Chance: A Tale in Two Parts
t of falling into a brown study. But I could not help add
chess that afternoon. This would dispense me from leaving my rooms on a day much too fine to be wasted in walking exercise. And
hort reflection, that it would not be. No. Not as usual. In fact it was his wife who hoped,
e few words we had exchanged last night in the excitement-or the bother-of the girl's disappearance, were the first moderately significant words which ha
half inclined to believe it is so. But still I fail to see in what way my sagacity, practical or otherwise, can b
I was saying, directed straight at me
ikely. But you wi
ble couple one knows only because leisure must be got through somehow, I would have made short work of that special invitation. But they were not that. Their undeniable h
is serious head went past my window on the other side of the hedge, its troubled gaze fixed forward, and the mind inside obviously employed in earnest speculation of an intricate nature. One at le
he resources of the house and the village. She was a helpful woman. But the resources of my sagacity I did
by such a delicate investigation. Perhaps if I had had a helpful woman at my elbow, a dear, flattering acute, devoted woman . . . There are in life moments when one positively regrets not being married. No! I don't exaggerate. I have said-moments, not years or even days. Moments. The farmer's wife obviously could not be asked to assist. She could not ha
unshine-more brilliant than warm as is the way of our discreet self-repressed, distinguished, insular sun, which would not turn a real lady scarlet-not on any account. Mrs. Fyne looked even cool. She wore a white skirt and coat; a white hat with a large brim reposed on her smoothly arranged hair. The coat was cut something like an army mess-jacket and the style suited her. I dare say there are m
I was very comfortable there; to which I assented
ved?" she wa
don't like to be bothered. This is no great proof of sagacity-is it? Sagacious people I believe like to exercise that faculty. I have heard that they can'
which seemed to imply some contempt for people whose children were liable to be unwell at times. One almost felt inclined to apologize for the inquiry. And this annoyed me; unreasonably, I admit, because the assumption of superior merit is not a very exceptional weakness. Anxious to make myself disagreeab
She hadn't the high spirits which endear grown-ups to healthy children, Mrs. Fyne explained unflinchingly. Flora had been sta
could we do?"
re about it. My liking for her began while she was trying to tell me of the night she spent by the girl's bedside, the night before her departure with her unprepossessing relativ
be matured by the shock. The very effort she had to make in conveying the impression to Mrs. Fyne, in remembering the details, in finding adequate words-or any words at all-was in itself a terribly enlightening, an
nst his aunt-could he? But after all he did, when she called upon him, take "that cruel woman away." He had dragged her out by the arm. She had seen
ould be to live exposed to the hardest realities of unprivileged existences. She explained to her that there were in the world evil-minded, selfi
immobility by the bedside of that brutally murdered childhood did infinite honour to her humanity. That vigil must have been the more trying because I could see very well that at no time did she think the victim particularly charming or sympathetic. It was a manifestation of pure comp
ile woman. I cannot tell you that she was mad but I think she must have been beside herself with
mented to me in a curt positive tone. All that had been very
at and a swindler! Do tell me Mrs. Fyne that it i
d her, induced her at last to lay her head on her pillow again, assuring her all the time that nothing this woman had had the cruelty to say deserved to be taken to heart.
e world would call papa these awful n
ne kept
e," the daughter of de Barral ins
nother cup of tea for her, and Fyne went out to pacify the dog which, tied up under the porch, had become suddenly very indignant at somebody having the audaci
been kind either. I told her that she must be prepared for
*
ive. "Admirable!" And as I looked dubiously at this unexpec
I did not do that. I took a piece of cake and went out to bribe the Fyne dog into some sort of self-control. His sharp comical yapping was unbearable, like stabs through one's brain, and Fyne's deeply modulated remonstrances abashed the vivacious animal no more than the deep, patient murmur of the sea abashes a nigger minstrel on a popular beach. Fyne was beginning to swear at him in low, sepul
down gloomily at the appeased animal, I too looked at that fool-dog; and (you know how one's memory gets suddenly stimulated) I was reminded visually, with an almost painful distinctness, of the ghostly white face of the girl I saw last accompanied by that dog-deserted by that dog
ou let him c
st not be allowed in. It was most improper to intrude the dog into the houses of the people they were calling on-if it were only a careless bachelor in farmhouse lodgings and a personal friend of the dog. It was out of the question. But they would let him bark one's s
plates, cups, jugs, a cold teapot, crumbs, and the genera
unexpectedly confidential tone: "they
g very much like an elopement-with certain unusual characteristics of its own which made it in a sense equivocal. With amused wonder I remembered that my sagacity was requisitioned in such a connection. How unexpecte
se you are in a position . . . " I was continuing with cau
ly! You yourself
trated, "you forget that I
ious but true, overwhelmingly true, un
that by contrast I seemed to have known Miss de Barral-whom I had seen twice (altogether about sixty minutes) and with whom I had exchanged about sixty words-from the
ssing her mentally in a mood of familiar approval which would have astonishe
sculine idealism, ever prevents them from speaking in its entirety. And their tact is unerring. We could not stand women speaking the truth. We could not bear it. It would cause infinite misery and bring about most awful disturbances in this rather mediocre, but still idealistic fool's paradise in which each of us lives his own little life-the unit in the great sum of existence. And they know it. They are merciful. This generalization does no
ds he had spoken with the cigar in his teeth. He took it ou
foundly a meditated conclusion is unbounded. They have no use for these lofty exercises which they look upon as a sort of purely masculine game-game meaning a respectable occupation devised to kill time in this man-arranged life which must be got through somehow. What women's acuteness really respects are the inept "ideas" and the sheeplike impulses by which our actions and opinions are determined in matters of real importance. For if women are not rational they are indeed acute. Even Mrs. Fyne was acute. The good woman was making up to her husband's chess-player simply because she had scented in him that s
opelessly" was not the last word of it. He was helpless. He was bound and delivered by it. And if by the obscure promptings of my composite temperament I beheld him with malicious amusement, yet being in fact, by de
hat do you t
g is done now and there's an end of it," said the masculi
as a charge, a criticism, which was often made. Some people always ask: What could he
he emphasis of her
ell what Flora has
to the gust but
ases turns out no worse than the
y. She rested her eyes on my face as though in doubt whether I
ressing and teasing Mrs. Fyne. It is humiliating to confess a failure. One would think that a man of average intelligence could command stupidity at will. But it isn't so. I suppose it's a special gift or else the difficulty consists
as might have been expected, was pierced by that old, regulation shaft. He grunte
wife," he exclaimed in his extra-ma
nd on the starry background of the universe, with the crude light of the open window like a beacon for the truant who would never come back now; a truant no longer but a downright fugitive. Yet a fugitive carrying off spoils. It was the flight of a raider-or a traitor? Thi
t's extremely
y the daughter of the financier-convict. Or only, if I may say so, the wind of their flight disturbing
s me to go to L
her sentiment as he was accustomed to do, in recognition of having had his way in one supreme instance; when he made her elope with him-the most momentous step imaginable in a young lady's life. He had been really trying to ackno
pathetic and funny. "And you of course
I went on, indulging my chaffing humour steadily, in a rather sneaking fashion, for I dared not look at Mrs. Fyne, to my right. No sound or movement came from that di
overed something very clever. He, de
o London on that mission. Mere masculine de
e . . . You hear, my dear? Here
ne, "than to pit reason against love. I must confess however that in th
rs. Fyne. Still leaning back
Mar
*
glad to leave us alone to discuss that matter of his journey to London. A sort of anti-sentimental journey. He, too, apparently, had confidence in my sagacity. It was touching, this confidence. It was at any rate more genuine than the confidence his wi
ow addressed me in his tone bet
hat my character is upon t
ather unusual for a sailor. They always seemed to
gers, as of right. Not that the result ever amounts to much generally. There are so very few momentous opportunities. It is the assumption that each of us is a combination of a kid and an imbecile which I find provoking-in a small way; in a very small way. You needn't stare as though I were breathing fire and smoke out of my nostrils. I am
eam of offendi
Let him be wound round as much as his backbone could stand-or even more, for all I cared. His rushing away from the discussion on the transparent pretence of quieting the dog confirmed my notion of t
and its perfect security. In a few severely unadorned words she gave me to understand that she had ventured to hope for some really helpful suggestion from me. To this
?" she inte
, Mrs. Fyne. And on the principles of that science a pointed little chin
was merely savage and abusive. Fyne had been always solemnly subservient. What other men she knew I cannot tell but I assume they must have
y. And it was touching. It was as if a very young,
as sagacious. No. That science is farcical and therefore I am not serious. It's true
I won't say I was actually charmed by Mrs. Fyne. I was not delighted with her. What affected me was not what she displayed but something which she could not conceal. And that was emotion-nothing less. The form of her declaration was dry, almost peremptory-but not its tone. Her voice faltered just the least bit, she smiled faintly; and as we were looking straight at each other I observed that her eyes were glistening in a peculi
ere's time yet to do
n forty-eight hours since she had followed him to London . . . I am no great clerk at those matters but I murmured vaguely an allusio
happen before next
use she added that she should never forgive h
brother?"
o go to-morrow. Ni
d of that time, too short for the birth of any serious sentiment, the first week had to be deducted. They would hardly look at each other to begin with. Flora barely consented to acknowledge Captain Anthony's presence. Good morning-good night-that was all-absolutely the whole extent of their intercourse. Captain Anthony was a silent man, completely unused to the society of girls of an
rms with those fresh and comely young monsters! They just tolerated their parents and seemed to have a sort of mocking understanding among themselves against all outsiders, yet with no vi
ning, Mrs. Fyne, busy writing upstairs in the cottage, could see him out of the window. She had a very long sight, and these elms were grouped on a rise of the ground. His indolence was plainly exposed to her criticism on a gentle green slope. Mrs. Fyne wondered at it; she was disgusted too. But having just then 'commenced author,' as you know, she could not tear herself away from the fascinating novelty. She let him wallow in his vice. I imagine Captain Anthony must have had a rather pleasant time in a quiet way. It w
the nicest men remained boys all their lives. She was disappointed not to be able to detect anything boyish in her brother. Very, very sorry. She had not s
bourhood and Fyne went off every morning by train to spend the day with the elderly invalid who had no one to look after him. It was a very praiseworthy excuse for neglecting his brother-in-law "the son of the poet, you know," with whom he had nothing in common even in the remotest degree. If Captain Anthony (Roderick) had been a pedestrian it would have been sufficient; but he was not. Still, in the afternoon, he went sometimes for a slow casual stroll, by himself of course, the children having definitely cold-shouldered him, and his only sister being busy
lora frequently on her morning walks. Mrs. Fyne remained pleased. She could now forget them comfortably and give herself up to the delights of audacious thought and literary composition. Only a week
in the garret," she said bitterly. "Or perhaps they didn't care. They were right. I am rather
isn't it?" I expostulated. "And conside
, how well I knew those appearances of a person who has "made up her mind." A very hopeless condition that, specially in women.
bolic when they are really put on their mettle?-after having done these things and also made me feel that I was no match for her, she we
winds. "But really, Mrs. Fyne, it's impossible to dis
at his head," Mrs.
. I was not afraid of her, but it occurred to me that I was within an ace of drifting into a downright quarrel with a lady and, besides, my guest. There was the cold teapot, the
nd myself able to smile amiably
ut granting you the (I very nearly said: imbecility, but checked myself in time) innocence of Captain Anthony, don't you think now,
ears. I suppose she discovered very soon that she had nothing in common with that sailor, that stranger, fashioned and marked by the sea of long voyages. In her strong-minded way she had scorned pretences, had gone to
interrupted
nt of her sea-going brother. What he thought of it who can tell? It is possible that he wondered why he had been so insistently urged to come. It is possible that he wondered bitterly-or contemptuously-or humbly. And it may be that he was only surprised and bored. Had he been as sincere in his conduct as his only sister he would have probably taken himself off at the end of the second day. But perhaps he was afraid of appearing brutal. I am not far removed from the conviction that between the sincerities of his sister and of his dear nieces, Captain Anthony of the Ferndale must have had his loneliness brought home to his bosom for the first
. . " I beg
ntly. "But don't think for a moment that Mrs. Fyne in her new attitude and
g I should have tho
ey were romantic enoug
h great decision but as
eally must
ask of what precisely. She ra
we should differ now on a point touching my brother so closely is a most painful surprise to me." Her hand rattled the teaspoon brusquely by an i
here was silence. I took it for a proof of deep sagacity. I
sa
. "Well-for my part . . . but I don't really know how matters stand at the pres
town address," Mrs. Fyne uttered reluctantl
s your husband object to that? You don't mean to say
Mar
I ask for information on the point, you bring out a valise. And only a few moments ago yo
she did not mean to show me the girl's letter, she said that undoubtedly the
pressed her. "An engagem
decisively. "That letter, Mr. Marlow, is
ed her with
ve liked it if anybody had tried to interfere between you and Mr. Fyne at the time wh
indignation. It is with the accent of p
all the same th
f their conduct if their necessity may wear at times a similar aspect. Amongst these consequences I could perceiv
yne's smouldering resentment broke
ght. I am still thinking. I am
in all this . . . " I assured her that I quite believed she was. For there is no law o
im all about he
ing some mental reservation which I did not pause to investigate. "He
can't imagine the sort of vulgar people she became dependent on . . . You know her father never attempted to see her while he was still at large. After his arrest he instructed that
clinging to the child at the side of his wife's grave and later on of these two walking ha