The Old Adam: A Story of Adventure

door continually shutting and opening. In the long wall to the left of the windows were two doors, one dark and important, a door of state, through which a procession of hungry and a procession of sated solemn self-conscious persons passed twice daily, and the other, a smaller door, glazed, its glass painted with wreaths of roses, not an original door of the house, but a late breach in the wall, that seemed to lead to the dangerous and to the naughty. The wall-paper and the window drapery were rich and forbidding, dark in hue, mysterious of pattern.

correct people. Their clothes-blouses, bodices, and jackets-did not flatter the lust of the eye. Only two or three were in evening dress. They spoke little, and generally in a timorous tone, as though silence had been enjoined. Somebody would half-whisper a remark, and

of choice. And if the food for any reason did not tempt them, or if it egregiously failed to coincide with their aspirations, they considered themselves aggrieved. For, according to the game, they might not command; they had the right to seize all that was presented under their noses, like genteel tigers; and they had the right to refuse: that was all. The dinner was thus a series of emotional crises for the diners, who knew only that full dishes and clean plates came endlessly from the banging door behind the screen, and that ravaged dishes and dirty plates vanished endlessly through the same door. They were all eating similar food

r even a lord. He happened to be fixed at the end of the table, with his back to the window, and there was a vacant chair on either side of him; this situation favoured the hope of his high rank. In truth, he was the son, the grandson, and several times the nephew, of earthenware manufacturers. He noticed that the large 'compote' (as it was called in his trade) which marked the centre of the table, was the production of his firm. This surprised him, for Peel, Swynnerton and Co., known and revered throughout the Five Towns as 'Peels,' did not cater for cheap markets. A late guest startled the room, a fat, flabby, middle-aged man whose nose would have roused the provisional hostility of those who have convinced themselves that Jews are not as other men.

t. "Nuisance when yo

gave a relucta

! It upsets the house!

eel-Swynnerton,

sometimes. Business! Worst of these French business people is tha

erviette was tucked under his chin; but he saw that the fellow was one of your determined talkers, who always win

a bachelor, you know. Have done for years. My office

e hesitation convicted him of

said Lewis Ma

y recalling a vision of the name among

on, "my name is as well-kn

," assented P

ion fell for

ded up Peel-Swynnerton as a man of style and of mea

w," said Pee

fifty francs in his pocket. He had been making a fool of himself in another quarter of Paris, and he had descended to the Pension Frensham as a place where he could be absolutely sure of spending not more than twelve francs a day. Its reputation was high, and it was convenient for the Galliera Museum, where he was making

ut, being of an accommodating disposit

here, eh?"

ynnerton, with since

had just time to notice that she was handsome and pale, and that her hair was black, and then she was gone again, followed by a clipped poodl

cting that it was now he who was making advances to

" said Mr. Mardon, in a lowe

rs. Fr

ame is Scales," said

, I su

es

uns the wh

Mr. Mardon, solemnly; "and don't you mak

ely than ever under the flaring gas. People at the end of the room away from the window instinctively smiled, as though the sun had begun to shine. The aspect of the dinner was changed, ameliorated; and with the reiterated statement th

y. He said to himself grimly in one breath that pleasure was all rot, and in the next he sullenly demanded of the universe how it was that pleasure could not go on for ever, and why he was not Mr. Barney Barnato. Two old men entered the retreat and burnt cigarettes with many precautions. Then Mr. Lewis Mardon appeared and sat down boldly next to Matthew, like a privileged friend. After all, Mr. Mardon was better than nobody whatever, and Matthew decided to suffer him, especially as he began without preliminary skirmishing to talk about life in Paris. An irresistible subject! Mr. Mardon said in a worldly tone that t

Mr. Mardon, suddenly. "V

rawled Peel

rted, they were frankly telling each other stories in the dimness of the retreat. Then, when the supply of stories came to an end, Mr. M

id Matthew, politely. It

smiled on her familiarly, and remarked that he supposed she would soon be going to b

had been an exhibit at an agricultural show. "Ten years ago she was very f

it or they wouldn't stay-that is, unless things are

d him to examine the woman question in al

e's told me. She's very particular"-he looked around to see if walls had ears-"and, by Jove, you've got to be; but she t

y for English visitors, but in the Pension Frensham he had accepted something even more ex

a limited company now

all

at the walls again. "I wanted to do the same here," he murmured, and Peel-Swynnerton had to show that he app

g thin

big as it is. Ten times. The scope's unlimited, my dear sir. All that's wanted is capital. Naturally she has capital of her own, and she could get more. But then, as she says, she doesn't want the place any bigger. She says it's now just as big as she can handle. Tha

sband?" asked Peel-Swynnerton. Her

n, after the husband's time, for a song-a song!

n Paris a long time,"

. His was a wonderful history. And Peel-Swynnerton, while scorning

ause, reaffirming everything in

rose, saying that hi

e said with a m

its crowds of white toilettes, and its frothing of champagne and of beer, and its musicians in tight red coats, was just beginning to be alive-and at a distance of scarcely a stone's-throw! Peel-Swynnerton pictured the terraced, glittering hall, which had been the prime origin of his exceeding foolishness. And he pictured all the other resorts, great and small, garlanded with white lanterns, in the Champs Elysees; and the sombre aisles

ll, with its one light tranquilly burning, was bathed in an honest calm, the calm of a day's work accomplished, of gradual relaxation from tension, of growing expectation of repose. In its simplicity it affected Peel-Swynnerton as a medicine tonic for nerves might have affected him. In that hall, though exterior nocturnal life was but just stirring into activity, it seemed that the middle of the night had come, and that these two women alone watched in a mansion full of sleepers. And all the recitals which Peel-Swynnerton and Mr. Mardon had exchanged sank to the level of pitiab

pleasantly at the guest as she passed him, and disappeared up the stairs. The mistress was alone in

rentially. "Have any lett

tters for him was impossible,

was firm and even, sweet in tone, and yet morally harsh from incessant traffic-with all varieties of human nature. Her eyes were the impartial eyes of one who is always judging. And evidently she was a proud, even a haughty creature, with her careful, controlled politeness. Evidently she considered herself superior to no matter what guest. Her eyes announced that she had lived and learnt, that she knew more about life than any one whom she was likely to meet, and that havi

on." Then he l

n, but in an instant he was sure that he had detected nothing of the sort, and that it was silly to suppose that he was treading on the edge of a romance. Then she turned towards the letter-rack at her side, and he saw her face in profile. It bore a sudden and astonishing likeness to the profile of Cyril Povey; a resemblanc

uietly, "I see n

audacity, he said: "Ha

ere rec

ov

y, of Bursley-in

as Matthew Peel-Swynnerton. His voice tremble

! No! Were you expec

l sure," he muttered.

mple perfunctoriness of the landlady who says

o discover the legendary woman who had fled from Bursley before he was born, and of whom nobody knew anything. What news for Cyril! What a staggering episode! He had scarcely any sleep that night. He wondered whether he would be able to meet Mrs. Sc

lower in his buttonhole. Matthew leaped out of the vehicle, holding his straw hat on his head with one hand. On reaching the pavement he checked himself

ue to the fact that he was still holding the match to the cigarette and puffin

m, and took Matthew's hand for a moment, blow

o," said Matthew. "And

uston. I must catc

s not a feature of Mrs. Scales's face. Also, the elderly woman held her bo

ast and intricate knowledge of life and art, with certain leading notions of deportment; whose pupil indeed he was in all the things th

, and the opening gestures of the interview between the two young dukes, had put the cabman in an optimistic mood. He had no apprehensions of miserly and ungentlemanly conduct by his fare upon the arrival at Euston. He knew the languag

her down the street, past the gate leading to the

," he began, "I've

said Cyril, solemnly. "That's a f

" said Matthe

Cyril's f

ing cheated of the legitimate joy caused by making a sensa

le story, Cyril said: "Then

o, I'm sure she does

ain you haven't made a m

thew interrupted him. "I

u've no

id Matthew, nettled.

what the devil you were doing in a place like that.

cause I was brok

zzl

ew no

d Cyril, when Matthew had narr

e looked it, too! And she was worth it! I had the time of my life with that wom

ld was

d envy was upon him. He had the legitimate joy of making a second sensation. "I'll let

to take the cast of that Verrall girl's arm this afternoon, and I know

" said

o the studio a

e; I shall m

. You must come in. You've got to see

again, after six minutes of Cyril's savage intere

l write to your

ite; but if you happen to s

tthew. "Shall you

exes ... it's an idea," he said lightly, and then without any change of tone, "Naturally,

of a cigar between his exposed teeth, leaned forward

ed. "It's a good thing I've got my return ticket

ver. Secure in the possession of thes

n-like

said the dri

tthew shouted as an afterthought,

l shouted in answer,

attled into

I

changed. She became simple and naive. She blushed slightly, smiling with a timid pleasure. For her, Matthew belonged to a superior race. He bore the almost sacred name of Peel. His family had been distinguished in the district for generations. 'Peel!' You could without impropriety utter it in the same breath with 'Wedgwood.' And 'Swynnerton' stood not much lower. Neither her self-respect, which was great, nor her commonsense, which far exceeded the average, could enable her to extend as far as the Peels the theory that one man is as good as another. The Peels never shopped in St. Luke's Square. Ev

er her with his hat raised. (It was a fashion h

r, Mr. Matthew. I needn

eing anything of

said Matthew. "Of cours

d faintly. "I had a short letter from him on

that-hasn't

n Sunday I shall be l

's not letter-writing

to say he hasn't-

ce. Matthew was at a loss to know

quite changed. It had become firm, commanding, and gravely su

w knew; but not to have written to her with the important news concerning Mrs. Scales was utterly inexcusable; and Matthew determined that he would tell Cyril so. He felt very sorry for Mrs. Povey. She seemed pathetic to him, standing there in ignorance of a tremendous fact which she ought to have been aware of. He was very content that he had said nothing about Mrs. Scales

smile gaily, archly. "Y

to-m

urprise from her. But he did not succeed. With all his experience of the

he was ruthless. The fact was, she had in an instant convinced herself that Cyril had met some girl and was e

to do with C

what i

merely looking around her in a peculiar fashion, he said: "Shall we walk along a bit?

ificance for her. But when she comprehended it she was afraid, and so she

ris." And he was saying to himself: "I ought not to be telli

y!" she

er reticule was making strange purposeless curves in the air, and her rosy face went the colour of cre

u better-"

"I must sit me-"

into the shop, and she could not climb them. She collapsed like a sack of flour on the first step. You

, Mr. Peel-Swynnerton!" he cried, as Matthe

ing. It was Mr. Shawcross, the chemist next door to Allman's who dealt adequately with the situation. He had seen all, while selling a Kodak to a young lady, and he ran out with salts. Constance recovered very rapidly. She

she could smile and the pink was returning reluctantly to h

d a genuine sensation. Once again he felt l

er returned strength, she saw the hedge of faces at the doorway, she agreed with Mr. Shawcross that she would do better to have

l come with me,"

ith pleasure,

he little crowd of gaper

s to her, through the window of the cab. "It's fainting

no

you, Mrs. Povey," said Ma

tance's light-grained door. She demanded her reticule from Matthew, who had carried it since it fell. She would pay the cabman. Never befo

ere Constance had climbed the steps. Amy, decidedly over forty, was a woman of authority. She wanted to know what was the matter, and Constance had to

hew, will you

y this,"

sad, desolated. He would have given much money to have been spared the experience. He knew simply that in the memory of the stout, comical, nice woman in the rocking-chair he had stirred old, old things, wakened slumbers that might have been eternal. He did not know that he was sitting on the very spot where the sofa had been on which Samuel

old, if her hair was grey, if she was stout or thin. And until Amy, mystified and resentful, had served the tea, on a little silver tr

Matthew," she wept. "I c

ne nothing,"

so happy-in a way.... You mustn't take any notice of me. I'm silly. You must kindly write

that Cyril hasn't writte

ood son," she said with

ould have kept that.

ty of leaving. He felt her warm, so

thing-both over there and here. Nobody could have shown a nicer feeling than

stically impossible in Bursley, which he had imparted to her son, he marvelled that the m

anner. But the smile was a sham. A pretence to himself! A childish attempt

ly person in the Pension Frensham who failed to sleep. When the old portress came down

ther like a figure out of an almshouse, with her pink, apparently brittle skin, her tight black dress, and frilled white cap. She stooped habitually, and always walked quickly, with her head a few inches in advance of her feet. Her grey hair was scanty. She was old; nobody perhaps knew exact

bed, Jacqueline," said

nal hour mistress and portress saw a good deal of each other. And considering that Jacqueline had just been sent up into the mistress's own bedroom to glance at Fossette, and that the bulletin wa

adame. And th

s you can," said th

Good evening, madam

n one of those endless, mysterious tasks which occupied her w

nd insisted on reflection-a monotonous, futile, and distressing reflection. Povey! Povey! Could this be Constance's Povey, the unique Samuel Povey? That is to say, not he, but his son, Constance's son. Had Constance a grown-up son? Constan

eople were talking to her, that they regarded her as a very unusually wise woman. And yet she had been guilty of the capital folly of cutting herself off from her family. She was ageing, and she was alone in the world. She was enriching herself; she had the most perfectly managed and the most respectable Pension in the world (she sincerely believed), and she was alone in the world. Acquaintances she had-French people who never offered nor accepted hospitality other than tea or wine, and one or two members of the English commercial colony-but her on

fixture in the Rue Lord Byron. She was a part of the street. She knew all that happened or could happen there. She was attached to it by the heavy chains of habit. In the chill way of long use she loved it. There! The incande

very self-conscious, guilty look. No! He could not have suspected who she was. The idea was ridiculous. Probably he did not even know that her name was Scales. And even if he knew her name, he had probably never heard of Gerald Scales, or the story of

en story, and casually put two and two together! Supposing even that he were merely to mention in the Five Towns that the Pension Frensham was kept by a Mrs. Scal

o whom he had inquired. In that case it could not be the same Povey. Impossible that the Peels should be on terms of friendship with Samuel Povey

passionately in her soul, "I've lived alone, and I'll stay as I am. I can't change at my time of life." And her attitude towards a possible invasion of her solitude became one of resentment. "I won't have it! I won't have it! I will be left alone. Constance! What can Constance be to me, or I to her, now?"

e most complete business failure that gross carelessness and incapacity had ever provoked. Was it not the fact that she had to supervise everything herself, that she could depend on no on

to rage in her head. And in and round her mouth she had strange sensations. Fossette stirred in the b

ad slightly on the pillow, and she could stretch her right arm, both arms. Absurd cowardice! Of course it was not a seizure! She reassured herself. Still, she could not put her tongue out. Suddenly she began to hiccough, and she had no control over the hiccough. She put her hand to the bell, whose ringing would summon the man who slept in a pantry off the hall, and suddenly the hiccough ceased. Her hand dropped. She was better. Besides, what use in ringing for a man if she cou

off under pressure from within. Then the door opened silently, a few inches. Usually Jacqueline came into the room, but sometimes she stood behind the door and called in her soft, trembling voice, "Fosse

quel

difficult and misshapen birth,

e." Jacquel

Sophia she threw up her hands.

tor-myself," whispere

dented effort. "Say not a word to the others." She could not bear that the whole household should know of her illness. Jacqueline n

made her dizzy. By working to the foot of the bed she could see herself in the glass

what had happened. Paralysie glosso-labio-laryngee was the phrase he used. She understo

enuinely convinced that s

ost absolute!

resulted in such a disaster, and drew a curious satisfaction from this fearful proof that she

rling

iters carelessly or carefully forgot that a penny stamp was not sufficient); there was nothing to distinguish this envelope, and yet her first glance at it had startled her; and when, deciphering the smudged post-mark, she made out the word 'Bursley,' her heart did literally seem to stop, and she opened the letter in quite violent tremulation, thinking to herself: "The doctor would say this is very bad for me." Six

a mist did not form in her eyes, nor did she sob, nor betray physically that she was not reading an ord

the neat calligraphy of the girl who could print window-tickets. The 'S' of Sophia was formed

RLING

Dr. Harrop is dead, and his son has practically retired. He has a partner, a Scotchman. Mr. Critchlow has married Miss Insull. Did you ever hear of such a thing? They have taken over the shop, and I live in the house part, the other being bricked up. Business in the Square is not what it used to be. The steam trams take all the custom to Hanbridge, and they are talking of electric trams, but I dare say it is only talk. I have a fairly good servant. She has been with me a long time, but servants are not what they were. I keep pretty well, except for my sciatica and palpitation. Since Cyril went to London I have been very lonely. But I try to cheer up and count my blessings. I am sure I have a great deal to be thankful for. And now this news of you! Please write to

TANCE

rday, but I was not fit. Every ti

e expects me to go to her, instead of her

ession of surprise at anything that she, Sophia, had done, or failed to do! No mention of Gerald! Just a sublime acceptance of the situation as it was, and the assurance of undiminished love! Tact? No; it was something finer than tact! Tact was conscious, skilful. Sophia was certain that the notion of tactfulness had not entered Constance's head. Constance had simply written out of her heart. And that was what made the letter so splendid. Sophia was convinced that no one but a Baines could have written such a letter. She felt that she must rise to the height of that letter, that she too must show her Baines blood. And she went primly to her desk, and began to write (on private note

ance chose to come to Paris and see her, she would be delighted, but she herself would not budge. The mere

s aware of the fact. But she could not face it yet. Time would have to elapse before she could bring herself to face that fact. She was getting an old woman. She could no longer draw on reserves. Yet she persisted to every one that she was quite recovered, and was abstaining from her customary work simply from an excess of prudence. Certainly her face had recover

or to palliate it by some superficial remedy. Unperceived, and yet vaguely suspected by various people, the decline of the Pension Frensham had set in. The tide, hav

for the prospect of actually seeing her beloved Constance alarmed her-but she could do no less than make it. And in a few days she had a reply to say that Constance would have come, under Cyril's charge,

e it, yet tempted. She had the desire to do something which she objected to doing. It was like the desire to throw one's self over a high balcony. It drew her, drew her, and sh

o begin on the old theme. He had never before left her in peace for so long a period. No doubt she had, upon his last assault, absolutely convinced him that his efforts had no smallest chance of success, an

said this to every one except Mardon. And every one somehow persisted in not saying it to Mardon. The doctor having advised that she should spend mor

her in the street

" he said confidentially, after they

med as if resenting the

so u

that what you needed was a complete chan

rmured, without howev

ion. She saw hope i

ULD happen to change your mind, I'm always ready to form a little synd

nge, considering that for weeks she had been

our hold on it. We'd make you manageress, with a salary and a sha

ssly. "IF I GAVE IT U

o half meas

He saw in his imagination the formation of the preliminary syndicate, with himself at its head, and then the re-sale by the syndicate to a limited company at a profit. He saw a

it up entirely, then! T

rved it, Mr

her head o

t over,"

he said obstinately, while fearing

r," he said. "I'll mention it

e no use,"

es, conscious of his fame as Lewis Mardon, the great house-age

s he did men

dream of it even for a moment," said S

did not know she had a sister. N

rs are beginnin

e live i

shire. She has n

onstance was in a most serious way, whereas in truth Constance had

she y