CHAPTER VIII
WHAT Lee did at all she did thoroughly, volatile as she was in some respects; original force of character, fostered and augmented by certain conditions, overbalanced for long periods the lighter qualities of her native atmosphere. She had wanted Cecil for the greater part of her life, and she had got him; to be completely happy with him, and to be all to him that it is given to one mortal to be to another was her fixed purpose, and she applied herself to it with the energy and concentration which have carried many men to their pedestal in a public square.
Cecil was not disposed to desert the grouse after the last of the guests had left the Abbey, and she went out every day with him and the keepers—Lord Barnstaple was still nursing his wrist; and, having a quick eye and a steady hand, occasionally managed to bring down a bird. It was true that walking on the moor was much like walking on a spring-mattress, and, being the child of an earthquake country, she was never quite able to rid herself of an uneasy anticipation of collapse; but so great was the enthusiasm of her nature that she was not only interested, but delighted with this, as with other novelties of her present life.
Shooting in the covers was a more difficult matter, and when she scratched her face or caught her hairon a briary branch, she said things under her breath which would have shocked Mrs. Montgomery or Cecil; but there was no doubt that sport, if one went into it with one’s entire brain, was really exciting, and, had it not been, Cecil’s delight in his wife’s latest development would have sustained her.
In hunting, she took an unqualified pleasure. No Englishwoman had a finer seat in the saddle than she, and, having always loved riding for itself, the additional incentive of pursuit, and the picturesque appearance of the field, made the pastime quite the most perfect she had ever known. Before the season was far advanced she rode as straight as any woman in the county; and perhaps Cecil’s compliments at this period were the most spontaneous of his life. There was no doubt that he was very proud of her, and once he went so far as to hint that he felt rather sorry for the majority of men.
The month at Beaumanoir was rather fatiguing, but very gay—at least, everybody laughed a great deal, and seemed full of energy. Emmy came for a few days, and Lady Mary Gifford remained a fortnight, and bestowed much of her society on Lee.
When they returned to the Abbey there was still more or less shooting and hunting, but Cecil applied himself seriously to the imminent elections. As time passed, and the defeat of his party loomed large in the possibilities, Lee noted that his interest became less impersonal and considerably more acute; his latent ambitions and energies felt their first prick.
He spoke frequently at this time, and as the roarof the storm grew nearer, his own accents lost the cold deliberation of the first weeks and became impassioned and convincing. He had little doubt of his own election, but the threatened downfall of his party harassed and angered him. It was then that his wife discovered that he had not outlived his boyish love of sympathy; and the boudoir in the tower and the lonely moorland were the scenes of many long and intense conversations, until it became his habit to demand the sympathy of his wife for every strait, great and small, in which his country and his party found themselves.
If a solid winter of politics bored Lee, her husband never knew it. Neither did Lord Barnstaple, who watched her critically; he had no more intimate talks with her. But although she was destined to find much in English politics more interesting than Home Rule, the present crisis was certainly exciting. And the two facts, that Cecil was expanding, not solidifying, and that he showed signs of becoming almost dependent on her, were satisfying alike to the pride of her purpose and to the might of her affections.
On the first stormy day, Cecil announced his intention to begin the course of study he had planned, and was surprised and gratified when his wife invited him to bring his tomes to her boudoir.
“I’m tired of novels, and I’ve nothing else to do, and I’m so tremendously interested myself, that I think I’ll read with you,” she said, as Cecil littered her lapis-lazuli table. “Would it bore you to explain things to me?”
“You are sure it wouldn’t boreyou?” Cecil looked across the ugly volumes at his beautiful wife, his eyes sparkling as eagerly as when she had, ten years ago, at the Cliff House, put into words his half-formed desire for an adventure. “I should like it—above all things.”
“I should be much more bored roaming round the Abbey by myself, or sitting here twirling my thumbs. I think I can understand. I’ve readThe Timesevery morning for three months, and I feel equal to anything.” She did not add that at each finish she invariably stuck a pin up to its head into the pride of England, lest her surcharged spirits find vent upon the gentlemen of her household.
“You can understand anything,” replied Cecil, who did not appreciate the humour of her remark. “And I’ll get along twice as well myself if I have somebody to talk things over with. But you mustn’t tire yourself.” And he went over to the other side of the table.
They read together the long winter through, seeing Lord Barnstaple only at the table and in the evenings: he had congenial spirits in the neighbourhood, and he paid several visits to London. The conversation between the three was invariably of politics. When the weather was fine Cecil and his wife spent two or three hours of every day out-of-doors, and occasionally attended a meet.
The fascination of politics, when the mind has fairly opened to them, is indubitable; and Lee not only felt proud of herself that her understanding and her patience stood the strain of this mass of facts—whoseskeletons fairly rattled—which mounted higher and higher on her lapis-lazuli table and encroached upon the divan and all of the ancient chairs, but she took a keen mental delight in the acquiring of knowledge; and what knowledge to the alert modern mind can equal the charm of current history? Although her primary purpose was to bind her husband to her by every fetter she could devise, she occasionally saw herself the centre of a politicalsalon, when the world had pronounced her the brilliant wife of a great man.
It was not later than the beginning of the second month of their close mental intercourse that Lee made one of her most important discoveries regarding her husband; he had intellectual heights and depths which she would never touch. She had cleverness far above the average of her sex, and, had she chosen, she would have had every right to pose as an intellectual woman; but she had distinct limitations, and one proof of her cleverness was that she recognised and accepted them. The discovery arrived in the wake of a pleased reflection that it was certainly a privilege to be in constant contact with a mind like Cecil Maundrell’s, and that she was distinctly grateful for it. For a time she was mortified and depressed, for it was her first intimation that she was not all that the gods or man could desire; but it was her mental habit to face facts and digest them, and when this was disposed of she considered its possible results. Her conclusions soothed her. She knew something of men. When Cecil tasted to the full the sweets of masculine superiority over themate with whom he was so delighted, and of whom so justly proud, there would be still another bond between them. Far be it from her to attempt to throw dust into his keen eyes by feminine blandishment and subterfuge; she admitted the truth, whenever the opportunity offered, with spontaneous bursts of admiration; and if Cecil had not been flattered he would have been less than human.
“I don’t see how I shall ever be permitted to become discouraged,” he said one day with some humour, looking into the rapt and beautiful eyes opposite him. “I believe if I made an egregious ass of myself in the House, you would persuade me that I was too great to be understood by my fellow-men.”
“I’m not a goose, thank you. But you’ll never make an ass of yourself, so it doesn’t matter. Of course you’ll be a great man.”
“I wish I could believe it.”
“It’s plain enough to every one else. All you need is ambition, and I can see that growing already. If your party is defeated, so much the better for you. You can devote your energies and your gifts to putting new life into it. You’re just what the old fogies need. I don’t see how you could start out more favourably, and I don’t see what is to prevent your being the next great man.”
Cecil’s nostrils quivered suddenly. He looked for an instant longer into the eyes that had expressed many more things to him than admiration for his intellectual equipment, put out his hand impulsively and took hers, then returned to his studies.