III

In the big blue and gold drawing room at Gorston Hall, Alfred Lee and Lydia, his wife, satdiscussing their plans for Christmas. Alfred was a squarely built man of middle age with a gentleface and mild brown eyes. His voice when he spoke¹ was quiet and precise with a very clearenunciation. His head was sunk into his shoulders and he gave a curious impression of inertia².

Lydia, his wife, was an energetic, lean greyhound of a woman. She was amazingly thin, but all hermovements had a swift, startled grace about them.

There was no beauty in her careless, haggard face, but it had distinction. Her voice wascharming.

Alfred said:

“Father insists! There’s nothing else to it.”

Lydia controlled a sudden impatient movement. She said:

“Must you always give in to him?”

“He’s a very old man, my dear—”

“Oh, I know—I know!”

“He expects to have his own way.”

Lydia said dryly:

“Naturally, since he has always had it! But some time or other, Alfred, you will have to makea stand.”

“What do you mean, Lydia?”

He stared at her, so palpably upset and startled, that for a moment she bit her lip and seemeddoubtful whether to go on.

Alfred Lee repeated:

“What do you mean, Lydia?”

She shrugged³ her thin, graceful⁴ shoulders.

She said, trying to choose her words cautiously:

“Your father is—inclined to be—tyrannical—”

“He’s old.”

“And will grow older. And consequently more tyrannical. Where will it end? Already hedictates our lives to us completely. We can’t make a plan of our own! If we do, it is always liableto be upset.”

Alfred said:

“Father expects to come first. He is very good to us, remember.”

“Oh! good to us!”

“Very good to us.”

Alfred spoke with a trace of sternness.

“Lydia said calmly:

“You mean financially?”

“Yes. His own wants are very simple. But he never grudges⁵ us money. You can spend whatyou like on dress and on this house, and the bills are paid without a murmur⁶. He gave us a new caronly last week.”

“As far as money goes, your father is very generous, I admit,” said Lydia. “But in return heexpects us to behave like slaves.”

“Slaves?”

“That’s the word I used. You are his slave, Alfred. If we have planned to go away and Fathersuddenly wishes us not to go, you cancel your arrangements and remain without a murmur! If thewhim takes him to send us away, we go .?.?. We have no lives of our own—no independence.”

Her husband said distressfully:

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like this, Lydia. It is very ungrateful. My father has doneeverything for us. .?.?.”

She bit off a retort that was on her lips. She shrugged those thin, graceful shoulders oncemore.

Alfred said:

“You know, Lydia, the old man is very fond of you—”

His wife said clearly and distinctly:

“I am not at all fond of him.”

“Lydia, it distresses⁷ me to hear you say things like that. It is so unkind—”

“Perhaps. But sometimes a compulsion comes over one to speak the truth.”

“If Father guessed—”

“Your father knows perfectly⁸ well that I do not like him! It amuses him, I think.”

“Really, Lydia, I am sure you are wrong there. He has often told me how charming yourmanner to him is.”

“Naturally I’ve always been polite. I always shall be. I’m just letting you know what my realfeelings are. I dislike your father, Alfred. I think he is a malicious⁹ and tyrannical old man. Hebullies you and presumes on your affection for him. You ought to have stood up to him years ago.”

Alfred said sharply:

“That will do, Lydia. Please don’t say any more.”

She sighed.

“I’m sorry. Perhaps I was wrong .?.?. Let’s talk of our Christmas arrangements. Do you thinkyour brother David will really come?”

“Why not?”

She shook her head doubtfully.

“David is—queer. He’s not been inside the house for years, remember. He was so devoted¹⁰ toyour mother—he’s got some feeling about this place.”

“David always got on Father’s nerves,” said Alfred, “with his music and his dreamy ways.

Father was, perhaps, a bit hard on him sometimes. But I think David and Hilda will come all right.

Christmastime, you know.”

“Peace and goodwill,” said Lydia. Her delicate mouth curved ironically. “I wonder! Georgeand Magdalene are coming. They said they would probably arrive tomorrow. I’m afraidMagdalene will be frightfully bored.”

Alfred said with some slight annoyance¹¹:

“Why my brother George ever married a girl twenty years younger than himself I can’t think!

George was always a fool!”

“He’s very successful in his career,” said Lydia. “His constituents¹² like him. I believeMagdalene works quite hard politically for him.”

Alfred said slowly:

“I don’t think I like her very much. She is very good-looking—but I sometimes think she islike one of those beautiful pears one gets—they have a rosy¹³ flush and a rather waxen appearance—” He shook his head.

“And they’re bad inside?” said Lydia. “How funny you should say that, Alfred!”

“Why funny?”

She answered:

“Because—usually—you are such a gentle soul. You hardly ever say an unkind thing aboutanyone. I get annoyed with you sometimes because you’re not sufficiently—oh, what shall I say?

—sufficiently suspicious—not worldly enough!”

Her husband smiled.

“The world, I always think, is as you yourself make it.”

Lydia said sharply:

“No! Evil is not only in one’s mind. Evil exists! You seem to have no consciousness of theevil in the world. I have. I can feel it. I’ve always felt it—here in this house—” She bit her lip andturned away.

Alfred said, “Lydia—”

But she raised a quick admonitory hand, her eyes looking past him at something over hisshoulder. Alfred turned.

A dark man with a smooth face was standing¹⁴ there deferentially¹⁶.

Lydia said sharply:

“What is it, Horbury?”

Horbury’s voice was low, a mere¹⁷ deferential¹⁵ murmur.

“It’s Mr. Lee, madam. He asked me to tell you that there would be two more guests arrivingfor Christmas, and would you have rooms prepared for them.”

Lydia said, “Two more guests?”

Horbury said smoothly¹⁸, “Yes, madam, another gentleman and a young lady.”

Alfred said wonderingly: “A young lady?”

“That’s what Mr. Lee said, sir.”

Lydia said quickly:

“I will go up and see him—”

Horbury made one little step, it was a mere ghost of a movement but it stopped Lydia’s rapidprogress automatically.

“Excuse me, madam, but Mr. Lee is having his afternoon sleep. He asked specifically that heshould not be disturbed.”

“I see,” said Alfred. “Of course we won’t disturb him.”

“Thank you, sir.” Horbury withdrew.

Lydia said vehemently¹⁹:

“How I dislike that man! He creeps about the house like a cat! One never hears him going orcoming.”

“I don’t like him very much either. But he knows his job. It’s not so easy to get a good malenurse attendant. And Father likes him, that’s the main thing.”

“Yes, that’s the main thing, as you say. Alfred, what is this about a young lady? What younglady?”

Her husband shook his head.

“I can’t imagine. I can’t even think of anyone it might be likely to be.”

They stared at each other. Then Lydia said, with a sudden twist of her expressive²⁰ mouth:

“Do you know what I think, Alfred?”

“What?”

“I think your father has been bored lately. I think he is planning a little Christmas diversionfor himself.”

“By introducing two strangers into a family gathering²¹?”

“Oh! I don’t know what the details are—but I do fancy that your father is preparing to—amuse himself.”

“I hope he will get some pleasure out of it,” said Alfred gravely. “Poor old chap, tied by theleg, an invalid—after the adventurous²² life he has led.”

Lydia said slowly:

“After the—adventurous life he has led.”

The pause she made before the adjective gave it some special though obscure significance.

Alfred seemed to feel it. He flushed and looked unhappy.

She cried out suddenly:

“How he ever had a son like you, I can’t imagine! You two are poles apart. And he fascinatesyou—you simply worship him!”

Alfred said with a trace of vexation:

“Aren’t you going a little far, Lydia? It’s natural, I should say, for a son to love his father. Itwould be very unnatural²³ not to do so.”

Lydia said:

“In that case, most of the members of this family are—unnatural! Oh, don’t let’s argue! Iapologize. I’ve hurt your feelings, I know. Believe me, Alfred, I really didn’t mean to do that. Iadmire you enormously for your—your—fidelity. Loyalty²⁴ is such a rare virtue²⁵ in these days. Letus say, shall we, that I am jealous? Women are supposed to be jealous of their mothers-in-law—why not, then, of their fathers-in-law?”

He put a gentle arm round her.

“Your tongue runs away with you, Lydia. There’s no reason for you to be jealous.”

She gave him a quick remorseful²⁶ kiss, a delicate caress²⁷ on the tip of his ear.

“I know. All the same, Alfred, I don’t believe I should have been in the least jealous of yourmother. I wish I’d known her.”

“She was a poor creature,” he said.

His wife looked at him interestedly.

“So that’s how she struck you .?.?. as a poor creature .?.?. That’s interesting.”

He said dreamily:

“I remember her as nearly always ill .?.?. Often in tears .?.?.” He shook his head. “She had nospirit.”

Still staring at him, she murmured very softly:

“How odd. .?.?.”

But as he turned a questioning glance on her, she shook her head quickly and changed thesubject.

“Since we are not allowed to know who our mysterious guests are I shall go out and finishmy garden.”

“It’s very cold, my dear, a biting wind.”

“I’ll wrap up warmly.”

She left the room. Alfred Lee, left alone, stood for some minutes motionless, frowning a littleto himself, then he walked over to the big window at the end of the room. Outside was a terracerunning the whole length of the house. Here, after a minute or two, he saw Lydia emerge, carryinga flat basket. She was wearing a big blanket coat. She set down the basket and began to work at asquare stone sink slightly raised above ground level.

Her husband watched for some time. At last he went out of the room, fetched himself a coatand muffler, and emerged on to the terrace by a side door. As he walked along he passed variousother stone sinks arranged as miniature gardens, all the products of Lydia’s agile²⁸ fingers.

One represented a desert scene with smooth yellow sand, a little clump²⁹ of green palm trees incoloured tin, and a procession of camels with one or two little Arab figures. Some primitive³⁰ mudhouses had been constructed of plasticine. There was an Italian garden with terraces and formalbeds with flowers in coloured sealing wax. There was an Arctic one, too, with clumps³¹ of greenglass for icebergs³², and a little cluster of penguins³³. Next came a Japanese garden with a couple ofbeautiful little stunted³⁴ trees, looking glass arranged for water, and bridges modelled out ofplasticine.

He came at last to stand beside her where she was at work. She had laid down blue paper andcovered it over with glass. Round this were lumps of rock piled up. At the moment she waspouring out coarse pebbles³⁵ from a little bag and forming them into a beach. Between the rockswere some small cactuses.

Lydia was murmuring to herself:

“Yes, that’s exactly right—exactly what I want.”

Alfred said:

“What’s this latest work of art?”

She started, for she had not heard him come up.

“This? Oh, it’s the Dead Sea, Alfred. Do you like it?”

He said, “It’s rather arid³⁶, isn’t it? Oughtn’t there to be more vegetation?”

She shook her head.

“It’s my idea of the Dead Sea. It is dead, you see—”

“It’s not so attractive as some of the others.”

“It’s not meant to be specially³⁷ attractive.”

Footsteps sounded on the terrace. An elderly butler, white-haired and slightly bowed, wascoming towards them.

“Mrs. George Lee on the telephone, madam. She says will it be convenient if she and Mr.

George arrive by the five twenty tomorrow?”

“Yes, tell her that will be quite all right.”

“Thank you, madam.”

The butler hurried away. Lydia looked after him with a softened³⁸ expression on her face.

“Dear old Tressilian. What a standby he is! I can’t imagine what we should do without him.”

Alfred agreed.

“He’s one of the old school. He’s been with us nearly forty years. He’s devoted to us all.”

Lydia nodded.

“Yes. He’s like the faithful old retainers of fiction. I believe he’d lie himself blue in the faceif it was necessary to protect one of the family!”

Alfred said:

“I believe he would .?.?. Yes, I believe he would.”

Lydia smoothed over the last bit of her shingle³⁹.

“There,” she said. “That’s ready.”

“Ready?” Alfred looked puzzled.

She laughed.

“For Christmas, silly! For this sentimental⁴⁰ family Christmas we’re going to have.”

 

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