A CASE OF CONSCIENCE

"And now about the Inst.i.tute!" said Jenny the next morning. Cartmell had obeyed her summons to come up to the Priory, and the three of us were together in my office there.

She was not wasting time. Matters were to move quick. She had come home with her plans matured, ready for execution. The enemies might hesitate, losing themselves in debate. She would not hesitate, nor take part in the debate about herself. Acting and acting quickly, she would carry the position while they still discussed how--or even whether--it should be defended.

"The Committee stands adjourned _sine die_," said Cartmell. "You'd convene a meeting?"

Jenny would have none of convening the Committee. It would be awkward if some of the members did not come--and still more awkward if all of them attended!

"I regard the Committee as having abdicated," she told us. "They chose to adjourn--let them stay adjourned. I shall go over their heads--straight to the Corporation. Let's see if the Corporation will refuse! If they do, we shall know where we are."

Of course she did not think that they would refuse, or she would never have risked an offer which forced the issue into the open. Fillingford had his feelings, Alison his scruples. Both scruples and feelings were intelligible. But was the Borough Council going to refuse a hundred thousand pounds freely given for the borough's benefit?

"Hatcham Ford as it stands--and a hundred thousand pounds, please, Mr.

Cartmell."

"With the town spreading out as it is in that direction, that's more like a hundred and fifty in reality," he grumbled.

"I'm going to bleed you sadly!" Jenny a.s.sured him gayly. "We'll send for Mr. Bindlecombe and get this in hand at once. We'll see the Inst.i.tute growing out of the ground within the year!"

Bindlecombe, too, was all for a dashing strategy--though I think that he would have been for anything that Jenny wanted. The letter to the Mayor (Bindlecombe no longer filled that office, though he was still a leading member of the Corporation) was written; it appeared in the paper; a meeting to consider it was called for the next week. In the same issue of the paper appeared an account of Jenny's reception in Catsford, and an announcement of the impending holiday and feast. That issue might fairly be called Jenny's number. Her friends were jubilant; her enemies were bewildered by the audacity of her a.s.sault.

But Jenny did not come off without loss. Not only did she confirm the disapproval of those who were resolute against her--I heard much of Mrs.

Jepps's outspoken and shocked comments, something of Alison's stern silence--but she lost or came near to losing an adherent of undoubted value.

Dash and defiance were not Lady Aspenick's idea of the proper way of proceeding; and another thing offended her no less. She had, I think, on the news of Jenny's return, devised a scheme by which she was to be Jenny's protector and champion; she would throw the aegis of Overington Grange's undoubted respectability over Jenny's vulnerable spot; her influence, tact, and diplomacy would gradually smooth Jenny's path back to society; Jenny would be bound to grat.i.tude and to docility. The dashing strategy upset all that; the appearance of Margaret Octon upset it still more.

She paid her call on Jenny--her previous position committed her to that.

She drove over--not in a tandem--on the same day on which all the news about Jenny was in the paper. I met her as she went away, happening to come up to the Priory door just as she was coming out--Jenny not escorting her. She was looking black.

"It's pleasant to welcome you to a cheerful house once again, Lady Aspenick. We've had a long dull time at the Priory."

"You won't be dull now, anyhow," she rejoined with some acidity. She dropped her voice that the men might not hear. "Oh, how unwise! All this parade and splash! I can't tell you how I feel about it--and Jack, too!

And poor Mr. Alison! And, to crown all, she flings the thing in our faces by bringing this girl with her!"

"She's a very nice girl," I pleaded meekly.

"I know nothing about that. She's that man's daughter. Surely Jenny Driver might have known that her chance lay in having it all forgotten and--and in being--well, just the opposite of what she is now? She goes on as if she were proud of herself!"

As a criticism on Jenny's public att.i.tude, there was some truth in this.

I could not tell Lady Aspenick about her private att.i.tude--nor would it make matters better if I did.

"She makes it very hard for her friends," continued the aggrieved lady.

"We were anxious to do our best for her. But really--!" Words failed.

She shook her head emphatically at me and walked off to her carriage.

I found Jenny in a fine rage as the result of Lady Aspenick's expression of her views--which had apparently been nearly as frank to her as to me.

Yet she protested that she had behaved with the utmost wisdom and meekness--for Margaret's sake.

"I stood it, Austin," she declared, with a little stamp of her foot.

"How I stood it I don't know, but I did. She lectured me--she told me I ought to have been guided by her! She said I was going quite the wrong way about it with the Inst.i.tute and that she deeply regretted the 'scene' in Catsford. The scene! She threatened me with the parsons and the Puritans!"

How very angry Jenny was! Parsons and Puritans!

"And ended up--yes, she dared to end up--by telling me I must send Margaret away. She'll see more of Margaret than she thinks before she's done with her!"

"And you were very meek and mild?"

"I know you don't believe it. But I was. I was absolutely civil and thanked her for her kindness. But of course I said that I must judge for myself--and that the question of Margaret lay absolutely outside the bounds of discussion."

"To which Lady Aspenick----?"

"She got up and went. What did she say to you?"

"Much the same--that you were making it very difficult for her."

"I've gained more than I've lost in Catsford," Jenny declared obstinately and confidently. Then her voice softened. "As for poor little Margaret--it's not a question of my gain or my loss there. You do know that?" She was appealing to me for a kind judgment.

"I'm beginning to understand that."

"I stand or fall with Margaret; or I fall--if only she stands. That's final." She broke into a smile. "So, in spite of what you think, I drove myself to be civil to Susie Aspenick. But let her wait a little! Send Margaret away!" Jenny looked dangerous again.

Jenny could have forgiven the criticism of her Catsford proceedings--though not over easily; the attempt to touch Margaret rankled, and, if I mistook not, would rankle, sorely.

It is pleasant to record that Jenny's chivalrous devotion to her "legacy" found appreciation elsewhere; it softened an opponent, and stirred to enthusiasm one already inclined to be a friend.

I had a note from Alison: "I can't countenance her goings on in Catsford--her courting of publicity and applause, her holidays and picnics--no, nor--at present--her Inst.i.tute either. If she is ent.i.tled to come back at all, she is not ent.i.tled to come in triumph--far from it. But I like and admire what she is doing about Miss Octon, and I have scandalized Mrs. Jepps and many other good folk by saying so. In that she's brave and honest. I shouldn't mind if you could let her know how I feel on this second point; my views on the first she'll know for herself."

I did take occasion to let Jenny know what Alison wished to reach her.

"He may think what he likes about Catsford, if he's on my side about Margaret," she declared with evident pleasure. Then her eyes twinkled.

"We'll have him yet, Margaret and I between us!" she added.

The next Sunday she attended Alison's church--she, Chat, and Margaret Octon. I hope that she was not merely "doing the civil thing," like the d.u.c.h.ess in the story. After all she had always been one of his bugbears--one of the people who went "fairly regularly."

That same Sunday, in the afternoon, Lacey came to see me. He drove up in his dog-cart, handed the reins to a good-looking dark man, with upturned mustaches, who sat by him, and came to my door. Having seen their arrival, I was there to open it and welcome him.

"Won't your friend come in, too?" I asked.

"He's all right; he's in no hurry, and he's got a cigar. I want to speak to you alone for just a minute."

He followed me in and sat down. His manner was thoughtful and a little embarra.s.sed.

"I saw you down in Catsford the other day," I remarked. "They were very kind to us!"

"I want to ask you a question, Austin," he said. "Do you think that Miss Driver would wish to receive a call from me?"

"I'm sure she'd be delighted."