The Reason Why

Chapter 21

Francis Markrute's moral antennae upon which he prided himself informed

him that all was not as it should be between this young bride and

bridegroom. Zara seemed to have acquired in this short week even an

extra air of regal dignity, aided by her perfect clothes; and Tristram

looked stern, and less joyous and more haughty than he had done. And

they were both so deadly cold, and certainly constrained! It was not one

of the financier's habits ever to doubt himself or his deductions. They

were based upon far too sound reasoning. No, if something had gone wrong

or had not yet evolutionized it was only for the moment and need cause

no philosophical _deus ex machina_ any uneasiness.

For it was morally and physically impossible that such a perfectly

developed pair of the genus human being could live together in the bonds

of marriage, and not learn to love.

Meanwhile, it was his business as the friend and uncle of the two to be

genial and make things go on greased wheels.

So he exerted himself to talk at dinner--their dinner _ trois_--. He

told them all the news that had happened during the week--Was it only a

week--Zara and Tristram both thought!

How there were rumors that in the coming spring there might be a general

election, and that the Radicals were making fresh plots to ruin the

country; but there was to be no autumn session, and, as usual, the

party to which they all had the honor to belong was half asleep.

And then the two men grew deep in a political discussion, so as soon as

Zara had eaten her peach she said she would leave them to their talk,

and say "Good night," as she was tired out.

"Yes, my niece," said her uncle who had risen. And he did what he had

not done since she was a child, he stooped and kissed her white

forehead. "Yes, indeed, you must go and rest. We both want you to do us

justice to-morrow, don't we, Tristram? We must have our special lady

looking her best."

And she smiled a faint smile as she passed from the room.

"By George! my dear boy," the financier went on, "I don't believe I ever

realized what a gorgeously beautiful creature my niece is. She is like

some wonderful exotic blossom--a mass of snow and flame!"

And Tristram said with unconscious cynicism,

"Certainly snow--but where is the flame?"

Francis Markrute looked at him out of the corners of his clever eyes.

She had been icy to him in Paris, then! But his was not the temperament

to interfere. It was only a question of time. After all, a week was not

long to grow accustomed to a perfect stranger.

Then they went back to the library, and smoked for an hour or so and

continued their political chat; and at last Markrute said to his new

nephew-in-law blandly,

"In a year or so, when you and Zara have a son, I will give you, my dear

boy, some papers to read which will interest you as showing the mother's

side of his lineage. It will be a fit balance, as far as actual blood

goes, to your own."

In a year or so, when Zara should have a son!

Of all the aspects of the case, which her pride and disdain had robbed

him of, this, Tristram felt, was perhaps--though it had not before

presented itself to him--the most cruel. He would have no son!

He got up suddenly and threw his unfinished cigar into the grate--that

old habit of his when he was moved--and he said in a voice that the

financier knew was strained,

"That is awfully good of you. I shall have to have it inserted in the

family tree--some day. But now I think I shall turn in. I want to have

my eye rested, and be as fit as a fiddle for the shoot. I have had a

tiring week."

And Francis Markrute came out with him into the passage and up to the

first floor, and when they got so far they heard the notes of the

_Chanson Triste_ being played again from Zara's sitting-room. She had

not gone to bed, then, it seemed!

"Good God!" said Tristram. "I don't know why, but I wish to heaven she

would not play that tune."

And the two men looked at one another with some uneasy wonder in their

eyes.

"Go on and take her to bed," the financier suggested. "Perhaps she does

not like being left so long alone."

Tristram went upstairs with a bitter laugh to himself.

He did not go near the sitting-room; he went straight into the room

which had been allotted to himself: and a savage sense of humiliation

and impotent rage convulsed him.

The next day, the express which would stop for them at Tylling Green,

the little station for Montfitchet, started at two o'clock, and the

financier had given orders to have an early lunch at twelve before they

left. He, himself, went off to the City for half an hour to read his

letters, at ten o'clock, and was surprised when he asked Turner if Lord

and Lady Tancred had break-fasted to hear that her ladyship had gone out

at half-past nine o'clock and that his lordship had given orders to his

valet not to disturb him, in his lordship's room--and here Turner

coughed--until half-past ten.

"See that they have everything they want," his master said, and then

went out. But when he was in his electric brougham, gliding eastwards,

he frowned to himself.

"The proud, little minx! So she has insisted upon keeping to the

business bargain up till now, has she!" he thought. "If it goes on we

shall have to make her jealous. That would be an infallible remedy for

her caprice."

But Zara was not concerned with such things at all for the moment. She

was waiting anxiously for Mimo at their trysting-place, the mausoleum of

Halicarnassus in the British Museum, and he was late. He would have the

last news of Mirko. No reply had awaited her to her telegram to Mrs.

Morley from Paris, and it had been too late to wire again last night.

And Mrs. Morley must have got the telegram, because Mimo had got his.

Some day, she hoped--when she could grow perhaps more friendly with her

husband--she would get her uncle to let her tell him about Mirko. It

would make everything so much more simple as regards seeing him, and

why, since the paper was all signed and nothing could be altered, should

there be any mystery now? Only, her uncle had said the day before the

wedding,

"I beg of you not to mention the family disgrace of your mother to your

husband nor speak to him of the man Sykypri for a good long time--if you

ever need."

And she had acquiesced.

"For," Francis Markrute had reasoned to himself, "if the boy dies, as

Morley thinks there is every likelihood that he will, why should

Tristram ever know?"

The disgrace of his adored sister always made him wince.

Mimo came at last, looking anxious and haggard, and not his debonair

self. Yes, he had had a telegram that morning. He had sent one, as he

was obliged to do, in her name, and hence the confusion in the answer.

Mrs. Morley had replied to the Neville Street address, and Zara wondered

if she knew London very well and would see how impossible such a

locality would be for the Lady Tancred!

But Mirko was better--decidedly better--the attack had again been very

short. So she felt reassured for the moment, and was preparing to go

when she remembered that one of the things she had come for was to give

Mimo some money in notes which she had prepared for him; but, knowing

the poor gentleman's character, she was going to do it delicately by

buying the "Apache!" For she was quite aware that just money, for him to

live, now that it was not a question of the welfare of Mirko, he would

never accept from her. In such unpractical, sentimental ways does

breeding show itself in some weak natures!

Mimo was almost suspicious of the transaction, and she was obliged to

soothe and flatter him by saying that he must surely always have

understood how intensely she had admired that work; and now she was rich

it would be an everlasting pleasure to her to own it for her very own.

So poor Mimo _was_ comforted, and they parted after a while, all

arrangements having been made that the telegrams--should any more

come--were to go first, addressed to her at Neville Street, so that the

poor father should see them and then send them on.

And as it was now past eleven o'clock Zara returned quickly back to Park

Lane and was coming in at the door just as her husband was descending

the stairs.

"You are up very early, Milady," he said casually, and because of the

servants in the hall she felt it would look better to follow him into

the library.

Tristram was surprised at this and he longed to ask her where she had

been, but she did not tell him; she just said,

"What time do we arrive at your uncle's? Is it five or six?"

"It only takes three hours. We shall be in about five. And, Zara, I want

you to wear the sable coat. I think it suits you better than the

chinchilla you had when we left."

A little pink came into her cheeks. This was the first time he had ever

spoken of her clothes; and to hide the sudden strange emotion she felt,

she said coldly.

"Yes, I intended to. I shall always hate that chinchilla coat."

And he turned away to the window, stung again by her words which she had

said unconsciously. The chinchilla had been her conventional "going

away" bridal finery. That was, of course, why she hated the remembrance

of it.

As soon as she had said the words she felt sorry. What on earth made her

so often wound him? She did not know it was part of the same instinct of

self-defense which had had to make up her whole attitude towards life.

Only this time it was unconsciously to hide and so defend the new

emotion which was creeping into her heart.

He stayed with his back turned, looking out of the window; so, after

waiting a moment, she went from the room.

At the station they found Jimmy Danvers, and a Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt

with the latter's sister, Miss Opie, and several men. The rest of the

party, including Emily and Mary, Jimmy told them, had gone down by the

eleven o'clock train.

Both Mrs. Harcourt and her sister and, indeed, the whole company were

Tristram's old and intimate friends and they were so delighted to see

him, and chaffed and were gay, and Zara watched, and saw that her uncle

entered into the spirit of the fun in the saloon, and only she was a

stranger and out in the cold.

As for Tristram, he seemed to become a different person to the stern,

constrained creature of the past week, and he sat in a corner with Mrs.

Harcourt, and bent over her and chaffed and whispered in her ear, and

she--Zara--was left primly in one of the armchairs, a little aloof. But

such a provoking looking type of beauty as hers did not long leave the

men of the party cold to her charms; and soon Jimmy Danvers joined her

and a Colonel Lowerby, commonly known as "the Crow," and she held a

little court. But to relax and be genial and unregal was so difficult

for her, with the whole contrary training of all her miserable life.

Hitherto men and, indeed, often women were things to be kept at a

distance, as in one way or another they were sure to bite!

And after a while the party adjusted itself, some for bridge and some

for sleep; and Jimmy Danvers and Colonel Lowerby went into the small

compartment to smoke.

"Well, Crow," said Jimmy, "what do you think of Tristram's new lady?

Isn't she a wonder? But, Jehoshaphat! doesn't she freeze you to death!"

"Very curious type," growled the Crow. "Bit of Vesuvius underneath, I

expect."

"Yes, that is what a fellow'd think to look at her," Jimmy said, puffing

at his cigarette. "But she keeps the crust on the top all the time; the

bloomin' volcano don't get a chance!"

"She doesn't look stupid," continued the Crow. "She looks stormy--expect

it's pretty well worth while, though, when she melts."

"Poor old Tristram don't look as if he had had a taste of paradise with

his houri, for his week, does he? Before we'd heartened him up on the

platform a bit--give you my word--he looked as mum as an owl," Jimmy

said. "And she looked like an iceberg, as she's done all the time. I've

never seen her once warm up."

"He's awfully in love with her," grunted the Crow.

"I believe that is about the measure, though I can't see how you've

guessed it. You had not got back for the wedding, Crow, and it don't

show now."

The Crow laughed--one of his chuckling, cynical laughs which to his dear

friend Lady Anningford meant so much that was in his mind.

"Oh, doesn't it!" he said.

"Well, tell me, what do you really think of her?" Jimmy went on. "You

see, I was best man at the wedding, and I feel kind of responsible if

she is going to make the poor, old boy awfully unhappy."

"She's unhappy herself," said the Crow. "It's because she is unhappy

she's so cold. She reminds me of a rough terrier I bought once, when I

was a lad, from a particularly brutal bargeman. It snarled at every one

who came near it, before they could show if they were going to kick or

not, just from force of habit."

"Well?" questioned Jimmy, who, as before has been stated, was rather

thick.

"Well, after I had had it for a year it was the most faithful and the

gentlest dog I ever owned. That sort of creature wants oceans of

kindness. Expect Tristram's pulled the curb--doesn't understand as yet."

"Why, how could a person who must always have had heaps of

cash--Markrute's niece, you know--and a fine position be like your dog,

Crow? You _are_ drawing it!"

"Well, you need not mind what I say, Jimmy," Colonel Lowerby went on.

"Judge for yourself. You asked my opinion, and as I am an old friend of

the family I've given it, and time will show."

"Lady Highford's going to be at Montfitchet," Jimmy announced after a

pause. "She won't make things easy for any one, will she!"

"How did that happen?" asked the Crow in an astonished voice.

"Ethelrida had asked her in the season, when every one supposed the

affair was still on, and I expect she would not let them put her off--"

And then both men looked up at the door, for Tristram peeped in.

"We shall be arriving in five minutes, you fellows," he said.

And soon they drew up at the little Tylling Green station, and the

saloon was switched off, while the express flew on to King's Lynn.

There were motor cars and an omnibus to meet them, and Lady Ethelrida's

own comfortable coup for the bridal pair. They might just want to say a

few words together alone before arriving, she had kindly thought. And

so, though neither of the two were very eager for this tte--tte, they

got in and started off. The little coup had very powerful engines and

flew along, so they were well ahead of the rest of the party and would

get to the house first, which was what the hostess had calculated upon.

Then Tristram could have the pleasure of presenting his bride to the

assembled company at tea, without the interruptions of the greetings of

the other folk.

Zara felt excited. She was beginning to realize that these English

people were all of her dead father's class, not creatures whom one must

beware of until one knew whether or not they were gamblers or rogues.

And it made her breathe more freely, and the black panther's look died

out of her eyes. She did not feel nervous, as she well might have

done--only excited and highly worked up. Tristram, for his part, wished

to heaven Ethelrida had not arranged to send the coup for them. It was

such a terrible temptation for him to resist for five miles, sitting so

near her all alone in the dusk of the afternoon! He clenched his hands

under the rug, and drew as far away from her as he could; and she

glanced at him and wondered, almost timidly, why he looked so stern.

"I hope you will tell me, if there is anything special you wish me to

do, please?" she said. "Because, you see, I have never been in the

English country before, and my uncle has given me to understand the

customs are different to those abroad."

He felt he could not look at her; the unusual gentleness in her voice

was so alluring, and he had not forgotten the hurt of the chinchilla

coat. If he relented in his attitude at all she would certainly snub him

again; so he continued staring in front of him, and answered ordinarily,

"I expect you will do everything perfectly right, and every one will

only want to be kind to you, and make you have a good time; and my uncle

will certainly make love to you but you must not mind that."

And Zara allowed herself to smile as she answered,

"No, I shall not in the least object to that!"

He knew she was smiling--out of the corner of his eye--and the

temptation to clasp her to him was so overpowering that he said rather

hoarsely, "Do you mind if I put the window down?"

He must have some air; he was choking. She wondered more and more what

was the matter with him, and they both fell into a constrained silence

which lasted until they turned into the park gates; and Zara peered out

into the ghostly trees, with their autumn leaves nearly off, and tried

to guess from the lodge what the house would be like.

It was very enormous and stately, she found when they reached it, and,

she walking with her empress air and Tristram following her, they at

last came to the picture gallery where the rest of the party, who had

arrived earlier, were all assembled in the center, by one of the big

fireplaces, with their host and hostess having tea.

The Duke and Lady Ethelrida came forward, down the very long, narrow

room (they had quite sixty feet to walk before they met them), and

then, when they did, they both kissed Zara--their beautiful new

relation!--and Lady Ethelrida taking her arm drew her towards the party,

while she whispered,

"You dear, lovely thing! Ever so many welcomes to the family and

Montfitchet!"

And Zara suddenly felt a lump in her throat. How she had misjudged them

all in her hurt ignorance! And determining to repair her injustice she

advanced with a smile and was presented to the group.