To Ordham’s astonishment Bridgminster proffered the castle for the honeymoon. This graceful wedding-present was communicated by Lady Bridgminster soon after her return to London, and Mabel clapped her hands when told of it by her lover.
“It has been the dream of my life to see the inside of that heavenly castle,” she cried. “And now I am going to live there! I cannot believe it.”
“We can stay quite a month, I should think.” Ordham was smiling into her triumphant face and feeling inanely happy. “I have received private intimation that I can replace one of the secretaries in Rome—he cannot stand the climate—and put in my time at the Foreign Office later. No doubt I can get out of that altogether, especially as I have already served a year abroad. But I cannot express my delight at spending a month in that old place as if it really were my own—and with you! with you!”
Mabel did not give her usual ready response to his rare ebullitions. The more deeply he descended into the depths of sentimentality induced by this wondrous creature and his general good fortune, the more shy he became, and Mabel, who had her share of the feminine intuitions, divining when he was more than commonly surcharged with silent adoration, teased him into expression of it. This time, however, he had delivered himself without assistance, and to his surprise she flushed and bit her lip.
“Oh, do let us stay through the autumn! It is the ambition of my life to have a succession of house parties at Ordham.” Both eyes and voice pleaded. “Lady Bridgminster says that your brother doesn’t care how long we stay—mother had a note from her just before you came in. He never intends to live there again, and it is good for the house to keep it open.”
“I cannot imagine what induced this fit of generosity in Bridg. It must have been made in an exuberance of delight in turning his back on Ordham, which he has always hated. It never fitted him, somehow—”
“But it will us! Say you will stay through the autumn. Please! Please!”
“But—but—I cannot have my way with the Foreign Office forever. My mother has great influence at present, but a political earthquake and I am high and dry, unless established first. I might be sent to Persia or South America! My fate would be all the worse for the liberties I had taken under the present government.”
Mabel pouted and shook her head. “Don’t talk politics to me. Everybody says that I was born to be a diplomat’s wife, but thank heaven you are not in politics. Promise me that you will wait a little while—through the autumn.”
Ordham looked at her in dismay. Once or twice before a sudden unaccountable lack of comprehension had given him fleeting pause, but some new manifestation of charm had banished any inclination to dwell upon it. Her transitions from a dignified girl of the world to a spoilt child, even a magpie, were sometimes bewildering, but he always hastened to remind himself that she was most beautiful, high-bred, desirable, exquisite. On these gifts he could count even should she disappoint other hopes. But he was by no means convinced that she would disappoint him in anything. He believed in her brain, although she showed a strange determination to give it rest, and he would not have had her less adorably feminine. But he would have welcomed a trifle more reasonableness, if only for its convenience. He answered gently:
“But Mabel!” He longed to say “darling,” but starlight or moonlight was needful to work him up to that pitch; so he reiterated “Mabel” with increased tenderness of accent. “You are far more interested in my career than in giving house parties at Ordham, are you not?”
To his infinite delight Mabel leaned forward and gave him an impulsive little kiss, exclaiming with her grown-up air: “Indeed I am. We will go to Rome at once, if you wish. That was just an old dream of mine. I have cherished it since I first set eyes on Ordham three years ago. But if you want to go right away—”
“Not for worlds. A man is entitled to a month when he marries, and I shall show up at the Foreign Office every day or so until the ceremony. The place will be kept for me. How splendid you are!”
And Mabel began at once to speculate upon the vacant palaces in Rome. How perfectly heavenly it would be to transform some musty old historical hole, reeking with tragedy, into a nest for two happy little birds. Mabel’s phraseology was not always on a par with her lofty bearing and intellectual brow, but sometimes it was, and any man as much in love as Ordham would forget greater lapses still.
If Mrs. Cutting hastened the wedding that she might be present at the impending trial in New York, she was quite as determined to make it a distinguished function as if she had six months before her. And if few people were in London, nearly everybody was in England, and even Switzerland and the German baths were no great distance away. She received few regrets for the ceremony, which was to take place at St. George’s on the tenth of October. She was very busy and very happy. She thought it a great pity that her lovely flower should marry at all, for she was one of those American women that regard matrimony with refined distaste, an evil to be submitted to for the sake of fashion, position, protection, and, no doubt, the race. Moreover, with the inevitable inconsistency of her sex, she would not have liked her lovely flower to turn sere and yellow, Nature’s revenge on the mateless; but she sincerely hoped that after an heir had been presented to Ordham Castle, and, perchance, an understudy, Ordham’s youthful ardour would have evaporated, and her flower could settle down to the business of becoming a great lady, a woman of exceptional and undesecrated refinement; an easy achievement for one fastidiously reared by a fastidious mother. One reason for Mrs. Cutting’s spontaneous selection of Ordham, and her adherence, in spite of several brilliant offers, to her original decision, was because of his apparent lack of animalism, and she grew more and more convinced that only the wild confusion of first love had roused him from his lethargy. He would soon revert, and this fact, coupled with his incomparable manners, would make him the ideal husband for that rare fine type of womanhood which only her own c............