Books: Our Friend the Charlatan

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"I'm afraid I don't. You arrange your day, I see, very
methodically."

"Oh, without method _nothing_ can be done. Of course I have a
time-table. I try to put in a great many things, but I'm sure it's
no use sitting down to any study for less than half an hour--do
you think so? At present I can only give half an hour to Herbert
Spencer--I think I shall have to cut out my folk-lore to make more
time for him. Yet folk-lore is so fascinating! Of course you delight
in it?"

"I never had time for it at all," replied Constance.

"Just now I'm quite excited about ghost-worship. Mr. Yabsley doesn't
think it is sufficient to explain the origin of religious ideas."

"Mr. Yabsley," remarked Constance, "has pronounced opinions on most
things?"

"Oh, he is very wide, indeed. Very wide, and very thorough. There's
no end to the examinations he has passed. He's thinking of taking
the D. Litt at London; it's awfully stiff, you know."

When they parted, about eleven o'clock, Miss Tomalin went upstairs
humming a passage from a Beethoven sonata. She declared herself
enchanted with her room, and hoped she might wake early, to make the
coming day all the longer.

At ten next morning, Constance was summoned to the upstairs room
where Lady Ogram sometimes sat when neither so unwell as to stay in
bed nor quite well enough to come down. A bad night had left the old
lady with a ghastly visage, but she smiled with grim contentment as
her secretary entered.

"Come, I want you to tell me what you talked about. Where is she
now? What is she doing?"

"Miss Tomalin is in the library, rejoicing among the books."

"She is very intellectual," said Lady Ogram. "I never knew anyone so
keen about knowledge. But what did you talk about last night?"

"Of very many things. Canada and Northampton, religion and crayfish,
Huxley and--Yabsley."

"Yabsley? Who's Yabsley?"

"A gentleman of Northampton, a man of light and leading, a great
friend of Miss Tomalin's."

"An old man, I suppose?" asked Lady Ogram, sharply.

"Not quite thirty."

"But married? Of course married?"

"I didn't ask; but, I fancy, not."

Lady Ogram flushed, and fell into extreme agitation. Why had she not
been told about this Yabsley? Why had not that idiot Kerchever made
inquiries and heard about him? This very morning she would write him
a severe letter. What, May was engaged? To a man called Yabsley?
Constance, as soon as interposition was possible, protested against
this over-hasty view of the matter. She did not for a moment think
that May was engaged, and, after all, Mr. Yabsley might even be
married.

"Then why," cried Lady Ogram, furiously, "did you begin by
terrifying me? Did you do it on purpose? If I thought so, I would
send you packing about your business this moment!"

Constance, who had not yet taken a seat, drew back a few steps. Her
face darkened. With hands clasped behind her, she regarded the
raging old autocrat coldly and sternly.

"If you wish it, Lady Ogram, I am quite ready to go."

Their eyes encountered. Lady Ogram was quivering, mumbling, gasping;
her look fell.

"Sit down," she said imperatively.

"I am afraid," was Miss Bride's reply, "we had better not talk
whilst you are feeling so unwell."

"Sit down, I tell you! I wasn't unwell at all, till you made me so.
Who is this Yabsley? Some low shopkeeper? Some paltry clerk?"

The old lady knew very well that Constance Bride would never tremble
before her. It was this proudly independent spirit, unyielding as
her own, and stronger still in that it never lost self-command,
which had so established the clergyman's daughter in her respect and
confidence. Yet the domineering instinct now and then prompted her
to outrage a dignity she admired, and her invariable defeat was a
new satisfaction when she calmly looked back upon it.

"You mustn't mind me," she said presently, when Constance had
quietly refused to make conjectures about the subject under
dissuasion. "Isn't it natural enough that I should be upset when I
hear such news as this? I wanted to have a talk with May this
morning, but now--"

She broke off, and hung her head gloomily.

"In your position," said Constance, "I should find out by a simple
inquiry whether Miss Tomalin is engaged or likely to be. She will
answer, I am sure, readily enough. She doesn't seem to be at all
reticent."

"Of course I shall do so; thank you for the advice, all the same.
Would you mind bringing her up here? If you prefer it, I will ring."

Scrupulousness of this kind always followed when Lady Ogram had
behaved ill to her secretary. The smile with which Constance
responded was a ratification of peace. In a few minutes the old lady
and May were chatting together, alone, and without difficulty the
great doubt was solved.

"I'm thinking of going to London for a week or two--" thus Lady
Ogram approached the point--"and I should rather like to take you
with me."

"It's very kind of you," said May, with joy in her eyes.

"But I want to know whether you are quite independent. Is there
anyone--beside Mr. and Mrs. Rooke that you would have to consult
about it?"

"No one whatever. You know that I am long since of age, Lady Ogram."

"If you like, call me your aunt. It's simpler, you know."

"Certainly I will. I am quite free, aunt."

"Good. I may take it for granted, then, that you have formed no ties
of any kind?"

May shook her head, smiling as though at a thought which the words
suggested, a thought not unpleasing, but not at all difficult to
dismiss. Thereupon Lady Ogram began to talk freely of her projects.

"I shall go up to town in a fortnight--at the end of this month.
Of course you must have some things, dresses and so on. I'll see to
that. Before we leave Rivenoak, I should like you to meet a few
people, my friends at Hollingford particularly, but in a very quiet
way; I shall ask them to lunch with us, most likely. Shall you want
to go back to Hollingford before leaving for London?"

"Oh, it isn't at all necessary," answered May, with srightliest
readiness. "I haven't brought many things with me, but I could send--"

"As for clothing, don't trouble; that's my affair. Then we'll settle
that you stay on with me for the present. And now tell me, how do
you like Miss Bride?"

"Oh, very much indeed! I'm sure we shall soon quite understand each
other."

"I'm glad to hear that. I hope you will. I may say that I have a
very high opinion indeed of Miss Bride, and that there's no one in
whom I put more confidence."

"Will she go to London with us?"

"Certainly, I couldn't get on without her help."

May was relieved. The prospect of living alone with her great-aunt,
even in London, had mingled a little uneasiness with her joyful
anticipation. Now she abandoned herself to high spirits, and talked
until Lady Ogram began to have a headache. For an hour before
luncheon they drove out together, May still gossiping, her aged
relative now and then attentive, but for the most part drowsily
musing.

That afternoon, when an hour or two of sleep had somewhat restored
her, Lady Ogram sketched several letters for her secretary to write.
Pausing at length, she looked at Miss Bride, and, for the first
time, addressed her by her personal name.

"Constance--"

The other responded with a pleased and gratified smile.

"From Mr. Lashmar's talk of him, what sort of idea have you formed
of Lord Dymchurch?"

"Rather a vague one, I'm afraid. I have heard him only casually
mentioned."

"But Mr. Lashmar has a high opinion of him? He thinks him a man of
good principles?"

"Undoubtedly. A very honourable man."

"So I hear from other sources," said Lady Ogram. "It's probably
true. I should rather like to know Lord Dymchurch. He would be an
interesting man to know, don't you think?"

As not infrequently happened, their eyes met in a mute interchange
of thought.

"Interesting--yes," replied Constance, slowly. And she added,
pressing the nib of her pen on her finger-nail, "They say he doesn't
marry just because he is poor and honourable."

"It's possible," Lady Ogram rejoined, and, after a moment's
reflection, said in an absent voice that the day's correspondence
was finished.

CHAPTER XII

Though Mrs. Toplady seldom rose much before midday, it was not the
mere luxury of repose that kept her in her chamber. As a rule, she
awoke from refreshing sleep at eight o'clock. A touch on the
electric button near her hand summoned a maid, who appeared with
tea, the morning's post, and a mass of printed matter: newspapers,
reviews, magazines, volumes, which had arrived by various channels
since noon on the previous day. Apparatus of perfected ingenuity,
speedily attached to the bed, enabled her to read or write in any
position that she found easiest. First of all she went through her
letters, always numerous, never disquieting--for Mrs. Toplady had
no personal attachments which could for a moment disturb her pulse,
and her financial security stood on the firmest attainable basis.
Such letters as demanded a reply, she answered at once, and with
brevity which in her hands had become an art. Appeals for money,
public or private, she carefully considered, responding with a
cheque only when she saw some distinct advantage--such as prestige
or influence--to be gained by the pecuniary sacrifice. Another
touch on the button, and there entered a graceful woman of discreet
visage, with whom Mrs. Toplady held colloquy for half an hour; in
that time a vast variety of concerns, personal, domestic, mundane,
was discussed and set in order. Left to herself again, Mrs. Toplady
took up the newspapers; thence she passed to the bulkier
periodicals; lastly, to literature in volume. Her manner of reading
betokened the quick-witted woman who sees at a glance the thing she
cares for, and refuses to spend a moment on anything not immediately
attractive. People marvelled at the extent of her acquaintance with
current writing; in truth, she never read a book, but skimmed the
pages just sufficiently for her amusement and her social credit. In
the world of laborious idleness, Mrs. Toplady had a repute for
erudition; she was often spoken of as a studious and learned woman;
and this estimate of herself she inclined to accept. Having daily
opportunity of observing the fathomless ignorance of polite persons,
she made it her pride to keep abreast with the day's culture.
Genuine curiosity, too, supplied her with a motive, for she had a
certain thin, supple, restless intelligence, which took wide surveys
of superficial life, and was ever seeking matter for mirth or
disdain in the doings of men.

Her first marriage was for love. It cost her seven years of poverty
and wretchedness; it cost her, moreover, all the ideals of her
youth, and made her a scheming cynic. Having, by natural power and
great good fortune, got the world at her feet, she both enjoyed and
despised what seemed to her to have been won so easily. The softer
emotions were allowed no place in her nature; by careful
self-discipline, she had enabled herself wholly to disregard the
unhappy side of life, to pass without the least twinge of sympathy
all human sorrows and pains. If reminded of them against her will,
she hardened herself with the bitter memory of her early years,
when, as she said, she had suffered quite enough for one lifetime.
The habit of her mind was to regard existence as an entertaining
spectacle. She had a most comfortable seat, and flattered herself
that few people could appreciate so well as she the comedy going on
before her. When she found an opportunity for intervention; when,
with little or no trouble to herself, she could rearrange a scene or
prepare a novel situation; so much the better was she pleased, and
all the more disdain did she feel for the fussy, pompous mortals who
were so easily manipulated.

At present she had her eyes upon a personage who amused her
considerably. He answered to the name of Dyce Lashmar, and fell
under the general description of charlatan. Not for a moment had
Mrs. Toplady been in doubt as to this classification; but Dyce
Lashmar was not quite an ordinary charlatan, and seemed to be worth
the observing. She meant to know him thoroughly, to understand what
he really aimed at--whether he harboured merely a gross design on
Lady Ogram's wealth, or in truth believed himself strong enough to
win a place among those grave comedians who rule the world. He was a
very young man; he had not altogether got rid of youth's
ingenuousness; if his ideas were his own (she doubted it) he had
evidently a certain mental equipment, which would aid him--up to a
certain point; in every case, he excelled in intellectual
plausibility. Perhaps he might get into Parliament; for the
amusement of the thing, she would try to help him in that direction.
On returning from Rivenoak, she had at once begun to spread rumours
of a Coming man, a new light in the political world, that it
behooved one to keep an eye on. So seldom did Mrs. Toplady risk her
reputation by rash prophecy, that those who heard of Mr. Lashmar
were disposed to take him with all seriousness. Certain of Mrs.
Toplady's intimates begged, and were promised, the privilege of
meeting him. To that end, a ceremonious evening was appointed in
Pont Street.

Meanwhile, Lashmar had called, and met with a very gracious
reception. He was bidden to luncheon on a day in the same week. On
arriving, he found with surprise that he was the sole guest.

"I wanted to have a real talk with you," said the hostess, as she
received him in her magnificent drawing-room. "I have been thinking
a great deal about things you said at Rivenoak."

Her fire of glances perceived that the young man, though agreeably
touched and full of expectancy, was to a certain extent on his
guard. He, too, no doubt, had power of reading faces, of discerning
motives. She did not desire him to be too facile a victim of
cajolery; it would take from the interest she felt in his ambitions.
At table, they talked at first of bio-sociology, Mrs. Toplady, with
the adroitness which distinguished her, seeming thoroughly to grasp
a subject of which she knew nothing, and which, if she had tried to
think about it, would have bored her unspeakably. But she soon
diverged to things personal, spoke of people whom she wished Lashmar
to meet, and asked whether a date she had in mind would suit his
convenience.

"I think you know Lord Dymchurch?"

"Very well," answered Dyce, blandly.

"I should like to meet him I have heard he is most interesting."

"He certainly is," said Lashmar, "but no man is so hard to get hold
of. I never ventured to try to take him anywhere; he very much
dislikes meeting strangers."

"Tell me about him, will you?"

Dyce could speak only of Lord Dymchurch's personal and mental
characteristics; of his circumstances he knew nothing more than
could be gathered from rumour.

"Let me make a suggestion," said Mrs. Toplady, with a flatteringly
intimate air. "Suppose you give a quiet little dinner to a few of
your friends, say at one of the restaurants. Don't you think Lord
Dymchurch might be willing to come? If I may propose myself--" The
roguish smile was lost in a radiant archness. "Half a dozen of us
just to talk over the political situation."

Lashmar looked delighted. In reality he was seized with anxious
thought as to whom he could invite for such an important occasion.
As is commonly the case with men of great self-esteem and modest
resources, he had made friends with the poorer and less ambitious of
his acquaintances, and these were not the sort of people to present
either to Mrs. Toplady or to Lord Dymchurch. However, he knew a man
pretty well placed in the Home Office. He knew also--

"Would you like to ask our friend Mrs. Woolstan?" let fall the
hostess, shooting one swift glance at his busy forehead.

"Yes--certainly--"

"She's charming," pursued Mrs. Toplady, with her kindest air, "and
I'm sure your views interest her."

"Mrs. Woolstan spoke of them?"

"Oh, yes! She called here, as I told you, the day before I went down
to Rivenoak, and, as we were talking, I happened to mention where I
was going. 'Oh then,' she said, 'you'll see my friend Mr. Lashmar!'
'I told her that Lady Ogram had specially asked me to meet you.' Of
course it delighted me to hear that you knew each other so well. I
have always thought Mrs. Woolstan a very clever little woman. And
she looks at things from such a high point of view--a thorough
idealist. Do let us have her.--Then, if I might propose another
guest--?"

She paused, as if afraid of presuming on Lashmar's good-nature.

"Pray do! I couldn't possibly have a better adviser."

Dyce was trying to strike his note of easy comradeship, but found it
very difficult. Mrs. Toplady had so vast an advantage of him in
manner, in social resources, and, for all her amiability, must needs
regard him from a higher ground.

"It's very nice of you to say that," she resumed; "I was thinking of
Mr. Roach, the Member for Belper. You don't happen to know him? Oh,
that doesn't matter. He's delightful; about your own age, I think.
Come and meet him here at five o'clock on Sunday; have a talk and
then send him your invitation. He, too, is a thorough idealist;
you're sure to like him."

Before Lashmar left the house, all the details of this little dinner
were neatly settled, the only point necessarily left uncertain being
whether Lord Dymchurch could be counted upon. Of course Mrs. Toplady
had dictated everything, even to the choice of restaurant and the
very room that was to be engaged; Lashmar would have the pleasure of
ordering the dinner, and of paying the bill. He thanked his stars
again for Mrs. Woolstan's cheque.

On the strength of that same cheque, he had quitted his rooms near
St. Pancras Church, and was now lodging, with more dignity, but
doubtful advantage as to comfort, in Devonshire Street, Portland
Place. The address, he felt, sounded tolerably well. Only in the
vaguest way had he troubled to compute his annual outlay on this new
basis. He was become an adventurer, and in common self-respect must
cultivate the true adventurous spirit. Once or twice he half
reproached himself for not striking out yet more boldly into the
currents of ambition, for it was plain that a twelvemonth must see
him either made or ruined, and probably everything depended on the
quality of his courage. Now, he began to wonder whether Mrs.
Toplady's favour would be likely to manifest itself in any still
more practical way; but of this his reflection offered him no
assurance. The probability was that in Lady Ogram lay his only
reasonable hope. On the spur of such feeling, he addressed a letter
to Rivenoak, giving an account of his luncheon in Pont Street, and
thanking the old autocrat more fervently than he yet had done for
all her good offices.

Since his return from Rivenoak, he had not met Lord Dymchurch. He
might of course write his invitation, but he fancied that it would
have more chance of being accepted if he urged it orally, and, as he
could not call upon the peer (whose private address, in books of
reference, was merely the house in Somerset), he haunted the club
with the hope of encountering him. On the second day fortune was
propitious. Lord Dymchurch sat in his usual corner of the library,
and, on Lashmar's approach, smiled his wonted greeting. After
preliminary gossip, Dyce commanded himself to courageous utterance.

"I have been asked to come forward as Liberal candidate for a little
borough in the Midlands--Hollingford. It's a Tory seat, and I
don't know whether I shall stand any chance, but local people want
to fight it, and they seem to think that I may be the man for them."

As he spoke, he felt that he wore an expression new to his visage, a
sort of smile which his lips had not the habit of framing. Quite
unconsciously, indeed, he had reproduced the smile of Mrs. Toplady;
its ironic good-humour seemed to put him at ease, and to heighten
his personal effectiveness.

"Hollingford?" Lord Dymchurch reflected. "I know the place by name
only."

He looked at Lashmar with a new interest. Constantly worrying about
his own inactive life, and what he deemed his culpable supineness as
a citizen, the pinched peer envied any man to whom the Lower House
offered its large possibilities.

"The idea is quite novel to me," Lashmar continued. "You know
something of my views--my cast of mind; do you think I should do
well to go in for practical politics?"

"I think any man does well who goes in for anything practical," was
Lord Dymchurch's answer. "Stand, by all means, and I wish you
success. Parliament isn't overcrowded with men of original views."

"That's very kind of you.--I don't want to presume upon your
good-nature, but I wonder whether I could persuade you to dine with
me, to meet a few friends of mine who are so good as to interest
themselves in this matter? Quite an informal little dinner; one or
two ladies--the Member for Belper--a Home Office man people who
see things rather in my own way--"

He added place and date; then, with Mrs. Toplady's smile still on
his lips, awaited the response. That Lord Dymchurch would much have
preferred to excuse himself was visible enough in the pleasant, open
countenance, little apt for dissembling; but no less evident was the
amiability which made it difficult for him to refuse a favour, and
which, in this instance, allied itself with something like a sense
of duty. Lord Dymchurch had been considerably impressed by Lashmar's
talk; the bio-sociological theory and all its consequences applied
alike to his reason and his imagination; he had mused over this new
philosophy, and the opportunity of being ever so little helpful to
such a man as its originator should, he felt, be regarded as a
privilege. That he could not altogether "take to" Lashmar was
nothing to the point. How often had he rebuked himself for his
incrustation of prejudices, social and personal, which interfered
between him and the living, progressing world! Fie upon his finical
spirit, which dwelt so vulgarly on a man's trivial defects!

"With pleasure," he replied; and, as if feeling it insufficient, he
added, "with great pleasure!"

Dyce's lips forgot Mrs. Toplady; he smiled his own smile of genial
satisfaction, and, as his way was when pleased, broke into effusive
talk. He told of Lady Ogram, of the political situation at
Hollingford, of editor Breakspeare, of the cantankerous Robb, and to
all this Lord Dymchurch willingly lent ear.

"I should uncommonly like you to go down with me some day. You might
find it amusing. Lady Ogram is, undeniably, a very remarkable
woman."

Immediately after this conversation, Lashmar wrote off to Mrs.
Toplady, half-a-dozen exultant lines, announcing his success No more
wavering, he said to himself. Fate was on his side. He had but to
disregard all paltry obstacles, and go straight on.

Yet one obstacle, and that not altogether paltry, continually
haunted his mind. He could not forget Lady Ogram's obvious intention
that he should marry Constance Bride; and such a marriage was
altogether out of harmony with his ambition. If it brought him
money--that is to say, a substantial fortune--he might be content to
accept it, but it could not be more than a compromise; he aimed at a
very different sort of alliance. Moreover, he knew nothing of Lady
Ogram's real intentions with regard to Constance; her mysterious
phrases merely perplexed and annoyed him as often as he thought of
them. To marry Constance _without_ a substantial fortune--that
were disaster indeed! And what if Lady Ogram's favour depended upon
it?

But he had his little dinner to think of. He wrote to Mrs. Woolstan,
who, by return of post, blithely accepted his invitation, begging
him, at the same time, to come and see her before then, if he could
possibly spare an hour. Dyce threw the letter aside impatiently. On
Sunday he was in Pont Street, where he met the Parliamentary Mr.
Roach, a young man fairly answering to Mrs. Toplady's description;
an idealist of a mild type, whose favourite talk was of "altruism,"
and who, whilst affecting close attention to what other people said,
was always absorbed in his own thoughts. Before Lashmar had been
many minutes in the drawing-room, there entered Mrs. Woolstan, and
she soon found an occasion for brief exchange of words with him.

"Why haven't you been to see me yet?"

"I'm so terribly busy. Of course I ought to have come. I thought of
to-morrow--but now that we've met here, and are going to dine on
the 27th--"

"Oh, I know you _must_ be busy!" conceded Iris, with panting
emphasis and gladness. "How splendidly everything's going! But I
want to hear about it all, you know. Your letter about Rivenoak only
made me eager to know more--"

"We'll have an afternoon presently. Ask Mrs. Toplady to introduce
Mr. Roach--he dines with us on the 27th."

To make sure of the M. P., Lashmar invited him verbally, and
received a dreamy acceptance--so dreamy that he resolved to send a
note, to remind Mr. Roach of the engagement.

"So you are to be one of us, at Mr. Lashmar's dinner," said the
hostess to Mrs. Woolstan. "A delightful evening--won't it be!"

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