Fan: Chapter 6
Chapter 6
The next few days, although very sweet and full to Fan, were uneventful;
then, early on a Wednesday evening, once more Miss Starbrow made her sit
with her at her bedroom fire and talked to her for a long time.
"What did you tell me your name is?" she asked.
"Frances Harrod."
"I don't like it. I call it _horrid_. It was only your stepfather's
name according to your account, and I must find you a different one. Do
you know what your mother's name was--before she married, I mean?"
"Oh yes, ma'am; it was Margaret Affleck."
"Affleck. It is not common and not ugly. Frances Affleck--that sounds
better. Yes, that will do; your name, as long as you live with me, shall
be Affleck; you must not forget that."
"No, ma'am," Fan replied humbly. But she had some doubts, and after a
while said, "But can you change my name, ma'am?"
"Change your name! Why, of course I can. It is just as easy to do that as
to give you a new dress; easier in fact. And what do you know, Fan? What
did they teach you at the Board School? Reading, I suppose; very well,
take this book and read to me."
She took the book, but felt strangely nervous at this unexpected call to
display her accomplishments, and began hurriedly reading in a low voice.
Miss Starbrow laughed.
"I can't stand that, Fan," she said. "You might be gabbling Dutch or
Hindustani. And you are running on without a single pause. Even a bee
hovering about the flowers has an occasional comma, or colon, or full
stop in its humming. Try once more, but not so fast and a little louder."
The good-humoured tone in which she spoke served to reassure Fan; and
knowing that she could do better, and getting over her nervousness, she
began again, and this time Miss Starbrow let her finish the page.
"You _can_ read, I find. Better, I think, than any of the maids I
have had. You have a very nice expressive voice, and you will do better
when you read a book through from the beginning, and feel interested in
it. I shall let you read every day to me. What else did you learn--
writing?"
"Yes, ma'am, I always got a high mark for that. And we had Scripture
lessons, and grammar, and composition, and arithmetic, and geography; and
when I was in the fifth form I had history and drawing."
"History and drawing--well, what next, I wonder! That's what we are taxed
a shilling in the pound for, to give education to a--well, never mind.
But can you really draw, Fan? Here's pencil and paper, just draw
something for me."
"What shall I draw, ma'am?" she said, taking the pencil and feeling
nervous again.
"Oh, anything you like."
Now it happened that her drawing lessons had always given her more
pleasure than anything else at school, but owing to Joe Harrod's having
taken her away as soon as he was allowed to do so, they had not continued
long. Still, even in a short time she had made some progress; and even
after leaving school she had continued to find a mournful pleasure in
depicting leaf and flower forms. Left to choose her own subject, she
naturally began sketching a flower--a-rosebud, half-open, with leaves.
"Don't hurry, Fan, as you did with your reading. The slower you are the
better it will be," said Miss Starbrow, taking up a volume and beginning
to read, or pretending to read, for her eyes were on the face of the girl
most of the time.
Fan, happily unconscious of the other's regard, gave eight or ten minutes
to her drawing, and then Miss Starbrow took it in her hands to examine
it.
"This is really very well done," she said, "but what in goodness' name
did they teach you drawing for!' What would be the use of it after
leaving school? Well, yes, it might be useful in one way. It astonishes
me to think how you were trying to live, Fan. You were certainly not fit
for that hard rough work, and would have starved at it. You were made,
body and mind, in a more delicate mould, and for something better. I
think that with all you have learnt at school, and with your appearance,
especially with those truthful eyes of yours and that sweet voice, you
might have got a place as nursery governess, to teach small children, or
something of that sort. Why did you go starving about the streets, Fan?"
"But no one would take me with such clothes, ma'am. They wouldn't look at
me or speak to me even in the little shops where I went to ask for work."
Miss Starbrow uttered a curious little laugh.
"What a strange thing it seems," she said, "that a few shillings to buy
decent clothes may alter a person's destiny. With the shillings--about as
many as the man of God pays for his sirloin--shelter from the weather and
temptations to evil, three meals a day, a long pleasant life, husband and
children, perhaps, and at last--Heaven. And without them, rags and
starvation and the streets, and--well, this is a question for the mighty
intellect of a man and a theologian, not for mine. I dare say you don't
know what I'm talking about, Fan?"
"Not all, ma'am, but I think I understand a little."
"Very little, I should think. Don't try to understand too much, my poor
girl. Perhaps before you are eighty, if you live so long, you will
discover that you didn't even understand a little. Ah, Fan, you have been
sadly cheated by destiny! Childhood without joy, and girlhood without
hope. I wish I could give you happiness to make up for it all, but I
can't be Providence to anyone."
"Oh, ma'am, you have made me so happy!" exclaimed Fan, the tears
springing to her eyes.
Miss Starbrow frowned a little and turned her face aside. Then she said:
"Just because I fed and dressed and sheltered you, Fan--does happiness
come so easily to you?"
"Oh no, ma'am, not that--it isn't that," with such keen distress that she
could scarcely speak without a sob.
"How then have I made you happy? Will you not answer me? I took you
because I believed that you would trust me, and always speak openly from
your heart, and hide nothing."
"Oh, ma'am, I'm afraid to say it. I was so happy because I thought--
because--" and here she sunk her voice to a trembling whisper--"I thought
that you loved me."
Miss Starbrow put her arm round the girl's waist and drew her against her
knees.
"Your instinct was not at fault, Fan," she said in a caressing tone. "I
_do_ love you, and loved you when I saw you in your rags, and it
pained my heart when I told you to clean my doorsteps as if you had been
my sister. No, not a sister, but something better and sweeter; my sisters
I do not love at all. And do you know now what I meant, Fan, when I said
that there was something you could do for me?"
"I think I know," returned Fan, still troubled in her mind and anxious.
"It was that made me feel so happy. I thought--that you wanted me to love
you."
"You are right, my dear girl; I think that I made no mistake when I took
you in."
On that evening Fan had tea with her mistress, and afterwards, earlier
than usual, was allowed to comb her hair out--a task which gave her the
greatest delight. Miss Starbrow then put on an evening dress, which Fan
now saw for the first time, and was filled with wonder at its richness
and beauty. It was of saffron-coloured silk, trimmed with black lace; but
she wore no ornaments with it, except gold bracelets on her round shapely
arms.
"What makes you stare so, Fan?" she said with a laugh, as she stood
surveying herself in the tall glass, and fastening the bracelets on.
"Oh, ma'am, you do look so beautiful in that dress! Are you going to the
theatre to-night?"
"No, Fan. On Wednesday evenings I always have a number of friends come in
to see me--all gentlemen. I have very few lady friends, and care very
little for them. And, now I think of it, you can sit up to-night until I
tell you to go to bed."
"Yes, ma'am."
Miss Starbrow was moving towards the door. Then she paused, and finally
came back and sat down again, and drew Fan against her knee as before.
"Fan," she said, "when you speak about me to others, and to me in the
presence of others, or of the servants, call me Miss Starbrow. I don't
like to hear you call me ma'am, it wounds my ear. Do you understand?"
"Yes--Miss Starbrow."
"But when we are alone together, as we are now, let me hear you call me
Mary. That's my Christian name, and I should like to hear you speak it.
Will you remember?"
"Yes"; and then from her lips trembled the name "Mary."
"It sounds very loving and sweet," said the other, and, drawing the girl
closer, for the first time she kissed her.
With the memory of those tender words and the blissful sensation left by
that unexpected kiss, Fan spent the evening alone, hearing, after her
supper, the arrival of visitors, and the sound of conversation and
laughter from the drawing-room, and then music and singing. Later in the
evening the guests went to sup into the dining-room, and there they
stayed playing cards until eleven o'clock or later, when she heard them
leaving the house.
They were not all gone, however; three of Miss Starbrow's intimate
friends still lingered, drinking whisky-and-water and talking. There was
Captain Horton--captain by courtesy, since he was no longer in the army
--a tall, fine-looking man, slightly horsy in his get-up, with a very
large red moustache, reddish-brown hair, and keen blue eyes. He wore a
cut-away coat, and was standing on the hearthrug, his hands thrust into
his trousers pockets, and smiling as he talked to a young clerical
gentleman near him--the Rev. Octavius Brown. The Rev. Octavius was curate
of a neighbouring ritualistic church, but in his life he was not ascetic;
he loved whisky-and-water not wisely but too well, and he was
passionately devoted to the noble game of Napoleon. Mr. Brown had just
won seven shillings, and was in very high spirits; for being poor he had
a great dread of losing, and played carefully for very small stakes, and
seldom won more than half-a-crown or three shillings. At some distance
from them a young gentleman reclined in an easy-chair, smoking a
cigarette, and apparently not listening to their conversation. This was
Mr. Merton Chance, clerk in the Foreign Office, and supposed by his
friends to be extremely talented. He was rather slight but well-formed, a
little under the medium height, clean shaved, handsome, colourless as
marble, with black hair and dark blue eyes that looked black.
Miss Starbrow, who had left the room a few minutes before, came in, and
standing by the table listened to the curate.
"Miss Starbrow," said he, appealing to her, "is it not hard? Captain
Horton either doubts my veracity or believes that I am only joking when I
assure him that what I have just told him is plain truth."
"Well, let me hear the whole story," she replied, "and I'll act as
umpire."
"I couldn't wish for a juster one--nor for a fairer," he replied with a
weak smile. "What I said was that I had once attended a dinner to the
clergy in Yorkshire, at which there were sixteen of us present, and the
surnames of all were names of things--objects or offices or something--
connected with a church."
"Well, what were the names?"
"You see he remembers only one--a Mr. Church," said Captain Horton.
"No, pardon me. A Mr. Church, and a Mr. Bishop, and a Mr. Priest, and a
Mr. Cross, and--and oh, yes, Mr. Bell."
"Five of your sixteen," said Captain Horton, checking them off on his
fingers.
"And a Mr. Graves, and a Mr. Sexton, and--and--of course, I can't
remember all the names now. Can you expect it, Miss Starbrow?"
"No, of course not; but you have only named seven. If you can remember
ten I shall decide in your favour."
"Thank you. There was a Mr. Church--"
"No, no, old man, we've had that already," cried the Captain.
"Mr. Tombs," he continued, and fell again to thinking.
"That makes eight," said Miss Starbrow. "Cheer up, Mr. Brown, you'll soon
remember two others."
"Your own name makes nine, Mr. Brown," broke in Mr. Chance, "only I can't
make out what connection it has with a church."
The other two laughed.
"I'm afraid it looks very bad for you," said Miss Starbrow.
"No, no, Miss Starbrow, please don't think that. Wait a minute and let me
see if I can remember how that was," said the poor curate. "I
_think_ I said that all present at the table except myself--"
"No, there was no exception," interrupted Captain Horton. "Now, if you
sixteen fellows had been Catholic priests instead of in the Established
Church, and you were Scarlett by name instead of Brown--"
"Don't say any more--please!" cried the curate, lifting his hand. "You
are going too far, Captain Horton. I like a little innocent fun well
enough, but I draw the line at sacred subjects. Let us drop the subject."
"Oh, yes, of course, that's a good way of getting out of it. And as for
jesting about sacred matters, I always understood that one couldn't prove
his zeal for Protestantism better than by having a shot at the Roman
business."
"I am happy to say that I do not class myself with Prots," said the
curate, getting up from his chair very carefully, and then consulting his
watch. "I must run away now--"
"You can't do it," interrupted the Captain.
Miss Starbrow laughed. "Don't go just yet, Mr. Brown," she said. "I wish
you all to help me with your advice, or with an opinion at least. You
know that I have taken in a young girl, and I have not yet decided what
to do with her. I shall call her down for you to see her, as you are all
three my very candid friends, and you shall tell me what you think of her
appearance."
She then opened the door and called Fan down, and the poor girl was
brought into the neighbourhood of the three gentlemen, and stood with
eyes cast down, her pale face reddening with shame to find herself the
centre of so much curiosity.
Miss Starbrow glanced at the Captain, who was keenly studying Fan's face,
as he stood before the fire, stroking his red moustache.
"Well, if I'm to give a candid opinion," he said, "all I can say is that
she looks an underfed little monkey."
"I think you are excessively rude!" returned Miss Starbrow, firing up.
"She is too young to feel your words, perhaps, but they are nothing less
than insulting to my judgment."
"Oh, confound it, Pollie, you are always flying out at me! I dare say
she's a good girl--she looks it, but if you want me to say that she's
good-looking, I can't be such a hypocrite even to please you."
Miss Starbrow flashed a keen glance at him, and then without replying
turned to Mr. Brown.
"Really--honestly, Miss Starbrow," he said, "you couldn't have selected a
more charming-looking girl. But your judgment is always--well, just what
it should be; that goes without saying."
She turned impatiently from him and looked at Mr. Chance, still
gracefully reclining in his chair.
"Is my poor opinion really worth anything to you?" he said, and rising he
walked over to the girl and touched her hand, which made her start a
little. "I wish to see your eyes--won't you look at me?" He spoke very
gently.
Fan glanced up into his face for a moment.
"Thank you--just what I thought," said he, returning to his seat.
"Well?" said Miss Starbrow.
"Must I put it in words--those poor symbols?" he returned. "I know so
well that you can understand without them."
"Perhaps I might if I tried very hard, but I choose not to try," she
replied, with a slight toss of her head.
"It is a pleasure to obey; but the poor girl looks nervous and
uncomfortable, and would be so glad _not_ to hear my personal
remarks."
"Oh yes, it was thoughtless of me to keep her here--thanks for reminding
me," said Miss Starbrow, with a strange softening of her voice her
friends were not accustomed to hear. "Run up to your room, Fan, and go to
bed. I'm sorry I've kept you up so late, poor child."
And Fan, with a grateful look towards Mr. Chance, left the room gladly
enough.
"When she first came into the room I wondered what had attracted you,"
said Mr. Chance. "I concluded that it must be something under those long
drooping eyelashes, and when I looked there I found out the secret."
"Intelligent eyes--very intelligent eyes--I noticed that also," said Mr.
Brown.
"Oh no, heaven forbid--I did not mean anything of the kind," said Mr.
Chance. "Intelligence is a masculine quality which I do not love to see
in a woman: it is suitable for us, like a rough skin and--moustachios,"
with a glance at Captain Horton, and touching his own clean-shaven upper
lip. "The more delicate female organism has something finer and higher
than intelligence, which however serves the same purpose--and other
purposes besides."
"I don't quite follow you," said the curate, again preparing to take his
leave. "I dare say it's all plain enough to some minds, but--well, Mr.
Chance, you'll forgive me for saying that when you talk that way I don't
know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels."
"Naturally, you wouldn't," said Captain Horton, with a mocking smile.
"But don't go yet, Brown; have some more whisky-and-water."
"No, thanks, no more. I never exceed two or three glasses, you know.
Thank you, my dear Miss Starbrow, for a most delightful evening." And
after shaking hands he made his way to the door, bestowing a kindly touch
on each chair in passing, and appearing greatly relieved when he reached
the hall.
Captain Horton lit a cigarette and threw himself into an easy-chair. Mr.
Chance lit another cigarette; if the other was an idle man, he (Chance)
was in the Foreign Office, and privileged to sit up as late as he liked.
"On the whole," he said in a meditative way, "I am inclined to think that
Brown is a rather clever fellow."
Miss Starbrow laughed: she was still standing. "You two appear to be
taking it very quietly," she said. "It is one o'clock--why will you
compel me to be rude?"
Then they started up, put on their coats, exchanged a few words at the
door with their hostess, and walked down the street together. Presently a
hansom came rattling along the quiet street.
"Keb, sir?" came the inevitable question, in a tone sharp as a whip-
crack, as the driver pulled up near the kerb.
"Yes, two cabs," said Captain Horton. "I'll toss you for the first,
Chance"; and pulling out a florin he sent it spinning up and deftly
caught it as it fell. "Heads or tails?"
"Oh, take it yourself, and I'll find another."
"No, no, fair play," insisted the Captain.
"Very well then, heads."
"Tails!" cried the other, opening his hand. "Goodnight, old man, you're
sure to find one in another minute. Oxford Terrace," he cried to the
driver, jumping in. And the cabman, who had watched the proceedings with
the deep interest and approval of a true sporting man, shook the reins,
flicked the horse's ears with his whip, clicked with his tongue, and
drove rapidly away.
Left to himself, Mr. Chance sauntered on in no hurry to get home, and
finally stood still at a street corner, evidently pondering some matter
of considerable import to him. "By heaven, I'm more than half resolved to
try it!" he exclaimed at last. And after a little further reflection, he
added, "And I shall--
"He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch
To win or lose it all."
Then he turned and walked deliberately back to Dawson Place: coming to
the house which he had lately quitted, he peered anxiously at windows and
doors, and presently caught sight of a faint reflection from burning gas
or candle within on the fanlight over the street door, which, he
conjectured, came from the open dining-room.
"Fortune favours me," he said to himself. "'Faint heart never won fair
lady.' A happy inspiration, I am beginning to think. Losing that toss
will perhaps result in my winning a higher stake. There's a good deal of
dash and devilry in that infernal blackguard Horton, and doubtless that
is why he has made some progress here. Well then, she ought to appreciate
my spirit in coming to her at this time of night, or morning, rather.
There's a wild, primitive strain in her; she's not to be wooed and won in
the usual silly mawkish way. More like one of the old Sabine women, who
liked nothing better than being knocked down and dragged off by their
future lords. I suppose that a female of that antique type of mind can be
knocked down and taken captive, as it were, with good vigorous words,
just as formerly they were knocked down with the fist or the butt end of
a spear."
His action was scarcely in keeping with the daring, resolute spirit of
his language: instead of seizing the knocker and demanding admittance
with thunderous racket, he went cautiously up the steps, rapped softly on
the door with his knuckles, and then anxiously waited the result of his
modest summons.
Miss Starbrow was in the dining-room, and heard the tapping. Her servants
had been in bed two hours; and after the departure of her late guests she
had turned off the gas at the chandelier, and was leaving the room, when
seeing a _Globe_, left by one of her visitors, she took it up to
glance at the evening's news. Something she found in the paper interested
her, and she continued reading until that subdued knocking attracted her
attention. Taking up her candle she went to the door and unfastened it,
but without letting down the chain. Her visitor hurriedly whispered his
name, and asked to be admitted for a few minutes, as he had something
very important to communicate.
She took down the chain and allowed him to come into the hall. "Why have
you come back?" she demanded in some alarm. "Where is Captain Horton?--
you left together."
"He went home in the first cab we found. We tossed for it, and he won,
for which I thank the gods. Then, acting on the impulse of the moment, I
came back to say something to you. A very unusual--very eccentric thing
to do, no doubt. But when something involving great issues has to be done
or said, I think the best plan is _not_ to wait for a favourable
opportunity. Don't you agree with me?"
"I don't understand you, Mr. Chance, and am therefore unable to agree
with you. I hope you are not going to keep me standing here much longer."
"Not for a moment! But will you not let me come inside to say the few
words I have to say?"
"Oh yes, you may come in," she returned not very graciously, and leading
the way to the dining-room, where decanters, tumblers, and cards
scattered about the table, seen by the dim light of one candle, gave it a
somewhat disreputable appearance. "What do you wish to say to me?" she
asked a little impatiently, and seating herself.
He took a chair near her. "You are a little unkind to hurry me in this
way," he said, trying to smile, "since you compel me to put my request in
very plain blunt language. However, that is perhaps the best plan. Twice
I have come to you intending to speak, and have been baffled by fate--"
"Then you might have written, or telegraphed," she interrupted, "if the
matter was so important."
"Not very well," he returned, growing very serious. "You know that as
well as I do. You must know, dear Miss Starbrow, that I have admired you
for a long time. Perhaps you also know that I love you. Miss Starbrow,
will you be my wife and make me happy?"
"No, Mr. Chance, I cannot be your wife and make you happy. I must decline
your offer."
Her cold, somewhat ironical tone from the first had prepared him for this
result, and he returned almost too quickly, "Oh, I see, you are offended
with me for coming to you at this hour. I must suffer the consequences of
my mistake, and study to be more cautious and proper in the future. I
have always regarded you as an unconventional woman. That, to my mind, is
one of your greatest charms; and when I say that I say a good deal. I
never imagined that my coming to you like this would have prejudiced you
against me."
She gave a little laugh, but there was an ominous cloud on her face as
she answered: "You imagined it was the right thing to do to come at half-
past one o'clock in the morning to offer me your hand! Your opinion of my
conduct is not a subject I am the least interested in; but whether I am
unconventional or not, I assure you, Mr. Chance, that I am not to be
pushed or driven one step further than I choose to go."
"I should never dream of attempting such a thing, Miss Starbrow. But it
would be useless to say much more; whatever line I take to-night only
makes matters worse for me. But allow me to say one thing before bidding
you good-night. The annoyance you feel at the present moment will not
last. You have too much generosity, too much intellect, to allow it to
rest long in your bosom; and deeply as I feel this rebuff, I am not going
to be so weak as to let it darken and spoil my whole life. No, my hope is
too strong and too reasonable to be killed so easily. I shall come to you
again, and again, and again. For I know that with you for a wife and
companion my life would be a happy one; and not happy only, for that is
not everything. An ambitious man looks to other greater and perhaps
better things."
The cloud was gone from her brows, and she sat regarding him as he spoke
with a slight smile on her lips and a curious critical expression in her
eyes. When he finished speaking she laughed and said, "But is _my_
happiness of such little account--do you not propose to make _me_
happy also, Mr. Chance?"
"No," he returned, his face clouding, and dropping his eyes before her
mocking gaze. "You shall not despise me. Single or married, you must make
your own happiness or misery. You know that; why do you wish to make me
repeat the wretched commonplaces that others use?"
"I'm glad you have so good an opinion of yourself, Mr. Chance," she
replied. "I was vexed with you at first, but am not so now. To watch the
changes of your chameleon mind, not always successful in getting the
right colour at the right moment, is just as good as a play. If you
really mean to come again and again I shall not object--it will amuse me.
Only do not come at two o'clock in the morning; it might compromise me,
and, unconventional as I am, I should not forgive you a second time. But
honestly, Mr. Chance, I don't believe you will come again. You know now
that I know you, and you are too wise to waste your energies on me. I
hope you will not give up visiting me--in the daytime. We admire each
other, and I have always had a friendly feeling for you. That is a real
feeling--not an artificial one like the love you spoke of."
He rose to go. "Time will show whether it is an artificial feeling or
not," he said; and after bidding good-night and hearing the door close
after him, he walked away towards Westbourne Grove. He had gone from her
presence with a smile on his lips, but in the street it quickly vanished
from his face, and breaking into a rapid walk and clenching his fists, he
exclaimed, between his set teeth, "Curse the jade!"
It was not a sufficient relief to his feelings, and yet he seemed unable
to think of any other expression more suitable to the occasion, for after
going a little further, he repeated, "Curse the jade!"
Then he walked on slower and slower, and finally stopped, and turning
towards Dawson Place, he repeated for the third time, "Curse the jade!"