"She's right, David. It has been awful since your brother left." David sat beside her and placed his hand on hers. Again it was in his mind to tell her of Ca.s.sandra, and again he was stopped by the tenor of her next remark. "You see how it is, my son; Laura can't understand, but you will."

"I'm not sure that I do. Open your heart to me, mother; tell me what you mean."

"My dear son. I don't like to begin with worries. It is so sweet to have you back in the home. May you always stay with us."

"I don't mind the worries, mother," he said tenderly; "I am here to help you. What is it?

"It is only that, although we have inherited the t.i.tle and estates, we are not there. We will be received, of course, but at first only by those who have axes to grind. There are so many such, and it is hard to protect one's self from them. For instance, there is Lady Willisbeck.

Her own set have cut her completely for--certain reasons--there is no need to retail unpleasant gossip,--but she was one of the first to call.

Her daughter, Lady Isabel, gave Laura that dog,--but all the more because Laura and Lady Isabel were in school together, and were on the same hockey team, they will have that excuse for clinging to us like burs.

"Lady Willisbeck would like very much now, for her daughter's sake, to win back her place in society, although she did not seem to value it for herself. Long before her mother's life became common talk,--because she was infatuated with your cousin Lyon, Lady Isabel chose Laura for her chum, and the two have worked up a very romantic situation out of the affair. You see I have cause for anxiety, David."

He still held her hand, looking kindly in her face. "Is Lady Isabel the right sort?" he asked.

"What do you mean by 'the right sort,' David? She isn't like her mother, naturally, or I would have been more decided; but she is not the right sort for us. Lady Willisbeck is ostracized, and it is a grave matter.

Her daughter will be ostracized with her, unless she can find a chaperon of quality to champion her--to--to--well, you understand that Laura can't afford to make her debut handicapped with such a friendship. Not now."

"I fail to see until I know more of her friend."

"But, David, we can't be visionary now. We must be practical and face the difficulties of our situation. We are honorably ent.i.tled to all that the inheritance implies, but it is another thing to avail ourselves of it. Your uncle led a most secluded life. He had no visitors, and was known only among men, and politically as a close conservative. His seat in the House meant only that. So now we enter a circle in which we never moved before, and we are not of it. For the present, our deep mourning is prohibitory, but it is also Laura's protection, although she does not know it." His mother paused. She was not regarding him. She seemed to be looking into the future, and a little line, which had formed during the years of David's absence, deepened in her forehead.

"Be a little more explicit, mother. Protection from what?"

"From undesirable people, dear. We are very conspicuous; to be frank, we are new. My own family connections are all good, but they will not be the slightest help to Laura in maintaining her position. We have always lived in the country, and know no one."

"You have refinement and good taste, mother."

"I know it; that and this inheritance and the t.i.tle."

"Isn't that 'protection' enough? I really fail to see-- Whatever would please you would be right. You may have what friendships you--"

"Not at all, David. Everything is iron-bound. They are simply watching lest we bring a lot of common people in our train. Things grow worse and worse in that way. There are so many rich tradespeople who are struggling to get in, and clinging desperately to the skirts of the poorer n.o.bility. Of course, it all goes to show what a tremendous thing good birth is, and the iron laws of custom are, after all, a proper safeguard and should be respected. Nevertheless we, who are so new, must not allow ourselves to become stepping-stones. It is perfectly right.

"That is why I said this period of mourning is Laura's protection. She will have time to know what friendships are best, and an opportunity to avoid undesirable ones. You have been away so long, David, where the cla.s.s lines are not so rigidly drawn, that you forget--or never knew. It is my duty, without any foolish sentiment, to guard Laura and see to it that her coming out is what it should be. For one thing, she is so very plain. If she were a beauty, it would help, but her plainness must be compensated for in other ways. She will have a large settlement, Mr.

Stretton thinks, if your uncle's interests are not too much jeopardized in South Africa by this terrible war. That is something you will have to look into before you take your seat in the House."

"Oh, mother, mother! I can't--"

"My dear boy, your brother died for his country, and can you not give a little of your life for it? I can rely on you to be practically inclined, now that you are placed at the head of such a family? I'm glad now you never cared for Muriel Hunt. She could never have filled the position as her ladyship, your uncle's wife, did. She was Lady Thomasia Harcourt Glendyne of Wales. Beside her, Muriel would appear silly. It is most fortunate you have no such entanglement now."

"Mother, mother! I am astounded! I never dreamed my dear, beautiful mother could descend to such worldliness. You are changed, mother. There is something fundamentally wrong in all this."

She looked up at him, aghast at his vehemence.

"My son, my son! Let us have only love between us--only love. I am not changed. I was content as I was, nor ever tried to enter a sphere above me. Now that this comes to me--forced on me by right of English law--I take it thankfully, with all it brings. I will fill the place as it should be filled, and Laura shall do the same, and you also, my son. As for Muriel Hunt, I will make concessions if--if your happiness demands it."

David groaned inwardly. "No, mother, no. It goes deeper than Muriel; it goes deeper." They had both risen. She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked levelly in his eyes, and her own lightened, through tears held bravely back.

"It may well go deeper than Muriel, and still not go very deep."

"And yet the time was when Muriel Hunt was thought quite deep enough,"

he said sadly, still looking in his mother's eyes--but she only continued:--

"Never doubt for a moment, dear, that Laura's welfare and yours are dearer to me than life. You are very weary; I see it in your eyes. Have you been to your apartment? Clark will show you." She kissed his brow and departed.

CHAPTER XXVI

IN WHICH DAVID THRYNG ADJUSTS HIS LIFE TO NEW CONDITIONS

David stood where his mother had left him, dazed, hurt, sad. He was desperately minded to leave all and flee back to the hills--back to the life he had left in Canada. He saw the clear, true look of Ca.s.sandra's eyes meeting his. His heart called for her; his soul cried out within him. He felt like one launched on an irresistible current which was sweeping him ever nearer to a maelstrom wherein he was inevitably to be swallowed up.

He perceived that to his mother the established order of things there in her little island was sacred--an arrangement to be still further upheld and solidified. She had suddenly become a part of a great system, intrusted with a care for its maintenance and stability, as one of its guardians. Before, it had mattered little to her, for she was not of it.

Now it was very different.

Slowly David followed Clark to his own apartments. He had been given those of the old lord, his uncle. Everything about him was dark, ma.s.sive, and rich, but without grace. His bags and boxes had been unpacked and his dinner suit laid in readiness, and Clark stood stiffly awaiting orders.

"Will you have a shave, my lord?"

The man's manner jarred on him. It was obsequious, and he hated it. Yet it was only the custom. Clark was simple-hearted and kindly, filling his little place in the upholding of the system of which he was a part; had his manner been different, a shade more familiar, David would have resented it and ordered him out,--but of this David was not conscious.

In spite of his scruples, he was born and bred an aristocrat.

"No--a--I'll shave myself." Still the man waited, and, taking up David's coat, flicked a particle of dust from the collar. "I don't want anything. You may go."

"Thank you." Clark melted quietly out of the apartment.

"Thanks me for being rude to him," thought David, irritably; "I shall take pleasure in being rude to him. My G.o.d! What a farce life is over here! The whole thing is a farce."

He shaved himself and cut his chin, and when he appeared later with a patch of court-plaster thereon, Clark commented to himself on "his lordship's" inability to do the shaving properly.

As David thought over his mother's words--her outlook on life--his sister's idle aims--the companionships she must have and the kind of talk to which she must listen--he grew more and more annoyed. He contrasted it all with the past. His mother, who had been so n.o.ble and fine, seemed to have lost individuality, to have become only a segment of a circle which it was henceforth to be her highest care to keep intact. Laura must become a part of the same sacred ring, and he, too, must join hands with those who formed it and make it his duty to keep others out.

There were also other circles guarded and protected by this one--circles within circles--each smaller and more exclusive than the last. The object of the huge game of life over here seemed to be to keep the great ma.s.s of those whom they regarded as commonalty out of any one of the circles, while striving individually each to climb into the one next above, and more contracted. The most maddening thing of all was to find his grave, dignified mother drawn in and made a partaker in this meaningless strife.

Still essentially an outsider, David could look with larger vision--the far-seeing vision of the western land, the hilltops and the dividing sea,--and to him now the circles seemed verily the concentric rings of the maelstrom into which events were hurrying him. Would he be able to rise from the swirling flotsam and ride free?

The deeper philosophy underlying it all he as yet but vaguely understood; that the highest good for all could only be maintained by stability in the commonwealth; as the tremendous rock foundations of the earth are a support for the growth thereon of all perfection, all grace and beauty; that the concentric rings, when rightly understood, should become a means of purification--of reward for true worth--of power for n.o.blest service, and not for personal ambition and the unmolested gratification of vicious tastes.

David did not as yet know that his clear-seeing wife could help him to the attainment of his greatest possibilities, right here where he feared to bring her--the wife of whom he dare not tell his mother. Blinded by the world's estimates which he still had sense enough to despise, he did not know that the key to its deepest secrets lay in her heart, nor that of the two, her heritage of the large spirit and the inward-seeing eye direct to the Creator's meanings was the greater heritage.

Lady Thryng found it possible to have a few words with the lawyer before David appeared, and impressed upon him the necessity of interesting her son in this new field by showing him avenues for power and work.

"I don't quite understand the boy," she said. "After seeing the world and going his own way, I really thought he would outgrow that sort of moody sentimentalism, but it seems to be returning. He is quixotic enough to turn away from everything here and go back to Canada, unless you can awaken his interest."

"I see, I see," said the lawyer.