Read Ebook: The Fever of Life by Hume Fergus

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Ebook has 2753 lines and 92265 words, and 56 pages

Maxwell having extricated himself from the company of the sirens, who looked after their late captive with vengeful eyes, saw Kaituna depart, and hesitated between following her or obeying the invitation of Miss Valpy. His heart said "Go there," the voice of Tommy said "Come here," and the unfortunate young man hesitated which to obey. The lady saw his hesitation, and, purposely to vex Mr. Clendon, settled the question at once.

"Mr. Maxwell, come here. I want you to play lawn-tennis."

"Certainly, Miss Valpy," said Maxwell, with sulky civility.

"Why, I asked you to play twice this afternoon, and you refused," cried Clendon, in some anger.

"Well, I've changed my mind But you can play also, if you like."

"No, thank you. I've--I've got an engagement."

Tommy moved close to the young man and laughed.

"You've got a very cross face."

At this Clendon laughed also, and his cross face cleared.

"Oh, I'll be delighted to play."

"And what about Miss Pethram?" asked Maxwell, rather anxiously.

"Miss Pethram has gone inside to await the arrival of the post."

"Isn't she coming out again?"

"I think not."

"If you will excuse me, Miss Valpy, I won't play just at present."

"Oh, never mind."

Tommy held her racket like a guitar, and, strumming on it with her fingers, hummed a little tune--a vulgar little tune which she had picked up from a common street boy--

"Thomasina!" cried the scandalised Mrs. Valpy, and Thomasina laughed.

"We are told in stories olden Dragons watched the apples golden, Quick to send a thief to Hades. Now no fruit the world-tree ladens, Apples gold are dainty maidens, And the dragons are old ladies."

After dinner--a meal cooked, conducted, and eaten on strictly digestive principles--most of the inmates of Pinchler's retired to bed. Sleep was necessary to the well-being of these wrecks of humanity, so those who could sleep went to their repose with joyful hearts, and those who could not, put off the evil hour precluding a restless night by going to the drawing-room for a little music.

Here they sat in melancholy rows round the room, comparing notes as to their physical sensations, and recommending each other patent medicines. Some of the younger people sang songs and played popular airs on the out-of-tune piano furnished by Pinchler's. During the intervals between the songs scraps of curious conversation could be heard somewhat after this fashion--

"There's nothing like a glass of hot water in the morning."

"Dry toast, mind; butter is rank poison."

"Rub the afflicted part gently and breathe slowly."

"Put a linseed poultice at the nape of the neck."

With such light and instructive conversation did the wrecks beguile their leisure hours, keeping watchful eyes on the clock so as not to miss taking their respective medicines at the right times. Mrs. Pinchler, a dry, angular woman with a glassy eye and a fixed smile, revolved round the drawing-room at intervals, asking every one how they felt.

"Better, Mrs. Tandle? Yes, I thought that syrup would do you good--it soothes the coats of the stomach. Miss Pols, you do look yellow. Let me recommend a glass of hot water in the morning. Mr. Spons, if you lie down on the sofa I'm sure it will do you good. Oh, are you going to play, Miss Valpy? Something quiet, please. Music is such a good digestive."

Tommy, however, was not a young lady who could play quiet tunes, her performance on the piano being of the muscular order. She therefore favoured the company with a noisy piece of the most advanced school, which had no melody, although full of contrapuntal devices. Having shaken every one's nerves with this trying performance, she glided off into a series of popular waltzes, mostly of the scrappy order, in which she sandwiched hymn tunes between music-hall melodies. The wrecks liked this style of thing, as they could all beat time with their feet, and when it was finished said waltzes were charming, but not so fine as "Batch's" passion music, of which they knew nothing, not even how to pronounce his name correctly.

"Bach!" echoed Tommy contemptuously. "Oh, he's an old fossil! Offenbach's more in my line. Oui! You bet! Sapristi! Vive la bagatelle!"

The company did not understand French, so suffered this observation to pass in discreet silence, but Kaituna laughed. She was sitting in a corner by herself, with a look of impatience on her face, for she was expecting a letter and the post was late.

"Kaituna," cried Tommy, attracted by the laugh, "why are you sitting in the corner like a graven image? Come out and sing."

"No, I don't want to. I'm waiting for my letter."

"Hasn't it arrived yet?" said Miss Valpy, skipping across the room. "I'd give it to that Dombrain thing if I were you. Dombrain! What a name! Who is he?"

"My father's solicitor."

"Oh, in the law and the profits? I don't mean biblically, but commercially. But, I say, don't keep thinking of your letter, or it won't come. The watched postman never boils."

"What nonsense you talk!"

"I can't help it, dear. My brains leave me when there are no male things in the room."

"There's Mr. Spons."

"Oh, I don't bother about him. He's not a man; he's a medicine bottle. Hark! I hear footmarks approaching on horseback. It is the man. Now, will you take Mr. Clendon and I Mr. Maxwell, or will you take Mr. Maxwell and I Mr. Clendon?"

"I don't want either," said Kaituna hastily.

"Now that's ungrateful, especially when Mr. Maxwell is such a dear. 'Oh, that heaven would send me such a man!'--Shakespeare, Kaituna, so don't look indignant. You can take Archie, and I'll satisfy myself with Toby."

"You shouldn't call men by their Christian names, Thomasina."

"Don't say that; it sounds like 'ma. I only call them by their Christian names to you. I wouldn't do it to their faces."

"I hope not."

"How proper you are! Behold the male sex are at the door! I can smell the tobacco on their clothes."

The rattle of the lively damsel was put an end to by the entry of the gentlemen, headed by Maxwell and Clendon, the latter of whom Miss Valpy bore off at once to the piano to make him sing, turn over her music, and make himself generally useful. Maxwell, however, went straight across to Kaituna, and held out a newspaper.

"This is yours, Miss Pethram," he said, seating himself beside her, "I knew you were anxious about the post, so I waited downstairs till it came."

"Was there no letter?" said Kaituna, in some dismay.

"Oh, there maybe something marked in it," she said quietly. "Excuse me a moment while I look."

Maxwell bowed and sat watching her as she tore the cover off the paper and opened the rustling leaves. He had only known this girl a fortnight, yet within that time had contrived to fall deeply in love with her. It was not her beauty, although, man-like, he naturally admired a pretty woman. It was not her charming manner, fascinating as it was in every way. It was not her clever brain, her bright conversation, her perfect taste in dress. No. It was that indescribable something which she had about her to attract him in a greater degree than any other woman he had ever known. What that something is no man knows until he has fallen in love, and then he feels it, but cannot describe his sensations. Scientists, no doubt, would call it animal magnetism; poets would call it love; scoffers would term it sensuality. But whatever scientists, poets, or scoffers choose to call it, the thing is unnameable, indescribable, and is the necessary concomitant of a happy marriage.

It was this indescribable feeling that had sprung up suddenly between those two young people. Kaituna also felt drawn to Maxwell, but in a lesser degree, for no matter what cynics may say about the frivolity of women, they are certainly less inflammable than men. A pretty woman knows her power to attract the opposite sex, and uses it daily, mostly for amusement; therefore when her time does come to feel the genuine pangs of love, she is more able to govern and control her feelings than a man who, as a rule, simply let's himself go. So this was exactly how the case stood between these two lovers. Maxwell felt that Kaituna was the one woman in the world for him, and never attempted to suppress his passion in any way. He allowed himself to be so entirely dominated by it, that it soon became his master, and all his days and nights were given over to dreams of this beautiful dark woman from a distant isle of the sea. On the other hand, Kaituna felt that she loved him, but controlling herself with feminine dexterity, never let her infatuated lover see that his passion was responded to in any way. Had he tried to go away she would speedily have lured him back by means of those marvellous womanly arts, the trick of which no man knoweth; but the poor love-lorn wretch was so abjectly submissive that she coolly planted her conquering foot on his neck and indulged in a little catlike play with this foolish mouse.

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