England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
When the bride and bridegroom--on this occasion again by no means
overwhelmed--had departed amidst cheers, when the rout of guests had
gone, when the triumphal arch was being demolished and the rustics were
finishing the beer, she walked with me in the garden while I smoked a
cigar. (There’s nothing like a wedding for making you want a cigar.)
After we had finished our gossiping about how well everything had gone
off--and that things in her house should go off well was very near to
Beatrice Gladwin’s heart--we were silent for a while. Then she turned to
me and said: “I’m very content, Mr Foulkes.” Her face was calm and
peaceful; she did not look so hard.
“I’m glad that doing the handsome thing brings content. I wonder if you
know how glad I am?”
“Yes, I know. You’re a good friend. But you’re making your old mistake.
I wasn’t thinking just then of what you call the handsome thing. I was
thinking of the chance that I gave myself.”
“I never quite understood that,” said I.
She gave a little laugh. “But for that ‘handsome thing,’ he’d certainly
have asked me--he’d have had to, poor man--me, and not her. And he’d
have done it very soon.”
I assented--not in words, just in silence and cigar smoke.
She looked at me without embarrassment, though she was about to say
something that she might well have refused to say to any living being.
She seemed to have a sort of pleasure in the confession--at least an
impulse to make it that was irresistible. She smiled as she
spoke--amused at herself, or, perhaps, at the new idea she would give me
of herself.
“If he had,” she went on--“if he had made love to me, I couldn’t have
refused him--I couldn’t, indeed. And yet I shouldn’t have believed a
word he was saying--not a word of love he said. I should have been a
very unhappy woman if I hadn’t given myself that chance. You’ve been a
little behind the scenes. Nobody else has. I want you to know that I’m
content.” She put her hand in mine and gave me a friendly squeeze. “And
to-morrow we’ll get back to business, you and I,” she said.
THE PRINCE CONSORT
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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