FRIVOLOUS CUPID(多情的丘比特)
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FRIVOLOUS CUPID
1
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
BY SIR ANTHONY HOPE HAWKINS
(ANTHONY HOPE, PSEUD.)
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
2
CHAPTER I.
RELUCTANCE.
I.
Neither life nor the lawn-tennis club was so full at Natterley that the
news of Harry Sterling's return had not some importance.
He came back, moreover, to assume a position very different from his
old one. He had left Harrow now, departing in the sweet aroma of a long
score against Eton at Lord's, and was to go up to Oxford in October.
Now between a schoolboy and a University man there is a gulf, indicated
unmistakably by the cigarette which adorned Harry's mouth as he walked
down the street with a newly acquiescent father, and thoroughly realized
by his old playmates. The young men greeted him as an equal, the boys
grudgingly accepted his superiority, and the girls received him much as
though they had never met him before in their lives and were pressingly in
need of an introduction. These features of his reappearance amused Mrs.
Mortimer; she recollected him as an untidy, shy, pretty boy; but mind,
working on matter, had so transformed him that she was doubtful enough
about him to ask her husband if that were really Harry Sterling.
Mr. Mortimer, mopping his bald head after one of his energetic failures
at lawn tennis, grunted assent, and remarked that a few years more would
see a like development in their elder son, a remark which bordered on
absurdity; for Johnny was but eight, and ten years are not a few years to a
lady of twenty-eight, whatever they may seem to a man of forty-four.
Presently Harry, shaking himself free from an entangling group of the
Vicarage girls, joined his father, and the two came across to Mrs.
Mortimer.
She was a favorite of old Sterling's, and he was proud to present his
handsome son to her. She listened graciously to his jocosities, stealing a
glance at Harry when his father called him "a good boy." Harry blushed
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
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and assumed an air of indifference, tossing his hair back from his smooth
forehead, and swinging his racket carelessly in his hand. The lady
addressed some words of patronizing kindness to him, seeking to put him
at his ease. She seemed to succeed to some extent, for he let his father
and her husband go off together, and sat down by her on the bench,
regardless of the fact that the Vicarage girls were waiting for him to make
a fourth.
He said nothing, and Mrs. Mortimer looked at him from under her
long lashes; in so doing she discovered that he was looking at her.
"Aren't you going to play any more, Mr. Sterling?" she asked.
"Why aren't you playing?" he rejoined.
"My husband says I play too badly."
"Oh, play with me! We shall make a good pair."
"Then you must be very good."
"Well, no one can play a hang here, you know. Besides I'm sure
you're all right, really."
"You forget my weight of years."
He opened his blue eyes a little, and laughed. He was, in fact,
astonished to find that she was quite a young woman. Remembering old
Mortimer and the babies, he had thought of her as full middle-aged. But
she was not; nor had she that likeness to a suet pudding, which his
newborn critical faculty cruelly detected in his old friends, the Vicarage
girls.
There was one of them--Maudie--with whom he had flirted in his
holidays; he wondered at that, especially when a relentless memory told
him that Mrs. Mortimer must have been at the parties where the thing went
on. He felt very much older, so much older that Mrs. Mortimer became
at once a contemporary. Why, then, should she begin, as she now did, to
talk to him, in quasi maternal fashion, about his prospects? Men don't
have prospects, or, anyhow, are spared questionings thereon.
Either from impatience of this topic, or because, after all, tennis was
not to be neglected, he left her, and she sat alone for a little while,
watching him play. She was glad that she had not played; she could not
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
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have rivaled the activity of the Vicarage girls. She got up and joined Mrs.
Sterling, who was presiding over the club teapot. The good lady
expected compliments on her son, but for some reason Mrs. Mortimer
gave her none. Very soon, indeed, she took Johnnie away with her,
leaving her husband to follow at his leisure.
In comparing Maudie Sinclair to a suet pudding, Harry had looked at
the dark side of the matter.
The suggestion, though indisputable, was only occasionally obtrusive,
and as a rule hushed almost to silence by the pleasant good nature which
redeemed shapeless features. Mrs. Mortimer had always liked Maudie,
who ran in and out of her house continually, and had made of herself a
vice-mother to the little children.
The very next day she came, and, in the intervals of playing cricket
with Johnnie, took occasion to inform Mrs. Mortimer that in her opinion
Harry Sterling was by no means improved by his new status and dignity.
She went so far as to use the term "stuck- up." "He didn't use to be like
that," she said, shaking her head; "he used to be very jolly." Mrs.
Mortimer was relieved to note an entire absence of romance either in the
regretted past or the condemned present. Maudie mourned a friend
spoiled, not an admirer lost; the tone of her criticisms left no doubt of it,
and Mrs. Mortimer, with a laugh, announced her intention of asking the
Sterlings to dinner and having Maudie to meet them. "You will be able
to make it up then," said she.
"Why, I see him every day at the tennis club," cried Maudie in
surprise.
The faintest of blushes tinged Mrs. Mortimer's cheek as she chid
herself for forgetting this obvious fact.
The situation now developed rapidly. The absurd thing happened:
Harry Sterling began to take a serious view of his attachment to Mrs.
Mortimer. The one thing more absurd, that she should take a serious
view of it, had not happened yet, and, indeed, would never happen; so she
told herself with a nervous little laugh. Harry gave her no opportunity of
saying so to him, for you cannot reprove glances or discourage pressings
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
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of your hand in fashion so blunt.
And he was very discreet: he never made her look foolish. In public
he treated her with just the degree of attention that gained his mother's
fond eulogium, and his father's approving smile; while Mr. Mortimer, who
went to London at nine o'clock every morning and did not return till seven,
was very seldom bothered by finding the young fellow hanging about the
house. Certainly he came pretty frequently between the hours named,
but it was, as the children could have witnessed, to play with them. And,
through his comings and goings, Mrs. Mortimer moved with pleasure,
vexation, self-contempt, and eagerness.
One night she and her husband went to dine with the Sterlings. After
dinner Mr. Mortimer accepted his host's invitation to stay for a smoke.
He saw no difficulty in his wife walking home alone; it was but half a mile,
and the night was fine and moonlit. Mrs. Mortimer made no difficulty
either, but Mrs. Sterling was sure that Harry would be delighted to see Mrs.
Mortimer to her house.
She liked the boy to learn habits of politeness, she said, and his father
eagerly proffered his escort, waving aside Mrs. Mortimer's protest that she
would not think of troubling Mr. Harry; throughout which conversation
Harry said nothing at all, but stood smiling, with his hat in his hand, the
picture of an obedient, well-mannered youth. There are generally two
ways anywhere, and there were two from the Sterlings' to the Mortimers':
the short one through the village, and the long one round by the lane and
across the Church meadow. The path diverging to the latter route comes
very soon after you leave the Sterlings', and not a word had passed when
Mrs. Mortimer and Harry reached it. Still without a word, Harry turned
off to follow the path. Mrs. Mortimer glanced at him; Harry smiled.
"It's much longer," she said.
"There's lots of time," rejoined Harry, "and it's such a jolly night."
The better to enjoy the night's beauty, he slackened his pace to a very
crawl.
"It's rather dark; won't you take my arm?" he said.
"What nonsense! Why, I could see to read!"
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
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"But I'm sure you're tired."
"How absurd you are! Was it a great bore?"
"What?"
"Why, coming."
"No," said Harry.
In such affairs monosyllables are danger signals. A long protestation
might have meant nothing: in this short, sufficient negative Mrs. Mortimer
recognized the boy's sincerity. A little thrill of pride and shame, and
perhaps something else, ran through her. The night was hot and she
unfastened the clasp of her cloak, breathing a trifle quickly. To relieve
the silence, she said, with a laugh:
"You see we poor married women have to depend on charity. Our
husbands don't care to walk home with us. Your father was bent on your
coming."
Harry laughed a short laugh; the utter darkness of Mr. Sterling's
condition struck through his agitation down to his sense of humor. Mrs.
Mortimer smiled at him; she could not help it: the secret between them
was so pleasant to her, even while she hated herself for its existence.
They had reached the meadow now, halfway through their journey. A
little gate led into it and Harry stopped, leaning his arm on the top rail.
"Oh, no! we must go on," she murmured.
"They won't move for an hour yet," he answered, and then he suddenly
broke out:
"How--how funny it is! I hardly remembered you, you know."
"Oh, but I remembered you, a pretty little boy;" and she looked up at
his face, half a foot above her. Mere stature has much effect and the little
boy stage seemed very far away. And he knew that it did, for he put out
his hand to take hers. She drew back.
"No," she said.
Harry blushed. She took hold of the gate and he, yielding his place,
let her pass through. For a minute or two they walked on in silence.
"Oh, how silly you are!" she cried then, beginning with a laugh and
ending with a strange catch in her throat. "Why, you're only just out of
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
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knickerbockers!"
"I don't care, I don't care, Hilda----"
"Hush, hush! Oh, indeed, you must be quiet! See, we are nearly
home."
He seized her hand, not to be quelled this time, and, bending low over
it, kissed it. She did not draw it away, but watched him with a curious,
pained smile. He looked up in her face, his own glowing with
excitement. He righted himself to his full stature and, from that stooping,
kissed her on the lips.
"Oh, you silly boy!" she moaned, and found herself alone in the
meadow. He had gone swiftly back by the way they had come, and she
went on to her home.
"Well, the boy saw you home?" asked Mr. Mortimer when he arrived
half an hour later.
"Yes," she said, raising her head from the cushions of the sofa on
which he found her lying.
"I supposed so, but he didn't come into the smoking-room when he got
back. Went straight to bed, I expect. He's a nice-mannered young
fellow, isn't he?"
"Oh, very!" said Mrs. Mortimer.
II.
Mr. Mortimer had never been so looked after, cosseted, and comforted
for his early start as the next morning, nor the children found their mother
so patient and affectionate. She was in an abasement of shame and
disgust at herself, and quite unable to treat her transgression lightly. That
he was a boy and she-- not a girl--seemed to charge her with his as well as
her own sins, and, besides this moral aggravation, entailed a lower anxiety
as to his discretion and secrecy that drove her half mad with worry.
Suppose he should boast of it! Or, if he were not bad enough for that,
only suppose he should be carried away into carelessness about it! He
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
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had nothing to fear worse than what he would call "a wigging" and
perhaps summary dismissal to a tutor's: she had more at risk than she
could bear to think of. Probably, by now, he recognized his foolishness,
and laughed at himself and her. This thought made her no happier, for
men may do all that--and yet, very often, they do not stop.
She had to go to a party at the Vicarage in the afternoon. Harry
would be sure to be there, and, with a conflict of feeling finding
expression in her acts, she protected herself by taking all the children,
while she inconsistently dressed herself in her most youthful and
coquettish costume. She found herself almost grudging Johnnie his
rapidly increasing inches, even while she relied on him for an assertion of
her position as a matron. For the folly of last night was to be over and
done with, and her acquaintance with Harry Sterling to return to its only
possible sane basis; that she was resolved on, but she wanted Harry
honestly--even keenly--to regret her determination.
He was talking to Maudie Sinclair when she arrived; he took off his
hat, but did not allow his eyes to meet hers. She gathered her children
round her, and sat down among the chaperons. Mrs. Sterling came and
talked to her; divining a sympathy, the good mother had much to say of
her son, of her hopes and her fears for him; so many dangers beset young
men, especially if they were attractive, like Harry; there were debts,
idleness, fast men, and--worst of all--there were designing women, ready
to impose on and ruin the innocence of youth.
"He's been such a good boy till now," said Mrs. Sterling, "but, of
course, his father and I feel anxious. If we could only keep him here, out
of harm's way, under our own eyes!"
Mrs. Mortimer murmured consolation.
"How kind of you! And your influence is so good for him. He
thinks such a lot of you, Hilda."
Mrs. Mortimer, tried too hard, rose and strolled away. Harry's set
seemed to end almost directly, and a moment later he was shaking hands
with her, still keeping his eyes away from hers. She made her grasp cold
and inanimate, and he divined the displeasure she meant to indicate.
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
9
"You must go and play again," she said, "or talk to the girls. You
mustn't come and talk to me."
"Why not! How can I help it--now?"
The laughing at her and himself had evidently not come, but, bad as
that would have been to bear, his tone threatened something worse.
"Don't," she answered sharply. "I'm very angry. You were very
unkind and--and ungentlemanly last night."
He flushed crimson.
"Didn't you like it?" he asked, with the terrible simplicity of his youth.
For all her trouble, she had to bite her lip to hide a smile. What a
question to ask--just in so many words!
"It was very, very wicked, and, of course, I didn't like it," she answered.
"Oh, Harry! don't you know how wicked it was?"
"Oh, yes! I know that, of course," said he, picking at the straw of his
hat, which he was carrying in his hand.
"Well, then!" she said.
"I couldn't help it."
"You must help it. Oh, don't you know--oh, it's absurd! I'm years
older than you."
"You looked so--so awfully pretty."
"I can't stand talking to you. They'll all see."
"Oh, it's all right. You're a friend of mother's, you know. I say,
when shall I be able to see you again--alone, you know?"
Mrs. Mortimer was within an ace of a burst of tears. He seemed not
to know that he made her faint with shame, and mad with exultation, and
bewildered with terror all in a moment. His new manhood took no heed,
save of itself. Was this being out of harm's way, under the eyes of those
poor blind parents?
"If--if you care the least for me--for what I wish, go away, Harry," she
whispered.
He looked at her in wonder, but, with a frown on his face, did as he
was told. Five minutes later he was playing again; she heard him shout
"Thirty--love," as he served, a note of triumphant battle in his voice. She
FRIVOLOUS CUPID
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believed that she was altogether out of his thoughts.
Her husband was to dine in town that night, and, for sheer protection,
she made Maudie Sinclair come and share her evening meal. The
children were put to bed, and they sat down alone together, talking over
the party. Maudie was pleased to relax a little of her severity toward
Harry Sterling; she admitted that he had been very useful in arranging the
sets, and very pleasant to everyone.
"Of course, he's conceited," she said, "but all boys are. He'll get over
it."
"You talk as if you were a hundred, Maudie," laughed Mrs. Mortimer.
"He's older than you are."
"Oh, but boys are much younger than girls, Mrs. Mortimer. Harry
Sterling's quite a boy still."
A knock sounded at the door. A minute later the boy walked in.
The sight of Maudie Sinclair produced a momentary start, but he
recovered himself and delivered a note from his mother, the excuse for his
visit. It was an invitation for a few days ahead; there could certainly
have been no hurry for it to arrive that night. While Mrs. Mortimer read
it, Harry sat down and looked at her. She was obliged to treat his arrival
as unimportant, and invited him to have a glass of wine.
"Why are you in evening dress?" asked Maudie wonderingly.
"For dinner," answered Harry.
"Do you dress when you're alone at home?"
"Generally. Most men do."
Maudie allowed herself to laugh. Mrs. Mortimer saw the joke, too,
but its amusement was bitter to her.
"I like it," she said gently. "Most of the men I know do it."
"Your husband doesn't," observed Miss Sinclair.
"Poor George gets down from town so tired."
She gave Harry the reply she had written (it was a refusal--she could
not have told why), but he seemed not to understand that he was to go.
Before he apprehended, she had to give him a significant glance; she gave
it in dread of Maudie's eyes. She knew how sharp schoolgirls' eyes are in
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FRIVOLOUSCUPID1FRIVOLOUSCUPIDBYSIRANTHONYHOPEHAWKINS(ANTHONYHOPE,PSEUD.)FRIVOLOUSCUPID2CHAPTERI.RELUCTANCE.I.Neitherlifenorthelawn-tennisclubwassofullatNatterleythatthenewsofHarrySterling'sreturnhadnotsomeimportance.Hecameback,moreover,toassumeapositionverydifferentfromhisoldone.HehadleftHarrownow,d...
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分类：外语学习
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时间：2024-12-26
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