PART XXII

A DESCENT FROM THE CLOUDS

_In the Elizabethan Garden._ Lady MAISIE _and_ UNDERSHELL _are on a seat in the Yew Walk_. TIME--_About_ 11 A.M.

_Lady Maisie_ (_softly_). And you really meant to go away, and never let one of us know what had happened to you!

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). How easy it is after all to be a hero! (_Aloud._) That certainly _was_ my intention, only I was--er--not permitted to carry it out. I trust you don't consider I should have been to blame?

_Lady Maisie_ (_with shining eyes_). To _blame_? Mr. Blair! As if I could possibly do that! (_To herself._) He doesn't even see _how_ splendid it was of him!

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I begin to believe that I can do _no_ wrong in her eyes! (_Aloud._) It was not altogether easy, believe me, to leave without even having seen your face; but I felt so strongly that it was better so.

_Lady Maisie_ (_looking down_). And--do you still feel that?

_Undershell._ I must confess that I am well content to have failed. It was such unspeakable torture to think that you, Lady Maisie, _you_ of all people, would derive your sole idea of my personality from such an irredeemable vulgarian as that veterinary surgeon--the man Spurrell!

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, with an almost imperceptible start_). I suppose it's only natural he should feel like that--but I wish--I _do_ wish he had put it just a little differently! (_Aloud._) Poor Mr. Spurrell! perhaps he was not exactly----

_Undershell._ Not _exactly_! I assure you it is simply inconceivable to me that, in a circle of any pretensions to culture and refinement, an ill-bred boor like that could have been accepted for a single moment as--I won't say a Man of _Genius_, but----

_Lady Maisie_ (_the light dying out of her eyes_). No, _don't_--don't go on, Mr. Blair. We were all excessively stupid, no doubt, but you must make allowances for us--for _me_, especially. I have had so few opportunities of meeting people who are really distinguished--in literature, at least. Most of the people I know best are--well, not exactly _clever_, you know. I so often wish I was in a set that cared rather more about intellectual things!

_Undershell_ (_with infinite pity_). How you must have pined for freer air! How you must have starved on such mental provender as, for example, the vapid and inane commonplaces of that swaggering carpet-soldier, Captain--Thickset, isn't it?

_Lady Maisie_ (_drawing back into her corner_). You evidently don't know that Captain Thicknesse distinguished himself greatly in the Soudan, where he was very severely wounded.

_Undershell._ Possibly; but that is scarcely to the point. I do not question his efficiency as a fighting animal. As to his intelligence, perhaps, the less said the better.

_Lady Maisie_ (_contracting her brows_). Decidedly. I ought to have mentioned at once that Captain Thicknesse is a very old friend of mine.

_Undershell._ Really? _He_, at least, may be congratulated. But pray don't think that I spoke with any personal animus; I merely happen to entertain a peculiar aversion for a class whose profession is systematic slaughter. In these Democratic times, when Humanity is advancing by leaps and bounds towards International Solidarity, soldiers are such grotesque and unnecessary anachronisms.

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, with a little shiver_). Oh, why does he--why _does_ he? (_Aloud._) I should have thought that, until war itself is an anachronism, men who are willing to fight and die for their country could never be quite unnecessary. But we won't discuss Captain Thicknesse, particularly now that he has left Wyvern. Suppose we go back to Mr. Spurrell. I know, of course, that, in leaving him in ignorance as you did, you acted from the best and highest motives; but still----

_Undershell._ It is refreshing to be so thoroughly understood! I think I know what your "but still" implies--why did I not foresee that he would infallibly betray himself before long? I _did_. But I gave him credit for being able to sustain his part for another hour or two--until I had gone, in fact.

_Lady Maisie._ Then you didn't wish to spare _his_ feelings as well as ours?

_Undershell._ To be quite frank, I didn't trouble myself about him: my sole object was to retreat with dignity; he had got himself somehow or other into a false position he must get out of as best he could. After all, he would be none the worse for having filled _my_ place for a few hours.

_Lady Maisie_ (_slowly_). I see. It didn't matter to you whether he was suspected of being an impostor, or made to feel uncomfortable, or--or anything. Wasn't that a little unfeeling of you?

_Undershell._ Unfeeling! I allowed him to keep my evening clothes, which is more than a good many----

_Lady Maisie._ At all events, he may have had to pay more heavily than you imagine. I wonder whether---- But I suppose anything so unromantic as the love affairs of a veterinary surgeon would have no interest for you?

_Undershell._ Why not, Lady Maisie? To the Student of Humanity, and still more to the Poet, the humblest love-story may have its interesting--even its suggestive--aspect.

_Lady Maisie._ Well, I may tell you that it seems Mr. Spurrell has long been attached, if not actually engaged, to a maid of mine.

_Undershell_ (_startled out of his self-possession_). You--you don't mean to Miss Phillipson?

_Lady Maisie._ That _is_ her name. How very odd that you---- But perhaps Mr. Spurrell mentioned it to you last night?

_Undershell_ (_recovering his sangfroid_). I am hardly likely to have heard of it from any other quarter.

_Lady Maisie._ Of course not. And did he tell you that she was here, in this very house?

_Undershell._ No, he never mentioned _that_. What a remarkable coincidence!

_Lady Maisie._ Yes, rather. The worst of it is that the foolish girl seems to have heard that he was a guest here, and have jumped to the conclusion that he had ceased to care for her; so she revenged herself by a desperate flirtation with some worthless wretch she met in the housekeeper's room, whose flattery and admiration, I'm very much afraid, have completely turned her head!

_Undershell_ (_uncomfortably_). Ah, well, she must learn to forget him, and no doubt, in time---- How wonderful the pale sunlight is on that yew hedge!

_Lady Maisie._ You are not very sympathetic! I should not have told you at all, only I wanted to show you that if poor Mr. Spurrell _did_ innocently usurp your place, he may have lost---- But I see all this only bores you.

_Undershell._ Candidly, Lady Maisie, I can't affect a very keen interest in the--er--gossip of the housekeeper's room. Indeed, I am rather surprised that _you_ should condescend to listen to----

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). This is really _too_ much! (_Aloud._) It never occurred to me that I was "condescending" in taking an interest in a pretty and wayward girl who happens to be my maid. But then, I'm not a Democrat, Mr. Blair.

_Undershell._ I--I'm afraid you construed my remark as a rebuke; which it was not at all intended to be.

_Lady Maisie._ It would have been rather superfluous if it had been, wouldn't it? (_Observing his growing uneasiness._) I'm afraid you don't find this bench quite comfortable?

_Undershell._ I--er--moderately so. (_To himself._) There's a female figure coming down the terrace steps. It's horribly like---- But that must be my morbid fancy; still, if I can get Lady Maisie away, just in case---- (_Aloud._) D--don't you think sitting still becomes a little--er--monotonous after a time? Couldn't we----

[_He rises, spasmodically._

_Lady Maisie_ (_rising too_). Certainly; we have sat here quite long enough. It is time we went back.

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). We shall meet her! and I'm almost sure it's---- I _must_ prevent any---- (_Aloud._) Not _back_, Lady Maisie! You--you promised to show me the orchid-house--you did, indeed!

_Lady Maisie._ Very well; we can go in, if you care about orchids. It's on our way back.

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). This is too awful! It _is_ that girl Phillipson. She is looking for somebody! Me! (_Aloud._) On second thoughts, I don't think I _do_ care to see the orchids. I detest them; they are such weird, unnatural, extravagant things. Let us turn back and see if there are any snowdrops on the lawn behind that hedge. I love the snowdrop, it is so trustful and innocent, with its pure green-veined---- _Do_ come and search for snowdrops!

_Lady Maisie._ Not just now. I think--(_as she shields her eyes with one hand_)--I'm not quite sure yet--but I rather fancy that must be my maid at the other end of the walk.

_Undershell_ (_eagerly_). _I_ assure you, Lady Maisie, you are quite mistaken. Not the _least_ like her!

_Lady Maisie_ (_astonished_). Why, how can you possibly tell that, without having seen her, Mr. Blair?

_Undershell._ I--I meant---- You described her as "pretty," you know. This girl is plain--distinctly plain!

_Lady Maisie._ I don't agree at all. However, it certainly is Phillipson, and she seems to have come out in search of me; so I had better see if she has any message.

_Undershell._ She hasn't. I'm _positive_ she hasn't. She--she wouldn't walk like _that_ if she had. (_In feverish anxiety._) Lady Maisie, shall we turn back? She--she hasn't seen us _yet_!

_Lady Maisie._ Really, Mr. Blair! I don't quite see why I should run away from my own maid!... What is it, Phillipson?

[_She advances to meet_ PHILLIPSON, _leaving_ UNDERSHELL _behind, motionless_.

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). It's all over! That confounded girl recognises me. I saw her face change! She'll be jealous, I _know_ she'll be jealous--and then she'll tell Lady Maisie everything!... I wish to Heaven I could hear what she is saying. Lady Maisie seems agitated.... I--I might stroll gently on and leave them; but it would look too like running away, perhaps. No, I'll stay here and face it out like a man! I won't give up just yet. (_He sinks limply upon the bench._) After all, I've been in worse holes than this since I came into this infernal place, and I've always managed to scramble out--triumphantly too! If she will only give me five minutes alone, I _know_ I can clear myself; it isn't as if I had done anything to be _ashamed_ of.... She's sent away that girl. She seems to be expecting me to come to her.... I--I suppose I'd better.

[_He rises with effort, and goes towards_ Lady MAISIE _with a jaunty unconsciousness that somehow has the air of stopping short just above the knees_.