘Her ladyship?’

‘Yes.’

‘She always admires you on horseback.’

‘So you know it, papa, if she should speak of it.’

‘And I am bound to tell you, my child,’ said the General, ‘that this

morning Lady Camper’s manner to me was... if I were a fool... I say,

this morning I beat a retreat, but apparently she... I see no way out of

it, supposing she...’

‘I am sure she esteems you, dear papa,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You take to

her, my dear?’ the General inquired anxiously; ‘a little?--a little

afraid of her?’

‘A little,’ Elizabeth replied, ‘only a little.’

‘Don’t be agitated about me.’

‘No, papa; you are sure to do right.’

‘But you are trembling.’

‘Oh! no. I wish you success.’

General Ople was overjoyed to be reinforced by his daughter’s good

wishes. He kissed her to thank her. He turned back to her to kiss her

again. She had greatly lightened the difficulty at least of a delicate

position.

It was just like the imperious nature of Lady Camper to summon him

in the evening to terminate the conversation of the morning, from the

visible pitfall of which he had beaten a rather precipitate retreat. But

if his daughter cordially wished him success, and Lady Camper offered

him the crown of it, why then he had only to pluck up spirit, like a

good commander who has to pass a fordable river in the enemy’s

presence; a dash, a splash, a rattling volley or two, and you are over,

established on the opposite bank. But you must be positive of victory,

otherwise, with the river behind you, your new position is likely to

be ticklish. So the General entered Lady Camper’s drawing-room warily,

watching the fair enemy. He knew he was captivating, his old conquests

whispered in his ears, and her reception of him all but pointed to a

footstool at her feet. He might have fallen there at once, had he not

remembered a hint that Mr. Reginald Rolles had dropped concerning Lady

Camper’s amazing variability.

Lady Camper began.

‘General, you ran away from me this morning. Let me speak. And, by the

way, I must reproach you; you should not have left it to me. Things have

now gone so far that I cannot pretend to be blind. I know your feelings

as a father. Your daughter’s happiness...’

‘My lady,’ the General interposed, ‘I have her distinct assurance that

it is, I say it is wrapt up in mine.’

‘Let me speak. Young people will say anything. Well, they have a certain

excuse for selfishness; we have not. I am in some degree bound to my

nephew; he is my sister’s son.’

‘Assuredly, my lady. I would not stand in his light, be quite assured.

If I am, I was saying if I am not mistaken, I... and he is, or has

the making of an excellent soldier in him, and is likely to be a

distinguished cavalry officer.’

‘He has to carve his own way in the world, General.’

‘All good soldiers have, my lady. And if my position is not, after a

considerable term of service, I say if...’

‘To continue,’ said Lady Camper: ‘I never have liked early marriages.

I was married in my teens before I knew men. Now I do know them, and

now....’

The General plunged forward: ‘The honour you do us now:--a mature

experience is worth:--my dear Lady Camper, I have admired you:--and your

objection to early marriages cannot apply to... indeed, madam, vigour,

they say... though youth, of course... yet young people, as you

observe... and I have, though perhaps my reputation is against it, I was

saying I have a natural timidity with your sex, and I am grey-headed,

white-headed, but happily without a single malady.’

Lady Camper’s brows showed a trifling bewilderment. ‘I am speaking of

these young people, General Ople.’

‘I consent to everything beforehand, my dear lady. He should be, I say

Mr. Rolles should be provided for.’

‘So should she, General, so should Elizabeth.’

‘She shall be, she will, dear madam. What I have, with your permission,

if--good heaven! Lady Camper, I scarcely know where I am. She would

.... I shall not like to lose her: you would not wish it. In time she

will.... she has every quality of a good wife.’

‘There, stay there, and be intelligible,’ said Lady Camper. ‘She has

every quality. Money should be one of them. Has she money?’

‘Oh! my lady,’ the General exclaimed, ‘we shall not come upon your purse

when her time comes.’

‘Has she ten thousand pounds?’

‘Elizabeth? She will have, at her father’s death... but as for my

income, it is moderate, and only sufficient to maintain a gentlemanly

appearance in proper self-respect. I make no show. I say I make no show.

A wealthy marriage is the last thing on earth I should have aimed at.

I prefer quiet and retirement. Personally, I mean. That is my personal

taste. But if the lady... I say if it should happen that the lady ...

and indeed I am not one to press a suit: but if she who distinguishes

and honours me should chance to be wealthy, all I can do is to leave her

wealth at her disposal, and that I do: I do that unreservedly. I feel

I am very confused, alarmingly confused. Your ladyship merits a

superior... I trust I have not... I am entirely at your ladyship’s

mercy.’

‘Are you prepared, if your daughter is asked in marriage, to settle ten

thousand pounds on her, General Ople?’

The General collected himself. In his heart he thoroughly appreciated

the moral beauty of Lady Camper’s extreme solicitude on behalf of his

daughter’s provision; but he would have desired a postponement of that

and other material questions belonging to a distant future until his own

fate was decided.

So he said: ‘Your ladyship’s generosity is very marked. I say it is very

marked.’

‘How, my good General Ople! how is it marked in any degree?’ cried Lady

Camper. ‘I am not generous. I don’t pretend to be; and certainly I don’t

want the young people to think me so. I want to be just. I have assumed

that you intend to be the same. Then will you do me the favour to reply

to me?’

The General smiled winningly and intently, to show her that he prized

her, and would not let her escape his eulogies.

‘Marked, in this way, dear madam, that you think of my daughter’s future

more than I. I say, more than her father himself does. I know I ought

to speak more warmly, I feel warmly. I was never an eloquent man, and if

you take me as a soldier, I am, as, I have ever been in the service, I

was saying I am Wilson Ople, of the grade of General, to be relied on

for executing orders; and, madam, you are Lady Camper, and you command

me. I cannot be more precise. In fact, it is the feeling of the

necessity for keeping close to the business that destroys what I would

say. I am in fact lamentably incompetent to conduct my own case.’

Lady Camper left her chair.

‘Dear me, this is very strange, unless I am singularly in error,’ she

said.

The General now faintly guessed that he might be in error, for his part.

But he had burned his ships, blown up his bridges; retreat could not be

thought of.

He stood, his head bent and appealing to her sideface, like one

pleadingly in pursuit, and very deferentially, with a courteous

vehemence, he entreated first her ladyship’s pardon for his presumption,

and then the gift of her ladyship’s hand.

As for his language, it was the tongue of General Ople. But his bearing

was fine. If his clipped white silken hair spoke of age, his figure

breathed manliness. He was a picture, and she loved pictures.

For his own sake, she begged him to cease. She dreaded to hear of

something ‘gentlemanly.’

‘This is a new idea to me, my dear General,’ she said. ‘You must give me

time. People at our age have to think of fitness. Of course, in a sense,

we are both free to do as we like. Perhaps I may be of some aid to you.

My preference is for absolute independence. And I wished to talk of a

different affair. Come to me tomorrow. Do not be hurt if I decide that

we had better remain as we are.’

The General bowed. His efforts, and the wavering of the fair enemy’s

flag, had inspired him with a positive re-awakening of masculine passion

to gain this fortress. He said well: ‘I have, then, the happiness,

madam, of being allowed to hope until to-morrrow?’

She replied, ‘I would not deprive you of a moment of happiness. Bring

good sense with you when you do come.’

The General asked eagerly, ‘I have your ladyship’s permission to come

early?’

‘Consult your happiness,’ she answered; and if to his mind she seemed

returning to the state of enigma, it was on the whole deliciously. She

restored him his youth. He told Elizabeth that night; he really must

begin to think of marrying her to some worthy young fellow. ‘Though,’

said he, with an air of frank intoxication, ‘my opinion is, the young

ones are not so lively as the old in these days, or I should have been

besieged before now.’

The exact substance of the interview he forbore to relate to his

inquisitive daughter, with a very honourable discretion.