“Is it? I had hoped it was subtle.”
“Well, at any rate it runs away with you.”
“Runs away!” said Rachel. “It must be exuberant.”
“Are you two quarrelling?” said Geraldine.
“No, it takes two to make a quarrel,” said Rachel.
“Well, what are you so deep in discussing?”
“My sense of humour. Your sister is describing it.”
“Oh, sense of humour! I agree it does not make one popular,” said Geraldine.
“A sense of humour need not be unkind,” said Agatha.
“Doesn’t it have to be just a little?” said Rachel.
“One may point one’s shafts without realising it,” said Geraldine. “When one has a selection of them, it is difficult to remember which are the sharpened ones.”
“All the great instances of humour are mingled with tenderness and tolerance,” said Agatha.
“Yes, that is what I meant. Only mingled with them. Just a little unkind,” said Rachel.
“Could there be anything worse than tolerance?” said Mrs. Christy, moving her hand. “Actual opposition is a thing I have nothing against. I feel it is worthy of my retaliation, that it may even sharpen the retributory powers that must take their place among our gifts. But tolerance implies no worthiness on our own part, no capacity for engaging personally in the fray.”
“I would certainly rather face an active enemy,” said Kate.
“How can you know without experience?” said Rachel. “None of us has ever faced an active enemy.”
“Oh, I have,” said Agatha, looking out of the window.
“You don’t mean me, do you?” said Rachel.
“No, but that shows you have been naughty,” said Agatha, shaking her finger.
“I should sum it up, that I like to advance true friends, and beat down baffling foes!” said Geraldine, dropping her hand and her voice with a glance at Mrs. Christy. “I have no use for what is in between.”
“There again, how can you tell without having tried?” said Rachel. “No one ever does advance a friend.”
“Oh, surely,” said Agatha. “I have seen many instances of it.”
“I have never seen one,” said Rachel. “No one has ever advanced anyone I have known.”
“We must not take things too personally,” said Agatha with smiling repetition.
“No, but personally enough,” said Rachel. “We ought to have our share of the advancing.”
“We may not all be easy to advance,” said Jermyn. “We must make allowances.”
“It is hard to make them for anything so bad as not advancing us,” said Griselda.
“Well, can’t you ladies spare a word for any of us?” said Godfrey. “If that is not a pretty speech, I don’t know what you would have.”
“Perhaps not an interruption to their very animated conversation, Sir Godfrey,” said Dominic.
“We are discussing the advancement of friends,” said Geraldine, turning immediately to them. “Lady Hardisty says no one ever does it. We will put it to the profounder masculine judgment.”
“Well, well, people must see to their own advancement,” said Sir Percy.
“Just as I said,” said Rachel.
“They generally do their best,” said Jermyn.
“And small blame to them,” said Matthew.
“Matthew, no one would suggest,” said Dominic, “that you and Jermyn are in any way deserving of censure for the efforts you have lately made for yourselves, with such success.”
“The point is, do people make efforts for other people?” said Matthew.
“No, Matthew,” said Dominic, shaking his head; “in the course of a life spent in association with people’s relations to each other, I am bound to say I have seldom seen it.”
“I have never seen it,” said Rachel.
“Well, I have seen it,” said Agatha. “I have come upon many instances of generous effort for others. Some of them I have even prompted myself, generally to meet with a ready response. I have great faith in the possibilities of human nature.”
“You must have,” said Rachel.
“Ah, you bring out the best in people, Mrs. Calkin,” said Godfrey.
“Well, I have found it so,” said Agatha.
“Fancy daring to prompt people to effort for others!” said Rachel. “We can’t know what would happen if we explored unknown possibilities. Percy, we will go home. Buttermere is being prompted to too much effort for others. But I don’t think it was in his sphere that Mrs. Calkin meant. She could hardly have got such wonderful results.”
Agatha moved on to where Sir Percy stood by himself, to exchange a word before parting.
“Your wife and I have been talking about our feelings as guests in this house, without our hostess. I fancy she thought I made a little too much of them, and I am quite prepared to say that I did. It is such a clearly defined thing to me, the setting asunder of husband and wife. When you have once grasped it for yourself and in yourself, there it is once for all sharp-edged for you.”
“Yes, yes, undoubtedly,” said Sir Percy.
“I forgot for a moment that you had had the experience in your own earlier life,” said Agatha, laying her hand on his arm. “There must be much remaining, whatever has supervened, to give you the sense of my words.”
“Yes, yes, there has been everything, you know,” said Sir Percy, looking at the hand.
“My husband and I just had the one experience together,” said Agatha in a low, intoning voice. “We just shared the one with each other.”
“Don’t probe Percy about his first marriage, dear Mrs. Calkin,” Rachel called from the door. “He feels too deeply about it for words, and I do all I can to make up for him. He will tell you about his second in return for what he has heard about yours.”
“Well, my dears, so we are to have an evening to ourselves,” said Godfrey. “We don’t have that often in these days. People have rallied round us in a way that has warmed my heart; they have gathered to our fallen banner as one man. I shall thoroughly enjoy an evening with you alone. I shan’t have the smallest regret or thought of dullness creeping in. And we shall soon be having this play to hearten us up and take our thoughts off ourselves. We need that in these days. I have protected you from danger of morbidity. I have seen fit to. It would have been your mother’s wish; and knowing that I have done it, that has been enough. If I could tell her of your achievements, my cup would be full. I am convinced they would have her full sanction, if she returned to us whole in body and mind. But we must not expect complete fulfilment on this earth.”
Chapter XVII
“Well, So The performance was a success, was it, Ernest?” said Godfrey, standing outside the playhouse which Bellamy had hired in the town, or more truly he had himself hired through Bellamy. “It has fulfilled your hopes? It was worth your while that I should do it, that has been enough. If I could tell her of what you wanted for them? I declare they showed up bravely. Their achievement was astounding. I congratulate myself on affording them their opportunity; I feel I can do it. And what I marvel at for myself, is how I have spent all my life disapproving of the stage. I stand here and wonder about it. I take myself to task. For a play seems to do more for you in the time than anything within my experience. I have been living in another world these last three hours. You may laugh at me, but it is the truth. Now I suggest you should all come back and spend the evening at my house. I hope it is not a matter for discussion. Rachel, I may depend upon you to second me?”
“You certainly may,” said Rachel. “It goes entirely without saying.”
“Now I am glad to have you say that, Rachel. It gives me genuine gratification. I feel that life still offers something to me, when I can hear such words from my friends. Now we will go to the carriages. There will be seats for the least. We will all settle in together and go home. I hope it is beginning to seem that to all of you.”